confessions of a lazy mower, pt. 1

I want to confess:

I'm a lazy mower.

I mow my lawn not nearly as often as I should.  Every year I try and convince myself that "this will be the year" that I keep up with it.  But then spring rolls around, then summer, and then... well... my lawn ends up looking like a hayfield.

There she is to the left - my poor mower, plugged up with about 3 weeks worth of a deadly mixture: 50% dead grass from previous overgrowth, and 50% dead grass from the latest overgrowth.  I bet my mower died about 15 times tonight just because she couldn't spit the grass out fast enough.

And yes, my mower is a "she."  Don't ask me why.

Why do I find myself at this point every summer?  Because of a different deadly mixture: 50% busyness, and 50% neglect.

I'll have a long workday, come home tired of the to-do's, and would rather just check out for a bit.  Ah, the voice of busyness.

Of course, the lawn scolds me from beyond the picture window in the living room.  But, "I'm too tired.  I need some rest.  It's good to spend some time with the family.  I'll get to it tomorrow."  And there's the voice of neglect.

Eventually these two voices will have captured your ear so long that they've got you dreading the day when you know that you'll simply have to stop listening to them and face the consequences - in my case, extending what should be a 45 minute job into a several hour project spanning two, maybe 3 days, involving mowing, trimming, raking, bagging, and most likely a trip to the dump because my yard waste can is already full.

It's hard not to listen to these voices, and even harder not to submit to them.  The minute you've drowned out the one, it seems like the other is in your ear.

I can hear these two voices singing these deceptive duets in a lot of areas of my life.  "You're too busy to be disciplined; cut yourself a break."  "You're so far off track already; what's another day?"

These areas of my life where busyness and neglect are singing over me are also shrouded in a dark haze of my own making.  I try to both hide them and hide from them [shame].  Maybe because I'm not looking forward to that day in which I'll have to deal with them [fear].  Maybe because I'm embarrassed to let others see them [image management].  Maybe because I don't want others to feel obligated to help me out with messes that I know I and I alone created [pride].

Who knew that a lawn could be such a hotbed for all kinds of sin?

But I'm taking a good first step.  And I'm not talking about the hour and a half of mowing/raking that I put in tonight.

I'm confessing.

Confession brings light to the darkness.  It brings into the light the areas of your life that you'd rather just let remain in your secret thoughts and your secret (weak? unanswered? half-hearted?) prayers.

Confession forces you to conclude the same thing about yourself that God's Law has already concluded about you.

Confession closes the gap between what you're telling yourself about your life and how you're actually living it.

Confession helps you to forsake the path that you had been previously stumbling down.

Confession reorients you towards the Light.

Confession reminds you that you are broken, but that your brokenness no longer has the right to rule you.

Confession before Christ and a trusted friend helps you to find and embrace forgiveness.

Confession lightens the load.

Part 2 to follow:

How do you react when someone you know decides to confess?

big vs. small

I came across these two passages of Scripture today - two very different responses of worship.

From Mark 12:

41 Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. 42 But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny.

 43 Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. 44 They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on."

Then from Mark 14:

3 While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of a man known as Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head.

 4 Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, "Why this waste of perfume? 5 It could have been sold for more than a year's wages and the money given to the poor." And they rebuked her harshly.

 6 "Leave her alone," said Jesus. "Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. 7 The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. 8 She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. 9 I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her."

One response was very simple, small, understated, unassuming, and inexpensive by most people's standards.  You could describe it as reverent.  The other was bold, extravagant, edgy, and expensive by anyone's standards.  You could describe it as raucous.

But Jesus delights in both... instead of pitting one against the other, or favoring the one as closer to what God desires than the other.

Though these responses of worship look vastly different on the surface, they do have one thing in common:

Both were reckless.

I think we'd do well to stop pitting worship responses against one another, contrasting one with the other, or debating the merits of one over the other.  As long as the response is as reckless as the love that has prompted it, we can't really go wrong.

was Jesus easily offended?

Would LOVE to hear your reactions to that question above.

a righteous kill

I see this same pattern occurring today.  From John 12:

9 Meanwhile a large crowd of Jews found out that Jesus was there and came, not only because of him but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 10 So the chief priests made plans to kill Lazarus as well, 11 for on account of him many of the Jews were going over to Jesus and putting their faith in him.

What's the pattern? "Righteous" people trying to kill off the life-giving movements of God.

The Pharisees were trying to kill Lazarus--whom Jesus had already raised from the dead once--because "many of the Jews were going over to Jesus and putting their faith in him."

How many times does this happen in our churches today?

How many times do we see people in the church trying to kill something off because people are finding life somewhere else, in something else?

How many times do we see people in the church defending to the death a long-standing program, a dated worship style, or a culturally irrelevant conviction as they see God give life to another?

Let's let the things that need to die, die.

Let's get on board with the things that God is using to bring the dead to life.

And, let's not make the mistake of trying to kill the the very same things that God is trying to bring to life.

if you knew...

I want you to ask yourselves a question that's unfortunately been made into a cliche.  This cliche, like so many cliches, is a cliche because there is a great deal of truth embedded in it.  So, the challenge is to get past the surface level garbage and our own pre-understandings in order for that truth to actually wash over us and change us.

So, here's the (cliche) question:

How would you live your life differently if you knew that Jesus was coming back tomorrow?

Can you hear the cliche sirens sounding?

Let's silence them by asking ourselves this same question from a different perspective.  In fact, let's silence them with Jesus' perspective to this very question.

From Luke 12:

43 It will be good for that servant whom the master finds doing so when he returns. 44 I tell you the truth, he will put him in charge of all his possessions. 45 But suppose the servant says to himself, ' My master is taking a long time in coming,' and he then begins to beat the menservants and maidservants and to eat and drink and get drunk. 46 The master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he is not aware of. He will cut him to pieces and assign him a place with the unbelievers.

Read that a few times before you continue with this post.  Seriously.

Yeah... Jesus said that.

For those of us who believe that Jesus is going to return here to earth, who call Jesus our "Lord and Savior," who gather to worship him every weekend, we're guilty of thinking that we can pretty much live any old way we like and still be guaranteed a warm welcome in the sky.

But here's the thing: Jesus doesn't turn a blind eye to those of us who are beating up on someone else.

As a matter of fact, if you're guilty of beating on someone else, he's itching to give you the beating of your life.

So let's rephrase our question:

If you knew that Jesus was coming back tomorrow with one eye on your life laid bare, and one eye on his justice, what would you stop doing today?

Here's what I bet:

I bet you would stop bickering.

I bet you would stop complaining.

I bet you'd start picking your battles a lot more carefully.

I bet you'd stop hoarding your money.

I bet you'd stop playing the victim.

I bet you'd stop accusing, attacking, or judging.

I bet you'd stop letting the first thing that came to your mind come out of your mouth.

I bet you'd stop justifying yourself.

I bet you'd stop all of those things, and probably go over your life with a fine-tooth comb trying to figure out if there was anything else that you needed to stop doing, start doing, or make right.

Remember when your mom said to you, "Just wait until your father gets home?"  Remember that sickening feeling in your stomach?  Remember the dread that you felt as you watched the clock, knowing that you had something coming to you, and that you deserved what was coming to you?

It's kinda like that.

scandalous

As a leader in ministry, sometimes I get discouraged and even frustrated with the people I minister to.

I know. Scandalous.

Maybe you already think I'm a whiner.  But suspend your judgment for just a second until you hear what frustrates me.  Here it is:

Sometimes people give themselves permission to see and judge according to what is on the surface, rather than commit themselves to looking past the surface in the way that God requires, and in the way that God has made them able.

Take a look at this story from John 7:

21 Jesus said to them, "I did one miracle, and you are all amazed. 22 Yet, because Moses gave you circumcision (though actually it did not come from Moses, but from the patriarchs), you circumcise a boy on the Sabbath. 23 Now if a boy can be circumcised on the Sabbath so that the law of Moses may not be broken, why are you angry with me for healing a man's whole body on the Sabbath? 24 Stop judging by mere appearances, but instead judge correctly.

Some of us rob ourselves of being blessed by God by choosing to be ambivalent, discontent, or even angry when God moves and blesses something that doesn't jive with our expectations, preferences, or convictions... as if our expectations, preferences, and convictions are the core of who we are and how God is forming us.

They are not the core of who we are.  Instead, they are surface level things.  They change as we change, grow as we grow, develop as we develop.  They (should) evolve according to how God reveals more of himself to us.  

Our God is the God who delights in breaking our rules.  He revels in leaving our pseudo-godly expectations unfulfilled.  He longs for us to leave behind the boxes we've put him in, and instead venture out into the new and unknown - to follow him not simply as the God who once was, but the God Who Is.

He's the God who works on the day in which we thought it was a sin to work. Scandalous.

So, ask yourself:

Are you worshiping a scandalous God?

If not, you're probably not worshiping the God of the Bible.

emote!

In public worship, let these words of Jesus in Luke 7 never be true of us:

Jesus went on to say, "To what, then, can I compare the people of this generation? What are they like? 32 They are like children sitting in the marketplace and calling out to each other: 

       " 'We played the pipe for you, 

       and you did not dance; 

       we sang a dirge, 

       and you did not cry.'

As we worship, we are like actors in God's grand play.  We must play our part authentically, throwing everything we have into our roles.

I'm not saying to manufacture something.

But let's face it:

No one is ever moved by a stone-faced, monotone performance.

For God's sake: emote!

no more separation

In the Jewish mindset, death was a separation, not a ceasing of existence.  In death, the soul, still alive, was separated from the body.

When the Bible says that we were all born dead, this is what it means: we were born separated from God because of sin.

During Jesus' ministry, we have several accounts of him raising people from the dead, like in Luke 7:

11 Soon afterward, Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went along with him. 12 As he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out—the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her. 13 When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, "Don't cry."  

14 Then he went up and touched the bier they were carrying him on, and the bearers stood still. He said, "Young man, I say to you, get up!" 15 The dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother.

As we read this in the modern age, we tend to be a little more amazed (or more skeptical) of the biological side of this account.

But the original readers would have been more amazed with the spiritual side of it.

By raising people from the dead, Jesus demonstrated that he had the power to overcome this separation.

He has the power to overcome the separation of those who die - to reunite the soul with the body.

He has the power to overcome the separation of those who are born dead - to reunite the sinner with the Father.

And he's been raising people from the dead ever since.

From the same chapter:

16 They were all filled with awe and praised God. "A great prophet has appeared among us," they said. "God has come to help his people."

God has come to help his people.

fruity

I love what Jesus juxtaposes.  Look at Matthew 7:21-23:

"Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only those who do the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22 Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?' 23 Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'

Prophesying, driving out demons, performing miracles.  Sounds like a pretty fruitful, compelling, relevant, lively ministry... the type that thousands of people would come to see and be a part of.

But sometimes,

sometimes,

sometimes we fall into this trap of thinking a fruitful life in ministry equals a fruitful life.

It does not.

I'm glad that I got this reminder today.

Peter vs. the crowd

Peter, after he saw Jesus fill the nets with fish after not catching anything all night, repented.

The crowd of 5,000, after they saw Jesus feed them from 5 loaves and 2 fish, wanted to make him king by force.

Peter, imperfect as he was, became one of Jesus' 3 closest followers in the world.

The crowd tried to force Christ into their own agenda, and in so doing, forced him to flee to the mountains.

Repentance leads to intimacy.

Control leads to distance.

Which are you doing?

helicoptering the Bible

I've been using a Bible reading plan from YouVersion for the last week or so, reading through the gospels in 30 days.  It's been great.

Today I came across this story from Jesus' temptation in Matthew 4:1-7 (TNIV):

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. The tempter came to him and said, "If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread."

Jesus answered, "It is written: 'People do not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'"

Then the devil took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. "If you are the Son of God," he said, "throw yourself down. For it is written: 

"'He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands,  so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.'" 

Jesus answered him, "It is also written: 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'"

And it struck me:

At Satan's first attempt to cause Jesus to fall, Jesus simply used Scripture to ward off the attack.

But on his second attempt, Satan used Scripture itself to tempt Jesus.

That's a sobering thought: even what is holy and good can be used for evil intent.

And how often do we see this?  How often do we encounter some sort of pundit, author, songwriter, or other self-appointed mouthpiece for God do this same thing?

Or how about this:

How often do we ourselves use Scripture to justify our position, our reaction, or even our sin?

Here's what was so clever about the Enemy's ploy:

What he was saying - what he was quoting - was true.  It was written.

But: it was only half of the whole truth.

And so often, we love to do the same thing.  As a professor of mine once said: we "helicopter" down on a verse, use it to justify our position, and then "helicopter" off it it, back into our way of living.

Let us be people who who don't helicopter.  That's what the Enemy does.  Instead, let us be people who make it their joyful duty to journey through the entirety of Scripture, seek the entire counsel of God, and make decision and declarations that represent the fullness of the wisdom that has been revealed to us.

 

words of love and warning

Recently my staff and I gathered to plan a service that will in some part deal with Jesus' words in Luke 12:1-7:

Meanwhile, when a crowd of many thousands had gathered, so that they were trampling on one another, Jesus began to speak first to his disciples, saying: "Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy. There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs.

 "I tell you, my friends, do not be afraid of those who kill the body and after that can do no more. But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear him who, after the killing of the body, has power to throw you into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him. Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

What an incredibly sharp contrast in that last paragraph.  On the one hand, Jesus says that we should be afraid - yep, that kind of afraid - of God... because of his power to send us to either heaven or hell after death.

And then what does he follow that command to be afraid up with? One of the most commonly used prooftexts when you see it in context - the "hairs on your head" metaphor about how much God knows and cares for us... followed up by a command not to be afraid.

I don't think that these two commands contradict.  I think they are both true, and have to be held in a logical and relational tension.  And for the purposes of this post, I don't think I want to spend any more time talking about how those are both true or how that tension works out.

What I do want to spend time on is this question:

What do we do with that?

Here's what I think:

I think we have to ask ourselves a few questions.

Here's the questions:

Am I attentive to God's words of love and care to me?

Am I attentive to God's words of warning to me?

Am I attentive to one type of God's words to me at the expense of the other?

what heaven will be like.

Today during worship at one of our campuses, I saw something that made me think:

"This is what heaven will be like."

I was standing behind our tech team, observing.  I was observing the team on stage.  I was observing the team in the booth.  And I was observing the people in the seats.

And I was drawn into worship.  I was observing God, watching him move, thanking him for his faithfulness to us.

And then I saw something that made that moment feel even holier than it already was.

One section over, two rows up.  A man stood there in the midst of the crowd.  I couldn't tell you how tall he was; only that he once stood a lot taller, but was hunched over a bit now with age.

I could barely see his face.  His eyes were shut, but shut with intention - almost like he was concentrating.  His head was slightly tilted up, but not enough to betray his spirit of reverence.

And his arms.  His arms.

His arms were outstretched.

His countenance radiated freedom.  His expression was bold.  It was an amazing and humbling sight to behold.

And get this: we were singing a Hillsong United tune - From the Inside Out.

We had people who were barely twenty on stage.  We had the lights going.  We were running around 90dB.  And here is this man, one face in the crowd, long in years, absolutely and 100% sold out in worship before his God.

What an incredible example.  What a statement.  The light of the truth outshines the lie:

Worship is not bound by nor does it pay homage to age.

Lord God, make me like him.

my Jesus wears flannel

I ended my last post with the statement:

"I think that even the old can be new in some instances."

So many examples fall within this truth:

• Scripture.
• the Triune God.
• the local church.
• flannel shirts with pearl button down snaps. (wearing one as I type this.)

Why do these "old" things always seem to retain their newness?  Why do they always seem to have relevance and exert their influence on generation after generation?

Because they touch on something that is alive.

Of course, it was a little irreverent to include flannel shirts in that list.  I'm not saying that they are on the same level as the other three.  (Let's have a sense of humor here, people.)  But I think the same principle is at work.  I think they remain "new" for the same reason as the other three.

No, not that Jesus is a flannel shirt wearer.

But that the spirit of the flannel shirt is very much alive.  Though it went from function to fashion - most of us don't wear them any longer to keep us warm or to aid in the wrangling of cattle - we still like the comfortable look and feel, and like the image it projects.  As cheesy as it sounds: the flannel connects its wearer to something that is alive and well in our culture today.

Just like the Spirit that inspired Scripture and works through the local church is very much alive, and makes us alive as we connect with him.

The old can be new if the old is still alive, or connects us to something that is still alive.  If the old exists outside of a fond memory of days when we used to feel alive.  If the old is more than just nostalgia, a fuzzy feeling, or the longing for days gone by.  If the old resonates and is embraced across culture, time, and generation.

These are the songs like Amazing Grace.

These are the rituals like Communion.

These are the things that connect you to something or Someone who is alive, who makes your spirit alive as you are connected to them.

We aren't just on a quest for the new only, or new for newness' sake.  

We are on a quest to be connected to that which is alive.

So explore some old paths, some old ways, and see if something new doesn't grow up in you.  

You might be pleasantly surprised at what you discover... or Who discovers you.

early adopters pt. 2

“No one sews a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch will pull away from the garment, making the tear worse. Neither do people pour new wine into old wineskins. If they do, the skins will burst; the wine will run out, and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved.” (Matthew 9:16-17, TNIV)

----------------

“To what can I compare this generation? They are like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling out to others:

“ ‘We played the pipe for you,
and you did not dance;
we sang a dirge,
and you did not mourn.’ (Matthew 11:16-17, TNIV)

-----------------

Earlier I wrote about how most of the folks here in the Midwest aren't early adopters - we aren't usually very quick to embrace and adopt new ideas.  I think this impacts our church culture here in a few ways:

It's difficult to build and encourage an innovative church culture.  We prefer to do old things in a different way rather than think about doing away with the old and venture into something new.  The question of "Is this a good idea?" usually takes a backseat to the question of "Are our people ready for this?"

We fear the complaints from the "already in" rather than hear the cries of the "not yet found."  Rather than brainstorm new, fresh, relevant, risky, powerful, and compelling ways to preach the gospel to our fallen and broken world, we worry about what so-and-so might think, wonder about how to get such-and-such to understand, or fear the angry email/anonymous note/awkward conversation on Monday.

We lack and/or lose sight of vision, and the courage it takes to achieve it.  Maybe we really catch on to the vision and pursue it vigilantly at the start, but we second guess ourselves at the first sign of someone's discomfort with it.  Maybe we let the one vocal detractor or pocket of vocal detractors dictate our perception of the vision's viability and strength.  Maybe we let other voices drown out God's.  Regardless, we are quick to think that we're alone, fighting against a current of opposition, get discouraged, and sometimes even quit.

I wonder what it would be like if we promoted and protected a culture of early adopters, where we were constantly trying new things to reach out to the lost, uplift the gospel, and bring glory to God?

For the record, I think that even the old can be new in some instances... but that's for the next post.

early adopters (bridge)

In my previous post, I talked a little about how we in the Midwest aren't often quick to warm up to new ideas.

I promised a second part to that post.  It's coming soon.

But today, these two nuggets came my way.  I think they'll serve as a nice bridge between parts 1 and 2.

Jesus was an early adopter.

And in order to thrive, churches must be as well.

we're not early adopters.

"Early adopters" are people who adapt and embrace change quickly.  They are often the first to embrace a trend.  They are the ones who waited in line for the iPhone's release, eBay-ed a Wii, switched to being a cell phone-only family... you get the idea.

I don't live in a culture dominated by early adopters.  

I live in a smaller-sized city in the northeastern part of Iowa.

Now, I'd say that I live in a community comprised of some early adopters.

But, by and large, most of us midwesterners are not early adopters.  It's just not really a part of our culture here.  We're notorious for being skeptical, slow to adopt a trend, and more comfortable with the stylings of decades gone by.

Examples?  The Gap came and left.  It took forever for us to have 3G cell phone service.  It's big news when a Sonic franchise finally comes to town.

I have a love-hate relationship with this part of our culture.  Here's what I love about it:

• Overall, we're much less materialistic than other areas of the country.  We don't have to have the newest gadgets, gizmos, clothes, etc.  
• We live life at a much healthier pace.  Granted, our diets are a lot worse than some other parts of the country.  But we don't live at such a frenetic pace as those other places that live and die on the next trend.
• We compare ourselves to one another to a lesser degree.  We don't have to live in cookie-cutter neighborhoods where the list of community standards is longer than a 16-year-old girl's birthday wish list.
• We're more comfortable in our own skin.  I'm not driven by the need to convince you that I'm relevant, ahead of the times, or in-the-know by my possessions or appearance.
• We embrace, promote, and protect a higher quality of life.  Here you can go on a walk.  Here you actually take vacation.  Here family is important and much of our extended family is close by.  Here you aren't afraid to go outside.  We go to our kids' games, hunt and fish, prize education, and enjoy the simple things as we live within our means.

But here's what I hate about it:

• We let too many good ideas pass by.  We put way too many obstacles and standards and filters in front of a new idea.  If it's different, every last facet of its difference must be put under the microscope before it's even tried... much less adopted.
• We're too focused on the past and not focused enough on the future.  We enjoy reminiscing about times gone by more than we enjoy dreaming of what could be.
• We value our own comfort too much.  There's a reason why we're more obese than many other parts of the country, and why "comfort food" most likely has a Midwestern origin.  If it makes us uncomfortable, we're probably not going to try it.  If it's comfortable, we'll probably consume too much of it.
• Momentum is a plant not easily grown in our soil.  Too many questions, too many detractors, too many stick-in-the-muds, too many people unwilling to sign on or sign up or give it a try or change their lives to get the flywheel moving.
• We're insulated.  We put our trust in our mistrust of outsiders.  We sometimes wear irrelevance like it's a badge.  We surround ourselves with the familiar over the new.  We are forever in danger of creating a world that is a fixed point in time rather than living with the world as it develops.

The next post will have to do with how I see this impacting our church culture.  But until then: do you agree?  Disagree?  Why?

unity = mediocrity - vision + fear

I think our concept of unity sometimes deviates from the unity I see in Scripture and in some thriving churches.

I think our concept of unity more closely resembles mediocrity.  Mediocrity - settling for what everybody is comfortable with rather than pushing for the right decision to be made, even if it means conflict.  It's managing around differing viewpoints and opinions rather than examining them openly.  It's allowing someone's weakness, insecurity, agenda, or forcefulness to dictate what we communicate to them, alter the course of discussion, or direct the path to a decision.  The end result is always mediocre - never as good as it could have been.  But, we did everything we could to limit conflict and keep everyone happy.

Is this really unity - the unity that God desires, or that Scripture calls for?  I think it more resembles a pseudo-spiritual principle of being nice.  Unity isn't unity if what we're unified around is mediocrity.  Unity doesn't settle.

Why do we in the name of unity so often settle for mediocrity?  Because we lack vision.  We lack vision.  We forget that things can be different than what they are, or than what they've always been.  We're unwilling to consider that things should be different than what they are or have always been.  Maybe we don't think that we're able to cast a vision that will change people's minds and hearts.  Or perhaps we're unwilling to call people to the vision.  More likely, we're not confident that our vision is God's vision.  And so when we have to count the cost of following after the vision, our first reaction is to do a head count of who we think might go along, rather than clearly articulating the pure and burning vision that God has set before us.

Which leads me to the single most potent agent that muddies up our concept of unity: fear.  We are afraid of conflict.  We're afraid to call someone out.  We're afraid of being wrong ourselves.  We're afraid of an unforseen or uncalculated outcome.  We're afraid that God won't show up.  We're afraid to take a risk.  We're afraid of responding too defensively or too forcefully.  We're afraid to stir up the pot.  We're afraid of being misunderstood.  We're afraid of causing damage or harm.  We're afraid of failing.

And so rather than confront our fear, we retreat into the crowd, bow to whoever is the loudest, defer to whoever is the most vocal about their discomfort, and keep the peace.

I'd rather be unified around a gospel that overturns moneychanging tables, gets labeled as gluttony or drunkenness, offends the overly religious, sets captive people free, relies on the Holy Spirit, and picks fights with the power brokers...


...than a pseudo-gospel that everyone agrees upon but actually does nothing.

gluttony

The last time I posted in this blog was October 22, 2009.

It is now March 15, 2010.

That is almost 5 months.

It has been 5 months of gluttony.

Gluttony.  Taking it in.  Taking it all in.  Taking more in.  More information.  More experiences.  More challenges.  More tasks.  More lessons.  More questions.

More, more, more.

But what have I actually done with with all of this intake?  What am I putting out there?

Well, on the one hand, a lot.  A heckuva lot.  (I wish I could use that term heckuva more often.)  I've programmed services.  I've led meetings for all of our volunteers.  I've coached my staff.  I've taken on a few people outside of my staff to mentor.  I've helped to launch another campus.  I've posted a lot on our ministry's blog about this and that, upcoming events, prayer requests, etc.

But in all of this, I don't really feel like I've really contributed an awful lot.

In fact, I feel exactly the opposite: I feel like I've let my unique contributions and creations fall away in favor of the to do list, the task at hand, the rhythms of my calendar and meetings, expectations, responsibilities, projects, etc.

Just what are my unique contributions and creations?

This.  What I write.  What I think.  What I am wrestling with.  What I am challenged by.

What the Spirit is raising up in me.  Where God is calling me.  How God is correcting me and growing me.

I've let my unique contributions and creations fall away for several reasons:

I feel like someone else has probably already said it, and said it better than me.  While this is probably true, this mode of thinking fails to take into account the fact that I am still responsible for saying it to the people God has entrusted to me.  Even if it is just sharing what someone else has said.  Even if it is posting a link.  Even if it is simply providing my own reaction.  Simply because someone else has already said it does not mean that I'm not responsible to say it, say it differently, say it again, or say something completely different.  God has gifted me with the ability to write and speak.  I let this gift go at my own peril, and at the peril of others.  Reaction is creation in its own way.

I feel like my best energies can and should be spent on something else - something more pressing, more important, more concrete, more unselfish.  Long story short, I've let others dictate how my best energies are to be spent.  That's not their fault.  It's mine.  But what I've learned is that taking the time write, think, react, respond, etc. is what keeps me clear.  It's what keeps me going.  It's what keeps me on an appropriate edge.  It's what motivates me to challenge others.  It gives me vision and confidence to call people from where they are to where God wants them to go.  In the long run, it's hard to think of a lot of things that are more important or that can have a greater kingdom impact than this.

I feel like the things that I really want to write about will probably cause more trouble than good.  This is a slippery one for me.  Sometimes it is all to easy for me to stir the pot in the name of Jesus without the Spirit of Jesus.  But when I'm at my best, I feel like there is no obstacle that can't be removed, misunderstanding that can't be corrected, fuzziness that can't be clarified, or truth that can't be explained and entered into as I write about it, wrestle with it, and am faithful to what God has put on my heart concerning it.  And in those instances, it almost always involves some sort of collision with a commonly held assumption, a sin hiding underneath the trappings of religiosity, a biblical principle misunderstood or misapplied, or a sentiment that is protected by Christian culture but confronted by Christ.  I love, love, love setting our captive minds and spirits free from these traps and trappings with the sometimes controversial but always radical Way, Truth, and Life.

So no more gluttony.  No more taking in without putting more out.  It's time stop doing just what's expected of me.  It's time again to be the me that God created me to be.