Leading Like the Shepherd

confessions of a lazy mower, pt. 1

2010-06-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-23T22:43:00.000-07:00

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?

2010-06-14T06:30:00.000-07:00

Would LOVE to hear your reactions to that question above.

a righteous kill

2010-05-18T16:24:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-05-18T15:46:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-13T15:02:00.000-07:00

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!

2010-05-13T14:10:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-13T13:57:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-13T13:42:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-13T13:21:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-07T07:50:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-28T23:08:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-04-11T21:57:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-10T19:17:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-26T17:20:00.000-07:00

“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)

2010-03-25T13:14:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-03-23T15:14:00.000-07:00

"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

2010-03-16T22:08:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-14T23:49:00.000-07:00

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.

worship masquerade

2009-10-22T12:59:00.000-07:00

I recently viewed a discussion put on by Lifeway Research entitled Reverence vs. Relevance. In the discussion, two guys, both employed by Lifeway, discussed two different philosophies on what should shape worship within Evangelical Christian churches: worship expression shaped by a desire to be reverent, and worship expression shaped by a desire to be relevant.

At the risk of adding confusion to the discussion and fire to a flame, let's get a little more clear on what reverence and relevance mean... and don't mean. When we talk about reverence, we are talking about worshiping God in a way that is reverent of his position and nature. Musical expressions of reverent worship vary, from majestic hymns that sing about God's nature, to quiet and reflective musical moments... even to some contemporary choruses done in a more reverent way. The most pronounced sound the ear would hear in reverent worship might be the congregation filling the room with their voices, a choir singing 3 and 4 part harmony, or a soloist/vocal team supported by a piano. Think: beauty, stately, classic, God transcendent, me humble and in awe.

When we talk about relevance, we are talking about worshiping God in a way that is relevant to a particular culture. Musical expressions of relevant worship vary as well, most often taking the form of a rock-style band, playing anthems about a God who is near and a humanity that he reaches and changes. The most pronounced sound the ear would hear might be an delayed electric guitar riff, or a lead vocal line just above the band, perhaps so loud that it competes with the sound of your own voice... and drowning out the voice of the person next to you. Think: power, expressive, edgy, God immanent, me proclaiming and overjoyed.

From these descriptions I think you can see how the two overlap, how the two are different, and really, how the two are misunderstood or misrepresented:

Reverent worship often gets labeled "irrelevant," as if people these days can no longer appreciate and no longer desire or need moments of quiet awe or majestic praise. The truth is this: the soul needs these moments of quiet and awe in a loud and busy society in order to really focus on God.
Relevant worship often gets labeled as "irreverent," as if allowing culture to influence worship necessitates looking away from God and towards us. The truth is this: we are to use all the tools at our disposal to advance the gospel, and current music is an unbelievably powerful medium to influence the mood of the heart of both believers and believers-yet-to-be, and to tell the story of how God can change them.

I could spend the rest of this post talking about where I happen to fall on the reverence/relevance spectrum. Maybe another time. But what is jumping out to me now is how susceptible worshipers in either camp are to falling away from authentic reverence or authentic relevance and into a masquerade.

Here's what I mean.

If we engage in worship only when the music fits our particular preference, we are masquerading. If you can't enter in to a hymn sung beautifully from the heart, but you have no trouble shouting along with a screamin' loud Hillsong tune, then you are masquerading. If you can't sing for joy along with an electric guitar and are only moved by a theologically heavy tune written 100-200 years ago driven by a piano or organ, then you are masquerading.

You may think that you are worshiping when you engage with the music you like. But I doubt it.

That may sound judgmental and overly simplistic. And I can understand if you have that impression. But, here's why I feel like I can confidently assert a statement like that. I think it is in line with what the Bible says about worship.

According to the Bible, worship, at its deepest and most simplest level, is sacrificial in nature. It is our sacrifice to God (Romans 12:1). And sacrifices, no matter what type, always involve us giving up something. Letting go of something. Submitting to something. Putting something else or someone else ahead of ourselves. Letting the will of another dictate our own will. It is an act of the entire person - heart, soul, will, mind, body... you name it. It always - always - costs us something.

A worship experience that costs us nothing is probably worth nothing.

An authentic worship experience always costs us something.

To be sure, a lot is gained from a good worship experience. We benefit quite a bit. We experience God, hear him, encounter him, respond to him, and in so doing we become more like him as we are motivated to follow him and obey him on a deeper and more authentic level. We experience the good things about him - his joy, his peace, his kindness, his forgiveness, his grace, his mercy. And we love it.

But it is all too easy to seek a worship experience that serves us instead of a worship experience that costs us something.

So: what costs are you as a worshiper unwilling to pay?

I'm a sand-builder

2009-10-03T01:06:00.000-07:00

One of those stories that never quite got reclaimed from Sunday School for me is the one Jesus tells in Matthew 7.

The story goes that there were two men who each built houses - one man built on a foundation of rock, and the other on a foundation of sand. Jesus says that the man who hears his words and puts them into practice is like the man who builds his house on the rock. When the rains come, that man's house remains; but the man who builds his house on the sand finds himself with a house that's been washed away.

I remember hearing this in Sunday school - even singing a catchy little choreographed song about it. When it came time to interpret the story, Jesus was the rock. And we were to build our lives on him... by reading our Bibles, by going to church, etc.

Ok. Totally appropriate to keep it simple for 6 year olds. But tonight I feel like I'm reading it again for the first time, especially in light of the place I am at currently with Jesus.

Here is where I am: I find myself a good part of the time not really wanting to do the "hard work" with Christ. The hard work of a disciplined life. The hard work of sitting in silence before him. The hard work of being cleansed through a fast. The hard work of living more simply and less busy to see him more clearly and obey him more singularly. You know... the hard work. The work that has deep spiritual benefit and reward, a reward that can not be earned, but that nevertheless requires a significant amount of effort.

It's a theme of slothfulness that is just plain in me.

Here's where Jesus' story in Matthew 7 intersects with my story:

I picture myself there in the builder's shoes. I have an option to either build on the rock, or build on the sand. Of course, the rock has obvious benefits: more sturdy, longer lasting, safer, and will provide support for a structure that can grow bigger and bigger.

But it has one major drawback: you are going to have to just about break your back building your foundation on that rock. It won't give easily. It can't be cut easily. You're going to sweat. It's going to go slower than you'd like. You won't see progress as quickly.

You have to be patient. You have to be determined. You have to be strong, and allow your strength to grow as you reach your breaking points from time to time.

You have to keep the big picture in mind as you build, because it would be so easy to let it go in light of the slow, hard, tedious work of building a solid foundation out of solid rock.

You have to not compare your progress to that of those around you who are building mansions right on the beach. And you can't spend working hours strolling over to your neighbor's mansion on the beach, sipping lemonade, looking over to the work that you should be doing that is now being stalled.

It's hard building a house on a rock.

It's easy, on the other hand, to build a house on sand.

Sand gives really easily. A shovel goes nicely into the sand. Work can be accomplished quickly. And it looks like it's the same work - same veneer, anyways - so it's sometimes hard to even tell the difference.

But you can tell the difference when the rain comes. One structure - maybe not quite finished, maybe not quite as ornate - remains standing, while the other rushes away under the pressure of the elements.

I have a tendency to build and rebuild my house on the sand. Then the rain comes. Then my house is washed away.

But then I rebuild on the sand!

Frustrating. Stupid. Isn't that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing every time but expecting different results each time?

Lord God:

Make me content building a house on the rock. Strengthen my resolve. Teach me what it means to work hard but to not work hard to earn.

Make me someone who loves your discipline. Make me someone who is willing to be transparent enough to be disciplined in front of others. Make me someone who is humble enough to learn from those who have been building on the rock for years.

Thank you for your grace and patience with me, God, and sand-builder.

Transform me, God, into being a son who builds his house on the rock!

a prayer

2009-10-02T21:15:00.000-07:00

I have journeyed far from You
But not really.
Perhaps better said
I have shut my eyes
Or looked away
Or made my place
For a time
Away from Your warmth
And Your Light.

But You are my Shepherd.
My wanderings do not confuse You
I can not lose You
My paths are familiar to You
And I am surprised to find You
When I was not even looking for You
But You were looking
Ever looking
Ever watching me.

I found You
Because You found me.
How this can be
How can this be
Wrapped up in Your mystery
Of Grace and Kindness
Strength and Sight
Penetrating the darkness
Overwhelming

How skilled You are
With the hearts of men
Softening and healing
Forming and growing
Bringing peace
And stillness.

There is nothing that I could do
To move You to pursue me
Like You do
A beautiful helplessness
A transformative worthlessness
A godly dependence
Is my inability to save myself

You saved me
You save me
Not because of the righteous works
I have done
Or have not done
But because of Your grace
Your never changing
Everlasting grace
Overpowering grace
Relentless grace
Ruthless grace even
Beating back the fall
Crushing my sin
Protecting the seed of the kingdom
Your kingdom
You planted in my heart.

I wonder where I will wander tomorrow?
Or the day after next?
I rest in the knowledge that You will find me
But Jesus
Please help me to wander
In Your steps
In Your Light
Into fields of peace
So that I might lead those
Who follow in my steps
Into Your Light
Your Love that casts out fear
Your grace that will change their hearts
Like You are changing mine.

Preaching

2009-09-28T08:52:00.000-07:00

I recently came across this paraphrase of a talk Mark Beeson, Senior Pastor of Granger Community Church, gave at their Innovate Conference last week. Tim Stevens, the Executive Pastor there, took some notes and posted it on his blog.

Mark was talking about innovative preaching, and made a point that I have found to be very true when it comes to communicating God's truth to emerging generations:

"Many preachers/teachers start with the Bible, then Exegete the text, then Apply, then Illustrate. Nothing wrong with that method. But culture has shifted. Many (maybe most) question the veracity of the Scripture. It is no longer positioned by the majority of Americans as the authoritative guide for life."

"Another way to teach: Start with real life (the human condition), then Exegete life, then go to the Bible to see what it says about the human condition, then Apply/Illustrate."

Here's what I really like about his statements:

1. It does not do violence to the authority and power of God's written Word. It still recognizes it as the truth that can transform, and the truth to which we need to connect people.

2. It recognizes the place where most people are coming from today - churched or non-churched. We just plain don't have this common cultural assumption any more that the Bible is a revered book, and that everything it says is true and valuable for life. In fact, exactly the opposite is the case a lot of the time.

3. It creates space for communicating God's Word creatively and in a way that actually speaks to a person's life.

If you think about it, this is almost exactly what Jesus did as he spoke in parables. He told a story that any one from his audience could identify with, helped them find themselves in the story, and then caught them by surprise with God's truth.

I think that's what is so amazing about what Jesus did when he spoke in parables. God's truth was always the biggest, and inspired the most awe. God's truth informed the story, and not the other way around. You were pulled in, shocked, moved, or motivated - not by some sentimental human story - but by this radical God who was intervening in it and empowering you to do something and to be something that you knew you just couldn't do and be on your own.

And that is what is most important to remember when communicating God's truth by starting from real life - God's truth is the biggest, and God's truth should inform the story; not simply be captured by it. The danger when starting from a story instead of from the Word is that you manipulate God's truth to conform somehow to your story - i.e., the story is the thing that is the biggest, or the source of motivation and change.

But this isn't what Jesus did. He didn't employ sentimentality or some cute little anecdote ("chicken soup for the spirit") as a way to move his listeners into the reality of God's truth. In fact, it was often times exactly the opposite. The pastor was the bad guy and the Middle-Eastern foreigner was the good guy in the story of the Good Samaritan. The responsible brother reacted wrongly but the disrespectful son reacted properly in the story of the Prodigal Son. Often times when Jesus would tell a story, God's truth wasn't captured by the story and its expected or assumed outcome and application. Rather, it stood in opposition to it, and turned the tables on it, to the point where the listener was able to see that they weren't really on God's side, even though they maybe thought they were at first. They'd have to make a decision, having been confronted with the reality of a God who was real, who was moving, who was bigger than them, who was desiring of their allegiance, and who had the power to change who they were.

So, starting with a story is a great way to communicate the truth of God. I've done it a number of times when I preach, and when I am sitting across the table from someone who doesn't yet know Jesus. But it's God's truth, not story, that'll get them.

another dream (!)

2009-09-22T20:32:00.000-07:00

So, two dreams that I remember, two nights in a row.

I was talking about this dream with some of the folks on staff at church, and it seems like all of us are having (odd) dreams these days.

Anyways...

In this one I was at a bar. I can't remember if I was there with friends or not. But, apparently I had too much to drink. Don't know why. Again, not like me. But this is how it was in my dream.

Apparently it was cold outside, too, because I had my navy peacoat on the back of my chair. As I walked up to the bar to get another drink (which, of course I didn't need), a girl walked behind me and accidentally knocked over the chair with my coat on it. I turned around to catch her eye, looked at her, and shouted a name at her that doesn't bear repeating in this post.

Again, not like me. At all.

But that's not where the dream ended. The woman scurried off, surprised and shocked at my inappropriately strong and derogatory comment to her. I felt no repentance in my heart about it, and turned back towards the bar. After receiving my drink, I made my way back to my table... only to be intercepted by a man who's face I didn't recognize.

Here's what he said:

"Listen... I know that you work at Prairie Lakes and that you've kinda been growing in influence there, but I just want you to know that was totally inappropriate, and that I'll never be coming back."

And that got through to me.

I remember feeling in that moment so ashamed, worried that I had been found out, disappointed in myself, and wondering if my ministry would ever recover from it.

I woke up that morning still lingering in those feelings.

It sounds cliche, but we really all are just one sin away from ruin. Grace is stronger and bigger than sin, with no doubt... but oh, how much pain we can cause to the body of Christ if we allow it to rule in our lives even for a moment! How much ground will the kingdom lose if those who advance it submit themselves to temptation!

Fear should not be the main motivator for growth and life with God. But fear should motivate us to stay away from sin. There is just way too much to lose, and so much that we could gain if we'd fight it well.

This isn't a call to draw within yourselves, or to hide your sin and think you can privately manage it.

Rather:

This is a call to be transparent, to confess your sin to one another, and to press into one another so that the kingdom does not suffer when one of us is found out to be a sinner and not a saint. Too much is at stake otherwise.

my dream

2009-09-21T14:21:00.000-07:00

I had a dream last night. A vivid one.

That's noteworthy, because I don't remember my dreams. I remember maybe 3 or 4 per year. But this one I remember.

It was vivid, not in the sense that I can remember every detail, but in the sense that I can remember deeply feeling something, and I can remember the reason that I felt that way. I think that's what is so amazing about dreams... you can get a very real sense of what something would feel like without really having to experience it.

So, in my dream, I remember coming completely undone. Like sobbing on the floor undone. And it was public, too. Like, people were watching me, and I knew that they were watching me, but I had lost all control over my emotions.

And there was some type of build up to this. Some conversation I was having started out normally... then escalated into an argument, then into a heated argument, ending with me lying on the floor, curled up, sobbing.

I was feeling like I had reached my absolute end. I was tapped out. I was tired of fighting. I completely gave into a feeling of utter desperation and sadness.

Pretty graphic picture, huh?

And it would be very unlike me to ever do something like that, or consider something like that. You know... there are people that you think might do something like that. Edgy people, anxious people, people with an extremely artistic disposition. But it would be so unlike me.

Is it representative of my life right now? I don't feel like it. Is there something going on in life that is giving rise to this? Not that I can think of. Is it a prophecy or prediction of what is to come if I don't change some patterns? Maybe.

Maybe.

All I know is that I don't want to feel like that or get to that place, ever. I'm gonna have to do some praying and asking about what this dream means.

I read a book one time that said that dreams can be a window to the soul - that sometimes our dreams help us to see something going on deep inside of us that we could not otherwise see. I think in this case that might be true. Something about it resonates. I just can't quite place it.

I think that God is using it, too. It's not giving rise to fear or to anxiety about my future. But it is causing me to be introspective, and to invite him to enlighten me. And that's always, always a good thing.

faith, hope, and possibility

2009-09-01T21:23:00.000-07:00

I know, I know... I left out "the greatest" item of what would normally complete that list in the title. But right now, that's not what God has put in front of me. What he has put in front of me is faith, hope, and what faith and hope together make possible. So put your theologically argumentative bows and arrows down for just a second.

Let me start with a story. I love this story. It's a great story. And not just great because it makes me look good. It's great because finally, today, I understand how it is a picture of God in me... and really, how it's a just picture of God, plain and simple.

Rewind to my high school days, sophomore year. I'm a gangly, just starting to hit my growth spurt, super skinny, somewhat emotional, super intense sophomore. I'm at basketball practice. I'm the only sophomore who practices and plays with the varsity team. And they don't really like that I'm on the team and getting playing time in front of some of their buddies.

Mind you, the only reason that I made that team and got playing time was because I could play defense. I was too small and not yet mature enough to really contribute a lot on the offensive end, besides the occasional slash to the hoop because of my quickness. But I could defend, at least well enough to back up our primary defensive stopper when he needed a breather.

So we're in practice in the cold gym early one morning. The starting team is running an offensive set. The bench is defending. We're going full strength. And I get the task of guarding the point guard.

The offensive set calls for the center to run from the block up to the top of the key and screen for the point guard. I know it's coming. And yet, I'm aware that the point guard might anticipate me knowing that it's coming, fake like he's going to run the play as called, and then go the other way, straight down the lane for an easy layup, thus making me look like a fool.

Long, detailed story, right? Well, we're not even halfway.

So being the super-intense-wanting-to-prove-that-I-had-a-rightful-spot-on-this-team type of 15 year old kid that I was, I'm on edge, wanting desperately to stay with the point guard regardless of which way he goes. I can't overcommit towards the screen, because he'll go the other way. And yet, if I don't anticipate it at all, I'm going to get screened, he's going to go in for the layup, I'm going to get yelled at by my coach, and all of the older guys are going to smirk at me, the kid who they don't think should even be on the same floor as them in the first place.

The coach gives the ball to the point guard. I get down in my defensive stance. The point guard calls the play. I can see that the center is coming up to screen out of my peripheral vision, but I'm still focused on what the point guard is going to do. What does he do? He ball fakes towards the screen, then jab steps towards the other way, as though he wasn't going to use the screen and go right down the middle of the lane. I jump quickly to stop him, only to realize that he is actually going to use the screen, and that his jab step was simply another fake.

Now he's got me right where he wants me. I desperately try to catch up with him, but I'm already a step behind. And then whaddya know:

Wham! I slam into our senior star center who outweighs me by about 50 lbs. and get knocked to the floor by a completely legal screen. I pick my head up off the floor just in time to see the point guard glide into the lane for an uncontested layup.

I get up. The coach barks a little, and then tells the starters to run the play again.

I'm embarassed, disappointed in myself, shaking my head, and then head back to my position at the top of the key to try and defend this play once again. But I'm scared, really, of it happening again. Of not being able to defend this play. Of not having the ability that I need. Of not measuring up. Of it finally coming out that I really don't belong, that I really can't cut it.

Seriously. That dramatic. Right there in that moment. Told you that I was this emotional, intense teenage kid.

So the point guard saunters back to the top of the key, ball in hand, ready to start it again. And he's got that smirk on his face--the one that I knew was going to show up if I messed up. The smirk that said way more than words could ever say.

But he didn't leave it there. He decided to say something. And he said it so softly that only I could hear it. And he directed it to me with this arrogant, knowing smile on his face:

"You'll get used to that."

You'll get used to that. Here I am, years later, and I can still remember him saying that.

And I can also remember what welled up inside of me.

Honestly, it surprised me, because it wasn't fear. It wasn't worry. It wasn't defeatedness. It wasn't intimidation.

In fact, it was exactly the opposite. His statement had the exact opposite effect on me. His statement drove out my fear. His statement killed my worry. His statement caused me to let go of my defeatedness. And his statement pushed every last shred of intimidation out of every corner of my mind.

The only thing that was left was something that I can describe only as pure abandonment. Come hell or high water, this guy was never, ever, ever going to get around me ever again. I didn't care if Shaquille O'Neal himself was the guy coming up and setting the screen. I was utterly abandoned to stopping him from getting anywhere he wanted to go.

And I believed that I could do it. In fact, I knew that I would do it. One way or the other. Legally or illegally. Athletically or forcefully. He was not going to get to the basket, and I would be the reason why. If I had to jump on this guy's back and punch him in the face repeatedly before he was able to get to the basket--even if that resulted in a royal beatdown by him and the rest of the entire team--then so be it. Either way, that ball was not going to get in the hoop.

For that moment, it was like there wasn't even another option.

And that gave me this weird sense of peace and calmness. Right there in that moment. I wasn't on edge anymore. I wasn't trying to guess where he was going to go, what he was going to do, or imagine what would happen if I didn't anticipate correctly.

And I wasn't worried anymore about how the other guys would respond. I came to grips with the fact that they had made their decision about me, and I stopped caring. If it was my lot to stick it to them the rest of the season and endure their scorn, then so be it. If it was going to be me against them, fine. I was not going to lose. And they lost the ability to win. Right then.

Pure abandonment. All wrapped up in that moment. Because:

I had decided that I would never, ever, ever "get used to it." He couldn't make me, nor could anyone else.

And I decided that "getting used to it" was far, far worse than anything he or anyone else could ever do to me. Way more would be lost if I "got used to it" than if I refused to "get used to it" and paid the price for doing so.

And for a long, long time, I chalked that characteristic up to wiring, or personality, or blood, or whatever. It was in me for some reason, and that circumstance unlocked it. But after tonight, I see it differently.

I see God in me at that moment.

Nothing is impossible with God. Meaning: God decides what is possible, and no one else. God does not respect anyone else or anything else when it comes to the realm of possibility. He decides.

And we either accept that and choose to live by that, or we do not.

And yes, it really is that simple.

We choose to live in that by faith, and our faith is rewarded with hope. Hope comes when we see God reward our faith in him by pursing him determinedly through seemingly impossible circumstances, and then we see him deliver, or overcome, or win.

I've seen him do it too many times now to ever accept any other axiom other than with God, everything is possible.

Sometimes my lack of faith limits me. Sometimes I lose hope, if only for a time.

But I am starting to accept that my imagination can not even come close to fathoming not only what God can do but what God wants to do in us and among us and through us.

And I am becoming abandoned to it. It's almost like I can not even allow myself to consider another option. It's like it can't turn out any other way.

We so easily "get used to it" when it comes to what God can do and desires to do amongst us. In fact, it even seems like it's the "responsible" and "rational" thing to do. Some dreams are off limits, some changes will just never happen, some courses of action or paths are simply forever off the table of consideration.

Well, if God can raise a man from the dead... you fill in the blank.

And if God is raising you from the dead... you fill in the blank.

And because God is in the business of raising everything and everyone from death and redeeming and restoring and healing and glorifying everything and everyone he comes into contact with all the time everywhere... then why the hell would we expect or settle for anything less or anything different?

Why not abandon ourselves to that and only that happening?

Why not endure all hardship and setbacks knowing that this and only this can happen for us right where we are?

Friends:

Let us live by faith so that we can be fueled by the hope that will grow as we see that with God, everything--everything--is possible.

P.S.

I fought through that screen the second time, stayed with that point guard, blocked his attempt at a layup, and shoved him into the wall for good measure. Still makes my heart skip a beat just thinking about it.

resurrection

2009-08-16T20:34:00.000-07:00

So I've been taking my own advice lately and have been saying "yes" to the right things first - namely, more intentional time spent with God. I even scheduled and followed through on an overnight personal retreat, which was great. Time reading, praying, reflecting on God's Word.

I read through the book of Acts. One of the things in there that struck me was how often Peter and Paul referred to Jesus' resurrection. They referred to it in a number of different circumstances:

-when they were seeking to encourage others, they referred to it as a source of hope for the future

-when they were seeking to prove that Jesus was the Messiah, they referred to it as a sign from God

-when they would raise people from the dead, they would point to it as the model and forerunner of what God wanted to do with all humanity

The resurrection... something that I don't think we reflect on theologically or practically these days. As in: what is the significance of the resurrection, and how should it be influencing our worship of God today?

Well, here are a few of my thoughts.

1. If the God we worship has the power to raise people from the dead, then we should be seeing him do the equivalent today. I think a literal application is more than appropriate here. After all, we shouldn't shrink back from the idea of someone being raised from death to life if we are ok believing in a God who created existence from nothing and that he raised Jesus from death to life.

But as strange as it sounds, I don't think this literal sense would be the most compelling application for today. I think that in our day, age, and culture, we would be so suspicious of a literal resurrection story that it would almost be meaningless. Sad, but perhaps true.

For our culture today, I think a more compelling resurrection application would be God raising people from being dead in their sin to alive in the life of his Son. Addicts, pedophiles, murderers, adulterers, cheaters, pornographers, the gluttonous, the greedy, and the immoral being someone absolutely and positively changed forever and ever--transformed into loving, humble, gentle, passionate followers of Christ. Those are the stories that would grip us and open up our eyes to the reality of Christ resurrection: that God now has the authority and ability to raise men and women from being dead in their sin to life in Christ.

We should be hearing stories like this all the time. We should be a part of stories like this all of the time. We should be experiencing stories like this in our lives on a regular basis: being taken from death to life. Perhaps not momentous, earth-shattering, miraculous, testimony-shaping stories all of the time... nevertheless: God's community should be riddled with resurrection stories large and small. If not, something is dangerously wrong.

2. If the God we worship has the power to raise people from the dead, then our corporate worship needs to reflect our awe at this authentic reality. The songs we sing, the sermons we preach, the environments we create, the transformational moments that we move people into--all of them, all of them, all of them needs to have a little taste of this awe of the One who has the power to raise the dead to life. Of course, this awe can be expressed in a million different ways, ranging the spectrum from quiet reverence to ear-splitting anthems, according to how God is moving his churches to communicate his life-giving message. Regardless of the method, if our corporate worship does not open up the non-churched, unbelieving, unrepentant, deadened eyes of those who do not yet know the resurrecting power of our living God, then what is the point of our gatherings?

Perhaps you might insert the word "edification" here, as though a gathering that didn't help the non-churched see the resurrecting power of God in Jesus may be of some sort of value to those already in the flock. In my opinion, nothing could be further from the truth. This is where the unredeemed and the redeemed come together in solidarity: we all need to be reminded of the resurrected reality of life in Jesus. We all need to be pointed back to the source of our life, Jesus Christ. We all need to be overtaken once again by the presence of the Spirit of the resurrected Jesus who is not dead but alive and working and moving and loving and forgiving and saving and redeeming and freeing and pursuing.

This power works in the same way on those inside and outside of the church. It is the great litmus test, if you will, of whether or not our corporate worship is actually doing anything or worth anything at all: the unbelieving will come to believe in the resurrected living Jesus, AND the believing will believe again as if for the very first time as they are freed from their sin and transformed into the image of the resurrected Son. BOTH of these things must be happening for a local church to be doing its job by the power of the resurrected Son.

saying yes to the right things first

2009-08-10T22:33:00.000-07:00

I think it's safe to say that I have had a tough last couple of weeks. Long hours, some battles, some failures, some obstacles, late nights, early mornings, low resources, high demands. Kind of a perfect storm.

Some of it was my own fault for saying "yes" to too many things. Some of it was circumstances that were unplanned yet had to be accounted for by my attention, decision, production, or some other personal resource. Regardless, it was a hard two week push that culminated with a weekend service at which I had to both produce and preach.

I started to lose grip on reality a little bit. It was that kind of push. It was that kind of low.

And I suffered, as did my message. But God was faithful, used it anyways, and rescued me from where I had found myself.

I was debriefing about this with my team today. Here's what we concluded:

1. All of us have the talent and capacity to "lead on empty." Meaning: we can still produce a "killer" service out of the talent that God has given us, and, if necessary, disproportionate to the vitality of our own souls before God.

2. We are able to do this because, quite frankly, the demands have not gotten so great that we are able to meet them only by the power of God.

3. Very soon in the near future, the demands will be so great that the only way that we will be able to meet them is with God's power flowing through us.

4. If we continue to try to lead on empty, we will be crushed by the demands on us.

5. Regardless of the demands: why would we want to live by our own power and not God's in us?

One conclusion we came to was the need to say "yes" to the right things first, before we say yes to anything else. Yes to God, yes to time with him, yes to family and loved ones... and then yes to everything else. Not the other way around.

preaching with power

2009-08-08T22:13:00.000-07:00

Here I am, sitting up on a Saturday night, reflecting upon the service, thinking about the service tomorrow. And I am struck with an insight:

Messages are not spoken with power because their speakers are not living with power.

In a positive light, the sentence would read like this:

Messages are spoken with power because their speaker is living in power.

And even more complete:

God's messages through his people are spoken with power because his people are living in his power.

Oh God, my God, why do I not choose to live in your power?

Real Crazy It Churchness

2009-06-24T21:35:00.000-07:00

Tonight I realized that I'm reading three different books that all coincidentally cover the same topic, written by people who share a similar perspective:

Crazy Love, written by Francis Chan--a pastor in southern California and conference speaker
It, written by Craig Groeshcel, pastor of the multi-site church LifeChurch.tv and conference speaker
Real Church, written by author, professor, counselor, and conference speaker Dr. Larry Crabb

I'm not far enough in to any of the books to have a firm sense of what each author is suggesting and/or prescribing. And each of the books comes stamped with the author's unique perspective and style. But even just a few chapters in to each of the books, two striking commonalities emerge:

First, all of the authors came to a point where they were dissatisfied with how church was being done, and are now writing about their journey with God through that.

Second, godly transformation in church always begins with godly transformation in someone's heart.

This gets me wondering:

Is my personal walk with Christ so compelling that if the lost saw it, they would want to follow Him?

To me, that question has four parts:

My personal walk with Christ. Just me and Him. Not my work for him, not my service to him, not my public expressions of worship and obedience. Rather, my experience of his love, my listening to his voice, my bending to his will, all flowing from my transformational spiritual journey with him through the spiritual disciplines and practices.

So compelling. First, I'm talking about living a life with God that is compelling to me. I'm talking about a personal awe at what Christ is doing in me. I'm talking about a healthy and abiding feeling of unworthiness (read: humility) that comes from knowing both the depth of my sin and the depth of God's mercy. I'm talking about a high level of awareness of the personal God's handiwork in the past, present, and even future. When I look at my life with God, is it compelling to me?

Second, I'm talking about a life that is compelling to others. Which leads me to the third phrase:

If the lost saw it. This phrase requires a story. I had a conversation today with a guy who does some contract IT work for our church. He wouldn't describe himself as a Christian, I don't think. If I were to label him, I'd label him as an agnostic. Recently he's started attending occasionally, and serving regularly on our groundskeeping teams. Anyways, we had a chance to talk today for a little bit--the latest in a series of conversations, actually, with each getting a little more personal. I asked him today: "Has this church changed your view at all on who God is?" To which he responded, "Not really." Then he proceeded to share about his view of tolerance, namely, "Who's to say who is right and who is wrong? Believe what you want, and worship however and whoever you choose."

And I thought: "Huh."

And then I thought: "Crap."

I mean, it is a good thing that he feels welcome. It's a good thing for him to feel like he wants to be a part of what is going on in our church. And it's entirely possible that in his spiritual journey, this is the first of many steps--that he needs to belong before he believes. I get that.

But at this point he hasn't seen God through our church, whether in corporate worship or personal conversations, in a such a way that he recognizes God for who he is (and maybe just as importantly, who he is not) and responds to him. And as someone who is responsible for planning and executing every single service, even the ones that my friend has attended, that is just plain haunting.

Maybe you think I'm being too hard on myself, or placing too much responsibility on myself, my team, and my church for this guy's (and others) spiritual growth. You might be right. Certainly each person's spiritual journey is unique, and certainly God is the only one who can save. I know this. But the question still remains:

Are lost people seeing in me a compelling picture of a personal and transformational God? If not, how could they possibly see it in what I create?

So that they follow Him. Here's where the rubber meets the road, so to speak. I know it's about disciples and not just conversions. But blah, blah, blah... no more pseudo-theological debates that result in no action. When it comes down to it in this life, I have to ask myself: for how many people has God used me to snatch from the darkness and usher into the Light? How many people see me and say: "You are the one who introduced me to Christ" or "You are the one who guided me into a deeper intimacy with God?" How many? How many are following because of me? How many are walking with God because I was walking with him first?

These are the questions that God is stirring in my heart. It feels like their consideration is long overdue.

leaders are busy

2009-06-20T23:38:00.000-07:00

Busy doing good things. Managing conflict. Casting vision. Managing projects and workflow. Training. Having hard conversations. Adjusting, tweaking, evaluating. Hiring. Helping others transition well. Networking. Bridge building. Planning.

Retreating. Traveling. Team building. Conferencing. Budgeting. Purchasing. Proposing. Learning. Reading. Developing. Challenging. Teaching. Coaching. Advising. Counseling.

Of course, such is the life of a leader... at least, the life of a good leader. These are the things a good leader does, and does with excellence.

But my gosh is it a busy life.

Here's what I've noticed in myself over the past two months...

...and let me hit pause before I continue, and just camp on the phrase "the last two months" for a moment here. I've been absolutely deluged during these last 8 weeks. I've been exposed to so much, trusted to execute so much, leaned on so much that I haven't even had space to pause and reflect, much less had the energy to capture my thoughts and be motivated to write about them.

Ok. Unpause. Here's what I've noticed in myself over the past two months:

1. I have more capacity to do more things for a longer period of time without getting burned out.
2. Sometimes #1 is a good thing, and sometimes it is not.
3. I need to learn how to build a team of people that is strong where I am weak, rather than simply try to improve my weaknesses or manage them.
4. I like leading.
5. I am still very much emerging as a leader. A lot is being developed. A lot is rough.
6. The same things that serve me well as a pastor serve me well as a leader. I don't feel like I have to be a different person than who I am. I just feel like I have to keep growing into who I am... if that makes any sort of sense at all.
7. I still need to be led.

Not quite sure what to do with any of that, or even if there is a point. At this juncture, I'm just content to say "I'm new at this," capture these thoughts, and laugh at them by this time next year.

I got a new job.

2009-04-20T22:20:00.000-07:00

So I just got a new job at Prairie Lakes Church. Third one in 3 years. College Pastor, then Worship Pastor, and now... well, my title stays the same, but my responsibilities have changed. Whereas I used to report to the Program Director who headed up Programming and Production (music, tech, and everything weekend services), now I'll be heading up that department, reporting to the Executive Pastor, working with the Senior Pastor to develop sermon series, and the Programming and Production team to brainstorm, create, and produce services.

This is another new chapter for me. A new set of skills to learn. Management of people and departmental projects. Human resources processes. A [big] budget. Hiring. Tracking and metrics. Networking. A higher level of visibility, accountability, and expectations.

And, to be quite honest, when I think about all of that at once, I get more than a little anxious. One night it was even hard to get to sleep, thinking about all of it. Feeling like I'm in over my head before I begin. Wondering if I'll measure up, if I'll fall flat, if this will be the time when I really bit off more than I could chew.

But then I looked again, and this time not with my own eyes.

I desperately want to avoid sounding hyper spiritual on the one hand, and cliche on the other. But as I felt the anxiety grow, the Lord brought to my mind a lesson that I learned when I was a kid.

When I was a kid--junior high--I worried all the time. All the time. And severely. Over everything that had to do with expectations--what teachers expected of me, what parents expected of me, what coaches expected of me, what I expected of me, what I thought God expected of me. One time I remember worrying so much over registration for a spelling bee--that's right, registration for a spelling bee... not performing... not performing... but a mistake in registering, and whether or not I'd be let in--that I literally threw up.

And I never could get to sleep at a decent hour. Still can't. But those were prime worry hours. Just laying there in my bed, in the dark, alone with my worrisome pre-teen/early-teen thoughts. Item after item. List after list. Tomorrow grew burdensome and heavy, becoming my master before it even unfolded.

Then one day I learned how to gain access to a power greater than worry, and how worry used fear to grip me:

I confessed it as a sin to God, and pleaded with him to forgive me.

I pleaded--not just asked, but pleaded--with him for two reasons:

1. Without his help, I was going to be overtaken. When your anxiety manifests itself physically, it's pretty much got you. I needed help, being utterly unable to help myself or overcome my circumstances. People who are desperate don't simply ask for help; they plead.

2. I saw my anxiety for what it really was: a deep and insidious challenge to God's faithfulness to me. That might sound harsh, especially given the context (come on... how insidious can a spelling bee be?). Nevertheless, God had proven himself to be nothing but capable, near, and present in my life. Why should I entertain a reality that was anything different? Why would I exchange the truth for a lie? But that's what anxiety tempted me to do, and that's what I indeed was doing. It was like a friend deciding, against all other evidence to the contrary, that his best friend no longer cared for him. That's what I realized I was doing to God. And so I pleaded, if only to get my Friend back.

And that turned the tide in my battle against anxiety. And I remembered that lesson. Well... with God's help.

And so I followed the same tried and true path two nights ago, when, after a day of hunting turkey in Kansas I was lying in my bunk at the cabin in the middle of a mudfield, again just with me and my anxious thoughts. As it turns out, the Spirit of the Living God dwells even in Doug Wood's cabin a few miles north of Delia, Kansas.

So I prayed to see this new task not through my anxious and fearful eyes, but through the eyes of faith that he has so graciously grown in me. Again I confessed and pleaded for forgiveness, throwing myself not dejectedly but boldly down at his feet. I love that place. I know what happens there every time. And it happened again two nights ago, just like it did 15 years ago.

Which takes me back to another aspect of a new chapter. It's not just about learning a new set of needed skills; it's also about applying old lessons.

So this is why I'm closing down my old blog, and starting this one. Here's what I think God is up to: he's teaching me about how to lead, and how to lead as a shepherd, applying the lessons that I've learned as I've followed the Good Shepherd.

Thank you for leading me like a shepherd, Jesus. I am prone to wander. Glad that your rod and staff extend across a few states.