post hoc, ergo propter hoc.
This is the 14th post of a series. I started out telling a chronological story, but got derailed before I could get past August of 2012. I’ve addressed the derailing tangent to death. My intention with this post was to get back on topic, but it appears I’m not quite ready to do that. (If you need to catch up or review, CLICK HERE to view a page listing all the posts in the series.)
I’ve been paralyzed.
For a week.
Four previous drafts of the post I was trying to write sit abandoned. Because of this warped logic:
“post hoc ergo proptor hoc“
I know what you’re saying. “hhhhhhh. What is she talking about now?”
It means “after this, therefore because of this”
Surprisingly, I didn’t read it in a book. My husband actually pulled it out of his freakish memory from an episode of The West Wing.
“post hoc ergo proptor hoc“
The reason for my paralysis. This knot in my gut, sick to my stomach paralysis.
(what follows is the culmination of a much longer conversation)
Me: I’m terrified of saying something that will lead to someone turning their back on God. I’m terrified of saying something that will lead someone to say “oh, YEAH. THAT’S a God I want to know.”
FirstHusband: “I’m not going to tell you not to be discouraged. I’m telling you to push through it.”
Me: I just don’t want to cause harm.
FirstHusand: “Do you think there’s anything you can say or do to cause someone to convert to Christ?”
Me: “no.”
pregnant pause. We both know where he’s going with that question.
Me: “It’s not the same. People HAVE turned their back on God because of something someone has said to them.”
FirstHusband: “Have they really?”
Me: What are you saying?
(then there was a discussion about someone we know who turned their back on God and cites as the reason something one person said to them 15 years before.)
FirstHusband: “Did that one comment really keep them from God all these years?”
Me: “You’re saying the comment is a scapegoat.”
FirstHusband: “I’m saying that if there’s nothing you can say or do to CONVERT someone to Christ, there’s nothing you can say or do to PREVENT someone from coming to Christ. Your job is to..”
Me, interrupting: “be a witness.”
FirstHusband: “Exactly.”
“ It is essential that you give people the opportunity to act on the truth of God. The responsibility must be left with the individual—you cannot act for him…Refusing to act leaves a person paralyzed, exactly where he was previously. But once he acts, he is never the same…The dominating power of the world, the flesh, and the devil is now paralyzed; not by your act, but because your act has joined you to God and tapped you in to His redemptive power.”
My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers
This is the 14th post of a series. If you need to catch up or review, CLICK HERE to view a page listing all the posts in the series.
The “Visitors”
This is the 13th post of a series. Hopefully, this is the LAST post on the turn or burn evangelism tangent that completely hijacked my original point. Next post, I’m back on topic. If you need to catch up or review, CLICK HERE to view a page listing all the posts in the series.
When I attended Baptist churches “back in the day,” I was expected to go “Visiting.” That meant participating in some very intentional and formulaic evangelism. Church members would gather at the church at an appointed time and then go “visit” people. Sometimes invited, sometimes just expected and sometimes the visits were “cold calls.” In every case, the circumstance was the same. The Visitors (always in pairs) were expected to show up at the home of someone they had never met, knock on the door and talk to them about Jesus.
My view on that?
Creepy. “oh great, the Christian stalkers know where I live, pull the curtains, turn off the TV and the lights and everybody be totally QUIET till they go away” creepy.
or is that just me?
Surprisingly, more often than not, The Visitors reported that people responded graciously, even when they said “no. I actually do NOT want to talk about Jesus” and “no, you definitely can NOT come in.”
In spite of my personal aversion to Visiting, I actually believe there are ZERO limitations for how people come to Jesus. I’ve heard stories about people coming to Christ through visiting, street evangelism, Christian tracts left in a public restroom, billboards, songs, bumper stickers…you name it. I agree with author and theologian Steve Harper when he said:
“Every form of evangelism works for some people.”
But the fact is, those things don’t draw people to Christ. Only God can do that.
“No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day.
John 6:44
I believe God can use anything and anybody to draw people to Himself.
I’m the one who places limitations on what God can do. Both back in the day AND today.
“Visiting?”
Never did it.
NEV.ER.
Not once.
And at one of those churches I was the music minister’s wife.
The music minister’s stubborn wife.
I used to say that evangelism wasn’t my spiritual gift.
But I knew the truth then and I know it now. I don’t like “Visiting.” Especially cold-call visiting.
KMN.
So while I don’t decide what God can and canNOT use to draw someone to Christ, it appears I do decide how I myself will be open to being used by the Holy Spirit.
Knowing that about myself, does that mean that given a chance, I would choose to go “Visiting?”
pshhhh. no.
If another Christian told me that all Christians “should” go Visiting, would I go?
nope.
If God prompted me to go Visiting, would I go?
hhhhhhhh.
I know me. and I’ve read the “yeah, but” conversation Moses had with God when God told him to do something he didn’t want to do. I would explain to God that those types of encounters are not my forte. I would remind God that I myself find that type of evangelism off-putting. I would remind Him of the fact that I am a witness in my everyday interactions with people. I would point out specific people He placed in my path, opportunities He provided and how I responded. I would ask him to equip me for those personal encounters. And I would conveniently neglect to mention the opportunities I let pass because I was too much of a coward to speak.
And if God listened to all that whining and still prompted me to go cold-call “Visiting?”
I would stall.
And eventually go. Because I’m not that stupid. I’ve also read the story of Jonah. Disobedience is MUCH more uncomfortable than cold-call evangelism.
So, yes. I would go. But I wouldn’t like it. And God would know it. Because He’s God. and He knows me. No need for pretense. That’s one of the best aspects of an intimate relationship. No need for a pious charade.
Just obedience.
The truth is that being a witness for Christ can mean very different things to very different people. Here are a few examples. (I must admit. My favorite is the guy with the megaphone.)
That video showed 7 variations on evangelism. My thought on each?
1. no.
2. no.
3. no.
4. no.
5. no.
6. no.
7. YES.
In my last post, I said that I’ve learned the hard way that the word “evangelism” does not have a one size fits all definition and that my personal working definition of evangelism is:
“Being a witness to what Christ has done and is doing in my life – because I’m so passionate about it I can’t keep it to myself.”
Within the framework of that definition, evangelism doesn’t take place at a certain time or place. For me, evangelism takes place in my everyday interpersonal interactions.
That means in the context of my everyday interactions with people, I am very open about my faith. Because I’ve learned that if I hide the thing that is most important in my life from the people I interact with in an effort to make them more comfortable, we will never be true friends. They will never know who I really am. I will be a big fake. The hiding would be deceitful. I tell people about my faith in Christ because it is such a integral part of my life that to hide it from people would be to hide myself. It would keep people at a distance.
So if you would be more comfortable with a fake friendship, I’m not your girl. We will never have a running text thread. And you will not have your own unique ring tone or text message notification on my cell phone.
We will never be more than acquaintances.
Here’s what evangelism looks like in my life: When I interact with people, the first thing I want to do is get to know more about them as an individual. I ask questions. I listen. I ask more questions. and I listen. Sometimes, the other person shares something about their own life or experiences or goals or dreams or obstacles or fears that calls to my mind something in my own life and experience – something which relates in some way to what they’ve shared with me. Since Christ is such an integral part of my life, it’s only natural that those experiences would be saturated by His presence and influence.
I don’t filter Him out of my life stories to make other people more comfortable.
What about you? Do you filter out what Christ has done and is doing in your life in an effort to make people more comfortable? To make yourself easier to like?
Are you hiding the most important part of yourself and in the process, sabotaging the potential for authentic friendships? Are you keeping people at a distance? Settling for another acquaintance when you could have a true friend? What happens if you give the other person more credit than that? What happens if you trust them accept you for who you are even if they are different than you?
Sharing what Christ has done and IS doing in my life occurs naturally within my interpersonal relationships. It stems from a genuine extension of friendship and respect. It stems from authentic transparency.
I used to think that if I was transparent about my faith I would be rejected. Sometimes I am.
Because sometimes?
We are not as tolerant as we would like to think.
But more often than not, I’ve found that people are very gracious. More than tolerant. Friendly and engaging even. Even when we don’t agree.
Why?
Because there is a HUGE difference between telling people what I believe and telling people what I think they should believe.
There is a HUGE difference between telling people how I live my life and telling people how I think they should live theirs.
There is a HUGE difference between telling people how my faith in Christ impacts my life and this:
The first is evangelism.
The second is just obnoxious.
“We are called to be witnesses – to show and tell what we have seen and what we know. We are to be a witness of the way that God, through faith, prayer, and the Bible, has transformed our lives.”
Going Public with Your Faith
by William Carr Peel and Walt Larimore
This is the 13th post of a series. Hopefully, this is the LAST post on the turn or burn evangelism tangent that completely hijacked my original point. Next post, I’m back on topic. If you need to catch up or review, CLICK HERE to view a page listing all the posts in the series.
evangelism is like halloween.
yep. You read that right.
evangelism is like Halloween.
oh, that’s bound to get me in trouble. I can hear it: “sacrilege!” “blasphemy!” “heathen!”
or maybe you’re thinking I’ve completely lost it.
evangelism. is like Halloween?
For those of you who will click away because you don’t have time to read a crazy woman’s blog, see ya later.
But for those of you who are saying “okay. I’ll bite. WHY is evangelism like Halloween?”
Here’s a little glimpse into the crazy that is me.
My kids go to a non-denominational Christian school. When they were little, every few years, one of them would come home from school in October and tell me that one of their teachers had told their class that celebrating Halloween was a sin. They came home with horrible stories about pagan practices and a load of guilt bigger than their backpacks.
I always responded the same way.
Me: “What does Halloween mean to you?”
Kids: “costumes. candy.”
Me: “That’s right. Do we practice any of those pagan rituals?”
Kids: “no.”
Me: “What do we do with our jack-o-lanterns?”
Kids: “make jack-o-bread.”
Me: “What have you dressed up as on Halloween?”
Kids, alternating:“Minnie Mouse, Blue from Blues Clues, Cinderella, Jack Hammer Rescue Hero, Sleeping Beauty, Darth Vader, Barbie, a pirate, Boba Fett…”
Me: “That’s right. In our family, we celebrate Halloween because dressing up and trick-or-treating is fun. Costumes and candy. It’s sad that some people only see the bad things about Halloween. They’re missing out on all the fun part. Besides, you know what that means?”
Kids: “what?”
Me: “More candy for us.”
If you came away from that story with “Salvation is like getting candy.” then I am a terrible writer and you should just CLICK HERE and go waste your time somewhere else.
Here’s my point: Our family’s approach to and motivation for celebrating Halloween has nothing to do with the horrible things associated with Halloween and everything to do with what we love about Halloween.
Are there horrible things associated with Halloween?
yes.
We don’t celebrate Halloween because of those things.
Moving on to evangelism.
Over the last few weeks, I have learned the hard way that “evangelism” is not a simple word with a commonly accepted definition. Let’s look at two of them:
e·van·ge·lism /iˈvanjəˌlizəm/
1. The spreading of the Christian gospel by preaching or personal witness.
2. militant or crusading zeal
I choose Door Number 1.
Here’s what that definition looks like on the other side of my personal filters: “Being a witness to what Christ has done and is doing in my life – because I’m so passionate about it I can’t keep it to myself. Sometimes through opportunities to speak to a group, more often than not, one on one, within the context of my personal relationships.”
My approach to and motivation for sharing how my life is impacted by my faith in Christ has nothing to do with “militant or crusading zeal” and everything to do with the fact that my relationship with Christ is the best part of my life.
Some people, who know about the “militant and crusading zeal” definition (maybe because they’ve been a victim of it in the past?), will be hard pressed to hear any talk of Christ through any other filter. They would rather I shut the hell up. And be gone.
But here’s the thing. I don’t often talk about hell. Not because hell doesn’t exist. I believe it exists just like I believe pagan Halloween practices exist. And I’m not afraid of talking about hell. It’s just that hell is not at the forefront of my mind or my motivation when I talk about what Christ is doing in my life.
Rather, my passion for Christ stems overwhelmingly from the foundational peace and joy I experience because I am saturated by the intimacy of my relationship with Him.
So, to review. How is evangelism like Halloween?
Let’s extract two key paragraphs and compare:
Halloween: Our family’s approach to and motivation for celebrating Halloween has nothing to do with the horrible things associated with Halloween and everything to do with what we love about Halloween.
Evangelism: My approach to and motivation for sharing how my life is impacted by my faith in Christ has nothing to do with “militant or crusading zeal” and everything to do with the fact that my relationship with Christ is the best part of my life.
Is Halloween about pagan practices for you? Does evangelism mean "militant and crusading zeal" to you?
I am sorry for your loss. and more candy for me.
Tangent: Notice something. NOWHERE in the original definition #1 or in my filtered definition #1 is there ANY mention of converting people.
MrYehbut: “Well, you can’t deny that converting people is the goal of evangelism.”
Maybe for some. But they hold to a different definition of the word evangelism. Conversion is not my goal. Please don’t put words in my mouth or ulterior motives up my sleeve.
How am I so sure I don’t harbor a hidden goal to “convert” someone? Two reasons: (1) I am abso-flippin-lutly confident that I can’t convert anyone. Only God can do that. (2) I love being a stepping stone in someone’s growth. It’s my favorite part about training and coaching. I love asking people questions and I love learning what makes them tick. The side benefit is that I usually learn something in that process.
Tangent Complete.
Danger Will Robinson. Rant Ahead.
Here’s the thing. I understand that there are people who have been a victim of “militant and crusading zeal.” I’ve been a victim of militant and crusading zeal. But I saw the zealots for who they were. A misguided fragment. I did NOT automatically stuff all Christians who talk about their faith in a tiny little box and write them off as annoying wackadoodles to be ignored or venomously and sarcastically ridiculed.
I personally believe that most reasonable, tolerant people are intellectually capable of evaluating individuals and situations on their own merit.
Evangelism means different things to different people. I’ve explained why I tell people about my faith, but I haven’t explained how evangelism fits into my everyday life.So I gotta tell you, when someone stamps “militant and crusading zealot” on my forehead before they get to know me, it’s my faith in God and my respect for them as an individual that keeps me from looking for my own stamp. The one that says “lazy bigot.”
Yep. That’s bound to get me in trouble with somebody. I can feel it already. “Bloggin blind” is liberating.
“You will be his witness to all people of what you have seen and heard.”
Acts 22:15
“Witnessing assumes that the results are up to us; being a witness assumes that the results are up to God…In biblical evangelism, there’s nothing you have to memorize, no techniques or sales pitches to practice, no complicated philosophical arguments to comprehend and communicate. It’s just telling your story naturally, in the midst of the many divine appointments the Lord gives you each day. In the biblical sense, a witness does not always witness, but a witness is always a witness who shows others what Jesus had done and is doing in his or her life…In fact, being an effective witness is as easy as inviting [someone] to have a cup of coffee.”
Going Public with Your Faith
by William Carr Peel and Walt Larimore
This is the 12th post of a series. CLICK HERE to view a page listing all the posts in the series.
“Christ-centered Church.” I do not think it means what you think it means.
This is the 9th post of a series. CLICK HERE to view a page listing all the posts in the series.
oh, go ahead. click the youtube video. It’s 7 seconds.
Lemme ‘splain. No, there is too much. Lemme sum up.
When I talk about “preaching Christ”
I am NOT only talking about preaching
“everybody is a sinner and they need Jesus or they’re going Hell.”
This is something we need to get out of the way before I continue. Purge this assumption from your mind. It is an obstacle to the actual message I’m trying to convey. A misleading tangent. A stumbling block. A wrong assumption.
So I need to say it again, louder.
When I talk about “preaching Christ”
I am NOT only talking about preaching
“everybody is a sinner and they need Jesus or they’re going Hell.”
My point, from the very beginning of this blog series is this:
THERE. IS. MORE!!!
and I WANT IT.
Is that whole “preaching Christ means preaching about getting saved” thing gone?
No?
okay, lemme ‘splain.
I’ve gotten some very eclectic feedback on this blog series. One of the reasons I held off hitting the publish button for as long as I did was that I knew that what I had written was filled with the potential to confuse, discourage and tick people off just as much as it had the potential to wake up, inspire and encourage people.
I wondered. Would I hear crickets? Would anybody even read it? Would anybody want to talk to me about what I’d written? Or would it make people so uncomfortable around me they would avoid eye contact and walk the other direction when they saw me coming? Would something I’d written hurt someone? Make them angry? Would people tolerate my ideas if they were different than their own? Would I be dismissed with the silent treatment? Would ANYone identify with me? Would ANYone agree with me?
The answer?
YES.
But one thing I didn’t expect was that some people would think that by saying I wanted a “Christ-centered” church and that I wanted my pastor to “preach Christ” I was saying I wanted every sermon to be like this:
or worse yet, like this: (be sure and read it with a southern accent and yell the one syllable words that have morphed into two syllable words ending in “ah.”)
“EV-ER-EEbody IS A HORRIBLE, SINNER!!!! IF YOU DO NOT ACCEPT JESUS CHRIST-tah, IF YOU ARE NOT BORN AGAIN-nah, YOU’RE DESTINED-dah TO BURN IN HELL-lah FOR ETERNITY. DO I HEAR AN AMEN?!”
seriously.
That is NOT what I’m talking about.
and yet, in spite of everything I had written, that’s what some readers were coming away with.
I’m telling you. It was driving me nuts. I went back over my Christ-centered posts again and again and I didn’t SEE it. I could NOT find it.
WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? WHERE DID I SEND THAT MESSAGE?
I didn’t.
Kudos to my friend “Flutterby43” for reminding me about decoding. Sad, really. I was a communication major. I should have remembered this.
Encoding is, to simplify it, the words and pictures I use to convey my message. DEcoding is how that message is interpreted. The constant here is that the encoding of my message is the same for everyone who is reading my blog posts. The variables are the personal filters that my message has to make it through as people interpret (decode) that message. The discrepancies in those interpretations are due to the fact that sometimes my message isn’t making it through the decoding process unscathed by those personal filters.
Translated? We all have baggage, people. And sometimes, that baggage leads us to interpret – or decode – messages in messages that aren’t really there. I’ve done it. We’ve all done it. We’ll all do it again.
But this time, I got some feedback about this message.
Here’s the conversation that finally led me to figure it out:
Flutterby43: “My quiet, introverted nature gravitates toward a more contemplative worship style, and I would be overwhelmed and, yes, SCARED by fire and brimstone – but I totally get where you’re coming from.”
Me: “Your comment “fire and brimstone.” Where does that come from? You’re not the first person to take that away. What did I say that caused you to think that? I can’t find it. I don’t see it.”
Flutterby43: “You didn’t use the term – That’s just my phraseology – honestly, if I had a pastor telling me every week that I needed Jesus, because I’m a hopeless sinner, it’d get old. (Again, that’s just my interpretation of what you’re saying) I know I need Jesus. I know I’m a sinner. But I’m just not an “in your face” kinda gal. I tend to beat myself up on my own – if I heard that every week, I’d come away from church feeling so bad about myself, I’d probably just crawl into bed and never leave the house!” (emphasis added)
Me: “ahhhhhhhh. Thank you! That was driving me crazy. I think I get it. “Preaching Christ” gives the impression that I’m talking about evangelism. and it appears evangelism means “fire and brimstone” and “turn or burn” to some people. I REALLY need to finish this series. I still haven’t gotten through what I mean by Gospel and preaching Christ. I thought I clarified that I wasn’t just talking about evangelism, in my post “the gospel is more than evangelism,” but I need to hurry up and explain – more and better.
There’s more to Christ than salvation.”
I knew when I started posting this series that it was long and that it would take me a while to get through it, but I didn’t think through how the drawn out nature of the process could lead to premature and incorrect assumptions about my point.
My bad.
The fact is, some people are going to run my message through their personal internal filters and think I am saying:
“I want to hear fire and brimstone turn or burn sermons every week. And every chance they get, I think everybody in my church should tell all their friends (and strangers) that if they don’t repent they’re going to hell! And when they don’t, they should feel really guilty about it. It’s just more evidence that everybody is a horrible, hopeless sinner and bad Christian.”
That’s NOT what I’m saying. Thankfully, from the feedback I’m receiving, I’m confident that some people are identifying with what I actually AM saying – my true message is resonating with them.
But here’s the thing, now that I know there are some people are going to interpret the words “Christ-centered” as “fire and brimstone turn or burn evangelism”, it’s MY RESPONSIBILITY TO MODIFY MY ENCODING in an effort to clarify my message and minimize any misinterpretation.
So, I’m holding off on my story for a little longer. I’ve got some encoding work to do.
To read the next post in this series, click here: F5. How many people like me? F5. How many people like me?
Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.
Ephesians 4:29 (ESV)
“Everything is made to center upon the initial act of “accepting” Christ . . . and we are not expected thereafter to crave any further revelation of God to our souls. We have been snared in the coils of a spurious logic which insists that if we have found Him we need no more seek Him. This is set before us as the last word in orthodoxy, and it is taken for granted that no Bible-taught Christian ever believed otherwise. Thus the whole testimony of the worshipping, seeking, singing Church on that subject is crisply set aside. The experiential heart-theology of a grand army of fragrant saints is rejected in favor of a smug interpretation of Scripture which would certainly have sounded strange to an Augustine, a Rutherford or a Brainerd.”
The Pursuit of God
by A. W. Tozer.
This is the 9th post of a series. CLICK HERE to view a page listing all the posts in the series.
the gospel is more than evangelism.
I’ve been telling a story these last 8 blog posts. I got through August of 2012. But I have to interrupt myself. The story can wait.
Today, my pastor preached Christ.
and I mean he PREACHED Christ.
In his words, “TESTIFY!“
Today, my pastor preached an evangelical sermon. Not one person left my church today without hearing the gospel of Jesus Christ. Not one person left my church today without hearing how their lives could be changed by placing their faith in Jesus.
not. ONE.
AMEN.
I sought him out. I had to tell him:
“I am actively praying that the culture of this church and the foundation of every sermon will be saturated in the core of the message you gave today. THANK YOU.”
but here’s the thing.
the gospel is so much bigger than a sermon.
one sermon canNOT change the culture of my church.
one man canNOT change the culture of my church.
Even if He tried to do it through sermons alone, not every sermon can be about accepting Jesus. Evidencing the gospel of Jesus Christ is much more straightforward within the context of an evangelistic sermon than it is in sermons addressing every facet of our lives as Christians.
The gospel is much MUCH more than evangelism.
I need to say that again, even louder.
The gospel is much MUCH more than evangelism.
I’m a reader. It’s a freakish obsession. And I’ve learned something I want to know more about.
Jesus can be found in EVERY. Book. of. the. Bible.
“You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; it is these that testify about Me” John 5:39
I want to hear more. I want to learn more. I NEED to learn more.
I want to dig DEEPER than what this kid can tell me in 4 minutes
I want to find Jesus in every nook and cranny of my Bible. EVERY WEEK.
I will NEVER tire of learning about the redemptive story of Jesus Christ.
NEVER.
To read the next post in this series, click here: “I do not think it means what you think it means.“
“Now, you may be thinking, Okay, the message of the Bible is Christ; I got it. But we have to talk about other things too. Didn’t Paul talk about singing, home life, master-slave relationships, and his coworkers in Colossians 3 and 4?
Yes, he did. However, he addressed all of these topics in the light of Christ. The other subjects were like spokes in a wheel, the wheel being Christ Himself…
So Christ is found in the big picture, but He’s also found in the smallest details. he’s at the forefront of all spiritual things, yet He’s present in the practical things as well.
How did Paul put it in Colossians 3:11? “Christ is all and in all.”
Jesus Manifesto
by Leonard Sweet and Frank Viola
[This post is the eighth in a multi-part series, written mostly in early autumn 2012, published now for the first time. Here are the previous posts in order by date:
1. “irreconcilable differences.”
2. “the assumption of Christ.“
3. “desperate.”
4. desperate prayers. “mean” prayers.
5. the wisdom of the wise.
6. going through the motions.
7. metaphor for awakening.
a metaphor for awakening.
This is the 7th post of a series. To read the sixth post, entitled “going through the motions” CLICK HERE.
If you need some context, links to all of the previous posts are provided at the end of this post.
Back to August 2012.
In the middle of everything that was happening, I was struck with a memory that cut through 25 years. Buried in my mind, probably nestled somewhere between the lyrics of Gilligan’s Island and The Brady Bunch, was a scene from the movie Labyrinth.
Seems straightforward. Just a story. A fairy tale.
But even the filmmakers intended it to be a metaphor.
Here’s the backstory/narrative:
The protagonist, a young girl named Sarah, was on a quest. She had to find her way through a magical labyrinth in search of a child who had been stolen by an evil King.
At one point, the evil King causes Sarah to lose her memory and she finds herself in the middle of a junk yard. As she stands, she braces herself against what she thinks is a pile of junk, but it turns out to be a woman, with about 3 feet of junk strapped to her back. There are more junk people everywhere, sifting through piles. As Sarah looks around with a confused expression on her face; all she can remember is that she was searching for something.
She wanders aimlessly through the junk yard, followed by the Junk Lady who’s babbling incessantly. After a few minutes, Sarah stops, looking around, lost and bewildered, and mumbles,
“I was searching for something.”
The Junk Lady, immediately responsive, says “Well, look here!” and hands Sarah what appears to be her Teddy Bear.
Sarah, recognizing something familiar and comforting, immediately takes the Teddy Bear and thanks the Junk Lady who replies “That’s what you were looking for, wasn’t it my dear?” Sarah holds the bear close
“Yes. I forgot.”
Then the Junk Lady leads Sarah through a path in the junk, toward a door, saying “Why don’t you come in here and see if there’s anything else you like?” Sarah steps through the door into what appears to be her bedroom. Filled with relief, she throws herself on her bed and covers her head with a pillow.
She’s home. She’s safe.
Until she opens her bedroom door to find her father. At which point, the Junk Lady barges in,
“Better to stay in here dear! There’s nothing you want out there.”
She begins handing Sarah stuffed animals and dolls and toys, naming each one and reminding Sarah how much she loves them. As Sarah sits, her arms overloaded with dolls and toys, she seems almost in a trance and softly says, “There was something I was looking for.” The Junk Lady immediately tells her
“Don’t talk nonsense! It’s all here, everything in the world you’ve ever cared about is all right here.”
Still loaded down with all the stuff the Junk Lady has been handing her, Sarah spots a book and reaches for it.
It’s the story she’s in. The story she’s forgotten she’s in. She begins reading:
“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered…”
Suddenly, she remembers. And the Junk Lady knows it. “What’s the matter my dear, don’t you like your toys?”
Sarah is overcome with the realization: “It’s all junk!”
She throws one of the “treasures” the Junk Lady has given her and suddenly the walls of the room begin to collapse, revealing the truth. She’s in the middle of a junk yard.
It was a facade.
I looked around the sanctuary and I could see it. It was a facade.
Without Christ, it’s all junk.
Does that offend you? Stay with me, I’m making a point. I promise.
Sarah was looking for something, but she was deceived into believing all that other stuff was what she really needed and wanted.
The truth behind that scene hit home 25 years ago and it cuts even deeper today. The evil King was powerful. Why didn’t he just throw her into a dungeon? Why didn’t he just kill her? Satan is evil and he has power in this world. Why doesn’t he order some evil little minion destroy that sanctuary?
Because there’s no need. It’s too easy to distract instead. To provide things of comfort and security. Beautiful things. Things that make sense and are familiar.
Good things.
Good enough things.
If you think about it, most things that end up in a junk yard were desired at some point. Somewhere along the line, someone bought or made or was given each and every item. Whether functional and useful or just something pretty to look at (and dust), the items that end up in the junk yard are things that no longer have value to us.
Temporal things.
Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Sarah could have embraced the facade of her bedroom and all the things she thought she wanted and needed. She could have abandoned her quest and settled into a life of comfort and security, forgetting all about the child she was searching for, never venturing outside her comfort zone, never talking to the junk people or dealing with all that junk. But thankfully, because of a book, she remembered.
Once she discovered the truth, she knew she couldn’t stay nestled in that safe, comfortable facade. She intentionally destroyed the facade of comfort and safety even though it meant coming face to face with the junk.
Because she remembered she was looking for something.
CLICK HERE to read the eighth post in this series, entitled “the gospel is more than evangelism“
“Safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.”
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
by C. S. Lewis
[This post is the seventh in a multi-part series, written mostly in early autumn 2012, published now for the first time. Here are the previous posts in order by date:
1. “irreconcilable differences.”
2. “the assumption of Christ.“
3. “desperate.”
4. desperate prayers. “mean” prayers.
5. the wisdom of the wise.
6. going through the motions.
the wisdom of the wise.
This is the 5th post of a series. If you need some context, here are the previous posts in order by date:
1. “irreconcilable differences.”
2. “the assumption of Christ.“
3. “desperate.”
4. desperate prayers. “mean” prayers.
to continue…
Just two days later. Friday. I was back on campus for another Christian yoga class. Afterward, I found myself back in the empty sanctuary again. This time, I picked up the pew Bible and intentionally turned to the book of Isaiah.
Because these people draw near with their mouths
and honor me with their lips,
while their hearts are far from me,
and their worship of me is a human commandment learned by rote;
Isaiah 29:13
I had to read it again.
I turned to Matthew 15:8-9, the verse I had read on Wednesday. It was a pew Bible. There were no cross references. But I knew the footnotes of a reference Bible would link them.
“This people honors Me with their lips,
But their heart is far away from Me.
But in vain do they worship Me,
Teaching as doctrines the precepts of men.”
I glanced up at verse 7.
“You hypocrites! Isaiah prophesied rightly about you when he said:”
“Isaiah prophesied.” Had I seen that Wednesday? Is that why I turned directly to Isaiah on Friday? Maybe.
But that didn’t explain how I turned directly to Isaiah 29:13.
That was God. Freakin me out.
I’m not a big believer in coincidences. I was blown away by the fact that God had led me to these two scriptures. I turned back to Isaiah and continued reading verse 14.
so I will again do
amazing things with this people,
shocking and amazing.
The wisdom of their wise shall perish,
and the discernment of the discerning shall be hidden.
Isaiah 29:14
I knew what I wanted that to mean.
But the Bible is not a crystal ball.
I wanted it to mean that God would do amazing things with this church. I turned on my phone and looked up Isaiah 29:13-14 on biblegateway.com. Out of curiosity, I switched versions to The Message.
The Master said:
“These people make a big show of saying the right thing,
but their hearts aren’t in it.
Because they act like they’re worshiping me
but don’t mean it,
I’m going to step in and shock them awake,
astonish them, stand them on their ears.
The wise ones who had it all figured out
will be exposed as fools.
The smart people who thought they knew everything
will turn out to know nothing.”
What did this mean?
Why did God lead me to those two scriptures?
I didn’t know. It would appear I’m definitely not one of the wise ones. But it would also appear that was a good thing.
Again, I sat on the stage where I stand to sing with the praise team during worship. And I prayed Wednesday’s desperate, “mean” prayers again.
And then I prayed some more.
I prayed for a miracle.
I prayed that the Holy Spirit would move in a powerful way.
I prayed for our services that Sunday.
I prayed for my pastor again, that he would preach Christ.
I prayed for the congregation, that they would seek Christ and
I prayed for the worship team, that we would point to Christ.
And I blatantly and unashamedly prayed for myself.
I prayed that God would equip me for His service.
I prayed for encouragement if God wanted me to stay.
Unwillingly, I prayed that God would give me a sense of hopelessness if he wanted me to leave.
I was there a while.
The next Sunday, August 19th, my pastor preached on The Book of Revelation. A letter to the Church of Sardis:
“I know your works; you have a name of being alive, but you are dead. 2 Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is on the point of death, for I have not found your works perfect in the sight of my God. 3 Remember then what you received and heard; obey it, and repent.”
And he spoke the name of Jesus more times in that one sermon than he had spoken it in months!
YES!!!
Was that God? Freaking me out? Was this a turning point in the life of my church?
And selfishly, I wondered. Was that God encouraging me? Or Satan, trying to derail me? I had prayed for God to move and still I doubted. Was this God moving? Or was it just that the content of this particular message included Jesus as a “structural component?”
A fleece was looking pretty good right now.
And I’m seriously anti-fleece.
I spent most of the next Monday and Tuesday writing up as much as I could remember. Everything I’ve published in the previous 4 posts and pages more. Wednesday, while writing, I was curious. What did scripture have to say about our human attempts to reach people for Christ. I Googled “Bible verse evangelism.”
God and Google led me to 1 Corinthians 1:17:
“For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power.”
I continued reading.
18 For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 19 For it is written,
“I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,
and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. There it was again. Was God’s trying to tell me something? Was I just too dense to figure it out? Or had God not revealed it to me yet? I know what I’d bet on. I continued to read.
20 Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? 21 For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. 22 For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, 23 but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, 24 but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. 25 For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.
“It pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe.”
God can do anything – in spite of us. But would He do this?
I still didn’t know.
The next Sunday, the pastor referenced 1 Corinthians 1:17. I knew that verse. I picked up a pew Bible and turned to read it, continuing on to verse 19. There it was again:
19 For it is written, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,
and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.”
This was getting ridiculous.
Remember, that was August of last year. Fast forward to yesterday. A friend who’s been following these blog posts sent me an email and said:
“the Scriptures call the Gospel an offense to those who are perishing.”
As soon as I opened this blog draft today God freaked me out again. I sent my friend a text and asked where that came from.
The reply? 1 Corinthians 1:21-25.
You don’t have to scroll up too far in this post to see that I’ve quoted 1 Corinthians 1:17-25.
and I wrote the first draft of this post months ago..
(to be continued. Sorry. I know this one is a bit of a cliff-hanger, but it was already soooo long.)
“If you are frustrated with the lack of gospel-centrality in your current church culture, understand that cultural frustration always precedes cultural transformation. The frustration is good and beautiful if it leads you to long for the grace of Jesus to permeate your theology, philosophy, and practice. Paul’s concluding words to the Galatian believers are poignant: “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers” (Gal. 6: 18 ESV). Paul believed the only solution to church culture dysfunction is Jesus— the only One who can build a culture of grace in your church. He is the One who brings brokenness and repentance. He is the One we must trust. He is the only One who could remedy the broken sacrificial system among His people, and He is the only One who could repair the shifting church culture in Galatia. Only He can raise a life, and only He can raise a dead culture.
May the grace of the Lord Jesus be with our churches.”
from Creature of the Word: The Jesus-Centered Church
by Matt Chandler, Josh Patterson, and Eric Geiger
This post is the fifth in a multi-part series, written mostly in early autumn 2012, published now for the first time.
The sixth post in this series: “going through the motions.“
To read all of the posts in this series, CLICK HERE.]
desperate prayers. “mean” prayers.
This is the 4th post of a series. If you need some context, here are the previous posts in order by date:
1. “irreconcilable differences.”
2. “the assumption of Christ.“
3. “desperate.”
to continue with the 4th post…
So I prayed.
I prayed desperate prayers.
Some might call them “mean” prayers.
I started with my pastor.
I prayed he would be completely overcome with a burning passion for preaching Christ. A passion he would be incapable of ignoring.
I prayed that he would find no rest until he abandoned his will and his view of “effective” preaching and succumbed to that passion.
I prayed that a desire to preach Christ would keep him up at night.
I desperately begged the Holy Spirit to pursue him relentlessly.
I prayed that God would inundate him with irrefutable evidence of a continuous need to preach Christ – from every direction; through every person he encountered, everything he read, everything he saw – from emails to bumper stickers.
I prayed for him to find no escape.
no rationalization.
no excuse.
I prayed for him to be profoundly brokenhearted at the realization that some of the people God had entrusted him to lead did not know Christ personally.
I prayed for him to be stubbornly unwilling to allow a single person to leave church after a Sunday morning service without hearing that JESUS is what they need, not only for salvation, but
- for the strength to make it through a day,
- the ability to serve in His name and
- the freedom to forgive themselves when they failed to “be good.”I prayed that my pastor would be wrecked.
And that he would find no relief from the wrecking except by preaching Christ.
I prayed for each individual members of the congregation.
I thanked God for the people in the congregation who had received salvation by grace through faith in Christ.
I begged God to remind those who had forgotten Him – like I had.
and I begged Him to move in the hearts and minds of those people who had never received salvation by grace through faith in Christ.
I prayed that every. single. member of the congregation would be dissatisfied.
I prayed that people would be afflicted by an unquenchable hunger for more than the milk they were being fed.
I prayed they would develop an insatiable hankering for the meat of the gospel.
I prayed for God to somehow make me aware of others who also realized that our church was lukewarm. I prayed that I would be able to recognize and identify with others who were searching for more than
- encouragement to live good Christian lives,
- Biblical instruction on how to do so and
- affirmation that service to others was the ultimate demonstration of a commitment to God.I prayed that people would never again use the word “enjoy” to describe their reaction to a sermon they heard, but would instead find themselves convicted, moved, inspired and personally challenged.
I prayed for myself.
I prayed that God would tell me what to do!
Should I leave the church or stay and continue to strive for something nobody else seemed to want?
I seemed to be in a tiny little minority.
Other than a handful of people, nobody else seemed to notice.
There were definitely not too many of us. If God were to move, all the glory would be His.
And as I prayed all of this, I doubted. Not that God could, but that God would.
Because although it grieved him, the father allowed his prodigal son to leave. The father didn’t go after him and force him to come home against his will. And the son, believing he knew what was best for himself, did not return.
Until he was broken and desperate.
My church is broken, but blind to the brokenness. Desperate for the Father, but unaware of the need.
Why didn’t I go to my pastor?
I had.
On two occasions. It had not gone well.
As a result of those two encounters, I decided to pray about it instead of continuing to try and work things out on my own.
Because I believe in the power of prayer. I wish I could say I always approach prayer as my first line of defense instead of my last resort. I really, REALLY wish I could say that. But I can’t.
Even though I do believe God can do ANYthing.
I was praying for God to move in my pastor’s life; for God to inspire him to preach Christ.
I KNOW God is able.
Through the conversations with my pastor, I came to a realization. If I continued to try and work things out on my own instead praying and giving it up to God, I knew it would be a lack of faith. It would be me saying:
“just forget it, God. I’ve been praying and praying and you haven’t done anything. I’ll fix it myself!”
I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it.
Because God can do ANYthing. and if He chooses not to, who am I to manipulate circumstances to fit my view of how things should be?
So I begged God to tell me if He wanted me to stay and serve in spite of my longing to hear the name of Jesus proclaimed as the way and the truth and the light.
I prayed all these things and more as I sat alone with God in that empty sanctuary. And then I sat. Silent.
Listening for God to speak.
My mind came back again and again to Matthew 15:8-9:
“In vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the precepts of men.”
I had come into the sanctuary that autumn morning to pray for revival in my church. For direction.
I went home.
No less confused about what God wanted me to do.
And I continued to pray. Like a widow. persistently.
(to be continued)
“If the culture of a church is at odds with the stated beliefs of the church…the unstated message speaks louder than the stated one.”
from Creature of the Word: The Jesus-Centered Church
by Matt Chandler, Josh Patterson, and Eric Geiger
This post is the fourth in a multi-part series, written mostly in early autumn 2012, published now for the first time.
The fifth post in this series: “the wisdom of the wise.“
To read all of the posts in this series, CLICK HERE.
desperate.
This is the third post in a series.
To give context, here’s a snippet from “irreconcilable differences.” – the first post in this series:
“I had come to the church campus that Wednesday morning for a Christian yoga class and after yoga, I found myself walking into the empty sanctuary instead of to my van. I picked up a pew Bible and climbed the steps to the stage to sit in the same spot I stand when I sing with praise team.”
The second post is entitled “the assumption of Christ.”
At my church, corporate prayers emphasize our need for God and that God is a good God. A compassionate God. A loving God.
Never a mention of the fact that God is a just God and that He can’t look upon sin – of which we reek.
Never a mention that all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth.
Never a mention that we desperately need Jesus Christ.
Corporate prayer is safe and appropriate to the occasion. I couldn’t remember ever experiencing intimacy with Christ, being moved to desperation or overwhelmed with adoration and gratitude by corporate prayer.
Conversations are about the logistics and scheduling of programs and service. When I went to them (I’ve stopped going), discussions in classes and studies were theological, academic and intellectual.
I couldn’t remember ever being convicted or personally challenged by a sermon message or class discussion.
My church is grounded in the assumption of Christ.
and I couldn’t remember it ever being otherwise. I have attended this church for 12 years. 12 years. How had I not seen it before?
I had been asleep. Numb. On autopilot. I had forgotten. I had been distracted. I had spent 12 years nestled in the security of familiarity and comfort.
12 years.
Now I am awake, stirred by the Holy Spirit. Through God’s grace, I’ve been prompted to switch off my autopilot.
Now my vision is vertical and unobstructed.
And I am wrenched about what I see and how much time I’ve wasted.
I am ashamed. Ashamed to have wasted so much time. Deeply ashamed that I have allowed my children to believe this is what church is.
I looked out into the empty sanctuary that Wednesday morning and I saw a beautiful building.
And I remembered something. When the sanctuary was being built, after the walls went up, but before any painting or flooring, the youth of the church had been invited and encouraged to write scripture on the cement foundation and the walls. Under the paint and flooring of that beautiful sanctuary was the Word of God. Covered up. Hidden.
Hidden by beautiful things, but still hidden.
And forgotten.
I read Matthew 15:8-9 again:
“This people honors Me with their lips,
but their heart is far away from Me.
But in vain do they worship Me,
teaching as doctrines the precepts of men.”
Did Matthew 15:8-9 describe this church? I couldn’t say no with any confidence at all. We didn’t talk about Jesus much here. We talked about god. And yes, that lowercase “g” is intentional. Church has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. It’s one of the reasons I thought I was a Christian before I ever accepted Christ. But for every church I’d attended, I was suddenly able to recognize which ones didn’t place Jesus at the center. This wasn’t the only one, just the most recent.
My church is grounded in the assumption of Christ.
And I am desperate for a Christ-centered church.
desperate.
I believe I am facing the end of a season of my life and I am profoundly sad about it. It keeps me up at night and it wakes me up before dawn, filling my thoughts and prayers.
I know that continuing in the status quo is not an option. Something has to change. I can’t un-know what God has revealed to me.
A few weeks before that Wednesday morning in the sanctuary, this was my prayer:
“Lord, I pray your forgiveness for finding long lasting delusion and comfort in places that only hold the appearance of dedication to You. Forgive me Lord, for being satisfied with serving others instead of abandoning my will and my ideas of what service looks like and allowing YOU to use me – however you see fit. Please forgive me for settling for appropriate and acceptable instead of wholeheartedly and unashamedly living out my faith in Christ, even when others see my thoughts, feelings and ideas as inappropriate, insufferable or naively dismissive of cultural norms. Forgive me Lord, for allowing the disapproval of people who don’t know me to dampen my enthusiasm and derail my dedication to live a life examined through the filter of Your Word. Forgive me Lord, for allowing so much time to pass before I found the courage and motivation to honestly face and process the reality of my surroundings and circumstances. My affinity for your people blinded me to the growing undeniable evidence that You are more an icon than THE reason this church exists and gathers. I want to be where You are. Please God, lead me to that place.”
And yet, after praying that prayer weeks before and reading what I believed to be a Word from God in Matthew 15:8-9 that autumn morning, I still prayed for revival. Filled with doubt that God would lift a finger, I prayed for a miracle.
I don’t want this season of my life to end, but I know that I can’t stay immersed in the assumption of Christ. Something has to change. My soul longs to be part of a church where talking about hard things doesn’t make people uncomfortable. I need to be part of a church where I can be open about my own sin without people rushing to assure me that I am a good person. I dream of a church where I can be a Jesus Freak and not freak people out. I ache to be part of a church where saying all this wouldn’t be met with disapproval or dismissed as coming from a wack job with too much time on her hands.
I desperately, desperately need to be part of a church where I’m not belittled or patronized because I think too much, pray too much or love Jesus too much.
“Deep within we long for the Father of all galaxies to fall on us weekly and take us to the mat with His full weight. Is that happening in your church? When was the last time you were gripped by the greatness of God?”
Vertical Church: What Every Heart Longs for. What Every Church Can Be.
by James MacDonald
This post is the third in a multi-part series, written mostly in early autumn 2012, published now for the first time.
The fourth post in this series: “desperate prayers. “mean” prayers.“
To read all of the posts in this series, CLICK HERE.
the assumption of Christ.
[The first post in this series is entitled "irreconcilable differences." CLICK HERE to read it.]
My church is firmly grounded in the assumption of Christ. That is not a typo. I am not a victim of autocorrect. I intentionally typed “assumption” not “ascension.”
My church is firmly grounded in the assumption of Christ. And I am wrecked over it.
At my church, we talk about God, we pray to God and more than anything else, we serve others “in the name of God.” But I could have typed god with a lowercase “g.”
Too many of the sermons could easily be delivered in a Kingdom Hall or a mosque or a synagogue without changing a single word and without offending a single person of another faith.
Sermons are encouraging and comforting, emphasizing what we should do. How we should live. Character and discipline are recurring precepts. The pervading concept is consistently service.
I can’t remember ever hearing a straightforward caveat that – Christian or not – we are incapable of the doing good and the living right on our own. That character and discipline weren’t enough for Abraham or David, much less for us.
The name of Jesus is rarely spoken in my church outside of the “in Jesus name” precursor to “Amen.”
I can’t remember ever hearing a frank acknowledgment that there are people in the congregation who don’t know Jesus Christ as their Savior and Lord.
I can’t remember ever hearing a clear and complete explanation of why we need Jesus.
A firm but loving declarative statement that Jesus is the only way to salvation?
NEVER.
I can’t remember ever hearing a personal challenge to face my sin – head on.
A firm but loving declarative statement that I need to repent of my sin?
NEVER.
I can’t remember ever hearing an impassioned call to repentance – or to Christ.
The only time I ever hear a connection between Jesus and the message is when the message is explicitly about the Jesus, which again, is extremely rare.
I am desperate to hear messages that help me make a connection between the gospel and my everyday life.
I’ve done enough reading and studying on my own to understand that the timeless, redemptive story of Jesus can be found in every book of the Bible.
I long to hear that story. I long to hear about Jesus.
In every message.
Not only is the assumption of Christ not enough, it is NOTHING.
“Every week someone should proclaim the gospel, no matter what the topic is. If we’re talking about holiness, about manhood, about marriage, parenting, money, or any particular biblical command, we need to teach it and talk about it in view of the gospel, always bringing it back to the epic story of God’s redemption.”
from Creature of the Word: The Jesus-Centered Church
by Matt Chandler, Josh Patterson, and Eric Geiger
This post is the second in a multi-part series, written mostly in early autumn 2012, published now for the first time.
The third post in this series: “desperate.“
To read all of the posts in this series, CLICK HERE.
irreconcilable differences.
I opened the pew Bible and searched for folded pages to smooth, a practice stemming from both my compulsion to line things up in parallel rows and my need to fix things. To make things right.
And things were not right.
The only page that needed smoothing was in the book of Matthew. Even though it felt a little like playing Bible roulette, I read the words that had been hidden under the folded paper:
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus.
But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said,
“why did you doubt?”Matthew 14: 29-31
Why do I doubt? Do I not believe God can do anything? I say I believe it. Why the doubt?
I had come to the church campus that Wednesday morning for a Christian yoga class and after yoga, I found myself walking into the empty sanctuary instead of to my van. I picked up a pew Bible and climbed the steps to the stage to sit in the same spot I stand when I sing with the praise team. Then I opened the Bible to the wrinkled page and read about Peter’s doubt.
About his little faith.
I sat there in the quiet, staring out into the empty sanctuary. I had come to pray for revival in my church. For the individual members of the church congregation, for my pastor and for the praise team. But before I could even begin, God pointed out the elephant in the room. Or should I say the elephant in the sanctuary?
I intended to pray for revival while saturated in doubt.
I believe God can do anything.
But I doubted He would do this.
I turned the wrinkled page and looked at the back side. Like an arrow, the beginning of the wrinkle pointed to the first line of Matthew 15:8. Words spoken by Christ, printed in red. I read, continuing to verse 9:
“This people honors Me with their lips,
But their heart is far away from Me.
But in vain do they worship Me,
Teaching as doctrines the precepts of men.”
“In vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the precepts of men.”
That was harsh.
But I couldn’t discount it.
I couldn’t deny it.
It was the thing that compelled me to slip into the empty sanctuary and pray that morning. This was the thing that was not right. The thing I couldn’t make right.
It was the thing I doubted God would make right.
Not because He couldn’t, but because He wouldn’t. Although it grieved him, the father allowed his prodigal son to leave. The father didn’t go after him and force him to come home against his will. And the son, believing he knew what was best for himself, did not return.
Until he was broken and desperate.
My church is broken, but blind to the brokenness. Desperate for the Father, but unaware of the need.
My church is a victim of the drift.
“Their drift has not been one of overt rebellion but of an inner twisting of the heart, a loss of appreciation for the gospel and all its ramifications.”
from Creature of the Word: The Jesus-Centered Church
by Matt Chandler, Josh Patterson, and Eric Geiger
This post is the first in a mulit-part series, written mostly in late summer/early autumn 2012, published now for the first time.
The second post in the series: “the assumption of Christ“
a good Christian life.
Honored to have had the privilege of delivering this message to a group of women at a Brunch this past Saturday morning. This video will give you a preview of the book I’m writing. If you’ve got 8 minutes and 27 seconds, check it out.
answers.
[the following is an excerpt from the book I'm writing]
Answers to prayer come in all different shapes and sizes – and times. God has definitely answered my prayers in ways I didn’t expect. Some answers I would quickly and easily describe as blessings, some answers I would say were blessings disguised as trials. Sometimes, I would tell you God didn’t answer my prayer at all, but that may or may not be true. It may just be that I didn’t get to witness the answer.
Yet.
God has answered my prayer by blessing me with wisdom and imagination when I’m smack in the middle of a seemingly unsolvable problem. But He’s also taken a job away from me that, in retrospect, I can see was time to leave and never would have let go of on my own. He allowed me to struggle through a 7 year relationship plagued with distrust and heartache, but in retrospect, I can see that my distrust of that person kept me from sleeping with them and saved me for someone who still tells me he’s crazy about me after 22 years. Years ago, while my husband and I were house shopping, we were confused and disappointed when the two houses we put offers on didn’t progress to a sale. Today, we count it a huge blessing that we didn’t entangle ourselves in additional debt at that time in our lives. One of my son’s friends has an amazing ability to dribble and shoot a basketball equally as well using his right hand or his left. By watching him, you’d never know that he broke his right arm when he was younger and spent months learning to play basketball with his left hand because his right arm was unavailable. When he broke his arm, I’m sure he and his family thought it was a bad thing, and in the immediate, it was. But in the long term, it provided a unique advantage. My sister teaches adjunct at a local community college and she was hurt and confused and worried when, out of the blue, she didn’t get a teaching contract one semester. Then over the next few months, she found herself home multiple times with very sick children on the very days she would have been teaching had she gotten the contract.
The stories are endless. Think back over your own life. What was something you prayed about that you believed at the time turned out very badly but now, in retrospect, you see was the best thing that could have happened? Can you see situations where God saved you from a negative consequence or used the bad situation as a foundation for something amazing in your life? Something God worked not only for your good, but for His greater glory?
I know it sounds cliche, but it’s true: God works in mysterious ways.
not more from God, more of God.
[the following is an excerpt from the book I'm writing]
Intimate communication with Christ through prayer can be the foundation of everything in your life: every thought you think, every idea that opens your mind, every choice you make. But when we relegate prayer to certain times and places in our lives, we limit that communication – and its influence on our thoughts, ideas and choices. We quench the Holy Spirit.
1 Thessalonians 5:17-18 tells us to “pray continually” and that it is “God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” These instructions aren’t directed at monks, they are for everyone who has accepted Christ. It’s possible to pray anywhere, anytime because God is with you, everywhere, all the time. It’s possible for prayer to saturate your moments and your days.
Did I just morph into that Jesus Freak with whom you avoid eye contact and cross the street to escape? Have you already tuned me out, thinking, “meh, she’s not talking to me. I don’t need to change anything. I’m fine.”
fine.
The most heinous of four letter words. Saturated in mediocrity. Reeking of average. Riding the edge of dissatisfaction and discouragement. More comfortable than a recliner and a bowl of chips in front of a 60 inch flat screen. There are some people who live their entire lives feeling fine about everything they do. There are people live their entire lives feeling fine about their relationship with God.
Fine is not what I’m going for. I. want. more.
I’ve discovered that I can have as much of God as I want, and I want more. I want Christ in every nook and cranny of my mind and heart and soul, every day of the week because when He’s not? My pursuits are just pointless exercises in ladder climbing and stuff collecting. I want my relationship with Christ to be at the center of my marriage, my relationship with my kids, family and friends, my career, my ministry.
If that makes me a Jesus Freak, go ahead and call me one, under your breath or to my face, I’m okay with the label. I’ve found the ultimate source of passion in life and I can’t keep it to myself. I’m compelled to share it. It fuels me. My relationship with Christ makes the routine meaningful, the lows bearable and the highs incomparable. God’s grace is more amazing than any song could describe, His love is illogically unconditional, His patience is unimaginably endless, His blessings are undeserved and abundant and His peace obliterates worry and fear. This is the “more” I’m talking about and there’s plenty of it to go around.
It all stems from prayer, intimate no-holds barred prayer. Naked prayer. The kind of prayer you pray when you are unashamed and want to tell God everything. The kind of intimate communion Adam and Eve experienced with God in the Garden before they were deceived. I’m writing this book because I want you to want more. To have more. More of God.
Not more from God, more of God.
Lessons from a Whale
The Church Is Full of Hypocrites
I have two responses to that:
1. Of course it is and
2. Of Which I am the Greatest
For nearly a decade, I’ve volunteered to work my church’s annual Whale of a Sale, a gymnasium sized garage sale. The last two years, I served as its co-chair. Every year, two Saturdays before the event, we unload PODs (portable on demand storage) into the gym and for two weeks, we sort and price literally thousands of items while continuing to accept additional donations and offering free pick-up for large items. This past year, on the Saturday before the sale, we had scheduled about ten pick-ups and had put out a call for men and trucks to come and help with them.
I arrived that Saturday morning to find a group of about ten guys waiting for me. One gentleman in particular surprised me. He was overdressed for the occasion in dress shorts and loafers. As we entered the gym, I greeted him with “Well good morning! Are you here to help or to donate?”
In front of the other men who had come to work, he replied “I’m here to buy.”
Not to work. Not to donate. To buy.
Let me set this up for you. The sale was a week away. Pre-shopping privileges are offered to Whale volunteers as an incentive. If, while they are working, a volunteer discovers something they would like to buy, they are allowed to purchase it before the actual sale. Two people – neither one the buyer – price the item. Expensive items are researched and we aim for approximately 25% of retail.
“I’m here to buy.”
I said, “Let me get these guys going on their pick-ups and I’ll be right with you.”
Before I could open my mouth to relay a single address to one of the pick-up teams, he continued, ignoring my response as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “SoandSo told me there was a donation of a thingamagig and I’d like to buy it.”
I looked him in eye and said, “Do we need to do this right now? These gentlemen are waiting on me.”
Without missing a beat, he thrust a twenty dollar bill out and said, “Is it worth twenty bucks?”
I immediately and firmly said, “YES.”
He thought I was agreeing that the thingamagig was worth twenty bucks. I had no idea what the thingamagig was worth, I hadn’t even laid eyes on it. What I knew – and what the men who were listening knew – was that I meant it was worth twenty bucks for him to LEAVE and take his coveted thingamagig with him.
And then there I was, holding a twenty dollar bill. We have rules about money. I wasn’t supposed to just put it in my pocket. Besides, even if I bent the rules and temporarily put the money in my pocket in front of all those people, I knew I would get busy and forget about it. I told the men I would be with them in a few minutes, hightailed it to the other side of the gym, spent a few minutes unlocking a door with an annoyingly tricky lock, fetched the hidden key to the cabinet holding the cash box, secured the twenty, locked the cabinet, hid the key again, and crossed the gym back to where all the guys were waiting on me.
At first, I was indignant. But then I realized. He did this in front of at least nine men of the church, three of whom were impressionable teenage boys who got up early on a Saturday to come to church and volunteer with their dads. This man had made it clear to everyone in earshot that he viewed his time as more valuable than everyone else’s time. He got what he came for, but he was completely oblivious to the fact that he had made a terrible impression and lost the respect of those who witnessed his behavior. He was the only church member during the entire two weeks of preparation who bought something without working. Later, hearing about the exchange, another man commented that the man had traded his reputation for twenty bucks.
It’s sad and wrong. But unfortunately, it happens in churches just as often and as easily as it does in the secular world. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. And because I knew that doing the right thing would have caused all those guys to wait even longer – because I valued their time – I unfairly afforded one person a privilege that I didn’t afford to anyone else. In the church environment, examples like these are the cases in point when someone says they’ve been jaded by the church.
I personally used this particular situation as a teaching moment with my kids. I stepped through what happened and asked them for their opinion. Thankfully, they didn’t view this as an example of how powerful men get things done. Instead, they identified behavior and reasoning they didn’t ever want to emulate (my daughter used the word copy).
The question is, other than use it as a springboard for teaching my kids about character, what am I going to do about it? Do I give up on all churches because of the selfish actions one person? Am I going to hold a grudge? Am I going to allow someone to have that much power over me? Am I going to allow a person for whom I’ve lost respect to drive a wedge between me and God? Are you? Because make no mistake, unforgiveness is a big ol’ wedge between you and God.
“If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.” 1 John 4:20 (ESV)
And here’s the harder question. What have I myself done to leave another person with a terrible impression? It’s highly improbable that I have a stellar reputation in the church or anywhere else. What things have I said or done to damage my reputation and evidence a horrible representation of Christ? Who, when relaying how they’ve been jaded by the church, has told a story about something I’ve said or done?
If I’m honest with myself, I am not without guilt. It’s extremely difficult to face and take ownership of the things I’ve said or done that I’m ashamed of. I believe it’s difficult for any Christian to face and accept the possibility that we’ve done something to damage the cause of Christ by providing fodder for the “they’re supposed to be a Christian” rants of people who find it much too easy to discredit Christians who behave badly.
In my case, it was exactly one week later when I said something I’m ashamed of. Only 7 days following my episode of indignation before I myself was a poor representative of Christ.
It was the last hours of the sale and I was making announcements about discounts over the loudspeaker. Just as I finished saying “Everything in the boutique is negotiable.” a woman approached me.
Woman: “That’s not true. They’re not negotiating in the boutique.”
Me: “They should be. They asked me to make that announcement.”
Woman: “Well, they’re not. I want to buy some teacups and they’re not negotiating.”
Me: “Okay. Show me the teacups.” (me, in my head: “I could not care less about teacups”)
We crossed the gym and entered the boutique. She headed straight for the checkout. Three unmatched teacups with their saucers were in a box. All three had their original price tags on them, but all three also had blue painter’s tape with a lower price handwritten on them. The cashier read the prices on the painter’s tape, pointing to each teacup as she spoke.
Woman: “That’s not negotiating.”
Me: “You asked them to lower the price and they have.”
Woman: “That’s not negotiating.”
Me: “What price did you have in mind?”
Woman: “I was thinking two dollars each.”
Cashier: “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
Woman: “Actually, you can.”
You could have heard a pin drop. This was not her first negotiation. and then,
Cashier: “No, I can’t. I didn’t set the price…”
Woman, interrupting her: “That’s not negotiating.” (me, in my head: “stop saying that.”)
Me: “The person who set the price has the option to retain any items until next year rather than sell them below their value.”
Woman: “You said the prices were negotiable….”
When I interrupted her to say “Give me a few minutes and I’ll talk to the lady who set the price” I knew I was completely over the teacup conversation.
The woman turned and walked into the gym. I spent a few more minutes in the boutique and discovered the woman had been at the sale the day before and had scored a name brand pantsuit at a discount by saying she was out of money. That, combined with the already reduced price of the teacups and the fact that unmatched English teacups are not a necessity for living, led me to back up the pricing decision of the volunteers. I decided I didn’t need to drag the person who priced the teacups into this “negotiation.” If they wanted to retain the teacups for next year’s sale rather than see them sold for less than they were worth, it was their call.
I walked into the gym and was immediately approached by the woman.
Me: “We can’t reduce the price of the teacups any lower than we already have.”
Woman: “I think it’s just that one girl.”
Me: “The girl who told you the price is not the person who set the price.”
Woman: “Well then, what’s her name?”
And here’s where it went south. Here’s where I had an opportunity to do the “right” thing and caved to the easy thing instead. And I even took a few seconds to think about it before I replied.
Me: “No. I’m not going to give you a name. If you would like to buy the teacups at the reduced price that would be fine, but I’m not going to give you anyone’s name.”
Woman: “Why not?”
And then I made it even worse.
Me: “Because I don’t do drama and I’m not going to nail my volunteers.”
The woman’s jaw dropped and her hand flew to her chest like I shot her: “I don’t need this!”
Me: “Need what?”
Woman: “You REALLY hurt my feelings!”
Me: “I’m sorry I hurt your . . . ”
Woman, interrupting: “I don’t need this! I am NOT causing drama!” (me, in my head: “this isn’t drama?”)
Me: “I think you may be overreacting.”
Woman: “WHO is in charge here!?!?”
I took way too much pleasure in this one: “Me.”
Woman: “And who is in charge of YOU?!”
Me: “My pastor.”
Woman: “I can’t believe you’re being this way over teacups!”
Me: “This has absolutely nothing to do with teacups. This is about people. And I’m protecting mine.”
Woman: “I don’t need this!”
Right then, another shopper interrupted us to ask me to price something for her.
As the first woman left crying, the shopper who interrupted us said, “I didn’t really need a price, I just wanted her to leave.”
I looked over her shoulder at the door and the shopper patted me on the hand and said, “I saw what happened. Don’t give her another thought.”
But I knew. While I did the right thing by backing up the volunteer’s decision and definitely did the right thing by preventing the woman from initiating a confrontation with the person who priced the teacups, I did it ungraciously. I didn’t get emotionally upset, but also didn’t extend an ounce of compassion. I was very . . . factual.
Stating facts without grace and compassion can easily be interpreted as meanness and insensitivity. And nobody had to convince me that the “I don’t do drama/not going to nail my volunteers” comment was uncalled for and out of line.
I stood there a few minutes, replaying the entire thing in my head, knowing what I should have done:
“Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Colossians 3:12 ESV
And then her husband was standing in front of me. A man who was able to extend the graciousness I had abandoned. He told me that his wife had come running to the car crying and that she said I was very upset with her. His wife was crying and he was asking me if I was okay. I assured him I wasn’t upset and that I was sincerely sorry that his wife was upset.
Then he told me that he had been out of work for a very long time. And that their son had been killed recently in a tragic accident. He told me that because of these two things his wife was oversensitive. I apologized again and offered to follow him outside and apologize to her in person if he didn’t think that would make things worse. He told me he would tell her what I said and then he left.
And here’s the thing. She was rude. She was confrontational. She was arrogant – while she was aggressively going after what she wanted. But when I confronted her, she immediately became a wounded victim, unjustly accused and unfairly treated. I’ve seen this behavior before. I know to react with grace when I see it.
And I didn’t. I took the easy way out. The “right back atcha” way out. It was wrong and I knew better. My past has equipped me to respond to this type of behavior graciously, but my circumstances led me to react dispassionately. Unkindly.
And I knew why. It had been days since I had spent dedicated time alone with God. The Whale of a Sale hours were demanding and I was exhausted. I wasn’t hungry and if people hadn’t brought me food during that last week, I wouldn’t have eaten. I went through an entire carton of Epsom salts and used way too much hot water, I was taking too much ibuprofen and not enough Nexium. I was physically and mentally worn out and spiritually bereft.
I had spent so much of my time serving God, I had neglected to be with God. I was operating and making decisions from my own limited view of my circumstances instead of striving to see the bigger picture through God’s greater perspective. My intuitive decisions were selfish instead of stemming from the Holy Spirit’s presence within me, not because the Holy Spirit had left me, but because I couldn’t hear God’s voice above all the noise – the external stimuli, my non-stop and easily distracted thoughts, my screaming muscles. I needed to STOP. To take a few minutes to talk to God and, just as importantly, to listen to God. To abide in His presence. Because I hadn’t, I needlessly hurt someone. If I had been spending dedicated time with God every day, would I have given the name of the person who set the price of the teacups? Would I have overridden her and reduced the price of the teacups?
no. and no.
But I would have been much more gracious about it. I would allowed myself to be the hands and feet and ears and voice of Christ.
Thankfully God can use hypocrites. Especially when they learn from their mistakes.
one man’s trash.
Every year, on the first weekend of October, my church hosts a huge rummage sale, called the Whale of a Sale. All year long, we collect pre-owned items, storing them in PODs on church campus. Then, two Saturdays before the sale, we empty the PODs and fill a gymnasium. For two weeks, we continue to accept donations, organizing and pricing everything from furniture to – literally – kitchen sinks.
Inevitably, well-intentioned people donate broken, torn and dirty items. One dedicated volunteer who organizes the linens every year finds a few donated suitcases, fills them with dirty sheets, blankets, curtains and bedspreads, takes them home, washes them and brings them back. She’s diligent. Why bother with stinky, dirty donations? Why not just throw them away? Because she also volunteers for the United Methodist Children’s Home and she knows. She knows that some people have nothing. And dirty can be washed. Torn can be mended.
Last year, a leather couch was donated. At one time, it must have been beautiful. After hours of standing, day after day on a cement gymnasium floor, I can tell you it was comfortable.
But it was also dirty.
Some of the volunteers wanted to throw it out. I said no. They gave me their reasons, I gave mine. As co-chair of the event, I pulled rank and the couch stayed.
It didn’t sell. The first charity truck we called to pick up the remaining sale items left it behind.
But the day after the sale, before the second charity truck was to arrive, a church family brought in another family in need. We told them they could have anything they saw. We were offering them the stuff that no one bought, the stuff that a charity truck left behind.
Among the items remaining were a few Bibles, which we always give away freely during the sale. The children each picked up a Bible and the littlest one, a little girl no more than five, who had found a children’s bible, looked up at me and asked, “I can have this? It’s mine?”
Nearly wrecked me.
When I said, “it’s yours!” she ran to her mom to show her, saying “LOOK WHAT I GOT!!”
That’s when I noticed her dad, a very big guy, sitting on a very big, very comfortable leather sofa, with a very big smile on his face.
They filled a pick-up truck and a mini-van.
I am so blessed.
(This is not the couch, just what the mom was talking about doing to it)
the “right” questions.
My friend had asked me to meet her for coffee because she was smack in the middle of unsettling change and feeling lost. She was seeking direction, feeling powerless, overwhelmed and discouraged by her circumstances. She began our conversation by explaining that over the last few months, every time something would happen, she would think, “I really need to talk to Julie.”
Why me? Not because I knew what she should do, because I most definitely did NOT know what she should do. I don’t have some freakish sixth sense and as much as I pray for discernment, I have very little confidence in my ability to interpret God’s perspective on things in my own life, much less in anyone else’s life.
I responded by telling her that my plan was to listen and ask a lot of questions. She said, “THAT’S why I want to talk to you. You always know just the right questions to ask!”
I’ll admit. I can ask me some questions. And I know that both my plethora of questions and I can get annoying, especially when the answers begin to chip away at mindsets and decisions that were previously firm. But if I ask a question and someone’s answer leads them to doubt or to consider possibilities they hadn’t before, I view that as a good thing. It’s never good decision-making to dismiss alternative points of view without consideration. That kind of tunnel vision leads us to believe we have the best idea ever, only to come face to face with roadblocks and monkey wrenches later. Or even worse, it leads us to believe we’ve come up with the only viable solution to a problem, when really, it’s just what we found at the end of the path of least resistance. If we never consider alternative scenarios, how do we know if we’ve even come close to the best case scenario? Unchallenged thought processes run the risk of leading to substandard ideas and a false sense of security and, sometimes the high and low extremes of a false sense of superiority or resigned hopelessness.
My friend’s comment got me thinking. What are the “right” questions? There are a couple of factors.
First, I ask the honest questions, no matter how “inappropriate” or politically incorrect. I don’t have a lot of patience for pretense (reason #1 and reason #2). Because of my desire to be used by God and my understanding that He equips me for service, I always pray for Him to lead me, to give me the right words to say and to tell me when to ask them and when to SHUT. UP. I pray with full confidence that God will give me the right words to say and since I have that confidence, keeping my mouth shut or skirting around a question that pops in my head feels like a lack of faith. And disobedience. If I ask God for help and He gives it and I chicken out by rejecting or ignoring His help, that’s disobedience.
What else makes for the “right questions?” It depends. And that’s key. It depends on what the other person says. If you ever give me the honor of an onion layer conversation, I’m going ask you questions and based on what I hear, I’m going to try to ask MORE questions that (hopefully) progressively peel back the layers that may be concealing or distorting the crux of the underlying issue. I pay attention to your stories, examples and explanations with the foundational possibility that they are all manifestations of something bigger and deeper. I’m not a-scared to ask the questions that might be embarrassing or make someone angry with me. (Well. Usually. Remember the disobedience thing.) I try to test assumptions (yours and mine), whether I see them as valid or not. I’m not unaccustomed to people getting exasperated with me. As a matter of fact, exasperation is a big clue that I may be on to something. If they didn’t care about a particular issue, they wouldn’t get upset about it. The goal is to find out if they care because they are unwaveringly passionate about something or frustrated because they see the erosion of the reasoning for their point of view? Either is a step in the right direction as far as I’m concerned.
Rationalization is a huge obstacle in these conversations. I’m pretty good at it myself. Given enough time, the right books and at least 3 pages of Google search results, I can convince myself of just about anything. I can ignore the elephant in the room no matter how much he stinks. Statistically, I can not be alone in my expert and stealth rationalization skills. I’m thinking I have many, many partners in crime.
For the most part, I’ve found that deep down, people already know what they think and how they feel about their circumstances and choices. They just have trouble extracting it out of the subjective overwhelming chaos of their mind during the frantic pace of their days. We so rarely take the time to be still and think. And when we do, the sudden unaccustomed quiet is often barreled over by a deluge of overlapping thoughts all vying for top billing.
So when I’m blessed with an opportunity to engage in these deeper conversations with someone, I try not to start out by talking. There are already more than enough voices in their head already. I wait my turn, listen to the voices and, based on what I hear – sometimes spoken out loud, sometimes in between the lines – I ask questions.
Hopefully, the “right” questions.
collateral learning.
I’ve said before that I’m the friend who prefers coffee and conversation over a couple of hours sitting silently in a dark movie theater together. I’m the friend you can talk to about the stuff that keeps you up at night – and I’m not going to judge you or tell you what to do – because I have no idea what you should do. If you let me, I’m going to pray with you and if you’re uncomfortable with that, I’m going to pray for you on my own. I’m going to listen and ask you relentless questions to help you think through and hone in on what you probably already know but sometimes can’t see because it’s blurred and hidden by the chaotic pace of life. or maybe fear. or rationalization.
I’ve been blessed and honored to have been trusted in many of those kind of conversations over the years. I’ve been blessed to see God move in some of my friend’s lives in unpredictable and phenomenal ways.
But it’s not at all uncommon for God to use these conversations to change ME. Rarely do I come out unaffected. If I’m open to it, I learn something every single time. About myself, what I believe, why I believe it and what God would have me do with what He’s teaching me. It’s one of the selfish reasons I’m so motivated to continue having “onion layer” conversations with people.
But learning is always risky. The results can be inconvenient. It’s so much easier to stick with the status quo. I usually find change unsettling and sometimes its effects are uncomfortably far-reaching. But when I have the courage to listen and be open, I make myself available for God to work in my own heart and life.
In one situation, I had a friend who asked me a question I couldn’t answer. Well, I answered it, but my answer was . . . lacking. I’ll tell you the question, but trust me, it’s not as simple as it appears:
If someone has what they believe to be – and what, in every way sounds like – a saving faith in Jesus Christ; If they believe He is THE only way to Heaven, their redeemer, the son of God, without sin, was crucified, dead and buried, descended into Hell, was raised and sits at the Father’s right hand. If they believe all this, and have gratefully accepted this gift of grace, if they regularly read the Bible and believe it is the Word of God, if they consistently spend time in prayer and they strive to live their life seeking God’s will . . . here it comes . . .
Is it possible to believe and accept Jesus WITHOUT believing and accepting His claim to BE God?
In other words, my friend believed Jesus is the Son of God, but didn’t believe Jesus IS God. They believed Jesus had all the authority of God because God granted it to Him, as His only Son. BUT. They did not believe the Father and the Son were One. They did not find the trinity to be reasonable any more than they found the word trinity in the Bible. When they asked, “When Jesus was praying in the garden of Gethsemane the night before he was crucified, who was He talking to? Himself? That doesn’t make sense!”
My immediate thought was, pshh. I talk to myself all the time.
Wait. Is that weird?
Citing multiple personality disorder as my strongest apologetic? Would not have been my strongest witnessing moment. I had to face the unpleasant fact that I was pitifully prepared to provide scriptural reasons I believe Jesus IS God. I had my own personal reasons and they made perfect sense. To me. But my friend was asking me to show them in the Bible. And I couldn’t do it, at least not on the spot. I had to tell them the truth. The inexcusable fact was that I had long ago worked through what I believed and why I believed it regarding the trinity and once I did, I moved forward. I remembered very little about why I believe what I believe. I just knew it to be truth.
As a result, even though the conversation was focused on them and their struggles, I experienced collateral learning that extended far beyond that conversation. That one question was the impetus for some serious Bible reading and theological discussion. I found multiple scripture verses supporting my belief that Jesus and God are One essence. And I’m going to remember them this time.
But I still didn’t have an answer as to whether believing Jesus and God are One is essential to salvation. Meaning, I found lots of support for my belief that they ARE One, but nothing about what it means to believe and accept Jesus WITHOUT believing and accepting His claim to BE God. But even that statement seems paradoxical.
So what did I learn, besides the scriptural support for my belief in the deity of Jesus Christ? I had to come to terms with the fact that there was NOTHING I could say or do to convince them. For every verse I found to support my position, they could point to another which supported theirs. Convincing them that Jesus IS God was not my job. It was GOD’S job. My job was to remain open to God’s leading and obedient to his promptings. He would do the rest. In His time.
My friend told me that God used me in their life. I would say the same.
It’s Not the Least We Can Do, It’s the Best We Can Do.
(a short excerpt from the book I’m writing – and WILL eventually finish)
Why is it that when faced with a problem, my first inclination is to do something? To take action? Why is it that my knee jerk reaction is to throw myself into problem solving mode? Then, when I’ve expended every effort, when I’ve explored every possible option, only then do I pray? Why is it so counter-intuitive to pray first? Why is it that I, more often than I’d like to admit, see prayer as a last resort in a time of crisis instead of a first line of defense?
This is not something I’m proud of, nor is it something I can rationalize or dismiss. What I want to do when faced with a challenge or crisis, is immediately, intuitively go to God for help, but instead, time and time again, I find myself at the end of my own abilities, begging God for direction and ideas – and supernatural intervention.
Prayer is seriously underrated. We tend to keep it in a nice, neat little box, taking it out only when we need it. In the words of Robin Williams as the Genie in Disney’s Aladdin:
“Phenomenal cosmic power! itty bitty living space.”
I’ve found that when I’m actively committed to consistently spending time with God, the tendency to handle things on my own is automatically diminished. When I’ve already spent time with God on a given day, reaching out to Him as a first response when something happens later in the day is much more intuitive. I’m also less easily discouraged because when I talk to God first, my approach to a problem is much clearer and calmer. I’m not saying that every time I bring a problem to God I come away with a crystal clear approach to successful and immediate problem solving.
I wish.
But in the great debate of whether prayer changes God’s mind or our hearts, chalk this one up to a changed heart.
why I’m not your “fun” friend. issue #3: Death.
In a previous post, entitled “I’m not your ‘fun’ friend.” I said I didn’t have a lot of patience for “surface” conversation because I have issues and that you either get used to me or you avoid me. (CLICK HERE to read that post.)
It set me thinking about why I’m so intense about life and so overly aware of lost opportunity.
I came up with four reasons:
1. Saturday mornings (CLICK HERE to read that post.)
2. TV Overdose
3. Death
4. Preparation meets opportunity
I’m skipping over #2 because I’ve been thinking a lot about #3 lately.
Death. What do I mean by that? Let me tell you a story.
On Tuesday, January 12, 1988, Lee, an attorney, went to a meeting at a doctor’s office with Roger, a potential client. Roger wanted Lee to represent him in a medical malpractice lawsuit. The case had been tried before, but Roger had lost. The consult with the doctor that afternoon was intended to help Lee determine if Roger’s claims of medical malpractice were valid. Based on the doctor’s review and opinion of Roger’s medical records, Lee would make a decision to take Roger’s case or decline.
He decided not to take the case.
The meeting concluded and the doctor later recalled hearing Lee say ”Let’s go home and see our children.” Just moments later, as Lee still sat in his chair, putting papers into his briefcase, Roger calmly and quietly pulled out a .25-caliber handgun, put it to Lee’s right temple and pulled the trigger.
Two more shots were fired before the doctor managed to wrench the gun out of Roger’s hand and when Roger tried to run away, the doctor, his body coursing with adrenaline, chased him down and tackled him, pinning him until police arrived. Roger was arrested and just a few weeks later, he tried to end his life by shoving a 6 inch ball point pen 5 inches into his chest and 3.5 inches into his heart. When they found him, he apologized for failing to kill himself.
I didn’t know Roger. I knew Lee.
I was 23 when he was murdered. He had taken a risk hiring a 21 year old college dropout with no legal experience to work as his secretary. I spent 18 months working for him before I quit to go back to school. At that time, he was a sole practitioner, so most of those 18 months, it was just the two of us working alone in a small office. He used to walk around the office in sock feet while the shoeshine guy in the lobby shined his shoes, he would forget to turn off his tape recorder after he finished dictating in the car and would accidently record himself singing to the radio and he’s the only person I ever met who actually did break a tooth by chewing ice. I washed his coffee mug every day, picked up his lunch orders, and accidently saw him in his skivvies when he walked into his garage not knowing I was in there talking to his wife. I was his house sitter, his dog sitter and his baby sitter.
For nearly 18 months, I spent five days a week working in an office alone with that man and I never, not once, shared my faith with him.
Not once.
To this day, when thoughts of Lee enter my mind, they are immediately followed by this one: If that man is in Hell, I had something to do with it.
In those 18 months, I had multiple opportunities to initiate a discussion about faith. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of them. I let each and every one pass.
Because I was 22. I was undereducated compared to him. He was important and he was professional and he was intelligent. And I was intimidated. So I stayed safely silent.
When Lee left his house that Tuesday morning in 1988, it never even crossed his mind that he would be shot in the head at point-blank range by a bitter, 72 year old man. When the doctor greeted his visitors that afternoon, he had no idea that less than an hour later, he would save his own life by wrestling a gun out of someone’s hand. When the paralegal left her routine office job that afternoon to attend a simple meeting, she had no idea she would see her boss murdered right before her eyes. When Lee said goodbye to his wife that morning, she had no idea it would be the last time she ever saw him alive. When he hugged and kissed his two little girls goodnight on Monday, they had no idea it was be the last time they felt their daddy’s arms around them.
When I left that job, I had no idea that my lack of courage would later leave me filled with regret; that my choice to stay within the boundaries of my comfort zone would result in such serious or long lasting discomfort; that I would forever wish that I had said something about my faith in Jesus Christ.
But wishing don’t make it so.
Is it possible that Lee was a Christian and I just never knew it? Sure. But that’s not the point. The point is that I didn’t know. How is that possible? This wasn’t a strained, formal or awkward relationship. I was comfortable talking to him from the moment I met him. My job interview took place in his car while he made an emergency trip to the mall to rescue his wife and baby daughter after she locked her keys inside her car.
It’s just wrong that I knew he wore tighty whities but didn’t know if he knew Jesus Christ. And yes. I do know how weird that sounds, but stay with me people, I’m making a point here.
Time’s a wastin.
We all have opportunities to talk to people about how are lives are different as a result of our relationship with Christ. Every single one of us. Every. single. day. Without exception. But if we aren’t intentional about our choices, those opportunities expire.
Sometimes, we don’t get a second chance.
Life is too short to waste it. People are dying every day. People will wake up in the morning and have no idea that it will be their last day on earth – or a loved one’s last day on earth. And too many of us spend this precious gift of time focused on things that fade away. Too many of us slink away from the difficult conversations because it’s easier to talk about “surface” stuff. Too many of us are afraid to look someone directly, maybe even uncomfortably, in the eye and ask, “How are you, really?”
God gives me opportunities to serve Him EVERY day. Every day, multiple times, I choose to ignore Him or obey Him. My prayer is that I choose the latter much, much more often than the former. Because, in the end, after I’ve spent my last day on earth, I’m desperate for God to say “Well done.“
New to Compendium? Peruse my topics & my “little known facts” page to see if we have anything in common, watch a short video of my testimony or check out my website, vocal samples or speaking samples.
Feel free to steal my ideas, ponder my musings, disagree with my rants, jump on my bandwagon, read my favorite books, comment, email me, or just lurk. Whatever works for you.
Fitness Log: April
April Totals as of 4/3
HIIT Incline Days: 2
HIIT Incline Miles: 7.5
HIIT Incline Hours: 2.5
Strength Training/Yoga Days: 1
Forearm Planks: 2Recent Comments
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