“What’s that mean?” or The Gift of Self-Awareness

The prophet Isaiah notes Israel’s penchant to assume that they have their lives under control. In Isaiah 9:13 we read, “The people did not turn to him who struck them, nor inquire of the Lord of hosts.” That means that there were signs, hints that something was awry. Something was amiss. They weren’t firing on all cylinders spiritually, morally, relationally, and all they did in response was plan to do more of the same (cf. v. 10). “We’ll just try harder,” they thought. But that wasn’t the point! The point is that they were so unaware, so unmindful, so oblivious to things that they missed the signs that something was wrong. And as a result, they experienced the destructive consequences of their lack of understanding. They were profoundly unaware. So are we!

The gift of self-awareness is granted when we take the time and energy to ask, “Why did I do that? Why did I say that? Why do I act the way I act, think the way I think, feel the way I feel?” Then sit there in that. Listen. Be still. Be silent. Wait. Most people crowd out the time it takes to do the hard inner work that leads to self-awareness. We fill the silent spaces in our lives with noise—TV, cell phones, internet, activity, exercise, relationships, busyness, etc. We can’t hear through all the noise. So we aren’t self-aware.

God wants to cut through the static and get our attention. For the nation of Israel, it was a no brainer. They were in covenant relationship with him and he’d told them exactly what would happen if they broke the covenant so it should have been no surprise. Read Deuteronomy 28-29 for a list of “This is what’s going to happen if you do this or don’t do that.” It surprised them anyway! That’s how unaware they were.

So what are some signs that self-awareness is an issue for us? Here are a couple thoughts: constant stress that seems to never end, depression, the inability to get along, a calloused heart to obvious sin, an unwillingness to reconcile with others, the inability to feel, dirty fighting (threats, yelling, giving others the silent treatment, etc.), and things like that. Self-awareness is terrifying. Because once you are aware of something, you are forced to deal with it. In my case, I discovered to my embarrassment, that anxiety had been a controlling issue in my life for years. I was totally unaware of it. It alienated people, particularly my kids. It produced an unhealthy reactivity in my work. And it was exhausting. After years of living with it, I finally faced the fact that I was an anxious person. Knowing that hasn’t solved it. But being aware of it has given me recourse when it rears its ugly head. Awareness is half the battle. In fact, self-awareness is one of the keys to spiritual and emotional health. Sixteenth century reformer John Calvin once wrote, “You’ll never know God unless you know yourself.” That’s on the firsts few pages of his Institutes on the Christian religion, one of the most famous books in Church history.

My hope is that we’ll all take advantage of the gift of self-awareness. And because of the gospel we can do so with joy. There is nothing God doesn’t know about you! Because of Christ work on the cross, if you’ve turned from sin and put your faith in him, there is nothing you can do to make him love you any more, and nothing you’ve done will cause him to love you any less. You can become self-aware, then deal with you stuff, in total confidence that it won’t do anything but make your relationship with him, yourself, and others better. So with that in mind, take the self-awareness challenge.

We Cannot Have God on Our Terms

Several years ago I read The Dark Night of the Soul written by a Catholic monk named John of the Cross. It had a significant impact on my life as John made it clear that there were times in a Christian’s spiritual life that could not be understood. Times of pain, confusion, and sorrow are the anvil on which God teaches us to love Him for himself, not for the good gifts he gives us. Others like Pascal, Augustine and modern day protestants like A.W. Tozer say the same thing. Eugene Peterson puts it in these words in the Forward to the book Mansions of the Heart by Tom Ashbrook, “We cannot have God on our terms, domesticated to our requirements, reduced to our ideas of what we think God should be doing.” A mature Christian will love God for Gods sake, for his beauty’s sake, for his glory’s sake. We don’t love God because he does what we want. We love God because he’s God, period! For this reason, a life of prayer—prayer being giving attention to God in every part of our lives (cf. 1 Thes 5:17)—rooted in our absolute acceptance by God because of Christ’s work on the cross, is fertile ground for spiritual maturity. We can wrestle, argue, and dialogue with God about failures, successes, and our future knowing that whatever happens, as confusing as it may be, doesn’t happen in a outside of God’s awareness and for God’s glory. It teaches us to love Him for His sake, and nothing more.

What's the Deal with God?

“You do your part, I’ll do mine.” That's the deal we make with God. “I’ll be a good guy. I’ll come to church. I’ll give money. I’ll serve you but in the end, you need to come through for me too. And if you don’t?! Well then, the deals off. I’ll marry someone who’s not a Christian, or sleep around, or cheat, or just quit coming to church and serving you, and talking about you, and giving, and being nice, or being cooperative or …..” That’s the deal Christians often make with God. There is only one problem; God doesn’t make deals like that.

A god who makes deals is not the God who says to us, “Take up your cross and follow me.” That’s not the God who says, “I will not yield my glory to another.” Any one can give God glory, and be happy, and follow Christ as a result of an easy life. A pagan can say, “Wow, I’m happy I’m not sick with cancer, have a great spouse, make a lot of money, got over that relational hickup, etc, etc, etc.” It’s quite another thing to keep your relationship with God intact after you’ve been raped or sexually molested, or after your spouse has died when your 35 and left you with three kids, or your family rejects you for your faith, or you lose your job, or you are sued for some accident and it puts your life on a downward spiral, or you are rejected at school because you’re a Christian, or your kids go sideways on you even after you’ve done a decent job raising them, or you were honest and got in trouble while someone else cheated and got away with it, or whatever. See what I mean? Then the deal with God becomes another thing altogether. Then it gets really personal. Because now, Christ isn’t being followed because he’s making life easy but simply because he’s Christ, because he’s God, because he’s glorious and beautiful and lovely.

When you live for Christ without the deal, when you say, “Thy will be done,” not “My will be done,” then God really gets the glory. When you, as an act of faith, obey or serve or give, even when its hard and hurts, then whatever happens to you, as you submit and surrender to him, he gets glory, he gets honor and he gets praise. He gets to be God and he’s shown for who is really is in the eyes of those who watch your life. And in the long haul, who knows, life may work out differently than you ever imagined.

On the cross Jesus showed us what true submission and surrender is. In the Passion event, Jesus let God the Father be God the Father. In the garden of  Gethsemane Jesus asked the Father to let the events of the passion pass from him, “Father, let this cup pass from me,” he requested. But in the end, his deal with the Father was what it had been all along: “I can only do what I see the Father doing” (John 5:19). In other words, the Father has the final say. God is not a negotiator. Let’s all consider saying, “Regardless of what happens, despite it all, thy will be done!”

Three Kinds of People

One of the more prolific thinkers of the twentieth century is CS Lewis. I have a small book of his entitled Present Concerns which is a collection of essays he’d written over the years for various publications. One essay in particular caught my attention. It’s called “Three Kinds of People.” In that essay Lewis unpacks what I think is a critical distinction today for those from religious and non-religious backgrounds. In short, it's a critical distinction all of us need to keep in mind, especially those of us who live and work in a religiously secular (my own odd sounding phrase) culture like New England. (I can’t say for sure, but it seems to me that even the non-religious people here seem to have religious roots).

 At any rate, Lewis says that first, there are those people who live for their own sake and pleasure. We would call those non-religious people or irreligious people. Regardless of what you call them, or how you describe them, they are people who live any way they want. They simply don’t care for God or religion or spiritual things. In many cases, spiritual things aren’t even on their radar. There are more of these people around than you might think. Philosopher Charles Taylor has noted that this is the first time in human history when one can live one’s entire life without any sense of the transcendent. 

 

Then, according to Lewis, there are those people who live with a sense that there is a greater claim on their lives—God’s claim. We’ll call these religious people. But more often than not, they surrender to that claim like a man surrenders to paying taxes. They do it because they have to but then, who wants to pay taxes?! Consequently their faith is as sterile as tax day. It’s there, but they hope that having done their due diligence, and paid what they owe to God, there will be enough of life left over for them to have some fun. 

And then finally, according to Lewis, there is a third type of person. This is the person who doesn’t feel that the will of God limits their will, but it is their will. Unlike the non-religious and religious persons, they don’t live for themselves but for God; for Christ. They do what they do for Gods sake, for his beauty’s sake, for his glory’s sake. For them to live is Christ, says Lewis. 

This is a critical distinction for those who are followers of Christ, or for those who seek to know what it means to be a follower of Christ. Christianity isn’t about working hard to merit Gods blessing. That’s a tax payer mindset. Christianity is living a life of faith based on the hard work done for us on the cross by Christ. We don’t merit God’s grace. We don’t earn God’s grace. We receive God’s grace. There is no other world religion like this. None, so far as I can tell!! And when that is your mind set, the resulting joy and delight that flows from it is palpable. The motivation for obedience and worship is beauty and delight. It’s the duty of beauty, or the duty of delight, as one person calls it. So what kind of person are you?

SILENCE

“Silence!” I can’t remember the movie where the character boomed out that famous line (must have been tough to memorize) but its in my mind. I’m sure its been said more than once. Silence.

Every day I try to take five minutes of silence….at least. Some people take way more. I’m good with five. But that silence allows me to shut out the external noise that comes from the busyness of life. I’ll literally do that three times a day. Morning, noon, and night though the noon and night times of stillness are more stillness than absolute silence. Silence.

It’s in that stillness where my “to do” list is clarified and my real priorities take shape. When I’m silent I’m not trying to think about a “to do” list, though thoughts creep in. I’m not trying to think about anything. I’m just trying to be silent. For me, I’ll offer one or two word prayers, “Come Holy Spirit” or “Come Lord Jesus.” Silence.

I need the silence. I value the silence. I get up and run in the morning and sometimes its just silent. I like it. I enjoy golf because its silent and peaceful. Surfing is wonderful early in the morning because outside of the waves crashing, its silent. There’s not horns honking or jets flying overhead. Silence.

“Be still and know that I’m God” says the Psalmist. In a culture where God has become trivial, where he does not matter, my silence and the two word prayers that accompany it remind me that he does. There have been times where I’ve ended sermons in silence. I just ask people to be still then we don’t say anything for a minute. Silence.

Ever been so stunned by something you can’t say anything? You are just mute! Silence forces me to see that Gods like that. Awesome. Powerful. Holy. Just. When he really speaks, even the most loquacious person alive will be silent. Silence.

The Seven Deadly Sins--Greed

Been preaching on the Seven Deadly Sins—really interesting study. Just finished the sermon on greed. Here is a quote on greed from Clement of Alexandria, a second century theologian, that I found really interesting. I think that this was taken from a sermon he did from Mark 10 on the Rich Young Ruler. Clement notes that by making God your treasure we defeat the life stealing thief of greed. Here is what he says:

“For he who holds possessions and gold and silver and houses as gifts of God, and from them ministers to the salvation of men for God the giver, and knows that he possesses them for his brothers sakes rather than his own, and lives superior to the possession of them; who is not the slave of his possessions, and does not carry them about in his soul, nor limit and circumscribe his own life in them, but is ever striving to do some noble and divine deed; and who, if he is fated ever to be deprived of them, is able to bear their loss with a cheerful mind exactly as he bore their abundance—this is the man who is blessed by the Lord … a ready inheritor of the kingdom of heaven, not a rich man who cannot obtain life.”

Challenging thoughts. Greed is so much a part of our lives, we are completely unaware of it. 

The Philly Marathon, Life, and Ministry

The long wait is over. After five years, I’ve returned to sub-three hour marathons, something that was, at one time, so predictable I didn’t even think about it. What a reality check! Injuries, age, and circumstance (heat, hills, and food poisoning to be specific) beat me to the finish line on more than one occasion. But on a cool day (it was 41 and partially cloudy at the start) on November 23, 2014 we did it. I mean “we” because Jan and some family friends, Dan and Mary Beth Wilkinson, were all part of it. The time 2:58:10 was better than I anticipated and sold me on the new training method I’ve been using. I’ll save an explanation of that for another post.

“Why would you do that?” people have asked. “I mean really?! Why go out and run like that or train like that? It seems a bit extreme.” I suppose it is extreme—like surfing in the winter is extreme and rock climbing is extreme, etc. But its more than just an addiction to extreme sports. To me, running marathons is like life. And to be specific, its like the Christian life. People in our culture don’t train for life, and consequently, we don’t stick it out when tough times come, etc. We give up on marriages, on relationships, on jobs, and other things way too easy. Dan captured some of my thinking on this in a coffee shop downtown the day before the race. Check it out.

The Leaf Blower from Hell (or Heaven)

It happened last Sunday (Sept 7). I was preaching, which is normal for me on a Sunday, and just as I was heading into the punch lines of my sermon, it started: the leaf blower from hell.

I don’t know what possessed the guy to turn it on at that time, right next to a church—on a hot day with the windows open—but he did. If you do any public speaking, you know when you have most people’s attention. In this case, while not everyone was locked in on my biblical exposition, I had most of them in spite of just explaining a very difficult concept. But when the leaf blower started, people were looking towards the windows, and glancing around at each other with curious looks on their faces.

I immediately got flustered and started sweating. I sweat very little so when I sweat, I’m uptight. It was so annoying I lost my place in my notes, couldn’t think straight, and essentially read the rest of the sermon directly from the notes so it would at least make sense to those who could actually hear it, or who tried to pay attention despite the distraction.

It was irritating to say the least. What was more irritating to me later was why I let it irritate me to begin with. Psalm 119:165 says, “Great peace (rest) have they who love your law, and nothing can make them stumble.” Clearly, my rest is not found in God’s providential work of leaf blowing. While I doubt very much that the person blowing leaves was antagonistic towards us as a Christian church, he or she was clearly used by God to teach me a lesson. Rest and peace is not found in a tranquil environment where I get my way all the time. It's found in the middle of God’s will. Humorously, last Sunday, that included a disruption in the middle of a sermon with a leaf blower. Why not laugh about it? Why not rest in Him in the midst of it? I choose to do so. So next Sunday Mr. Leaf Blower, bring it on!

The gospel says that its not how people respond to my preaching that makes me loved in Gods eyes but Gods dealing with the real issues in my life—my sin, my depravity, and the radical self-centeredness of my heart. So Mr. Leaf Blower, I invite you back (should you read this blog)—this time come to church (and leave your leaf blower outside) but should you turn that noisy thing on again, I’ll preach, laugh, and rest in Gods presence and not in whether or not I’m popular because I preached well.

A Confession about Confession

I’ll confess, confessing is hard. But I was struck by the recent confession of a well known Christian leader. The scenario is all too familiar. The leader, a male, was involved in a number of inappropriate relationships with younger females. Just stating it like that makes it seem sterile and impersonal. The women involved were often young or naïve when the activity was occuring, or weren’t heard when they voiced complaints, or they just didn’t know what to do with it all, but then discovered or created a web-site to air their concerns. In this case, the nationally known leader was removed from his position and sent out a letter confessing his sin and asking forgiveness. The confession went something like this, “I admit that I was involved in holding hands, touching feet, and hair and blah blah blah. Etc etc etc.”

That another man fell into sin as a result of sexual impropriety doesn’t surprise me. It sobers me. It makes me afraid that I’ll do the same thing someday, maybe without even being sensitive to it. Certainly these guys are smart, well educated, and often spiritually sensitive men, at least at some point in their lives. But something happens. Frankly, its not the purpose of this post to suggest possibilities. What I want to simply note is the content of the confession.

Confession is more than simply stating the facts. It’s acknowledged remorse and regret not for the inconvenience of the act or the humiliation of the act but for the ugliness and downright evil of the act itself. Confession doesn’t say, “Well, I held hands and touched feet and hair but it wasn’t sexual.” Baloney! Who’s he trying to kid? Confession would say, “While my actions didn’t include intercourse, they included many activities that were sexual in nature and thus damaging to the women involved as well as to my ministry. Furthrmore, the fact that I didn’t see that reality, while involving myself in those activities, is as great a cause for alarm as the activities themselves. I’m getting help and have sought to reconcile with all involved. I am deeply ashamed of my insensitivity and behavior and will step aside indefinitely so that I am no longer a hinderance to the work of God.” That’s confession.

So, in short, confession isn’t “I made a mistake” or “I goofed” or “I did this or that but it wasn’t really that bad” or “I took the money but really didn’t steal it” or “I mistated the facts but it wasn’t intended to be a lie.” Confession owns up to what was done wrong within tactfully appropriate bounds. It’s that simple and that straight forward. May God help us all to become more sensitive to our actions. But when we do fail, may God help us to actually admit it, and confess it, rather than explain it away.

Ruined for Anything but What Matters--Part 2

I was studying Acts 17 for a sermon a few weeks ago. In pondering being ruined for anything but what matters I realized that just as there were idols in Athens, so there are idols in American culture: cultural idols. In Athens they had cultural idols for love and sex—Aphrodite and Eros were their names; athletics and work—his name was Hermes. They also had Bachus and Dionysus, gods for pleasure and the ultimate god, Zues, the god of power. Things haven’t changed. The same gods are in our culture today.

 If I’m going to be ruined, or ruin someone else, for anything but what matters, I have to become aware of our cultural idols and show them for what they really are. They promise the world but ultimately, over the long haul, they fail to deliver. And when you fail them, forget about it—you’re toast.

 I remember reading a story in the NY Times about a guy named Richard Fee who was his college class president, an aspiring medical student, very personable, etc. He committed suicide because he’d run out of a drug called Adderall. Its like Ridalin and used to help kids with Attention Deficit Disorder (A.D.D.). He’d gotten hooked on it and couldn’t see going through life without it’s assistance. Then the article went on to describe how this had become a normal thing on competitive college campuses. The students would use med’s to get the tunnel like focus they needed to study. In fact, they’d feign A.D.D. just to get access to the drugs. A friend of mine, whose son had legitimate A.D.D., told me that he’d tried them out himself, just to see what they did to his kid. He couldn’t believe how focused he became.

 In reading the article I thought to myself, “Why risk addiction for a grade?” Easy answer! The cultural gods promise you the world if you graduate from the best schools, make lots of money, and have the right job. But if you fail those gods, they punish you. This is one more reason I think Christianity makes sense—you find Jesus he’ll free you to become everything you were created to become. You fail him—he’ll forgive you. And because of his love demonstrated in his sacrificial life and death, you’ll want to live your life for him. If Jesus is who he claims to be, he’s ultimately, over the long haul, all that matters anyway. For me, its at least worth considering.

Ruined for Anything but What Matters!

“My kids said I ruined them for anything but what matters.”

 A friend of mine said that to me a few weeks ago, while we were sitting in a local establishment in Cannon Beach, Oregon. It was cold and when I got there the surf was absolutely roaring. The waves were huge—fifteen to twenty feet. I was there giving the oral report for a diagnostic we’d done for a regional district in a Christian denomination (for my non-churched readers, a denomination is a group of Christian's who organize themselves around certain theological truths and historical events). My friend, Randy, who is the supervisor of that district informed me that his children had said this to him. It caught my attention. Why would they say that? Why would they put it like that? 

 Here’s why: Randy is entrepreneurial, a church planter, and radically committed to the gospel of Jesus Christ. He and his wife raised their children to not play church or to be moralistic religious people. They raised them to radical followers of Jesus and they did so in the Pacific Northwest, one of the least Christianized parts of the United States. Their kids were part of exciting and culturally sensitive congregations that served others and brought people to a life changing faith in Christ. By doing this, Randy and his wife ruined their kids....for anything but what matters. His children won’t waste their lives simply on making money, or having the American dream, or just having fun. They’ve been ruined for blasé, boring moralistic religion. And they’ve also been ruined for the vacuous claims of a culture that promises the world but leaves one ultimately empty. So, here's what do I plan to do with this.

I hope to ruin every church I work with for anything but what matters! And I plan to do the same for my adult children and their children. It’s a worthy goal and one I look forward to doing.

You Gotta Get Along

People just don’t know how to get along. I mean, really! People don’t know how to talk to each other, don’t know how to be civil. Take, for example, the most recent tool for contlict—email. Some of the email messages people send out in the name of "caring" are horrific. I can’t imagine what they are thinking when they send them. But they do. Here’s a list of things to do to learn to get along. I’ll admit this is somewhat moralistic and doesn’t connect to the reason behind the reason for the list, but that’s for another post. You do the following, you’ll be better able to get along—with anybody!

Don’t send complaints to people via email—EVER! You’ll be more likely to be nice in a phone conversation or face to face and you’ll probably get better results too.

When you find yourself upset, ask, “How did I contribute to this?” If you are really brave, ask someone who knows you well to help you understand. But count the cost. If you are married, your spouse will be more than happy to tell you. I guarantee it.

Listen well. Don’t assume you know whats going on. You probably don’t. In fact, repeat back to others what you hear them saying. Most of us love to talk and we’re lousy at listening. More often than not people need to be cared for, empathized with, and heard. This takes a lot of maturity because some of the conflict we experience has little to do with our actions towards another and a lot to do with their perspective.

Realize that your perspective is your perspective and that’s it. You have only a part of the truth of what happened. This is hard to communicate to those who think that “they are right.”

People really do bad things. You do bad things. So be careful to not be overly judgmental. Another thought along these lines would be that people do what they do for reason. Try to figure it out and you'll often solve the conflict. 

Hang on to yourself. By that I mean that even people of faith, who believe that they are created in the image of God, have a uniqueness to them that reflects that image differently from anyone else. Some conflict has to do with differences with reference to that uniqueness, that others cannot reconcile with, and will invariably attach moral attributes to. Be careful here. And don’t read behind the lines. I'm not trying to hide anything in this sentence. Keep this in mind: sameness doesn’t equal intimacy. Think about that for a while. It could change your life. The conflicts I’ve often seen in church are not so much over issues of morality, as issues of culture or difference or preference.

Submission doesn’t mean subservience. By that I mean that being submissive to authority doesn’t mean you’ll do what those in authority tell you to do all the time. For example, the boss or your husband or your wife doesn’t have the right to tell you to do something wrong. Its not submission, biblical or otherwise, to do evil in the name of resolving conflict. For that reason, sometimes truly solving a conflict feels like conflict. Which leads to another thought….

Disrupt the false peace. You read it right. There is a peace that is a false peace. That peace isn’t peace at all but conflict disquised as peace. Disrupt it. If you are at a restaurant with a group of people and you order $20 worth of food and others order $40 worth of food and someone comes up with the bright idea to “split the tabe equally” then say, “Nope. I’ll pay $20 and that’s that.” You’ll have disrupted the false peace and maybe even created an argument but you’ve resolved a conflict. There are miriads of these kinds of examples.

If you are uptight with someone, go talk to them. Don’t go talk to someone else unless that person is needed to help you gain perspective. To bring someone else into the conflict is called Triangulation and its death. Run from it.

When talking to others say something like this, “Help me to understand the reason you….” Then listen. Nine out of ten times the conflict will be resolved.

If that doesn’t resolve it then say, “I notice….. and I feel…..I’d prefer….. Then you let them respond. By putting things in the “I” you’ve taken away much of the ugly attack that comes when people say, “You did….” This is tough to do and demands maturity. Good luck.

If they won’t negotiate a solution, or even acknowledge a problem, and you are in authority, then you use your authority to address the issue. If you have no authority to address the issue further, avoid escalation by holding firm to the scerenity prayer, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Lots of conflict is rooted so deep in people’s lives and cannot be resolved apart from an act of God. I’ve come to accept this in recent years.

Much of this comes straight out of the Bible. But there is a lot of common sense things that people can do to make relationships work. The bottom line is this, because Jesus resolved our deepest conflict—the conflict we have with a holy God--those of us who are Christians can too. That’s the bottom line. But for everyone else, these simple guidelines (which are coming off the top of my head at this writing and which I’ll update on occasion) can work quite nicely. Peace!

The Mirror

I looked in the mirror the other day. It’s something I do pretty much every day. I’d run six miles and was pretty sweaty. Hair all over the place, sweat dripping down my forehead, shirt discolored around the neck and armpits; you know the look. You’ve had it too. But then I looked again--I looked old! Yeah! I mean, real old. “If this is what running is doing to me, maybe I should stop,” I thought.

My mind went back to the book by Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray. If you remember the story, Dorian Gray was a handsome young man who somehow found himself painted in a picture that captured not only his outer attractiveness, but his inner soul. Over time, while he retained his good looks, the picture became increasingly distorted. He kept it locked in a room to which there was only one key—a key he went to great lengths to guard. He didn’t want anyone to see the picture. On the outside, he seemed to never age regardless of the abuse he put his body through. The picture, on the other hand, not only aged but over time, grew grotesque. With each passing year, and each degrading action, the picture of Dorian Gray grew more and more ugly. I’ll not tell you the end of the story. But its really interesting.

Aging is a fact of life. So while my physique shrinks and becomes eventually becomes infirm, I hope my soul grows stronger. In fact, is it possible that in a room in some far off place there is a picture of Dave Miles under lock and key, that grows ever more handsome, ever more beautiful, ever more debonair as I become more and more like the One who is most beautiful? It’s the opposite of Dorian Gray! It’s described in some ancient literature, “…though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day…So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

You Have a Torn Labrum

2009 Boston Marathon--Time: 2:57:06

“You have a torn labram. The MRI says you have a torn labrum in your right hip." 

 “Spell it,” I said cryptically. The voice on the other end of the phone was my friend and physician. I trust him but the connection was bad and I wanted to get it right. “L-a-b-r-u-m. Labrum.” He said. “It’s called a labral tear.” I paused, thanked him for the news and ran up to my computer to Google “labrum.” It’s the cartilage in the hip. Somehow I ripped mine. Its not an irreparable injury. Frankly, physical therapy and maybe easy surgery will correct it. Its not badly torn—at least I don’t think so. But its torn and it took me out of the Boston Marathon. It would have been my 9^th in a row. My friends shake their heads and say, “Overuse! You train too hard.” Maybe. Or maybe not. I like to be focused and running hard—and surfing in the winter—forces me to do that. I want to read a lot and work my body hard because it forces me to have physical and mental integrity—something people seem to lose as they get older. But its disappointing. Truth is, I’ll probably trot the first 3.1 miles and, after crossing the 5K line, stop. Jan will pick me up. We’ll drive to mile 21 and I will watch the rest of the race with her as a spectator. A family friend from Seattle will be with us. Her son is trying to break 2:30! He’s one fast dude.

I enjoy running the Boston Marathon more than any other race. In fact, if I could just run one race a year, I’d choose Boston. The leaves aren’t out yet and there is a freshness in the air that’s unusual. Running through beautiful New England towns is exhilarating. Its honestly delightful. For me, it brings me into the presence of God. Beauty and loveliness should do that. They are pointers to God. “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty” (Ps 84:1) says the Psalmist. He’s referring to the temple described in the Hebrew Scriptures, but as a follower of Jesus, that loveliness is seen in Gods common grace reflected in sights and smells of nature, people, and activity. An ocean wave that crashes, wind that blows the trees, a good meal, laughter, fun, even running 26.2 miles can be worship when centered on a creative God who gives hints of his glory in the joy of living. More than that, it even points to the sacrifice of Christ in the cross—a very ugly thing in a very beautiful world.

I’m grieving the loss of this race. But the disappointment is a reminder that life’s short, we are broken, and yet God is good. He does what he does for his glory and our good. "No good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless" (Ps 84:11). Hard to accept that isn’t it?! Hard to understand, isn’t it?! Think about it. What's it mean?

A torn labrum is a minor inconvenience, that I suppose could turn into a major problem. But that’s a very temporal problem. I’ll probably heal up and I’ve already qualified for the 2014 Boston Marathon thanks to running Yonkers and Athens in the fall of 2012. If you think about poverty, racism, school shootings, and war—all major reminders of a broken world—an injury that’s unintentionally self inflicted is pretty minor. But it sure can seem big when life in the greater scheme of things is forgotten. Sin is ugly. Life is short. People are small. God is big! There is a solution to the evil in this world. If you mix that all up and are either forgetful, or incognizant, of the solution, life becomes very dark."No good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless!" Whose walk is blameless? How do we become blameless? Think about it!

Addendum: I ran the first four miles then dropped out. The issue seems to be more an abdominal hernia than a torn labrum. At any rate, it has all paled when considering what happened at the finish line with the bombings. 

Judgement Day

I saw the large bill board first in downtown Boston, the weekend of the marathon. JUDGMENT DAY—it declared. May 21, 2011. At first I thought it was a rock group, then I noticed the sponsors tag: Family Radio, neatly along the bottom and assumed it was a conference on May 21. It wasn’t until I got home to New York and saw that the world was going to end at 6:00 pm Eastern time on May 21, that I realized what was happening. “Here we go again,” I thought. “More fodder for those who think of evangelicals as losers and lunatics.”

Doomsday prophets like Harold Camping, the progenitor of the recent Judgement Day scare, have been around for a long time. In the middle part of the 19th century William Miller predicted that Jesus would return sometime between October 21, 1843 and October 21, 1844. They are still waiting. Millers followers eventually became what we now call the Seventh Day Adventists. He has about a half a page description of his sect in Kenneth Latourette’s 1500 page tome on church history. The failure of Christ to return then became known as the Great Disappointment. I’m sure Campings supporters feel a similar set of emotions now. According to the New York Times, people quit their jobs, quit saving college tuition for their kids, and came to New York to usher in the Rapture. In their minds there was no better place to do it than in Grand Central Station where they were lined up in the passage ways near the underground trains challenging people to repent! According to my daughter, they were pretty aggressive. I bet money that Camping will come out and say he got the math wrong and they’ll start the campaign all over again!

To me it’s a no brainer. The scripture says, “The secret things belong to God” and God alone (Deut 29:29)! There is mystery and transcendence in this faith we call Christianity. When people start putting dates on the return of Christ or speaking with absolute confidence about the nature and scope of events like the rapture, they cross a line as far as I’m concerned. Millions of dollars were spent on advertising something Jesus himself said no one will ever know (Mark 13:34). In fact, in his incarnational earthly presence, Jesus, himself didn’t know!

So what can we know theologically for sure? Jesus is going to come back some day and restore all things and part of that involves judgment (Acts 3:21). If you are a Christian, you believe at least that. It’s pretty basic I admit, and not near as sexy as JUDGEMENT DAY. But that is what Christians believe! And we believe it because of revelation—the Bible. We don’t believe it because we can mathmatically figure it out. There is an element of faith in any worldview including secular Atheism. All of us bank our eternal destiny on some faith based belief system. I’m a Christian because Christianity makes sense more than any other world religion. I’m not a Christian because I can prove definitively that the resurrection took place or that the bible is inspired or that God created by the simple command of his voice or that Jesus is coming back. Simply put, Christianity is different. God enters our world and does for us something we can’t do for ourselves. He dies a death we should have died and lives a life we should have lived. By faith in Jesus righteous record we avoid the negative side of judgment day—whenever it happens! There is no other world religion like it. And while I think that there are many good reasons to believe in Jesus and his message, I also realize that ultimately, it’s a faith based belief system. There is no bomb proof truth in this life! The only one who knows truth objectively is God himself.

I hope that as the world snickers, Christians will be sobered; sobered by the reality that lives are seriously disrupted, perhaps even ruined, by Mr. Campings disregard for the clear teaching of scripture. I believe in a judgment day and it is something we should take seriously. But how I as a follower of Jesus present Jesus and his message of hope and redemption will do as much to promote the cause of Christ as wreck it. Perhaps Mr. Camping should take his judgment day belief system seriously and re-evaluate his own wreckless behavior. In the end, he may find that the finger of God’s just judgment pointed at him. And that is a scary thought!

Addendum: After writing this blog, but prior to posting it Harold Camping came out with the new date for the rapture and judgment: October 21, 2011—my wife’s birthday. I think I'll take her out on the 20th! (Just kidding)

A Grief Delayed

On the way back from Seattle in June 2010, I visited my mom. She lives in Detroit and wanted me to help her finalize funeral arrangements—her funeral arrangements. The idea of meeting with my mom, who is very much alive, in the building where she’d be embalmed, laid out in a coffin, then stared at while being very much dead, was not a pleasant experience. The quietness of the funeral home amplified the reality that death is real, life is short, time and youth are fleeting, and that someday all of us will meet God one way or the other.

The process was fairly simple, we chose the funeral arrangements—including the coffin (the word coffin is a euphemism for the box they put you in when you die), then she gave them a check, and we left. It was uncomfortable as it was, but the whole thing turned surreal when, shortly thereafter, my mother asked me to do her funeral. I wish I could say that my mom and I had a close relationship. That is not entirely true. But the idea of doing her funeral just boggles my mind. I’m numb to it. Even as I type these words, I don’t feel what I know will be the emotional weight of this task when it finally becomes a reality. I’ve already begun to work on it including asking my mother what she wants said. I figure if I get a jump on it now, I’ll be able to go through with it when I have to because it will already be done.

The whole experience has made me think. But I can assure you it’s a “grief delayed.” Whenever there is loss or even the potential for loss of any kind you have grief. No one wants to grieve. Grief reminds us of reality. Some of us deny reality, deny the loss, deny the pain, but all that does is seal us alive in the tomb of our unrealized expectations and hopes. We live in the past or in an allusion or worse yet, we live in denial of what is often apparent to others and reality in the future. So how do I process grief and loss? Here’s a couple of thoughts from my Christian worldview.

First, as a follower of Christ, I cry out to God bringing the core of my pain to him. The writer of Psalm 137 said as much when he screamed, “Remember, O Lord… (Psalm 137:7).” I let God in on my grief! Second, I embrace my grief rather than run from it. Grief, while difficult, is a reminder that life is not as it should be. Someday, in the end, at the consummation of God’s Kingdom, all sorrow and tears will be done away. Until that time, I must look forward to my redemption with the deep groaning of grief (Psalm 137:1). Finally, I find my hope in God and the revelation of his Son Jesus. Jesus came, not to take away my grief, but to bear the burden of what caused it in the first place. Jesus work on the cross doesn’t change the reality that we’ll all feel loss, but it does change the reality that we’ll have to experience it forever. There is hope. That hope is not found in the revenge I may want to take out on those whose actions cause me to grieve. The writer of Psalm 137, who rightfully wanted justice, did not see that the way God dealt with justice was not by dashing the sons of the Babylonians against rocks but by dashing his own Son on the rock of Golgatha (Psalm 137:8-9).

Change in life is inevitable and with that change comes grief and loss and sadness and sorrow and anger and confusion. But for me, as a follower of Jesus, I have to learn to see that in every experience of grief there is the seed of reality and the seed of hope. I do not have to live the deluded life of our modern world’s obsession with self and things. If I take my faith seriously, I have the hope of a new life tomorrow with the equal possibility of a changed life today. That alone should make anyone at least consider whether or not Christianity is real because, in the end, we all are going to face death in others in in ourselves. It’s a grief delayed.

Thoughts on Personal Slavery and Worship

I ran across this short paragraph recently. It is a compelling thought taken from a commencement speech to the Kenyan College in 2005. The speaker (and author), David Foster Wallace, committed suicide in the fall of 2008. He’d struggled with depression for years and finally lost the battle. Wallace accurately describes the default setting of humanity—to worship…something! But according to Foster the kind of worship that enslaves us, betrays us, and eats us up is the kind that our culture propagates every day through the thousands of messages we receive about life and truth from commercials, through conversations, and in print. I don’t think Wallace was a follower of Jesus but his depiction of life is profoundly close to something Jesus said, “No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money” (Luke 16:13). Listen to Foster:

“In the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And an outstanding reason for choosing some sort of God or spiritual-type thing to worship -- be it J.C. or Allah, be it Yahweh or the Wiccan mother-goddess or the Four Noble Truths or some inviolable set of ethical principles -- is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive.

If you worship money and things -- if they are where you tap real meaning in life -- then you will never have enough. Never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your own body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly, and when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally plant you … Worship power -- you will feel weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to keep the fear at bay. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart -- you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. And so on. Look, the insidious thing about these forms of worship is …. that they are unconscious. They are default-settings.”

(Taken from Wall Street Journal Sept 19, 2008)

Why I Don’t Like Religion Part 2

I recently read Tim Kellers book, The Prodigal God. It came out last November. I got it then and read it in a little more than an hour. Keller is a master Christian apologist. He’s really amazing. In my mind, he’s the C.S. Lewis of the 21st century.

The book is a practical explanation of the parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15:11-32. Actually, the story should be called the parable of the prodigal brothers. The younger son is highlighted by most of those who read it but it’s really about two brothers who are equally lost and one brother, the younger one, who is eventually found and ends up home celebrating with his family. The story ends without climax. No one really knows what happens to the older brother because the older brother (Mr. Grumpy) won’t go to the party and celebrate his brother’s return.

The purpose of this post is not to explain the parable or even comment on it but rather to share a quote from Keller’s book that highlights why I don’t like religion. In the parable the older brother represents the religious people and yet he is grumpy, blaming, disrespectful, unhappy, self-absorbed, self-righteous, and frankly, not a lot of fun. Keller, commenting on this virtually captures my thinking when he notes, “There are many people today who have abandoned any kind of religious faith because they see clearly that the major religions are simply full of elder brothers. They have come to the conclusion that religion is one of the greatest sources of misery and strife in the world. And guess what? Jesus says through this parable—they are right. The anger and superiority of elder brothers, all growing out of insecurity, fear, and inner emptiness, can create a huge body of guilt-ridden, spiritually blind people, which is one of the greatest sources of social injustice, war, and violence. (pg. 67)

I hate to admit this, but I think that there have been times in my life when I was an “older brother.” I didn’t want to be but didn’t know anything different at the time because that’s the way things were. But I am different now--I hope. Last Saturday I had a conversation with a self described atheist who essentially said the same thing as Keller. Religion is ugly. Really! But the gospel is very different from religion. Maybe in a future post I’ll explain why.

What's Driving Dave?

“What is driving you?” I’d said the words before. They sort of slipped thoughtlessly out of my mouth. I’d said those words to my wife, Jan, when she seemed to never take a break. I’d said them to friends whom I self-righteously thought were giving their lives to insane schedules or harried existences or ridiculous endeavors. I’d said them, frankly, to quite a few people. But this time the words, spoken to a friend while running, boomeranged around and hit me back in the head. In my mind the thought came back, “Well, what is driving you, Dave?” I’d slowed down my training for marathons after Boston but remained pretty intense in my regimen. I’d done this on top of an insane travel schedule and a very difficult work and ministry environment. “What’s driving me?”

The flippancy of my comments and the thoughtlessness behind them rattled my cage. “What’s driving me?” Another friend recently admitted that maybe he’d bitten off more than he could chew when it came to training for a half iron man triathlon. My response was muted this time because the thought keeps coming back, “What’s driving me?”

Blaise Pascal wrote a book many years ago entitled Pensees (or reflections/ponderings). Pascal was a brilliant mathematician but what he’s actually best known for is his writings on Philosophy and Theology. In Pensees he has entire section answering the question, “What’s driving Dave?” or to put it another way, “What is diving us?” The section is entitled, Diversions. Pascal, like Augustine, believed that humankind did what they do because they want to be happy. As a matter of fact, according to Pascal, mankind cannot help but want to be happy! He was created to be happy. But still, when pondering life’s difficulties, humankind becomes unhappy. To overcome this people involve themselves in diversions. These diversions, says Pascal, keep our minds off of the difficulties of our existence and the realities that we face daily. Pascal believed that to be truly happy one has to rest: “They have another secret instinct, left over from the greatness of our original nature, telling them that the only true happiness lies in rest and not in excitement.” (Pensees Section 136) But where does this rest come from? Augustine, speaking of a relationship with God through Christ, put it like this, “Our heart is restless until it rests in you.”(Confessions Chapter 1)

I believe that I get involved in diversions because I still don’t find my rest in Christ—at least not like I should. I still believe, erroneously, that I’ll be happiest when I am active. I don’t want to believe that I believe that, but I think I still do. I am finished with my ministry in Hawaii. I’m tired. I need a break but still I drive myself. Last week my body shut me down for several days. I couldn’t work. Yesterday I ran a half marathon and substantially missed my target time in spite of being in good condition. I need to take a break. I’m going to take a month off and during that time I’m going to extract myself from some of my diversions. I’m going to go to a monastery and be silent and rest. Who knows what I’ll find. I’ll let you know in future posts.

The picture on this post was taken at Volcano National Park near Hilo, Hawaii on the big island. It was a time of rest in a very difficult time of ministry. It is instructive. Life can be very barren, like what is left over from an irruption. But in the middle of that barreness, we need rest.

Lent

This was written by my friend Eric Heron, a professional musician who works with churches to help restore a sense of worship. You can go to unkeptrecords.com to learn more about Eric, Natalie (his lovely wife) and their music. (Dave)

CARNIVAL vs. LENT
Today is February 5th, Mardi Gras – (Latin for “Fat Tuesday”).

Mardi Gras has become for many an active reflection on our human tendencies to over-imbibe in drink, over-indulge in food, and allow our other senses to wander far from the things of God. It is a “carnival” in every sense of the word. ("carne" = flesh).

A flight to New Orleans for Mardi Gras might not be worth the decadent experience of it all. Nevertheless, what occurs on Fat Tuesday serves as a powerful set up for the season that immediately follows it. I am speaking of the season of Lent. (click here to view a larger version of the painting to the right, entitled: The Fight Between Carnival and Lent by Pieter Bruegel the Younger, 1559)

Lent officially begins on the Wednesday that is forty days (minus Sundays) before Resurrection Sunday. Called Ash Wednesday, it is a holy day which evolved relatively late in church history (around the 11th century). On this day, worshipers attend a service in which ashes are imposed on their foreheads in the sign of the cross. Though the exact content of the worship service may vary between Roman Catholic, Episcopal, and Mainline churches, these services always contain prayers that acknowledge sin and emphasize repentance. Imagine the increased relevance this holds for the one who has over-indulged just one day before!

Lent is thought to have originated as early as the second century as the final period of preparation for those catecumens (new disciples) who were ready to be baptized at Easter Vigil. In 325 CE, the council of Nicea first referred to Lent as “forty days” and officially fixed this fasting period to immediately precede Easter. Close to 350 CE, Cyril (the leader of the church at Jerusalem) referred to Lent as “a long period of grace, forty days for repentance”. By the 5th century, all Christians – not just those preparing for baptism – viewed Lent as an important part of their personal and corporate worship experience.

The question for us today is: Do we need the season of Lent?

Many Protestants tend to shun such “Catholic” holy days as too programmed or perhaps too somber. I would argue, however, that all believers need Lent. I have heard it said that Protestants tend to “rush to the Resurrection” and avoid deeper reflection on what historically came before. I think this rushing is not helpful and ultimately it is destructive. I know that I personally need to intentionally reflect on my own sin in this world of security and comfort that allows me to so easily ignore the evil that lurks just below the surface. It seems fitting for us to pause and acknowledge our sin, which is what has made the Resurrection necessary in the first place.

Thankfully, media like The Passion of the Christ and various ecumenical movements have helped less “Catholic” Christians see the value in stopping to reflect on all that precedes that happy day when the stone was rolled away.

If we agree that the Lenten season is helpful and maybe even necessary toward forming us as good disciples of Jesus, a second question arises: What, then, will we do about it?

I am choosing to fast for the next forty days. I will kick it off my fast by attending the local Episcopal church's Ash Wednesday service. Each time I deny myself, I will be reminded of the “way of discipleship” (Mark 8:34). Whenever I am tempted to break the fast prematurely, I will go to prayer and thanking God for the many ways his grace has touched me and my family. I suspect that though this will not be easy, it will be a rich way to prepare for the beautiful feasting (just add an “e” to fasting) day when friends and family gather in joy and celebration.

How will YOU prepare for Easter this year?

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Some of the historical information above was taken from: James F. White, Introduction to Christian Worship, third edition (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2000), 56 & 69.