(Originally written 2/21/12)
Tonight after dinner...wait, I should rephrase. Tonight, after a period of time that was dinner for me, 75% putting our 9 month old down for my wife, and 100% track meet for J.- off to the toys, spinning around in his chair, off to Mommy's newly vacated seat, each time summoned back by Dad- he dutifully took his plate to the sink, walked back and asked in a little voice if he could watch a show. I was appropriately hesistant, raised my eyebrows, and said slowly and somewhat sternly, "You may watch ONE show. Now which one do you want to pick?" His exuberant reply stood in stark contrast to my own words: "SPRING!" he practically shouted, tossing his arms up in the air and jumping at the same time. I was taken back, and with his reply still ringing in my ears, my own words, complete with measured severity, rung even louder in my head, over and over. It was one of those seminal "I just sounded exactly like the kind of parent I always said I never would become" moments, and I realized a truth I had experienced my whole life but never been able to articulate: there is something fundamentally wrong with our understanding of joy.
I say wrong, because the word "inadequate", while an appropriate description of many of the other-wordly virtues that we only see a tarnished reflection of here on earth, doesn't sufficiently describe our practice of joy here on earth. Allow me to attempt to explain what I mean. When I was a kid, I was best buds with my friends Paul and Tim. Every Sunday that I can remember, church would end, we would end up playing outside, and one of us would get the ingenious idea of coming over to the other's house. The prospect was brimming with endless possibilities; just considering the experiences we could have in the subsequent 5 hours until the evening service stretched the limits of our 8 year-old brains. We'd find our mothers and beg and beg, promising absurd things like an immaculate bedroom for a month if we could just have this one favor. Our Moms were usually pretty accomodating, unless we'd (1) been particularly rotten that week, (2) gotten caught that morning during the sermon trapping flies from the windows in offering envelopes, crushing them and putting them back in the pews, or (3) tuned out the service completely with our incredibly detailed and epic drawings of the entire US military in all its righteous might, including about a zillion nukes, all pointed at a solitary and rather sheepish-looking Iraqi dictator in the wide open desert.
Then there were the times I remember watching a friend's parent give him permission to do something, but both the assent and the activity were laced with stern looks that seemed to say, "You owe me big, and you'd better toe the line or I am pulling the plug on this immediately". For a ridiculously sensitive kid like myself, who cared far more about any emotional separation from a parent than some stupid game, this struck me as not only pointless, since I wasn't having much fun anyway, but rather poisioned- what should have been a time of play and joy was instead a barrage of guilt via hairy-eyeballed looks and comments that amounted to pre-emptive condemnation. Their demeanor seemed to say, "Have fun, but not too much fun, because I know the kind of kid you are deep down." Why don't you pump the brakes on that joy a bit.
I get why this is necessary at times. Really. I'm pretty new to this parenting thing, but I usually have a much better barometer than my son does on his energy, micheviousness, and proximity to a meltdown. The trouble, I guess, comes in two places. The first is when I'm (gasp) not an infallible parent, and because I'm tired or annoyed or care more about quiet and a smaller swath of destruction, I rain on my son's parade and let him know that just because he's having fun doesn't mean I am, or that he should really appreciate how lenient and sacrificial I'm being right now. Sometimes when I mean "Have fun but be careful because I love you" it comes out more like "sigh-grunt-sigh-stern look, "Ok, but only ONE MORE TIME." But the real trouble comes in the second area. When we inevitably transfer what we know of our parents to our heavenly father, we lump in the vices as well as the virtues, and that ambiguous notion of pre-emptive condemnation I remember so vividly as a child suddenly has far greater implications. And since I can't make God breakfast in bed or butter him up with absurd promises of perfect behavior, I end up, in an attempt to have "fun but not too much fun", tempering all of life with a fashionable amount of protestant reservedness. In its most benign form it deprives me of life giving belly laughs and child like joy; in its most sinister, and perhaps truest form, it results in self-rejection.
I've seen the child-like joy of someone who has had an epiphany of the real meaning of grace, in its ludricrous simplicity and unfathomable life-giving implications, be met by a parent with the words, "Yeah, but you go too far in that direction and you forget all about works and bearing fruit." Calm down, sonny, I've been around a while. I'm sure your youth camp was nice and all, and being young you're excitable, but that stuff will wear off, and I still want you to be mindful of dotting your I's and crossing your T's. Well intentioned, life-crushing, carefully measured reservedness. An abomination of the gospel.
When Jesus says in the Gospels that we must become like little children to enter the kingdom of heaven, it meant a litany of things. And now that I have kids of my own, it has taken on whole new shades of meaning. Jeremiah doesn't question where breakfast is coming from tomorrow. As far as he is concerned there is an endless supply of pancakes, bagels, juice, etc. in our kitchen. As amazed as the four and five thousand were when Jesus fed them all with a pitance, I bet not a single kid there was amazed. Cool, Jesus is feeding us all lunch from that basket. Maybe we can all have dinner at his house, too! Kids are loud, messy, unrefined, and totally accepting. I can just picture the Pharisees shooing the kids away, trying to preserve decorum. The gospel isn't about decorum. It is incredibly messy, graphic, as loud as you can imagine and as absurd as the things my 4 year old says every day. And to those who first grasp it, their joy is like the kid on youtube who gets surprised with a trip to Disneyworld. If we dare to really look at it over and over, and think of what it means, it will remain as fresh and interesting as the episode of Little Bear my son has watched two dozen times or more. I watch him remain glued to the television, cackling at every joke and cheering with the main characters- he knows the ending, right? I mean, he's seen this like a thousand times this week... Child-like joy. That had to be a big part of what Jesus was talking about that day.
That Mom may have been right to keep a close eye on her son. Kids are sinful, just like the rest of us. Often in this fallen world people have what starts off as fun and it devolves into debauchery. Even our selfless acts can be tinged with narcicissm. So we try to have fun, but not too much fun. We try to reign in our excitement about the prospect of spiritual growth because we know it's still us we're talking about, and we just did that dumb thing 10 minutes ago. Perhaps we think we're being appropriately joyful, but I think what we're doing is polluting our joy with self-rejection. Or maybe we're just picturing God peeking out from behind the shades, giving us a stern look to make sure we know He's still watching and ready to levy consequences should they be necessary. But I think the key to all of this is this: We will only experience real joy to the depth that we believe that God wants us to have it, and that sin destroys it. God is not a kill joy. He is a physician who is simply way, way smarter than you. Fun only burns us when it ceases to be real fun, and becomes a cheap imitation instead.
Until we dare to believe that God wants us to have not just adequate joy, enough to temper the painful parts of life, but infinitely great joy, based on his love and independent of our performance, we'll always be trying to stay on his good side and never live in reality- you are loved unconditionally by the all-powerful creator. Is his grace barely enough? Before the foundation of the world was laid God looked at your whole life, the worst thoughts and actions you would ever have, and said, "That one's mine, and I'm going to love them forever." You know what that means?! I get giddy just thinking about it...
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
What the world needs now...
(Originally written 12/17/11)
My friend, Nat, is, well...there's no way around it, he's way smarter than me. I think I knew it pretty much right off the bat, the fateful morning we met sophomore yeat of high school during our pre-school assembly in that teeny chapel/library room. It was never, as far as I can recollect, a sore subject, more just an inescapable truth. Wierdly I still remember his SAT scores. Luckily we got along ok; we actually get along even better now, which is always nice. However, I contend that there are two things that Nat was wrong about. The first is the revised way he pronounces his last name. I mean, c'mon, man, talk about obtuse...it would be like me going around saying, "No, it's pronounced HAHNdel." Some things are just better Americanized.
The second one was probably a bit more significant, and it has stuck in my brain ever since. We were having one of our quintessential enriching class-dialogues on denominational distinctives and their implications, and, well, from time to time I was an arrogant punk in high school. Yeah, probably even now.... anyway, he always managed to state his views eloquently and diplomatically, whereas I was significantly less...nuanced. I had just gotten done saying something thoughtful and edifying when he turned to me and laughed good naturedly. "Nat, do you think I seek out conflict?" He smiled. "I think sometimes if there's smoke....you sort of try to fan it into a flame." Had I something witty and even better, incindiary to say, I'm sure I would have, but I was struck by the truth of his statement and for once kept my mouth shut.
Fast forward to tonight, and my wife gets home with our sick 7 month old, and tells me the Dr. says he has a bad ear infection. The poor guy had been such a trooper, getting top teeth, so congested he can't breathe and wakes himself up, and was still sweet and cuddly. It had been a nutty Christmas season, and we were all pooped. Jenny had called in the anti biotics as well as his acid reflux meds to the local CVS earlier, so I called to see if they had arrived. "Yep, they'll be ready in about 15 minutes." I thanked her, hung up the phone, and ran over after 20, just before supper so we could get in two doses tonight.
Once I got there the pharmicist asked me who the prescription was for and I told her my son Isaac, and that there were actually two. She came back with attitude, and informed me that the reflux meds required 2 days to mix and let sit in the fridge, that they couldn't just do that on the spot. Next time I should plan better and give them ideally 3 days notice.
"Oh," I said, "I didn't realize that."
She told me the other meds would be ready in about 15 minutes.
"Huh," I said, "when I called 20 minutes ago they said they'd be ready in like 15."
Now she was really exasperated, and informed me that no, once I showed up they put me onto some other more pertinent list and my new 15 minute counter began.
"Now if you'll excuse me," she said, motioning/almost blocking me aside with her arm, "I have to help this gentleman who's been waiting."
I bit my tongue and stepped back. She helped him, looked over at me and said matter-of-factly, "It's been crazy here today."
"Yeah," I replied, "it's been crazy at my house, too. I have a screaming 7 month old with an ear infection."
"That's why we'll get those right out..." her voice trailed off as she turned back-to mid sentence and walked away, leaving me alone to contemplate the sincerity of her empathy.
So I waited, and burned just a little on the inside. The other pharmicist, who hadn't stopped working since I got there, came over with the meds and kindly explained them to me, as well as getting a quote on the reflux meds, when they would be ready, and why they were so stinking expensive. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be worth it to say something.
"You ok?" she asked.
I thought about it, thought about dinner waiting for me and my sick baby, and said yes, I was fine, and left.
I told my wife during supper what had happened, and she looked at me knowingly.
"I know the one you mean, she's been nasty to me before, too."
I had sort of deduced from her demeanor and the way her coworkers interacted with her, that she had some type of seniority and I wasn't the first party to receive some haste explanation.
So I went back.
Since I left the store the first time I had been wondering about being a person of grace while being a person who strives for justice. Call me melodramatic, these are the thoughts that occur to me when I'm on the receiving end of a pharmacist who has had a rough day.
I could just let it go like a normal person. It's a small town and you'll probably run into her again. I should just let it go.
No, I shouldn't, and here's why: for every 10 people that get treated like that by this woman, 8 will probably say nothing and just assume they were at fault for...something. One might say something under their breath or maybe even explode in the store. The other person might go right to the top, chew this woman out to her supervisor, on a CVS website, etc., but they wouldn't say anything to her face. And they'd all be wrong.
Am I lobbying for conflict? I sincerely prayed that I wasn't.
Was I seeing a wisp of smoke and trying to fan it into a flame?
No. Because conflict, when done right, is actually a means of reducing conflict.
Conflict, when employed correctly, can actually be a form of love.
It is direct, and gives the offending person the respect of seeing their accuser and explaining themselves.
It is directed appropriately, not at my 4 year old who wonders why Daddy was mad all night, or my wife who gets a distracted spouse for the few minutes we have alone each day, or worse, a spouse who verbally spews on her and feels better while she wonders why she feels worse.
It seeks justice by the most efficient means possible, without gossip, without slander, without a boycott of a franchise because of the insensitivity of one employee. It is justice motivated by reconciliation rather than vengeance.
So I went back into the CVS and asked the friendly pharmacist her name. She told me her first, and I asked for her last as well.
"Do you mind if I ask why?"
"Yes, I'm writing a complaint about one of your employees, but I also want to write a recommendation for you. You were very courteous and helpful."
I told her I needed to speak with the other pharmacist. She appeared uncomfortable with the idea and suggested I speak with someone over the phone. Clearly she didn't want an incident in the store, which was perfectly understandable.
"Look," I said, "I'm fine. I just need you to be a third party when I speak to her."
She appeared slightly relived and agreed.
Finally she summoned me over and I explained who I was and why I was there. I calmly recalled the incident, and how her tone had come across.
"I'm sorry, that wasn't my intent." She was apologetic and wanted this over with, but I had more to say.
"You treated me as if I were being beligerant, and I clearly wasn't. You acted as though I was slow and should have understood the ins and out of pharmaceuticals. I wanted you to hear this from me, face to face, before I log a complaint on the CVS website and leave a message with your district manager."
She was falling over herself to apologize. This clearly wasn't something she was accustomed to.
"I just thought I recognized you and having been in here before you knew how this worked."
I had never gotten this prescription here before, and had to reason to "get how it worked". Furthermore, I pointed out that even if I had and had simply forgotten, I was a paying customer and deserved some courtesy, like her equally busy coworker had displayed to me.
"Look, my wife and I are both working, both in grad school, and raising two kids, one of whom has a bad ear infection right now. I just didn't expect to be treated like that when I went to pick up his meds."
She again apologized sincerely, and said she needed to work on that, that she was thankful for my feedback.
"What are you in grad school for?"
"Seminary," I replied, winking at her.
She smiled, and I could see the beginnings of tears in the corner of her eyes.
We shook hands, and I left, feeling like if I saw her again not only wouldn't it be awkward, but she would in face be sincerely appreciative as she had been in the store. Not because I'm wise and right and she was wrong, but because conflict is hard. That's why people avoid it. But it can be an encouraging thing for both parties.
I didn't want to ask for some reimbursement like a gift card, that would have proven I was playing an angle.
I won't write that complaint because I don't know this woman's story, what's going on at home, how hard her day has been how often she's been given the courtesy of difficult honesty. Mostly I won't write it because I am highly skeptical of an appropriate response from a higher up at any large corporation. Besides...I don't want to write it now anyway. This woman heard me, and I listened to her, and that's all I wanted to begin with.
So in the end, perhaps Nat- smart guy that he is :)- wasn't wrong about either thing at all. I may not shy away from conflict as soon as I should, though I hope I enter into it more humbly than I used to. In the end I pray every day that God would grow me and use me, and when by his grace I care more about reconciliation than my rights, I see that the primary function of justice-true justice- was displayed on the cross. It is a means to an end. It is about reconciliation, not punishment.
My friend, Nat, is, well...there's no way around it, he's way smarter than me. I think I knew it pretty much right off the bat, the fateful morning we met sophomore yeat of high school during our pre-school assembly in that teeny chapel/library room. It was never, as far as I can recollect, a sore subject, more just an inescapable truth. Wierdly I still remember his SAT scores. Luckily we got along ok; we actually get along even better now, which is always nice. However, I contend that there are two things that Nat was wrong about. The first is the revised way he pronounces his last name. I mean, c'mon, man, talk about obtuse...it would be like me going around saying, "No, it's pronounced HAHNdel." Some things are just better Americanized.
The second one was probably a bit more significant, and it has stuck in my brain ever since. We were having one of our quintessential enriching class-dialogues on denominational distinctives and their implications, and, well, from time to time I was an arrogant punk in high school. Yeah, probably even now.... anyway, he always managed to state his views eloquently and diplomatically, whereas I was significantly less...nuanced. I had just gotten done saying something thoughtful and edifying when he turned to me and laughed good naturedly. "Nat, do you think I seek out conflict?" He smiled. "I think sometimes if there's smoke....you sort of try to fan it into a flame." Had I something witty and even better, incindiary to say, I'm sure I would have, but I was struck by the truth of his statement and for once kept my mouth shut.
Fast forward to tonight, and my wife gets home with our sick 7 month old, and tells me the Dr. says he has a bad ear infection. The poor guy had been such a trooper, getting top teeth, so congested he can't breathe and wakes himself up, and was still sweet and cuddly. It had been a nutty Christmas season, and we were all pooped. Jenny had called in the anti biotics as well as his acid reflux meds to the local CVS earlier, so I called to see if they had arrived. "Yep, they'll be ready in about 15 minutes." I thanked her, hung up the phone, and ran over after 20, just before supper so we could get in two doses tonight.
Once I got there the pharmicist asked me who the prescription was for and I told her my son Isaac, and that there were actually two. She came back with attitude, and informed me that the reflux meds required 2 days to mix and let sit in the fridge, that they couldn't just do that on the spot. Next time I should plan better and give them ideally 3 days notice.
"Oh," I said, "I didn't realize that."
She told me the other meds would be ready in about 15 minutes.
"Huh," I said, "when I called 20 minutes ago they said they'd be ready in like 15."
Now she was really exasperated, and informed me that no, once I showed up they put me onto some other more pertinent list and my new 15 minute counter began.
"Now if you'll excuse me," she said, motioning/almost blocking me aside with her arm, "I have to help this gentleman who's been waiting."
I bit my tongue and stepped back. She helped him, looked over at me and said matter-of-factly, "It's been crazy here today."
"Yeah," I replied, "it's been crazy at my house, too. I have a screaming 7 month old with an ear infection."
"That's why we'll get those right out..." her voice trailed off as she turned back-to mid sentence and walked away, leaving me alone to contemplate the sincerity of her empathy.
So I waited, and burned just a little on the inside. The other pharmicist, who hadn't stopped working since I got there, came over with the meds and kindly explained them to me, as well as getting a quote on the reflux meds, when they would be ready, and why they were so stinking expensive. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be worth it to say something.
"You ok?" she asked.
I thought about it, thought about dinner waiting for me and my sick baby, and said yes, I was fine, and left.
I told my wife during supper what had happened, and she looked at me knowingly.
"I know the one you mean, she's been nasty to me before, too."
I had sort of deduced from her demeanor and the way her coworkers interacted with her, that she had some type of seniority and I wasn't the first party to receive some haste explanation.
So I went back.
Since I left the store the first time I had been wondering about being a person of grace while being a person who strives for justice. Call me melodramatic, these are the thoughts that occur to me when I'm on the receiving end of a pharmacist who has had a rough day.
I could just let it go like a normal person. It's a small town and you'll probably run into her again. I should just let it go.
No, I shouldn't, and here's why: for every 10 people that get treated like that by this woman, 8 will probably say nothing and just assume they were at fault for...something. One might say something under their breath or maybe even explode in the store. The other person might go right to the top, chew this woman out to her supervisor, on a CVS website, etc., but they wouldn't say anything to her face. And they'd all be wrong.
Am I lobbying for conflict? I sincerely prayed that I wasn't.
Was I seeing a wisp of smoke and trying to fan it into a flame?
No. Because conflict, when done right, is actually a means of reducing conflict.
Conflict, when employed correctly, can actually be a form of love.
It is direct, and gives the offending person the respect of seeing their accuser and explaining themselves.
It is directed appropriately, not at my 4 year old who wonders why Daddy was mad all night, or my wife who gets a distracted spouse for the few minutes we have alone each day, or worse, a spouse who verbally spews on her and feels better while she wonders why she feels worse.
It seeks justice by the most efficient means possible, without gossip, without slander, without a boycott of a franchise because of the insensitivity of one employee. It is justice motivated by reconciliation rather than vengeance.
So I went back into the CVS and asked the friendly pharmacist her name. She told me her first, and I asked for her last as well.
"Do you mind if I ask why?"
"Yes, I'm writing a complaint about one of your employees, but I also want to write a recommendation for you. You were very courteous and helpful."
I told her I needed to speak with the other pharmacist. She appeared uncomfortable with the idea and suggested I speak with someone over the phone. Clearly she didn't want an incident in the store, which was perfectly understandable.
"Look," I said, "I'm fine. I just need you to be a third party when I speak to her."
She appeared slightly relived and agreed.
Finally she summoned me over and I explained who I was and why I was there. I calmly recalled the incident, and how her tone had come across.
"I'm sorry, that wasn't my intent." She was apologetic and wanted this over with, but I had more to say.
"You treated me as if I were being beligerant, and I clearly wasn't. You acted as though I was slow and should have understood the ins and out of pharmaceuticals. I wanted you to hear this from me, face to face, before I log a complaint on the CVS website and leave a message with your district manager."
She was falling over herself to apologize. This clearly wasn't something she was accustomed to.
"I just thought I recognized you and having been in here before you knew how this worked."
I had never gotten this prescription here before, and had to reason to "get how it worked". Furthermore, I pointed out that even if I had and had simply forgotten, I was a paying customer and deserved some courtesy, like her equally busy coworker had displayed to me.
"Look, my wife and I are both working, both in grad school, and raising two kids, one of whom has a bad ear infection right now. I just didn't expect to be treated like that when I went to pick up his meds."
She again apologized sincerely, and said she needed to work on that, that she was thankful for my feedback.
"What are you in grad school for?"
"Seminary," I replied, winking at her.
She smiled, and I could see the beginnings of tears in the corner of her eyes.
We shook hands, and I left, feeling like if I saw her again not only wouldn't it be awkward, but she would in face be sincerely appreciative as she had been in the store. Not because I'm wise and right and she was wrong, but because conflict is hard. That's why people avoid it. But it can be an encouraging thing for both parties.
I didn't want to ask for some reimbursement like a gift card, that would have proven I was playing an angle.
I won't write that complaint because I don't know this woman's story, what's going on at home, how hard her day has been how often she's been given the courtesy of difficult honesty. Mostly I won't write it because I am highly skeptical of an appropriate response from a higher up at any large corporation. Besides...I don't want to write it now anyway. This woman heard me, and I listened to her, and that's all I wanted to begin with.
So in the end, perhaps Nat- smart guy that he is :)- wasn't wrong about either thing at all. I may not shy away from conflict as soon as I should, though I hope I enter into it more humbly than I used to. In the end I pray every day that God would grow me and use me, and when by his grace I care more about reconciliation than my rights, I see that the primary function of justice-true justice- was displayed on the cross. It is a means to an end. It is about reconciliation, not punishment.
Tebowing.
Originally written 12/16/11
For football fans, this season has been one of the most interesting in recent memory. For all the headlines, there's many more stories going under the radar that in any other season would be front page news. The Steelers have become a passing team, and Big Ben is having his best season to date. No less that three QB's are poised to break Marino's passing record set in 1984 for all time most passing yards in a season. The Packers are undefeated and appear to have the makings of a legit dynasty for years to come. Aaron Rodgers has been unconsciously good, and Gronkowski is having the best year ever for a tight end, with no signs of slowing down over the last three weeks. But all this is being drowned out by one of the most outspoken (not uncommon in the NFL) and polarizing players to hit the NFL since...well, maybe ever.
It has all the makings of a feel good story, yet by far its characteristic is divisiveness. Possibly the best PASSER in the history of the SEC (which, if you don't know college football, this is the suma cum...everything conference in D1 football), similar touchdown numbers to Manning's in college but with half the picks, national champion and Heisman winner gets drafted in the first round by a coach who's fired the following season, and inherits a coaching/ownership group (not to mention several teammates) who make it abundantly clear that they didn't chose him, and really don't want him. He gets benched behind a journeyman QB who promptly plays terrible football for several games. The cries for Tebow, present from training camp, are now defeaning, and the coach makes a choice which was really no choice at all. Many said Tebow would never play QB in the NFL. Many said he should be drafted in the first, second or even third rounds. Then they said if he played he couldn't win with his unorthodox throwing motion and propensity for running- not like the elegant, gazelle-like running QB's like Michael Vick, Steve Young or even Aaron Rodgers- but more like a fullback, often choosing to run over people rather than arounde them. They said even if he won a few games he couldn't sustain it, and he wouldn't get better passing the ball. They said his last minute wins were flukes against bad teams. They've said all this and more, and each time Tebow has proven them wrong. It's a ready made Hollywood script. Except people hate him. Not like you hate brocolli, or you hate it when you forget your ez pass at home. Visceral, mouth-foaming, tripping-over-yourself-to-yell-about-it-HATE. If I said it doesn't make sense to me I'd be lying; that doesn't, however, mean that hating Tebow isn't ludricrous and untenable.
Some claim they hate him because he's not a good Quarterback and shouldn't be starting. What were the Broncos supposed to do? They benched a guy who was losing badly and started a guy who has won 6 out of 7 and rallied his team around him. In the logic score, that's Broncos: 1, Tebow haters: 0. They say there are lots of QB's who have put up better numbers than Tebow but aren't playing now because they weren't first rounders. What was he supposed to do when the Broncos traded back up into the first round, went on the clock, and his phone rang? Tell Josh McDaniels "Thanks, but I really think there are others more deserving than me." ? Tebow has taken all the hate and not reciprocated a word in kind. When asked about his team's success, he has consistently deferred credit and said all the right things, while appearing to be the most striking and unusual characteristic of all in mainstream media icons: Genuine.
So he's a winner, a hard worker, a great teammate, a humble player, with character and intangibles that are undeniably off the charts. Yet people can't stand him. It is a curious phenomenon, especially for parents who need to realize that atheletes are some of the most visible role models for their kids, and in every sport many are failing miserably with this responsibility.
Of course, the proverbial elephant in the closet is this: he is the one thing a society obsessed with tolerance absolutely cannot tolerate: a professing evangelical Christian.
Never mind the fact that the average Olbermann-watching left winger would be hard pressed to give a historically accurate definition of an Evangelical Christian; simply insert the words hate, ignorant, stupid, judgemental, CONSERVATIVE (gasp), and you have it. Ball up all the things today's secular media considers evil, and you have an Evangelical. But again, I fail to see the logic.
Across the NFL there are stories like the one that broke this week about Bear's receiver Sam Hurd:
"The former Northern Illinois University receiver told an undercover federal agent who he thought was a drug supplier that he wanted to buy five to 10 kilograms of cocaine and 1,000 pounds of marijuana per week to distribute in the Chicago area, authorities said. In exchange, authorities said, Hurd agreed to pay $25,000 per kilo and $450 per pound — which would amount to up to $2.8 million a month."
Guys shooting themselves in the leg, guys getting drunk and commiting manslaughter, wife abuse, degrading women, infidelity, fathering a dozen kids from multiple road trips, drug use, gambling, the list goes on and on. Players actually said they were fearful that if the lockout hadn't ended and there had been no NFL games this year, the spike in violent crime among players would have been unprecedented. Yet not one of these stories induces the vitriol reserved for a guy who spent the offseason volunteering at an orphanage, who doesn't swear, and just happens to love Jesus. "Religion offends people, he shouldn't bring it up." This is the trump card I've heard every announcer, radio host and football personality say on air. But here's the problem: the media brings it up all the time, and nobody (who gets any air time) cries foul.
Why is that? The answer is simple: the media only brings up certain types of Christians, and they're always the wackos. How many youtube hits did that psycho chick get who thanked God over and over for the Tsunami hitting Japan? If there is a Christian who has a problem with interracial marraige, their church is on the front page. The countless Christians who spend energy doing relief work, giving to the poor, running their companies with integrity, contributing to their communities; I can't remember the last time one of them got air time. I think ultimately that's the crux of this whole phenomenon: the media can't stand Tebow because he isn't a backwoods lunatic who is easily dismissed. If Christianity is brought up at all in media today, it is brought up to be mocked and dismissed. But this guy is a winner. Inspires his teammates. Has morals and character. He's everything we claim we want in our role models, but he just won't shut up about Jesus and people who love Jesus can't be taken seriously. The media can't stand Tebow because he isn't what they claim all Christians are, and they can't censor him. People can't stand Tebow because he doesn't fit their preconceptions of what a Christian is. In a society whose golden rule is not to judge until you've walked a mile in someone's shoes, Christians are to be scorned from a distance. While many Christians are going further than I think is appropriate with Tebow's plight, citing every hurdle as persecution and every success and favor, what many are in essence saying is, "SEE?!" One of theirs has a platform from which to be heard on a relatively (for once) playing field, even if it is a mile high. Tebow invokes such emotional reactions because he actually believes and lives what he preaches, and you have to DEAL with him. And this Sunday at 4:15, as a football fan and as a Christian, I am psyched to deal with the Tebow phenonmenon, win or lose. I will be rooting for the Patriots, and don't think our Lord has a particularly vested interest in the outcome of this game. I am just genuinely refreshed to have such a solid God-fearing guy in the most prestigious position in American sports. Hopefully others will begin to appreciate a subtext to a game that for once doesn't involve players getting fines, parole, legal proceedings, cheating, etc. Just a guy doing what he loves and thanking God for the chance.
For football fans, this season has been one of the most interesting in recent memory. For all the headlines, there's many more stories going under the radar that in any other season would be front page news. The Steelers have become a passing team, and Big Ben is having his best season to date. No less that three QB's are poised to break Marino's passing record set in 1984 for all time most passing yards in a season. The Packers are undefeated and appear to have the makings of a legit dynasty for years to come. Aaron Rodgers has been unconsciously good, and Gronkowski is having the best year ever for a tight end, with no signs of slowing down over the last three weeks. But all this is being drowned out by one of the most outspoken (not uncommon in the NFL) and polarizing players to hit the NFL since...well, maybe ever.
It has all the makings of a feel good story, yet by far its characteristic is divisiveness. Possibly the best PASSER in the history of the SEC (which, if you don't know college football, this is the suma cum...everything conference in D1 football), similar touchdown numbers to Manning's in college but with half the picks, national champion and Heisman winner gets drafted in the first round by a coach who's fired the following season, and inherits a coaching/ownership group (not to mention several teammates) who make it abundantly clear that they didn't chose him, and really don't want him. He gets benched behind a journeyman QB who promptly plays terrible football for several games. The cries for Tebow, present from training camp, are now defeaning, and the coach makes a choice which was really no choice at all. Many said Tebow would never play QB in the NFL. Many said he should be drafted in the first, second or even third rounds. Then they said if he played he couldn't win with his unorthodox throwing motion and propensity for running- not like the elegant, gazelle-like running QB's like Michael Vick, Steve Young or even Aaron Rodgers- but more like a fullback, often choosing to run over people rather than arounde them. They said even if he won a few games he couldn't sustain it, and he wouldn't get better passing the ball. They said his last minute wins were flukes against bad teams. They've said all this and more, and each time Tebow has proven them wrong. It's a ready made Hollywood script. Except people hate him. Not like you hate brocolli, or you hate it when you forget your ez pass at home. Visceral, mouth-foaming, tripping-over-yourself-to-yell-about-it-HATE. If I said it doesn't make sense to me I'd be lying; that doesn't, however, mean that hating Tebow isn't ludricrous and untenable.
Some claim they hate him because he's not a good Quarterback and shouldn't be starting. What were the Broncos supposed to do? They benched a guy who was losing badly and started a guy who has won 6 out of 7 and rallied his team around him. In the logic score, that's Broncos: 1, Tebow haters: 0. They say there are lots of QB's who have put up better numbers than Tebow but aren't playing now because they weren't first rounders. What was he supposed to do when the Broncos traded back up into the first round, went on the clock, and his phone rang? Tell Josh McDaniels "Thanks, but I really think there are others more deserving than me." ? Tebow has taken all the hate and not reciprocated a word in kind. When asked about his team's success, he has consistently deferred credit and said all the right things, while appearing to be the most striking and unusual characteristic of all in mainstream media icons: Genuine.
So he's a winner, a hard worker, a great teammate, a humble player, with character and intangibles that are undeniably off the charts. Yet people can't stand him. It is a curious phenomenon, especially for parents who need to realize that atheletes are some of the most visible role models for their kids, and in every sport many are failing miserably with this responsibility.
Of course, the proverbial elephant in the closet is this: he is the one thing a society obsessed with tolerance absolutely cannot tolerate: a professing evangelical Christian.
Never mind the fact that the average Olbermann-watching left winger would be hard pressed to give a historically accurate definition of an Evangelical Christian; simply insert the words hate, ignorant, stupid, judgemental, CONSERVATIVE (gasp), and you have it. Ball up all the things today's secular media considers evil, and you have an Evangelical. But again, I fail to see the logic.
Across the NFL there are stories like the one that broke this week about Bear's receiver Sam Hurd:
"The former Northern Illinois University receiver told an undercover federal agent who he thought was a drug supplier that he wanted to buy five to 10 kilograms of cocaine and 1,000 pounds of marijuana per week to distribute in the Chicago area, authorities said. In exchange, authorities said, Hurd agreed to pay $25,000 per kilo and $450 per pound — which would amount to up to $2.8 million a month."
Guys shooting themselves in the leg, guys getting drunk and commiting manslaughter, wife abuse, degrading women, infidelity, fathering a dozen kids from multiple road trips, drug use, gambling, the list goes on and on. Players actually said they were fearful that if the lockout hadn't ended and there had been no NFL games this year, the spike in violent crime among players would have been unprecedented. Yet not one of these stories induces the vitriol reserved for a guy who spent the offseason volunteering at an orphanage, who doesn't swear, and just happens to love Jesus. "Religion offends people, he shouldn't bring it up." This is the trump card I've heard every announcer, radio host and football personality say on air. But here's the problem: the media brings it up all the time, and nobody (who gets any air time) cries foul.
Why is that? The answer is simple: the media only brings up certain types of Christians, and they're always the wackos. How many youtube hits did that psycho chick get who thanked God over and over for the Tsunami hitting Japan? If there is a Christian who has a problem with interracial marraige, their church is on the front page. The countless Christians who spend energy doing relief work, giving to the poor, running their companies with integrity, contributing to their communities; I can't remember the last time one of them got air time. I think ultimately that's the crux of this whole phenomenon: the media can't stand Tebow because he isn't a backwoods lunatic who is easily dismissed. If Christianity is brought up at all in media today, it is brought up to be mocked and dismissed. But this guy is a winner. Inspires his teammates. Has morals and character. He's everything we claim we want in our role models, but he just won't shut up about Jesus and people who love Jesus can't be taken seriously. The media can't stand Tebow because he isn't what they claim all Christians are, and they can't censor him. People can't stand Tebow because he doesn't fit their preconceptions of what a Christian is. In a society whose golden rule is not to judge until you've walked a mile in someone's shoes, Christians are to be scorned from a distance. While many Christians are going further than I think is appropriate with Tebow's plight, citing every hurdle as persecution and every success and favor, what many are in essence saying is, "SEE?!" One of theirs has a platform from which to be heard on a relatively (for once) playing field, even if it is a mile high. Tebow invokes such emotional reactions because he actually believes and lives what he preaches, and you have to DEAL with him. And this Sunday at 4:15, as a football fan and as a Christian, I am psyched to deal with the Tebow phenonmenon, win or lose. I will be rooting for the Patriots, and don't think our Lord has a particularly vested interest in the outcome of this game. I am just genuinely refreshed to have such a solid God-fearing guy in the most prestigious position in American sports. Hopefully others will begin to appreciate a subtext to a game that for once doesn't involve players getting fines, parole, legal proceedings, cheating, etc. Just a guy doing what he loves and thanking God for the chance.
Conspiracy?!
(originally written September 2011)
With the 10 year anniversary of 9/11 we will be reminded of the horrific events that changed America a decade ago, retold firsthand accounts of heroism, unthinkable pain and in some cases, unbelievable luck. However this anniversary also grants, if only by default, a soap box to many political groups, op-ed columnists, and the ever popular conspiracy theorists. While some look at the claims of this last group and wonder if a local psych ward is missing a few residents, we shouldn't be surprised that this group exists, and at least for a time, was far more popular than many think. The lone gunman theory has never sat well with us Yankess. Here in America it's difficult to conceive that lives here can be taken so easily, so capriciously, and without regard for what we hope is the best defense system in the world. Pearl Harbor. JFK. The Twin Towers. We refuse to accept the answers we've been given. There simply had to be more to it than that. Ironically this is the lone instance where many people who regularly berate the government for their stupidity and inability to accomplish anything do a 180 and claim that not only is the government intelligent and proficient, it is stealthy and thorough enough to somehow fabricate an incredible hoax that the majority of thinking citizens accept. I mean, come on. Either G.W. is a fumbling dunce or an evil genius. You can't really have it both ways.
Fast forward to today, where I read an article with interview snippets from several leading conspiracy theorists, including David Ray Griffin, Kevin Barrett, and Dylan Avery, a young New Yorker who produced a "documentary" that became a focal point of the conspiracy theorist's movement and promptly much mainstream press in the process. The creative process he describes is telling:
"It was just so easy to believe anything terrible about your government because you were seeing all of these terrible things. They were doing all of these terrible things right on front of our faces, so why wouldn't they do terribloe things behind closed doors?"
Why not, indeed? Avery's initial offering cost $2000 and was widely criticized, even by those in his own camp, for factual errors. Incidently, Webster defines a documentary as "employing documentation in literature or art; broadly: FACTUAL, OBJECTIVE ". After trimming out some the the more outrageous claims, he re-cut and released his film in 2005 at "the perfect time". The perfect time being the lowest approval rating Bush had enjoyed to that time. People were foaming at the mouth. Wanting revenge, an outlet for their anger. And by twisting the facts in his film (which has since been re-cut twice more to remove further inaccuracies), Avery granted them the thing they wanted most: an illusion of righteous indignation. Any of this starting to sound familiar?
In subsequent years these movements went through a precipitous decline in popularity, and Avery decided to do some homework. Not on the reasons his movement is losing speed, mind you. No, he did actual homework on the events of 9/11.
"Since 2006 Avery has re-cut the film twice more, removing some of the more outrageous accusations, like the claim that Flight 93 had been diverted to Cleveland Hopkins Airport rather than crashing in Pennsylvania and that calls made from the plane had been faked using "voice-morphing" technology. After interviewing some of the Pentagon witnesses in person, Avery has even backed away from the stance that it was a missile and not a plane that hit the Pentagon. "It's easy to come to conclusions when a) you don't have a lot of information at your disposal and b) you haven't had a chance to actually talk to people who were there," Avery says."
I'm sorry, what was that last part? For a minute it sounded like...
"It's easy to come to conclusions when a) you don't have a lot of information at your disposal and b) you haven't had a chance to actually talk to people who were there."
Now, I'm no filmmaker, but I would have thought that both of those items would be pretty high up on the list of pre-requisites to do a documentary. Avery now says his keen insight is that the organization of these attacks had to go beyond the Bush administration (i just can't...even...ahh, see the end of paragraph 1), and the fact that the government had warning and should have been able to prevent these attacks. Sounds strangely like...what sane people have been saying all along. In retrospect, Avery admits getting "sucked into a hardcore mentality that it was almost too easy to get into back then, because the war had just started and everybody was just so pissed off." Doesn't sound like conspiricist propoganda, sound more like...an apology. Well, apology accepted. But it's not me you should be apologizing to.
With the 10 year anniversary of 9/11 we will be reminded of the horrific events that changed America a decade ago, retold firsthand accounts of heroism, unthinkable pain and in some cases, unbelievable luck. However this anniversary also grants, if only by default, a soap box to many political groups, op-ed columnists, and the ever popular conspiracy theorists. While some look at the claims of this last group and wonder if a local psych ward is missing a few residents, we shouldn't be surprised that this group exists, and at least for a time, was far more popular than many think. The lone gunman theory has never sat well with us Yankess. Here in America it's difficult to conceive that lives here can be taken so easily, so capriciously, and without regard for what we hope is the best defense system in the world. Pearl Harbor. JFK. The Twin Towers. We refuse to accept the answers we've been given. There simply had to be more to it than that. Ironically this is the lone instance where many people who regularly berate the government for their stupidity and inability to accomplish anything do a 180 and claim that not only is the government intelligent and proficient, it is stealthy and thorough enough to somehow fabricate an incredible hoax that the majority of thinking citizens accept. I mean, come on. Either G.W. is a fumbling dunce or an evil genius. You can't really have it both ways.
Fast forward to today, where I read an article with interview snippets from several leading conspiracy theorists, including David Ray Griffin, Kevin Barrett, and Dylan Avery, a young New Yorker who produced a "documentary" that became a focal point of the conspiracy theorist's movement and promptly much mainstream press in the process. The creative process he describes is telling:
"It was just so easy to believe anything terrible about your government because you were seeing all of these terrible things. They were doing all of these terrible things right on front of our faces, so why wouldn't they do terribloe things behind closed doors?"
Why not, indeed? Avery's initial offering cost $2000 and was widely criticized, even by those in his own camp, for factual errors. Incidently, Webster defines a documentary as "employing documentation in literature or art; broadly: FACTUAL, OBJECTIVE ". After trimming out some the the more outrageous claims, he re-cut and released his film in 2005 at "the perfect time". The perfect time being the lowest approval rating Bush had enjoyed to that time. People were foaming at the mouth. Wanting revenge, an outlet for their anger. And by twisting the facts in his film (which has since been re-cut twice more to remove further inaccuracies), Avery granted them the thing they wanted most: an illusion of righteous indignation. Any of this starting to sound familiar?
In subsequent years these movements went through a precipitous decline in popularity, and Avery decided to do some homework. Not on the reasons his movement is losing speed, mind you. No, he did actual homework on the events of 9/11.
"Since 2006 Avery has re-cut the film twice more, removing some of the more outrageous accusations, like the claim that Flight 93 had been diverted to Cleveland Hopkins Airport rather than crashing in Pennsylvania and that calls made from the plane had been faked using "voice-morphing" technology. After interviewing some of the Pentagon witnesses in person, Avery has even backed away from the stance that it was a missile and not a plane that hit the Pentagon. "It's easy to come to conclusions when a) you don't have a lot of information at your disposal and b) you haven't had a chance to actually talk to people who were there," Avery says."
I'm sorry, what was that last part? For a minute it sounded like...
"It's easy to come to conclusions when a) you don't have a lot of information at your disposal and b) you haven't had a chance to actually talk to people who were there."
Now, I'm no filmmaker, but I would have thought that both of those items would be pretty high up on the list of pre-requisites to do a documentary. Avery now says his keen insight is that the organization of these attacks had to go beyond the Bush administration (i just can't...even...ahh, see the end of paragraph 1), and the fact that the government had warning and should have been able to prevent these attacks. Sounds strangely like...what sane people have been saying all along. In retrospect, Avery admits getting "sucked into a hardcore mentality that it was almost too easy to get into back then, because the war had just started and everybody was just so pissed off." Doesn't sound like conspiricist propoganda, sound more like...an apology. Well, apology accepted. But it's not me you should be apologizing to.
Theology of Ministry
(Originally written August 2011)
My wife and I have been attending an OPC church since the fall, and while I was familiar with much of the denomination's theology, I had never attended one of their churches regularly. One of the elements I appreciate most in their service is the corporate confession of sin and assurance of pardon. Like so many staples of a worship service which are done every week, this time has the potential to be distracted and hollow repetition, or, with an ounce of intentionality and sincerity, the essence of what meeting together is all about. There was a phrase in this past Sunday's corporate confession that struck me with its bluntness, vulnerability, and above all its truthfulness.
"We do not love each other as we should because we do not believe that you love us as you do."
That's it. If we had an inkling of the intense love God has for us, everything else- EVERYTHING- would just be overflow. It's a drum I've been beating for years, an intensely personal revelation of grace for me, and a lesson I need to continually learn. It has an organic and unstoppable overflow into the rest of our lives, and is the source of our sanctification, not merely a reassuring reminder as we tighten our boot straps and just try harder to be better. This attractive theology of self-flagellation sadly not only represents the central thesis of far too many sermons from the pulpit, but a departure from, and an invalidation of, the message we call the gospel. In one of the courses I've taken at Gordon Conwell I was asked to write a one-page synopsis of my "theology of ministry"- essentially why I do what I do for God. These truths I was reminded of Sunday morning brought this paper back to my mind, so here it is. I apologize if it feels repetitious after this introduction.
The book of Ephesians is easily my favorite book in the New Testament. Paul is incredibly concise yet thorough, theological yet practical, and in a few brief chapters frames our past, instructs our present, and affirms our hope for the future. I have returned to this book again and again and it is always a scathing indictment of where I and the church at large have gone wrong. Yet it is immensely hopeful and live giving. In it I find the paradigm for what I want my theology to be: accessible, concise, unapologetic in its conviction of sin and unflinching in its gaze at an ultimate paradise. This is why we do what we do, and here is how we do it. It contains my ideal theology of ministry, and perhaps due to the Baptist in me I have whittled it down to three points, each related to the others. The more I read the Scriptures and various writings from giants in the faith, the more I am convinced of the centrality of these three points, and how catastrophic it is if we err on any one of them. Here then, is the theology of ministry to which I currently subscribe:
Who is God? A.W. Tozer in his brief and brilliant book The Knowledge of the Holy affirms first and foremost the importance of thinking rightly about God. He likens all of our Christian doctrine and practice to a building whose foundation is its conception of God, and where it is "out of plumb" the whole structure must collapse. Though this book was written decades ago, it has only become more relevant in modern times as churches have reduced the Most Holy God into a buddy who we can call to cut us a deal if we’re in a jam. When God is not feared then sins needn’t be hidden. God is not a morality tale we can deconstruct for nuance with our post modern sensibilities. The modern cardinal sin is offending anybody, yet no one is concerned about offending God. It is only when we take a good look (as though that were possible) into the awesomeness of his majesty and justice that we begin to have an inkling that we indeed have a problem on our hands. Included in this conception is the perfect and eternal love which finds its definition in Him, and with which He individually and uniquely pursues us.
Who are We? The modern conception of sanctification seems to be something like this: Yes, it is by grace we’ve been saved, but now its up to our best efforts to stay on God’s good side and keep growing. It cries for the removal of all the filthy rags that predated our conversion, then seems to stockpile the deeds we do afterwards for a rainy day. Predictably this results in forgetting altogether where we came from, which was the reminder with which Paul begins his letter to the church in Ephesus. We were dead. Unusable. Decaying. ALL our righteousness is as filthy rags. To appreciate the gap between us and God we need to take an unflinching look at the darkest corners of our thoughts, emotions and actions. Our appreciation of Christ’s work on the cross is directly proportional to the degree to which we’ve owned our ugliest, worst sins. That is when grace is incomprehensible, when the phrase that it "saved a wretch like me" is truth felt in your bones rather than a stale piece of orthodoxy. Once we have a right conception of God, we know without a doubt we are guilty and hopeless before him. However the periodic reminder of where we came from goes far in squelching pride and reviving the gratitude for the huge debt which was paid for us.
Who are Others? Reverend Steve Macchia said in the closing lecture to this course that the word he liked to associate most with evangelism is "overflow". I would contend that if we grasped these first two concepts along with the atoning sacrifice of our Savior then all of our Christian life would be overflow. We would want to study Scripture to become more like Jesus and less like ourselves. We would want to commune with God because we’ve never experienced love like His. And we will want to treat believers and non believers alike in light of our underserved standing before the Creator. We will see that not only did God pursue us and make us his, but he imbued us with different parts of his character which are complimentary and necessary for each other to function; the body of Christ exhibits "irreducible complexity" as it were. And of course it will overflow into evangelism- not as an uncomfortable, dutiful activity, but as organic and joyful as a child inviting someone to a birthday party or sleepover. The continued recognition and affirmation of these three truths crushes self righteousness and antinomianism in the same blow. They make ministry an outgrowth of joy from our undeserved good fortune. Each point is contingent on the one which precedes it, and each will naturally overflow into the one which follows.
My wife and I have been attending an OPC church since the fall, and while I was familiar with much of the denomination's theology, I had never attended one of their churches regularly. One of the elements I appreciate most in their service is the corporate confession of sin and assurance of pardon. Like so many staples of a worship service which are done every week, this time has the potential to be distracted and hollow repetition, or, with an ounce of intentionality and sincerity, the essence of what meeting together is all about. There was a phrase in this past Sunday's corporate confession that struck me with its bluntness, vulnerability, and above all its truthfulness.
"We do not love each other as we should because we do not believe that you love us as you do."
That's it. If we had an inkling of the intense love God has for us, everything else- EVERYTHING- would just be overflow. It's a drum I've been beating for years, an intensely personal revelation of grace for me, and a lesson I need to continually learn. It has an organic and unstoppable overflow into the rest of our lives, and is the source of our sanctification, not merely a reassuring reminder as we tighten our boot straps and just try harder to be better. This attractive theology of self-flagellation sadly not only represents the central thesis of far too many sermons from the pulpit, but a departure from, and an invalidation of, the message we call the gospel. In one of the courses I've taken at Gordon Conwell I was asked to write a one-page synopsis of my "theology of ministry"- essentially why I do what I do for God. These truths I was reminded of Sunday morning brought this paper back to my mind, so here it is. I apologize if it feels repetitious after this introduction.
The book of Ephesians is easily my favorite book in the New Testament. Paul is incredibly concise yet thorough, theological yet practical, and in a few brief chapters frames our past, instructs our present, and affirms our hope for the future. I have returned to this book again and again and it is always a scathing indictment of where I and the church at large have gone wrong. Yet it is immensely hopeful and live giving. In it I find the paradigm for what I want my theology to be: accessible, concise, unapologetic in its conviction of sin and unflinching in its gaze at an ultimate paradise. This is why we do what we do, and here is how we do it. It contains my ideal theology of ministry, and perhaps due to the Baptist in me I have whittled it down to three points, each related to the others. The more I read the Scriptures and various writings from giants in the faith, the more I am convinced of the centrality of these three points, and how catastrophic it is if we err on any one of them. Here then, is the theology of ministry to which I currently subscribe:
Who is God? A.W. Tozer in his brief and brilliant book The Knowledge of the Holy affirms first and foremost the importance of thinking rightly about God. He likens all of our Christian doctrine and practice to a building whose foundation is its conception of God, and where it is "out of plumb" the whole structure must collapse. Though this book was written decades ago, it has only become more relevant in modern times as churches have reduced the Most Holy God into a buddy who we can call to cut us a deal if we’re in a jam. When God is not feared then sins needn’t be hidden. God is not a morality tale we can deconstruct for nuance with our post modern sensibilities. The modern cardinal sin is offending anybody, yet no one is concerned about offending God. It is only when we take a good look (as though that were possible) into the awesomeness of his majesty and justice that we begin to have an inkling that we indeed have a problem on our hands. Included in this conception is the perfect and eternal love which finds its definition in Him, and with which He individually and uniquely pursues us.
Who are We? The modern conception of sanctification seems to be something like this: Yes, it is by grace we’ve been saved, but now its up to our best efforts to stay on God’s good side and keep growing. It cries for the removal of all the filthy rags that predated our conversion, then seems to stockpile the deeds we do afterwards for a rainy day. Predictably this results in forgetting altogether where we came from, which was the reminder with which Paul begins his letter to the church in Ephesus. We were dead. Unusable. Decaying. ALL our righteousness is as filthy rags. To appreciate the gap between us and God we need to take an unflinching look at the darkest corners of our thoughts, emotions and actions. Our appreciation of Christ’s work on the cross is directly proportional to the degree to which we’ve owned our ugliest, worst sins. That is when grace is incomprehensible, when the phrase that it "saved a wretch like me" is truth felt in your bones rather than a stale piece of orthodoxy. Once we have a right conception of God, we know without a doubt we are guilty and hopeless before him. However the periodic reminder of where we came from goes far in squelching pride and reviving the gratitude for the huge debt which was paid for us.
Who are Others? Reverend Steve Macchia said in the closing lecture to this course that the word he liked to associate most with evangelism is "overflow". I would contend that if we grasped these first two concepts along with the atoning sacrifice of our Savior then all of our Christian life would be overflow. We would want to study Scripture to become more like Jesus and less like ourselves. We would want to commune with God because we’ve never experienced love like His. And we will want to treat believers and non believers alike in light of our underserved standing before the Creator. We will see that not only did God pursue us and make us his, but he imbued us with different parts of his character which are complimentary and necessary for each other to function; the body of Christ exhibits "irreducible complexity" as it were. And of course it will overflow into evangelism- not as an uncomfortable, dutiful activity, but as organic and joyful as a child inviting someone to a birthday party or sleepover. The continued recognition and affirmation of these three truths crushes self righteousness and antinomianism in the same blow. They make ministry an outgrowth of joy from our undeserved good fortune. Each point is contingent on the one which precedes it, and each will naturally overflow into the one which follows.
Dude...is that yours?
(Originally written June 2011)
As my boss and I pulled to a stop at a major intersection, a decade-old Nissan Quest that was shedding its clear coat rolled past, no doubt full of soccer balls, stale fries and untold scars of neglect. I let out a sigh that was equal parts disgust and self-righteous pity.
"Dude, don't ever let me get one of those. I mean really, like smack me in the face if I do."
I had an as-yet unspoken fear that though my wife and I had managed to get through the first three years of my son's life without completely sacrificing our dignity or capacity for rational adult decisions, this lucidity would end with the addition of more children and I would sacrifice the last vestige of my once intact masculinity and buy...or worse yet, drive and be seen in...a minivan.
"Don't worry man, you never will."
I prayed my boss knew me better that I knew myself. I was a car guy, darn it. None of these underpowered, mile-long windshield touting, body-rolling, spit-up stained-memorials to any identity outside of parenting for me. Anything bigger than a minivan was almost necessarily cooler (the certain rebellious subculture and probably-don't-want-to-mess-with-that-guy feelings evoked by a full size Chevy van with tinted windows, for example), and anything smaller meant you still hadn't gone full bore soccer mom. However, as is the case with so many things, the experience of being not just a parent, but being dear friends with other new parents, had a profound impact on the way I viewed what's parked in my driveway and what that says about me.
The change began, I think, when I started reading friends' or friends-of-friends' blogs or facebook posts about the experience of parenting, entries which periodically ended with open-ended questions. Truthfully it was more in the subsequent comments and free offerings of insight and wisdom from people in response to these posts. They started innocently enough, but after several back and forth responses with progressively waning degrees of civility, it became clear that the issue being discussed was no longer the initial question of a no-cry sleep solution, but the tenability of the responses, and by implication, the very parental competency of the contributors. It went from being about the kids to being about them.
If you listen carefully, you'll hear it every day. Parents bragging about their kids...but it's not really about their kids. How THEIR kid is going to play sports, behave in public, how color-coordinated they'll be (whether they like it or not!), the types of "creations" that will be hung on the fridge vs. those that won't...the list goes on and on. It's an understandable trap to fall into, and by no means am I saying that I'm exempt. You pour so much of your self, of emotions so deep and fatigue so incapacitating you didn't believe it existed, into this blob...well darn it, they'd better realize whose name it is they wear on the back of their jersey, and who carried all their...stuff in their Apple Tart Cake Cosmopolitan Carryall from Petunia Pickle Bottom. $350 for a diaper bag? Hey, how else are your kids going to become the kind of people that value QUALITY?
Ok, just because you're a parent doesn't mean that's ALL you are. And the healthiest parents, much like the healthiest couples, are probably those who maintain a social life/hobbies and interests outside of being Mom or Dad. But there's an alarming amount of significant decisions being made for kids that aren't being made for the kids. And that's not parenting...that's immature superficiality. And faced with some cold hard facts about modes of transportation, I was forced to recognize that my stigma of minivans fell under this second category.
1. Many people hate minivans, but they need the space, so they buy SUV's (but not full-size like the Suburban, because that's just ugly and for heaven's sakes, we want the other parents to know we care about the ENVIRONMENT!) So they buy the mid-size SUV (Japanese, preferrably, domestics are...you know, so 80's...) that gets worse gas mileage than a Suburban and require your third row occupants to be (a) very small children, but not so small that they require actual assistance to get buckled in, or (b) contortionist Asian midgets, like that dude from Oceans 32.
2. The combination of fuel economy, versatile space, comfort, blistering array of infotainment/safety options, cost of maintenance and sticker price simply cannot be matched by another vehicle. If you say it can, you have not ridden in the 3rd row of your stylish friend's MDX.
The proverbial nail in the coffin was when I had to pick my sister and her family up from the airport. I had J. with me, so it meant four boys in car seats, plus 3 adults and all their luggage. I was forced to recognize on that trip that these objects of such scorn are wonderfully and undeniably practical creations. With the majority of our friends now having kids, going anywhere means having a serviceable 3rd row or taking two vehicles. When we have friends move we can take the second and third rows out and fit an incredible amount of stuff, and it's all out of the elements. We can (and have) take 6 adults in comfort to and from singing gigs. The list goes on and on.
I am hardly an expert on much, let alone parenting. My wife and I have just begun to scratch the surface of this wonderful experience, but from all I can gather, it is, as much as anything else, the ultimate lesson in getting over yourself. IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU. It is a freeing and simultaneously daunting realization. I'm not saying you shouldn't buy your kids nice stuff, or drive sweet cars. Lord knows if I was making 6 figures I might be driving something different. But for where we are in life right now, the minivan just made too much sense. And I had to realize I needed to get over myself and do some parenting.
As my boss and I pulled to a stop at a major intersection, a decade-old Nissan Quest that was shedding its clear coat rolled past, no doubt full of soccer balls, stale fries and untold scars of neglect. I let out a sigh that was equal parts disgust and self-righteous pity.
"Dude, don't ever let me get one of those. I mean really, like smack me in the face if I do."
I had an as-yet unspoken fear that though my wife and I had managed to get through the first three years of my son's life without completely sacrificing our dignity or capacity for rational adult decisions, this lucidity would end with the addition of more children and I would sacrifice the last vestige of my once intact masculinity and buy...or worse yet, drive and be seen in...a minivan.
"Don't worry man, you never will."
I prayed my boss knew me better that I knew myself. I was a car guy, darn it. None of these underpowered, mile-long windshield touting, body-rolling, spit-up stained-memorials to any identity outside of parenting for me. Anything bigger than a minivan was almost necessarily cooler (the certain rebellious subculture and probably-don't-want-to-mess-with-that-guy feelings evoked by a full size Chevy van with tinted windows, for example), and anything smaller meant you still hadn't gone full bore soccer mom. However, as is the case with so many things, the experience of being not just a parent, but being dear friends with other new parents, had a profound impact on the way I viewed what's parked in my driveway and what that says about me.
The change began, I think, when I started reading friends' or friends-of-friends' blogs or facebook posts about the experience of parenting, entries which periodically ended with open-ended questions. Truthfully it was more in the subsequent comments and free offerings of insight and wisdom from people in response to these posts. They started innocently enough, but after several back and forth responses with progressively waning degrees of civility, it became clear that the issue being discussed was no longer the initial question of a no-cry sleep solution, but the tenability of the responses, and by implication, the very parental competency of the contributors. It went from being about the kids to being about them.
If you listen carefully, you'll hear it every day. Parents bragging about their kids...but it's not really about their kids. How THEIR kid is going to play sports, behave in public, how color-coordinated they'll be (whether they like it or not!), the types of "creations" that will be hung on the fridge vs. those that won't...the list goes on and on. It's an understandable trap to fall into, and by no means am I saying that I'm exempt. You pour so much of your self, of emotions so deep and fatigue so incapacitating you didn't believe it existed, into this blob...well darn it, they'd better realize whose name it is they wear on the back of their jersey, and who carried all their...stuff in their Apple Tart Cake Cosmopolitan Carryall from Petunia Pickle Bottom. $350 for a diaper bag? Hey, how else are your kids going to become the kind of people that value QUALITY?
Ok, just because you're a parent doesn't mean that's ALL you are. And the healthiest parents, much like the healthiest couples, are probably those who maintain a social life/hobbies and interests outside of being Mom or Dad. But there's an alarming amount of significant decisions being made for kids that aren't being made for the kids. And that's not parenting...that's immature superficiality. And faced with some cold hard facts about modes of transportation, I was forced to recognize that my stigma of minivans fell under this second category.
1. Many people hate minivans, but they need the space, so they buy SUV's (but not full-size like the Suburban, because that's just ugly and for heaven's sakes, we want the other parents to know we care about the ENVIRONMENT!) So they buy the mid-size SUV (Japanese, preferrably, domestics are...you know, so 80's...) that gets worse gas mileage than a Suburban and require your third row occupants to be (a) very small children, but not so small that they require actual assistance to get buckled in, or (b) contortionist Asian midgets, like that dude from Oceans 32.
2. The combination of fuel economy, versatile space, comfort, blistering array of infotainment/safety options, cost of maintenance and sticker price simply cannot be matched by another vehicle. If you say it can, you have not ridden in the 3rd row of your stylish friend's MDX.
The proverbial nail in the coffin was when I had to pick my sister and her family up from the airport. I had J. with me, so it meant four boys in car seats, plus 3 adults and all their luggage. I was forced to recognize on that trip that these objects of such scorn are wonderfully and undeniably practical creations. With the majority of our friends now having kids, going anywhere means having a serviceable 3rd row or taking two vehicles. When we have friends move we can take the second and third rows out and fit an incredible amount of stuff, and it's all out of the elements. We can (and have) take 6 adults in comfort to and from singing gigs. The list goes on and on.
I am hardly an expert on much, let alone parenting. My wife and I have just begun to scratch the surface of this wonderful experience, but from all I can gather, it is, as much as anything else, the ultimate lesson in getting over yourself. IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU. It is a freeing and simultaneously daunting realization. I'm not saying you shouldn't buy your kids nice stuff, or drive sweet cars. Lord knows if I was making 6 figures I might be driving something different. But for where we are in life right now, the minivan just made too much sense. And I had to realize I needed to get over myself and do some parenting.
The Impotence of Contrarianism
(Originally written October 2010)
Like many people, I listen to sports radio a fair amount - though not at work, as I've tried and find myself standing still yelling at the radio - alas I am a terrible multitasker. And I've become more convinced than ever of a conclusion that many in New England came to long ago: Mike Felger is a loser.
Not because he's from Milwaukee and couldn't hack it on every show he'd been on before Mohegan Sun and the Sports Hub, nor because he's an arrogant, tasteless juvenile phlegmatic who genuinely doesn't like many of the teams from the region he calls home. He's a loser because he's a contrarian. The worst kind of contrarian, because he claims to be the sole purveyor of objectivity awash in a sea of psychophantic "green teamers", yet his angles are almost always dictated more by a reaction to popular sentiment than facts or statistics. Contrarian 1, Objectivity 0. In other words, he is hoisted on his own pitard.
It's easy to understand why someone would act in this manner. Remember when you were a kid, and there were the "cool kids" who were "too cool for school"? Try going to a small Christian school. The cool thing during my tenure at Christian schools is to moan all day about how how crappy the sports program was (for the guys), or how terrible the selection of guys were (mostly from the girls). Sadly I observed this trend only grow in volume & popularity as I got older, reaching a fevor pitch at a Christian college. Except now teachers were on board. "Oh, I shouldn't say that HERE..." Wink wink, nudge nudge. Those lame stuffy evangelicals and there infantile notions of morality.
But seriously, think about any context, anywhere, and there will always be someone there bemoaning their surroundings, coworkers, boss, company policy, stupid customers, etc. They are, in essence, letting you know that they're better than all this. Because it's cool to buck the trend. And always easier to criticize than come up with a proactive solution.
Think of politics, religion, or sociology. Campaigns right up the highest office in our country are won with the sales pitch of "not being the guy in office", or different from what has gone before. It's an appealing stance which requires little thought or articulations of what you actually have to offer. And therein lies the impotence of contrarianism- it is ultimately self defeating.
Let's take an example from an exchange common in church circles today.
"What do you believe?"
"Well, I'll tell you what I DON'T believe." K, that wasnt' really what I asked...
"Well, I was brought up being taught a, b, and c...have any of you here ever heard those things?"
Thoughtful nods appear across the room- in this case dissent from Evangelicalism most often replaces a genuine alternative vision of church structure/beliefs with an ambiguous sense of dissatisfied empathy. But I write this today for a different reason.
Several weeks ago I met the head pastor of a church we were visiting. He was, in my estimation, a bit stuffy and underwhelming. As he was the head pastor, I contemplated the implications this would have if we were to attend this church, and the type of leadership I wanted to place myself under, particularly at this point in my life. I thought I was rather gracious in my exchange with him, not letting on in the slightest that this probably wouldn't be my bag. Then today, we found ourselves there again, and he was preaching. Let's see if your instincts have gotten rusty, I told myself.
He spoke in a quiet, deliberate tone; since that first visit I learned he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's yet was still doing all he could to continue his ministerial duties as before. He looked pretty stodgy, actually, in his pinstriped suit and starched shirt - completely unlike the young worship team members or assistant pastors. Even with his microphone you had to be quiet for fear that you would miss words or phrases. Yet what followed was the most humbling, articulate sermon I've heard in quite some time.
The pews were filled with young people cut from a generational cloth miles apart from this preacher's. The "you have 3 seconds to entertain me or I'm done" generation. Most listened, several were visibly distracted by the occasional noisy kid or the not-so-occasional note being passed to each other. As I sat there, disgusted with myself and the entitled narcissistic brats that comprise my generation, I couldn't help but think that we were essentially guilty of, for a better term, sermon contrarianism. I thought about the disservice we do to ourselves (that I have so often been guilty of) when we dismiss a pastor, a church, or a group of churches based on appearance or style, and miss content - potentially life-changing content in this case. It functions as a wonderful escape hatch from conviction because it completely circumvents the question of "What is God trying to say to me?" by instead asking "How does he expect to hold my attention with THAT?! Someone should really talk to him..." Or similar dismissive or distracting thoughts.
Now I don't mean that we shouldn't try to be culturally "relevant" - that's really a misnomer, as the Gospel is eternally relevant, and what we are really addressing is the packaging we surround it with- or that we shouldn't try to meet people where they're at. What I'm referring to are the churchgoing folks who have been in the pew long enough to develop a little callous here and there. And when there's a guest speaker who isn't quite as advertised, or worse still, you're in a friend's church where things are done just a little differently, you allow that distraction to take precedence in your mind, and check out a little bit, because "you're better than all this".
I could qualify this in a hundred ways with a hundred disclaimers, each having some validity and relevance to church format and where it needs to get with the times- but the heart of the matter is this: When we care more about our ego than we care about humbling ourselves before the Word of God, we (1) cheat ourselves of much needed nourishment, and (2) cheat all those we come into contact with who need to hear something encouraging and life giving. God isn't interested in your nuanced sensibilities and how they weren't satisfied with the packaging delivered this morning from the pulpit. He doesn't want to tweak them, He wants to rip them apart and completely rebuild them into something that has no room for ego and self. The questions you don't think people are smart or wise enough to answer aren't the point. The point is the hubristic perspective from which you're asking them. God may not answer your questions because ultimately they're the wrong questions. Get your eyes where they should be. Don't wander through a desert and stumble into a well, only to critique the archaic pulley system they expect you to use to get the water out. Get a drink, give your friends a drink, then (with slightly clearer and more thankful frames of mind) constructively address a potentially more efficient means of water delivery. Until then we are just frauds standing around an untapped well.
Like many people, I listen to sports radio a fair amount - though not at work, as I've tried and find myself standing still yelling at the radio - alas I am a terrible multitasker. And I've become more convinced than ever of a conclusion that many in New England came to long ago: Mike Felger is a loser.
Not because he's from Milwaukee and couldn't hack it on every show he'd been on before Mohegan Sun and the Sports Hub, nor because he's an arrogant, tasteless juvenile phlegmatic who genuinely doesn't like many of the teams from the region he calls home. He's a loser because he's a contrarian. The worst kind of contrarian, because he claims to be the sole purveyor of objectivity awash in a sea of psychophantic "green teamers", yet his angles are almost always dictated more by a reaction to popular sentiment than facts or statistics. Contrarian 1, Objectivity 0. In other words, he is hoisted on his own pitard.
It's easy to understand why someone would act in this manner. Remember when you were a kid, and there were the "cool kids" who were "too cool for school"? Try going to a small Christian school. The cool thing during my tenure at Christian schools is to moan all day about how how crappy the sports program was (for the guys), or how terrible the selection of guys were (mostly from the girls). Sadly I observed this trend only grow in volume & popularity as I got older, reaching a fevor pitch at a Christian college. Except now teachers were on board. "Oh, I shouldn't say that HERE..." Wink wink, nudge nudge. Those lame stuffy evangelicals and there infantile notions of morality.
But seriously, think about any context, anywhere, and there will always be someone there bemoaning their surroundings, coworkers, boss, company policy, stupid customers, etc. They are, in essence, letting you know that they're better than all this. Because it's cool to buck the trend. And always easier to criticize than come up with a proactive solution.
Think of politics, religion, or sociology. Campaigns right up the highest office in our country are won with the sales pitch of "not being the guy in office", or different from what has gone before. It's an appealing stance which requires little thought or articulations of what you actually have to offer. And therein lies the impotence of contrarianism- it is ultimately self defeating.
Let's take an example from an exchange common in church circles today.
"What do you believe?"
"Well, I'll tell you what I DON'T believe." K, that wasnt' really what I asked...
"Well, I was brought up being taught a, b, and c...have any of you here ever heard those things?"
Thoughtful nods appear across the room- in this case dissent from Evangelicalism most often replaces a genuine alternative vision of church structure/beliefs with an ambiguous sense of dissatisfied empathy. But I write this today for a different reason.
Several weeks ago I met the head pastor of a church we were visiting. He was, in my estimation, a bit stuffy and underwhelming. As he was the head pastor, I contemplated the implications this would have if we were to attend this church, and the type of leadership I wanted to place myself under, particularly at this point in my life. I thought I was rather gracious in my exchange with him, not letting on in the slightest that this probably wouldn't be my bag. Then today, we found ourselves there again, and he was preaching. Let's see if your instincts have gotten rusty, I told myself.
He spoke in a quiet, deliberate tone; since that first visit I learned he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's yet was still doing all he could to continue his ministerial duties as before. He looked pretty stodgy, actually, in his pinstriped suit and starched shirt - completely unlike the young worship team members or assistant pastors. Even with his microphone you had to be quiet for fear that you would miss words or phrases. Yet what followed was the most humbling, articulate sermon I've heard in quite some time.
The pews were filled with young people cut from a generational cloth miles apart from this preacher's. The "you have 3 seconds to entertain me or I'm done" generation. Most listened, several were visibly distracted by the occasional noisy kid or the not-so-occasional note being passed to each other. As I sat there, disgusted with myself and the entitled narcissistic brats that comprise my generation, I couldn't help but think that we were essentially guilty of, for a better term, sermon contrarianism. I thought about the disservice we do to ourselves (that I have so often been guilty of) when we dismiss a pastor, a church, or a group of churches based on appearance or style, and miss content - potentially life-changing content in this case. It functions as a wonderful escape hatch from conviction because it completely circumvents the question of "What is God trying to say to me?" by instead asking "How does he expect to hold my attention with THAT?! Someone should really talk to him..." Or similar dismissive or distracting thoughts.
Now I don't mean that we shouldn't try to be culturally "relevant" - that's really a misnomer, as the Gospel is eternally relevant, and what we are really addressing is the packaging we surround it with- or that we shouldn't try to meet people where they're at. What I'm referring to are the churchgoing folks who have been in the pew long enough to develop a little callous here and there. And when there's a guest speaker who isn't quite as advertised, or worse still, you're in a friend's church where things are done just a little differently, you allow that distraction to take precedence in your mind, and check out a little bit, because "you're better than all this".
I could qualify this in a hundred ways with a hundred disclaimers, each having some validity and relevance to church format and where it needs to get with the times- but the heart of the matter is this: When we care more about our ego than we care about humbling ourselves before the Word of God, we (1) cheat ourselves of much needed nourishment, and (2) cheat all those we come into contact with who need to hear something encouraging and life giving. God isn't interested in your nuanced sensibilities and how they weren't satisfied with the packaging delivered this morning from the pulpit. He doesn't want to tweak them, He wants to rip them apart and completely rebuild them into something that has no room for ego and self. The questions you don't think people are smart or wise enough to answer aren't the point. The point is the hubristic perspective from which you're asking them. God may not answer your questions because ultimately they're the wrong questions. Get your eyes where they should be. Don't wander through a desert and stumble into a well, only to critique the archaic pulley system they expect you to use to get the water out. Get a drink, give your friends a drink, then (with slightly clearer and more thankful frames of mind) constructively address a potentially more efficient means of water delivery. Until then we are just frauds standing around an untapped well.
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