approachable

This is another post inspired by one of our classes here at Prairie Lakes Church for which I'm writing the curriculum. This class is on loving people. The chosen text is written by one of the most influential professor's I've had, Craig Blomberg. His book that we're using is entitled Contagious Holiness: Jesus' Meals with Sinners. From this book I'm reminded of a story in the Gospels where a prostitute enters a meal Jesus was sharing with his peers--men of stature all--and the woman weeps at Jesus' feet, wiping them with her tears, drying them with her hair.

And it wasn't like Jesus preached this killer sermon or wrote this powerful song or anything. He's just sitting there.

Maybe he had talked with this woman personally at one time. Maybe she had caught something he had said while standing in the crowd. Maybe she watched him deal devastating blow after blow to the religious leaders who had for so long ruled over her with a condemning eye. Maybe she was inspired by his courage as he preached the same message, undeterred by the threats on his life, and followed up his words with his actions seamlessly.

Or maybe she had only heard rumors about this man, and they were enough for the Holy Spirit to crack open her heart to the kindness of a God who was about to sacrifice his Son on her behalf.

And I think:

Am I like Jesus in that way?

So I pray:

God, make me like that. Make me more effective in the lives of those who are living as your enemies than those who claim allegiance to your kingdom. Let the love that I live by inspire repentance in those who have yet to repent. Give me the courage to stand against the attacks of the enemy that come in the form of "religious" conviction. Let me garner my testimony and stake my reputation on the stories from profane lips rather than praise from a sterilized tongue.

Even if it costs me my life.

Even if it costs me my life.

needles and babies

I've been meaning to write about this for sometime now, because it struck me when I heard it. But, the holidays being what they are as a local church employee, I have had to wait for time again to write.

I'm in a small group that's made up of married couples at a similar life stage to Erin and me. And, as it turns out, people in our life stage crank out kids like they're going out of style. So, about every month or so, we cancel small group in lieu of heading to the hospital to welcome a newborn into the world. It's pretty great.

One newborn in our group has been around now for about 8 weeks or so. She now is a regular fixture at our group meetings, as her parents bring her along. During one of our final meetings before Christmas, she came in with two bandages on her legs; one on each of her thighs. She had gotten some vaccines earlier in the day.

Of course, her parents told the story of being in the room and having to help hold her down as the nurse gave her the shots. As I was listening I began visualize myself in that situation someday--having to hold my infant to the table as the nurse pokes needles into his or her legs. That stuff doesn't make me uneasy; in fact, I think I would face something like that pretty well. After all, it's just another part of life.

And that struck me. It's a part of life.

Welcome to the world, little infant, where you are completely vulnerable. Welcome to this world, little one, where pain is a reality, woven into the very fabric of life. Welcome to a place where you need to be protected from disease, or you will most certainly die. Welcome to a life where you won't always understand the pain you experience, even when you are an adult.

Welcome to a life where you will always need someone to save you from something.

There are evidences of God everywhere, aren't there? Even in pain.

purpose-driven inauguration?

Apparently I'm in the mood to be a socio-religio-political commentator these days. I wrote about shoe-throwing, and now I'm writing about Obama's choice for giving the inaugural prayer of blessing, the purpose-driven man himself, Rick Warren.

The controversy centers around Warren's support of Proposition 8, the California ballot proposition that eliminated the right of same-sex couples to marry in the state of California, and provided that only a marriage between a man and a woman was recognized in that state.

People of influence and education are chiming in from all over the place on this one, to which the most recent politico.com's "Arena" section testifies (don't know how long that link will be good... if it's a different subject by the time you read this post, sorry bout that). Guess I'm going to throw my own two cents in.

Maybe three cents. Or maybe just one, depending on your perspective, and the economy.

Here you go:

I'm struck at just how controversial this choice is in the eyes of so many Americans.

I'm struck at how many of our educated leaders view Obama so negatively for making this choice.

I'm struck at the level of disdain people have for Rick Warren.

And I'm struck at how personally disconnected we are from all of these people, yet how confident we are of our opinions about them, about what they do, and about what we believe they stand for.

Now, I'm not an all-out disciple of Rick Warren. I do think it's apparent that God has blessed him and his ministry. I'm glad that God has used his book and his influence to make the Christian life more accessible and clear for many people. But, systematizing life with God through Jesus into predictable purposes has its drawbacks, to be sure.

And I don't think that Obama is America's savior, in any sense of that word. Many self-proclaimed "progressives" are already using the term "transformational" to describe him and his pending presidential term. While I understand how and why they use the term to describe the president-elect, I also am keenly aware that transformation at its purest and deepest level happens only through interacting with the One Triune God. I, for one, will endeavor not to conflate the two usages.

But it's just not as easy for me to come to the same conclusions as others have about this decision and about these men. Commentators, bloggers, professors, and writers of all kinds are supremely confident of a few things. Apparently:

1. This is Obama being a politician, pure and simple--pandering to the disenchanted social and political right by choosing one of their own to pray at his inauguration.

Really? We're sure that's what this is?

2. This Rick Warren guy hates and oppresses homosexuals, because he supported Proposition 8.

Really? It's that simple?

Let me tell you what inspired me about Barack Obama. He never boiled complicated issues down to anything less than being complicated, no matter how controversial the issue was, and no matter how much people from the left or right baited him into doing so. This man always was able to articulate why things are so complex and what the differing sides of the issues were, without the use of straw-man arguments, judgment, condemnation, hate, or one-ups-manship. That takes character.

And while I certainly don't agree with where he stands on some of our most hotly debated moral issues, I always appreciated his treatment of those issues--how he talked about them, answered questions about them, and dialogued about them.

Now, for some of you, you may think that is insignificant. Perhaps you would respond with something like: "Yeah, but the bottom line is... _______."

If you're on the right in this whole inauguration thing, the bottom line is that Obama is just trying to placate you by choosing Rick Warren to pray. And perhaps you even think that Rick is in sin for accepting the invitation (depends on how far to the right you sit, I guess).

If you're on the left, the bottom line is that Obama is undercutting your fight for justice and equality by inviting an oppressor to oppress in God's name.

But I just don't think things are that simple (and apparently Barack Obama doesn't think think things are that simple, either).

Now, if my writing above makes you wonder where I stand on the issue behind this controversy, let me be clear--for your benefit, not for mine: I believe that God defines marriage clearly in his written Word, the Bible, and that He defines it as being exclusively between a man and a woman, wherein all sexual intimacy is not only permitted but gifted and encouraged.

But maybe it doesn't matter what I believe, at least as it relates to how I am perceived--both by my peers and by my culture. Because what I am (rather fearfully, but faithfully) becoming aware of is this:

If I don't provide an adequate amount of religio-political zeal for a ballot measure like Proposition 8, I'll probably be labeled by some of my peers as "doctrinally weak", "waffling", or "afraid to take a stand."

But I am much more passionate about knowing people who are homosexual, loving them, and, Spirit-permitting, sharing with them what I believe. If they are going to be changed, it will be the Spirit that does so, and does so through me and others. Which makes me much less zealous bout a ballot measure. Why can't those things go together like peanut butter and jelly, you ask? Try holding up a pro-Proposition 8 sign while you're sitting at Starbucks trying to have a spiritual conversation with your gay friend. Doesn't really mix, does it?

But if I don't define justice as supporting state-recognized same-sex marriages, I'll be labeled by many influential cultural communities as an "oppressor", or as "hateful", or (dare I say it?) "non-progressive."

But I am not content to remain silent on what I believe, nor am I willing to be labeled an oppressor because I am unwilling to define justice according to someone else's moral convictions.

And so I find myself in what I am sure was a very, very familiar place to Jesus:

I wonder who will crucify me first.

shoe-throwing

Of course, by now, all of us have heard and seen footage of the now infamous shoe-throwing incident at President Bush's recent Baghdad press conference. But I heard something about this incident on the radio this morning on the radio that struck me--something beyond the tired talking points of "what a picture of President Bush's legacy" and "it's an exclamation point on Bush's failed efforts in Iraq."

The program I was listening to was a news program on NPR. They were interviewing a Lebanese reporter. Now, if you know anything about international relations, you know that the U.S. and Lebanon haven't exactly had a great history with one another, much less a good relationship today. So I was really intrigued at what this Lebanese reporter said.

As this reporter recounted how much the Arab world was heralding this act, he paused to give a different view, citing another widely circulated Lebanese reporter, and said two things that caught my attention:

1. Much of the Arab world got so caught up in the imagery of that press conference that they failed to see its significance: mainly, that further talks took place to bring clarity to U.S. withdrawal of troops from Iraq.

2. If the shoe had been thrown at Sadaam Hussein rather than at President Bush, the reporter, and the reporter's family and friends would have all faced the firing squad.

Sobering, especially coming from a Lebanese reporter.

Without a doubt, the war in Iraq has been costly--first, costly to the Iraqi people, who bore the devastating majority of casualties. Second, costly to the American people, who lost both the lives of troops and billions of dollars. And the pretenses that began the war proved to be false.

But personally, I can not throw the baby out with the bathwater by saying that the war in Iraq was a complete and utter mistake.

And while it is still not close to being stable, it sure is a lot closer than when free speech earned you, your wife, your kids, your friends, and your associates a bullet to the head.

the Bible, sola scriptura, and agnostic idolaters

I had a couple of conversations with two of my in-laws this week--the spouse of my wife's older brother, and the husband of my wife's twin sister. It's kinda fun being the token pastor in a family of church goers. It's kinda like "ask the pastor things that other pastors won't give you a straight answer on" at times, and I enjoy it.

The conversation that I had with my wife's sister's husband (does that make him my brother-in-law?) was about baptism. He was sprinkled as an infant in a Lutheran church, now attends a mainstream evangelical/Baptist church, and is looking to become a member. Of course, at his current church, they require baptism by immersion in order to become a member. So, he's been doing some researching about it, and I was one of his subjects of inquiry.

I had done some work last year or so on the history and theology of the practice of baptism as kind of a preemptive strike, per se, as my church is confronting some of the same issues. As you grow larger, and as more people from different backgrounds and traditions enter your church, you tend to become a little more centrist--clinging to the things that really do matter, and letting go of things that are just more peripheral.

Anyways, as I was sharing with him what I had written, I was reminded of why baptism is such a hot button, especially in a lot of evangelical circles. It's because of this thing called sola scriptura.

Sola scriptura is Latin for "Only Scripture." It was one of the tenets that led Martin Luther to separate himself from the Roman Catholic Church a few hundred years back, sparking the Protestant Reformation from which evangelicals today trace their roots. Sola scriptura states that the authority of the Bible and personal interaction with it should be held on the same level as the authority of the institutional church and church tradition.

Some evangelical circles (and Baptists in particular) take this principle to heart and, searching the Scriptures, find more evidence for practicing baptism by immersion on adult converts than they find evidence for sprinkling infants.

And that was significant for my brother-in-law. What he needed to know was this: he wasn't just brushing up against a different interpretation of a historical church practice; he was brushing up against a value that evangelicals cling to and hold dear: personally interacting and interpreting the Bible.

And, believe it or not, that story is just a set-up to what I really want to say.

There's something that is so beautiful, so valuable, so life-giving about searching the Scriptures freely and passionately, with the right tools, in a good community, with learned and mature believers, by the Spirit, and then submitting oneself to the chosen interpretation.

But: more and more of us dismiss that. Some of us even trample on that.

That makes me sound self-righteous, holier-than-thou, and maybe even insulated. I know. And I hate that perhaps that tone makes you dismiss what I am saying. But see for yourselves if it isn't true. See if what I'm describing doesn't accurately depict you, or those with whom you live life.

Here's what I see:

I see a growing generation of agnostic idolaters.

Yep. That sounds really harsh. But it gets even worse.

We are agnostic because we cry mystery too much--or, perhaps, we cry mystery where the Bible does not. Yes, that's more like it. When we are confronted with a clear biblical claim that goes against our own personal preference or a cultural value, we seem to shrug our shoulders and go our own way, bow to culture, or remain in some sort of nebulous grayness that is neither here nor there... and even consider ourselves pious for doing so.

We are idolaters because we sometimes put spiritual claims to our agnosticism, and in doing so, make God into our own image of him. For example: the Bible defines love, and gives many examples of what it is, and what it is not. But we--we use the phrase "my God is a loving God" to justify whatever behavior we choose. "My God is a loving God, so... (fill in the blank)." And yet, the Bible also states that God hates sin, and is very clear on what sin is as well.

And yet--and yet--we don't wrestle with those things. We don't go to the Scripture and search like we should. And if we do, and we see what the Scripture says, we don't sumbit ourselves to it. We worm our way around it, or make it say something the authors didn't intend, or say things like "Who's to say that your interpretation is right, and mine's wrong?" And agnosticism rears its ugly head once again, trumping sola scriptura and the beautiful life that God offers as we embrace and submit ourselves to it.

Some things are mysterious--like the depths of God's love, how all of God's attributes and perfections fit together and work together perfectly, or how God can prompt and move without cancelling the free and authentic choices of human beings. But other things are not.

There is a God, he can be known, and there is a devastating price to pay for crafting him in your own image.

But thank God that he is very skilled at breaking down the images that we create.

And I am no different. He's broken mine down before, and I pray that he continues to do it.

Please, God: break the image of my generation, so that we can see You for You, and not who we have created You to be.

keeping Christ in Christmas?

It's the same every year. I've already seen it in several places this year as well--in passing conversations, in suggestions for what we should talk about on the weekends at church for the Christmas series, and among Christian pundits on TV:

"Let's keep Christ in Christmas."

People:

Christ is already in Christmas. He's all over it. He's in every act of service, every ringing bell outside of Wal-Mart, every soup kitchen overflowing with volunteers, every can and food drive, every spirit of joy and thankfulness, and every beautiful Christmas decoration.

And he doesn't need our help to keep him there.

What he does need is for us to keep him close to our heart--to live with him richly from the absolute deepest part of who we are.

And if we do that, those around us will see that Christ is indeed in Christmas... without us having to convince them that he is, and without us feeling like we have to judge the materialist, the secularist, or those who wish to be politically correct.

Call it what you want--the Holidays, X-Mas, or even Super-Jesus-In-The-Manger-mas. But live in Christ before you claim the holidays in his name. My guess is that as you do, you'll find the most effective campaign for keeping Christ in Christmas is loving and being loved by him.

That's the message of Christmas after all, isn't it?

aversion

a⋅ver⋅sion

/əˈvɜrʒən, -ʃən/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [uh-vur-zhuhn, -shuhn]
–noun

1.	a strong feeling of dislike, opposition, repugnance, or antipathy (usually fol. by to): a strong aversion to snakes and spiders.

2.	a cause or object of dislike; person or thing that causes antipathy: His pet aversion is guests who are always late.

"Aversion." I used this word today in a conversation with a friend over lunch. It's a good one.

Earlier in our conversation today (as in, before I rocked the use of the word "aversion"), my friend and I were talking about people who had left our church in the past few years. Each person had a unique story, but shared a common underlying reason for leaving:

They didn't like the culture we were creating, the direction we were heading, and/or the means we were using to create it and move towards it.

And this is a very common occurrence in churches (especially in Protestant America)--and, in fact, the Church (universally and historically). Groups of Christian people--or, perhaps better put, groups of churched people--have collectively decided that their church/tradition is either:

-too liberal/worldly/cultural/wishy-washy

or:

-not conservative enough/faithful enough to tradition/God-focused enough/biblically centered enough.

It was the same in Jesus' day.

On the "left," (that is, to the left of Jesus) you had the Sadducees, religious/political Jewish leaders who thought it best to cooperate and even appreciate their Roman captors, encouraging Jews to look up to the dominant Roman/Greek culture and all of its trappings.

On the right (of Jesus), you had the Pharisees, Jewish leaders who thought that a life of strict obedience to God's laws and the Pharisaic prescriptions thereof, over and against Roman culture, was the godly way to go.

On the far right, you had the Essenes, a group of people who thought that the last days were upon them, that they were the only "faithful remnant" of God's chosen Jewish people left on the earth, and that as such it was of critical importance for them to be completely separate from the culture they found themselves in, and to create their own. So, they withdrew into these pseudo-monastic communitites, separate even from their conservative Pharisaic counterparts, to ride out the storm, maintain their purity, and wait for the coming doom of everyone around them.

And then on the extreme right, you had the Zealots--people who thought that violence was the only option, and that God was calling them to be instruments of his judgment on the wicked, pagan Roman invaders. Terrorism was their business, and they did it in the name of God.

Enter Jesus.

The Sadducees didn't like Jesus. He threatened their power relationship with the Romans, mainly by claiming that he was the coming Messiah, the long-promised Son of Man from the apocalyptic book of Daniel--God's instrument of justice to establish his kingdom forever on earth. The Sadducees had already chosen their king, and were reaping the benefits of that choice. Jesus threatened those benefits.

The Pharisees didn't like Jesus. He threatened their concept of God, and their perceived status before God. The God of the Pharisee rewarded obedience, and punished the disobedient. So, status was self-willed: the "more" obedient you willed yourself to be, the better position you had with God. But Jesus had a diffierent concept of what obedience entailed--one that fulfilled God's Law rather than extended it to human preference and conviction. Jesus celebrated with pagans whom he forgave and accepted... so they called him a glutton and a drunkard. Jesus showed preference to the whores, the white-collar cheats, and the common person who responded to his love with their simple faith and repentance... so they devised a plan to kill him. Jesus threatened their concept of a righteous (read: merciless) God and a righteous (read: self-driven) life.

The Zealots... well, we don't know what the Zealots thought of Jesus, at least from the biblical record. We know that Jesus reached out to them--even counted one of them as one of his Twelve. My guess is that the Zealots probably enjoyed it when Jesus stumped the Sadducees and Pharisees, and admired his courage before the power brokers of his day... but some probably thought he was unwilling to take it "far enough." It goes something like this: if you don't bang people over the head with the truth (and in the Zealot's case, literally bang them over the head), you're really just afraid to tell them the whole truth, or something like that.

As for the Essenes--they were probably too busy stockpiling food "Left-Behind-Series" style, writing about the wickedness of all of those around them. They were too busy longing for God to come save them from the wicked world to even notice this Jesus who claimed power to forgive sin and rescue people from their wickedness. It's more than a little ironic that they were so passionate about waiting for the Messiah that they failed to encounter the Messiah.

All of that to say:

The same patterns and categories of people that have existed for millenia in the Church still exist in churches today.

And:

I love being a part of a church that is an aversion (see, I tied it all together) to churched people, for the same reasons that Jesus was an aversion to the Sadducees, Pharisees, Essenes, and Zealots.

So:

Which group do you fall into?

And before you say "I fall into God's group," remember:

So did the Sadducees, Pharisees, Essenes, and Zealots.