'Tis The Season...

The season to do… what, exactly? The well-worn Christmas song Deck The Halls tells us this is the season “to be jolly.” The season for overflowing joy, for loads of fun, for smiles and laughter all around.

Hmmmm…

Just last week I saw a headline that referenced a recent poll which found that as many as 45% of Americans would just as soon skip the entire Christmas season altogether. That’s almost half of us! Sounds like a lot of people aren’t looking forward to the “most wonderful time of the year.” Fa-la-la-la-ugh… can we just go home?

Image source
 

Well there’s not much chance of skipping Christmas altogether, of course. Not with so much of the success of retail America hanging on how many times they can coax you and I into hitting “Add To Cart”. As much as many people detest the commercialization, the frantic pace, and the awkward family gatherings that this time of year tends to bring, the modern American Christmas season isn’t going anywhere.

In fact, there’s a strange irony at work here: one of the most common coping mechanisms to deal with the holiday madness is good ol’ retail therapy. “Stressed and frustrated? Treat yourself to that new ________! You deserve it.” While Americans hate crass commercialization, we love swag. And so we feed the beast while bemoaning the size of its jaws.

It all makes me think of a friend I had in High School, who was from the Philippines. I’ll never forget the day that he took more than a dozen members of our track team out for ice cream on his 16^th birthday. Everyone wanted to pay for their own sundaes and then split the cost of his, but he would have none of it. He paid. For everyone. His response to our incredulous objections was to simply explain that this is the way birthdays are done where he was from: the one being celebrated, gives.

Maybe the Filipinos have it right.

It strikes me that Christmas itself has a very different message: giving. It is the story of God, who had it all, giving all to those who had nothing. Perhaps the best way to celebrate Christ in the manger is to turn ourselves outward, rather than inward. To orient ourselves to the stranger more than to the family, to the lonely and poor of our city more than familiar friends. To prefer the dark and cold environments to the warm and lighted ones. To befriend the outcast at school, to love the person who is so opposite from us at work. To spend time with the one nobody spends time with.

I don’t yet know what it would look like for me to do that this year. But I’m willing to ask God that question. If we act on the answer, maybe we will rediscover one of the world’s oldest truths, that “he who loses his life for my sake will find it.” In other words, that a season of joy, laughter, and smiles all around comes not from singing fa-la-la-la-la and punching in our PIN number, but from laying out one’s life so that others may know life.

After all, that’s what Jesus did.

Professor Kirke Was Right

This past week I got to do something really cool: I was a guest speaker for a Religion and Philosophy class at Sunset High School. Before the semester is over they will hear from Jewish, Muslim, Christian Science, and Hindu speakers, and more. My task was to explain Christianity to these 40 or so high school students, and answer their questions. What a blast! I didn't really feel like I had the time to prepare with everything else in my schedule, but some opportunities you just don't pass up. So I said yes.

The first half was my time to present. So, given 45 minutes to explain Christianity to a room full of mostly not-Christian students, what would you say?

Well, as interesting a question as that is, it's what happened next that was really fun. That's when they had the chance to ask questions. I was a little surprised by how this part went. Not that they asked me anything I didn't expect; to the contrary, I anticipated most of the topics they brought up. But it was interesting to see how "stuck" they were on a couple items. Tops on the "stuck" list was the idea that Jesus/Christianity is the only correct religion.

After answering several versions of this question a number of different times, I got the question yet again from one young lady. So I took a little different approach. The conversation went something like this:

Student #1: So, lots of people have lots of different beliefs, and they hold those beliefs strongly,

Me: Certainly,

Student #1: so... are you saying that you believe their beliefs aren't true?

Me: Let's think about this for a moment. {Pointing at the shcedule of speakers on the whiteboard} You've already heard from a Jewish speaker, from a Christian today, and next week you'll hear from a Muslim speaker.

Judaism believes Jesus was a rabbi (religious teacher) at best. Christians, to the contrary, think he is God Almighty in human flesh and we worship him. Muslims think something different from these two: that Jesus was a significant prophet from God who pointed to the coming of God's true prophet Muhammad. Make sense so far?

Student #1: {nods her head in comprehension}

Me: OK, then I have one simple question. Could you help me understand how they can all three be right?

Student #1: hmmmm... {brow furrows in thought. After 2-3 seconds of silence, her mouth opens as if to speak, then closes again. 3-4 more seconds of silence ensue as she fishes for an answer to my question}

Student #2: It's impossible.

Student #1: Well, I think that... {stops again, as if considering the words she was about to speak. After another brief pause...} It's difficult to explain.

Me: {smiling} It's difficult to explain because it's impossible.


Throughout this discussion I felt a strong empathy with the fictional Professor Kirke in CS Lewis' The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. When Peter and Susan dismiss their sister Lucy's story of travelling to Narnia by magic, Professor Kirke challenges their thinking:

"Logic! Why don’t they teach logic at these schools? There are only three possibilities. Either your sister is telling lies, or she is mad, or she is telling the truth. You know she doesn’t tell lies and it is obvious that she is not mad. For the moment then and unless any further evidence turns up, we must assume that she is telling the truth.”

The professor was challenging Peter and Susan to use their brains and ignore their built-in biases. Their minds were closed to even the simplest logic when it didn't fit their pre-conceived notions. Many of the students I spoke to last week were in a similar boat (several were not, of course, but most were). As illustrated by the young lady in my example, many of them simply could not get their minds around a conclusion that was actually quite simple -- so simple in fact that a child much younger than them could follow the logic. Why couldn't they? Were these students unintelligent? Not at all. Rather, some of them have a built-in bias filter that is so strong it shuts even simple logic completely down.

The built-in bias filter in this case is the modern notion of Tolerance, which insists that all views are equally valid (not true, but valid... "true" is a meaningless concept in this view) before any evaluative thinking can take place. The result is that no truly evaluative thinking actually takes place at all, which of course is the death of logic. When we become convinced that evaluating beliefs is a hostile action against another person, we will never actually evaluate beliefs, and critical thinking stays safely locked up in a box and put on a shelf in our minds. The result oftentimes is absurd, almost humorously so. Such as when otherwise bright High School students get stumped by a second-grade logic problem.

There was much more to both my presentation and to the Q&A session, and the whole thing was a privilege and an absolute blast. I had a 30-minute conversation with a bright atheist student after class, and many other great interactions. Hopefully the challenge of logic makes some of these kids really think about why they believe what they believe, and not just assimilate whatever their culture is throwing at them uncritically. Too much is at stake for them to just be a mindless sheep and follow the crowd on this stuff.

In Lewis' story, when Peter and Susan persist in their unbelief Professor Kirke mutters to himself "I wonder what they do teach them at these schools." Well, these days they teach them Tolerance. And common sense is the first casualty.

Is Something Missing In Church?

Lately I've sensed an increasing number of Christians who feel that something important is missing from their church experience, their personal experience of God, or both. They often can't put their finger on what it is, but the number of people who feel this way is significant. I've seen it in many conversations and situations I know of first-hand, as well as sensing it as a subtle (even background) theme in much of what I read.

And what's interesting is that it's coming from within evangelical Christianity. I expect non-Christians to find Christianity somehow wanting - that's probably why they aren't Christians. But I'm talking about people who believe the Gospel of Jesus, and who participate in church regularly.

Below is a short video in which I share some of my observations about 4 places they're often going to look for "what's missing." And more importantly, what the answer is. Because in short, yes: I think something is often missing from our experience with God (as it has been from my own life for a long time). And better still, I think the Bible provides the answer to what it is. The answer hit me like a freight train this past Fall, and I discuss it in the video below (with a brief cameo appearance from Rosie the dog at the 12 minute mark!):



For some related thoughts on problems with the emergent church movement, see The Adrift Church?

For some related thoughts on how big (and sometimes small) evangelical churches tend to miss the centrality of the Gospel, see The Glitzy Church?

A "Favorable Interposition of God's Providence"

My mother passed away yesterday, November 24 2011, Thanksgiving Day, after a decade-long battle with cancer. Yet, perhaps surprisingly, her death doesn't spoil Thanksgiving. In fact, there's something profoundly right about her going home for good on this day.

On October 3, 1789, president George Washington issued a proclamation officially designating a national Day of Thanksgiving. In that proclamation he urged Americans to reflect on and thank God for the many blessings He had bestowed on the fledgling nation. At one point he referred to "the favorable interpositions of his Providence which we experienced in the course and conclusion of the late war," meaning the ways God had intervened against human odds in the Revolutionary War. Thanksgiving is a time to remember and express thankfulness for the times God has intervened in the normal course of human events, and brought about good for us.

Which is what makes mom's death on Thanksgiving Day so fitting. Contrary to what might be expected, I don't find that mom's passing is a taint on the holiday; some dark and ugly bruise that we must now dress ourselves up in order to cover and hide beneath a crisply-pressed exterior, and around which we must gingerly move through our future holidays so as to avoid re-aggravating that tender spot. No, no bruise this. This is gratitude erupting from the very midst of loss, and joy making sure that no matter how much grief sulks and loudly insists on being heard, that it will not have the final say. The hand of a "favorable interposition of God's Providence" is at work here.


In some ways I have a unique perspective on my mother, because I'm the only human being on the planet who knows from personal experience what it's like to be her son. She wasn't a perfect mom, but she was far closer to being so than she could ever bring herself to believe. A couple thoughts on my mother's death this Thanksgiving Day:

The Nature of Love
Mom defines for me the essence of what love is. Her love for me was unbelievable: pure, unwavering as a granite mountain, tinged with a fierceness that added a little spice to the gentle tenderness of motherly care. Being loved like that cannot help but change a person. As a pastor I find that many people have a hard time believing that God loves them unconditionally, and this keeps them from knowing Him deeply. Whatever my other faults may be, I never had that particular problem. I've never had difficulty believing and trusting in God's love, and I think one major reason I find unconditional love believable is that I experienced it.


I also enjoyed watching mom's love for me spread to my family. I know my mom would have worked hard, with some success, to love and accept anyone that I chose to marry, but she poured her heart into my wife as if Amy were her own daughter. My gorgeous bride has reflected on that relationship herself.

And the grandkids! She reveled in them, carefully observing and adoring every aspect of their character. Mom was always coming up with silly little ideas of how to have fun, like the "Christmas Band," or hiding the pickle ornament on the tree (whichever grandkid found it got to open the first present), and playing the Jelly Belly Game with Jalapeno Jelly Bellies so the spiciness would make us cry. Most often these silly ideas wouldn't turn out nearly as well as she had planned, but we laughed anyway. And she kept coming up with new ones.

How hot is a Jalapeno Jelly Belly?

A Touch of Class
Mom was the one who brought fun, taste, and class into our home when I was growing up. My sister was never much into the finer or "girly" things, preferring horses and cats to tea parties and lace. And my dad and I were, well, Guerino men (which says it all according to my wife!): rational, task-oriented, strong-minded, introverted. Mom's love for finer things revolutionized what would have otherwise been our dull trappings. My mother drank beauty in like water. Some of the clothing, furniture, and decorations that came into our home made my dad and I shake our heads, but the teasing mom had to endure from her men was tinctured with respect. We knew that she was our connection to this strange yet essential world of artistry, feeling, aesthetics, and relationships.

A Doxology in Darkness
My mom's story wouldn't be complete without acknowledging the role that pain played in shaping her, deepening her, and cementing her faith in Christ.

One example is the father-shaped hole in my mother's heart. Mom was abandoned by her father when she was too young to even know him, and was raised by a single mom in her early years. My grandmother re-married and my Grandpa Jack was a great step-dad for my mother, but the abandonment from her biological father permanently shaped her. For her whole life she remembered vividly the deep, throbbing ache to know her daddy that is one of her earliest memories. And when, as an adult, she did find her biological father many years later she was profoundly disappointed. She wrote eloquently about all this herself, and how she clung to the Bible's promise that God would be a father to the fatherless. You can read her short blog posts on this topic here: part 1, part 2, and part 3. People in pain either blame God and run from him, or they trust God and run to him. Mom did the latter, and that shaped both the person she was here, and the person she is now in the presence of her true Father.

One of mom's favorite photos is this picture of me and my beautiful daughter Elizabeth. Mom loved her son and loved her granddaughter, but she also found a profound sense of healing in the fact that her son is a loving father to her granddaughter, and mom and I spoke of that often. The grace of God amazes me. She put her trust for full healing - even from her father ache - in Christ. In return not only does He give her the promise of eternal life, but even some soothing of that father ache in this life, by seeing her son be the father to her beloved granddaughter that she never had herself. She once told me that in some way, my relationship with my daughter Elizabeth "redeems" her own fatherless pain. God is like that, turning death and pain on its own head and bringing life into valleys full of dead bones. He's a master at orchestrating favorable interpositions of His Providence in the most unexpected places.

Thanksgiving
For these and many other reasons I find that mom's death on Thanksgiving Day is entirely fitting. I am thankful that my mother is no longer battling cancer. I'm thankful that she's now awash in the river of life that flows from the throne of God. I'm thankful that her father ache is completely and utterly gone, and that even now as I write she is no doubt squealing with delight (as only she would) in the presence of the true and only Father, the one Father toward whom all her earthly father-longings were really pointing all along.

Will Thanksgiving Day be a tainted holiday for me in the future because of my mother's death? I don't think so. For this is was the day that real life began for her. And it's a day for the rest of us to commemorate, remember, and be thankful for the favorable interposition of God's Providence into our lives that was Judith Marjeanne Guerino.

Happy Thanksgiving indeed.

Book Review - The Reason for God by Timothy Keller

Timothy Keller is genius. Timothy Keller is money. I want to be Timothy Keller. So much so in fact that I nearly shaved my head bald after reading The Reason for God. Except that I don't think my nubby head would look good bald.

OK, exaggerations aside I want to chime in on the value of this book. Exaggeration is actually fairly common in book reviews. Sometimes book reviewers get really hyperbolic, vastly overstating a book's value as they praise its virtues. But when one reviewer referred to Keller as this generation's CS Lewis - a comparison of this book with Lewis' modern classic Mere Christianity - it was not an exaggeration.

Lewis' book was by far the best explanation of and argument for Christianity in his era: the Rationalistic skepticism of the 1940s. While that Rationalism has not completely gone away, in our day it has been shoved over and now grudgingly shares center stage with a new kind of skepticism: Postmodern thought. As such, a fresh presentation of the Christian faith, and reasons to believe it, has been in order. Keller provides it, and wowzers, does he rise to the challenge.

Playing Defense: Responding to Objections
Just as a football team plays both offense and defense, this book is divided into two parts. Part 1 of The Reason for God is "playing defense." It presents a response to the most common objections to Christianity that people have today. I won't attempt a full summary of everything Keller deals with, but suffice it to say he ducks none of the big questions. The 7 major objections he responds to are:

1. There can't be only one true religion
2. How can a good God allow suffering?
3. Christianity is a straitjacket
4. The Christian church is historically responsible for much evil
5. How can a loving God send people to hell?
6. Science has dis-proven Christianity
7. You can't take the Bible literally

In each case you'll find an intelligently argued response that will challenge both the Christian and the skeptic alike. Yes, you read that correctly: Keller's approach is as solid and persuasive a defense of the Christian faith as any I've read, and it will give the honest skeptic a lot to chew on. Keller shows the assumption behind each objection, and urges the skeptic to consider his own beliefs more clearly. But Keller is simultaneously interested in teaching Christians how to respect, honor, and talk with spiritual skeptics. He has a lot to say to those of us have lived with Christianity all our lives, as well as to the skeptic.

An Example - Religious Violence
One example: in dealing with objection #4, Keller writes about the idea that religion tends to multiply humanity's worst impulses, turning disagreement into hatred and opposition into violence. Atheist Christopher Hitchens has gained a lot of traction by making this argument, and almost every Christian knows someone who thinks this way.

Keller's response? Perhaps surprisingly, he begins by agreeing in part with Hitchens. Citing examples of religiously fueled violence throughout the modern world, Keller acknowledges that the belief in divine sanction sometimes contributes to people inflicting harm on others. On page 56 he writes, "Hitchens' point is fair. Religion 'transcendentalizes' ordinary cultural differences so that parties feel they are in a cosmic battle between good and evil." Now I confess that when I first read the book I wasn't entirely comfortable with this concession. I felt that Keller was giving too much away, and that in an effort to sound reasonable he might be undermining his own argument. But he proved me wrong.

After noting that religious belief does sometimes contribute to violence, Keller goes on to note that this isn't really a problem of religion. He points out that if you remove religion from a society people will "transcendentalize" something else in its place, and commit just as much violence in the name of that new ideal as they would have in the name of the old religious one. As evidence he notes that the 20th century saw every bit as much blood shed (if not more) in the name of secular ideals like Marxism as for religious ideals. So what Keller does is to correct Hitchens by putting the focus of the question in the right spot: apparently the impulse to violence comes from something other than religion, it comes from human nature. The Bible calls it sin, and offers a life-changing solution.

In a similar way, each of Keller's other responses present arguments that are respectful and gracious, yet persuasive and intellectually strong defenses of Christianity in the face of modern skepticism. But he doesn't stop there.

Part 2 - Playing Offense
The Reason for God goes on to present positive reasons to believe. Keller describes several reasons why the Christian faith makes more sense of the world we live in than any other belief system. He includes chapters that present multiple evidences for the existence of God and the resurrection of Jesus. He also explains several Christian ideas that frequently confuse unbelievers, such as why Jesus had to die before we could be forgiven. In the process he demonstrates a remarkable level of insight that educates the believer as well as the unbeliever.

For example, Keller addresses the need for the cross. He notes that many non-Christians simply don't get the bloody spectacle of Calvary, and in fact are put off by it thinking it makes God an angry deity who must be appeased by child sacrifice. Keller explains that all forgiveness, even between two people, requires the forgiver to bear the burden of the forgiven. If I demean my wife by mentioning one of her weaknesses in public and then later apologize to her, she may forgive me. But in order to do so she'll have to bear the consequences of my actions, including public shame and perhaps damage to her reputation. Forgiveness means choosing to bear the cost of wrong done to us. Keller summarizes on p. 200, "Why did Jesus have to die in order to forgive us? There was a debt to be paid - God himself paid it. There was a penalty to be born - God himself bore it. Forgiveness is always a form of costly suffering."

And this is precisely what we find on the cross. Our sin is a tremendous offense against God, but rather than making us pay for it he comes to earth as the man Jesus and bears the consequences of our actions by dying in our place. That is true love.

Something for Everyone
It is these kinds of thoughtful insights and explanations that make The Reason for God a thought-provoking and educational read for both the believer and the skeptic alike. I've learned several things about Christianity by reading it, and some of those insights have already worked their way into my preaching. Every skeptic likely believes one or more of the objections discussed in this book, and here you will find a gracious yet rigorous challenge to your skepticism. Christians on the other hand have much here to gain in understanding the reasons for modern skepticism, and becoming much better at presenting the reasons for God.

Get. This. Book!

Watercolor by my beautiful wife Amy

The Murder of Reepicheep

A Love-Hate Relationship
So we just got our own DVD copy of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and because Tommy's been sick these past few days we've watched it several times. The visuals are fantastic, and I've thoroughly enjoyed seeing how well the filmmakers brought the story to the silver screen. The Dawn Treader itself is a beautiful rendition of Lewis' description, the standing wave bordering Aslan's Country is incredible, and the Dufflepuds just flat-out rocked!

But the film is ill at a deeper level. Beneath the visual appeal and the fun action, Hollywood killed something at the soul of Lewis' story. Hollywood murdered Reepicheep.

No Clue
Here's what I mean. Modern movie-making understands swordfighting, CGI magic effects, and saving the world through heroic acts of individual triumph. Hollywood does these things well. But it doesn't understand - genuinely, it has no blasted clue - how honor, nobility, authority, and selfless sacrifice work. Thus it has no way of understanding what CS Lewis was actually depicting in his novel. This cluelessness is evident everywhere in the film, but perhaps nowhere more clearly than in the interactions between the honorable mouse-knight Reepicheep and the monstrously irritating Eustace Clarence Scrubb.

Comparing one scene in the film with that of the novel makes this clear. At one point in the movie the selfish Eustace -- a snotty, self-centered brat who is swept into Narnia against his wishes -- steals food from the ship's galley. He's caught in the act by Reepicheep, who makes a casual reference to theft of rations being a capital offense at sea and then challenges Eustace to a duel. But not to worry: none of this is serious in the film. Hollywood's Reepicheep does not have capital punishment in mind, nor is he concerned with honor, or the difference between right and wrong. Rather, Hollywood Reepicheep simply wants to help Eustace learn to swordfight, so that he can eventually become a hero. The "duel" turns out to be nothing of the sort. Instead, it's a one-on-one lesson in swordplay (how this relates back to the stealing of rations is left unexplained).

Compare this scene with the same one in Lewis' book, which begins not with Eustace stealing food but rather with him grabbing Reepicheep's tail and swinging him around just to be mean. Despite being swept off his paws in this most undignified manner, the knight-mouse deftly draws his sword in mid air and manages to deliver two piercing stabs to Eustace's hand in quick succession causing (gasp!) real, actual injuries. Of course this forces the brat to drop the mouse, who then immediately challenges him to a duel to the death. Significantly, Eustace is flabbergasted at this demand and runs away, with the mouse in hot pursuit. When Eustace finally refuses to fight, it is (again significantly) Reepicheep's turn to be stunned. He's shocked that anyone would lack so much honor as to refuse a duel after issuing an insult. So to teach Eustace a lesson about honor, Reepicheep (in front of everyone else on board) turns the flat of his blade on Eustace and beats several welts into his skin, using his sword like a switch. Now Eustace, Lewis is careful to note, has never been spanked by anyone before, either parent or teacher, and in fact has been taught that such things are barbaric, so this is a new experience for him. All the others on board, however, approve of the beating and Eustace is forced to mumble apologies as the scene ends.

Two Completely Different Lessons
Do you see the depth of the difference? It's not just that the scene played out a little differently on screen than it did on page - that happens when books are turned into films and it's no big deal. The difference is one of honor, of authority, of principle. Of worldview. You see, Lewis is showing how Eustace has been transported into a world that operates by a completely different set of rules than those of his world (20th century England). In fact, I said earlier that Hollywood murdered Reepicheep but they actually murdered Eustace as well, because depicting 20th century England is exactly Lewis' purpose for Eustace in this story. Eustace is the ultimate Enlightenment-besotted 20th century secular rationalist: a smug young boy who arrogantly thinks we've outgrown all old superstitions. Consequently he builds his whole life simply on "scientific fact" and is thus "too smart" to believe in old magic tales (in other words, religion). In Lewis' book Eustace reflects the spirit of his (our) day, believing that chivalry is an insult to women, that pacifism is always an enlightened position, and that the Medieval belief in honor and codes of conduct is all hogwash. By bringing Eustace to Narnia, Lewis shows him (and through him, us) just how wrong he is, and how foolish all his "enlightened" modern sensibilities are.

The Transformation Of Eustace
The transformation of Eustace - depicted most clearly in the dragon episode - is one of the main lesson of the book. Eustace goes from a smug secular rationalist to a humble, honor-driven follower of Aslan the True King. And he only accomplishes this with Aslan's help (and a small assist from the flat of Reepicheep's blade). This is totally different than the transformation Eustace experiences in the film. There Eustace becomes "a great warrior" under Reepicheep's tutelage. And the lessons the mouse taught him don't consist of just swordplay, but rather of long-winded babbling about how Eustace is actually "an extraordinary person" deep down inside (despite a total lack of evidence). These drivelings sound like pages right out of a contemporary self-help book, or daytime psycho-therapeutic TV program.

Which of course, they are.

And that's how Hollywood murdered Reepicheep, and Eustace as well. In the film Eustace is a deprived little boy who just doesn't believe enough in himself, while in the book he's an empty modern secularist who, without realizing it, has denied everything that makes life worth living. In the film Reepicheep is a psychologist-tutor who helps Eustace discover all the "amazing potential" locked inside him, but in the book Reepicheep embodies everything modern man has scoffed at: the devoted follower of Aslan who is committed to principle and honor at all costs.

And perhaps most importantly, in the film salvation for Eustace comes through self-actualization under the guidance of a therapist, whereas in the book salvation for Eustace comes from realizing that he is wrong and Reepicheep is right; a lesson that began with the flat of Reepicheep's blade smacking his flesh and only ended when the razor tips of Aslans' own claws ripped into his very heart.



The same fundamental missing of Lewis' point is evident throughout the film at almost every turn. As the credits of the movie roll and I listen to the film's theme song waft through our family room ("We can be the kings and queens of anything if we believe, it's written in the stars above...") I realize that Eustace learned far more from Reepicheep than Hollywood managed to.

Book Review - Love Wins by Rob Bell

A 3-part video blog reviewing this much-discussed book.

PART 1 is a super quick overview of the key points in Love Wins for those who haven't read it

PART 2 is small sampling of how Bell handles Scripture

PART 3 is the lesson I think the evangelical church can take away from this book and its popularity.

I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments section!
------------------------------------------------------------
PART 1 - A quick introduction




PART 2 - A small sample of Scriptural problems



LINK to an excellent - and more thorough - survey of the main Biblical and doctrinal issues with Love Wins

PART 3 - The lesson for us

Video Blog - On Questions, Answers, and Emergents

My first-ever video blog!



LINK 1 - Rob Bell's Promotional Video for his new book Love Wins



LINK 2 - to the article Reinventing The Flat Tire


LINK 3 - A brilliant parody of Bell's promotional video:

The Control Room Blew Up

Have you ever felt totally incapable of making something happen? Like you're stuck in some small pit, penned in a closet-like space by circumstances beyond your control. Sure, you can still do things. But the things you do really don't seem like they'll ever result in you breaking out of the pit. Your efforts feel like they amount to running in circles around the bottom of your little pit. No real hope of anything useful -- like, oh you know, actually getting out -- but at least it beats sitting on the floor doing nothing. I guess.

I've had three such experiences this week. That's big. Especially for a control freak like me. And yes, I am a control freak. A classic, bona-fide, getter-done achiever type. If there were a 12-step program to cure people from control freakishness I'd be a fantastic candidate for attending. Except that I'd ruin the process by trying to take control of it. I can just see it now: as soon as I stood in front of my circle of fellow high-strung neurotics and said "My name is Matt Guerino and I'm a control freak", I'd immediately turn around and begin researching everything about how to stop being a control freak, so that I could grab this control-freak thing by the horns and whip it into shape.

Yeeeeah. Feel free to re-read that last sentence and savor the irony.

This is what made my three "impossible pit" scenes last week so hard. First up: last weekend was Sanctity of Human Life weekend. And truthfully, I had no plan for Sunday's services. I knew it was coming back in November, but the Christmas holidays were so packed with things at the church that I had zero time to think about this significant weekend. Zilch. Nada. And by the way, whomever picked January for such an annual emphasis sure didn't consult with me. You can talk about the anniversary date of Roe v. Wade all you want, but coming on the heels of Christmas makes for a brutal time for pastors to get anything planned! Remember, I like my control here people.

But the weekend approached, and as it did so did the conviction in my mind and heart that we needed to focus on abortion. I prayed. The conviction grew stronger. I had no plan. The conviction grew stronger. I had no time to pull a big shin-dig together - to control what the weekend was going to look like. How do you broach so emotional a topic with the right balance of grace and truth, especially if you don't have 3 months of planning (control) behind it? And I told God all this. Really, I did. But he didn't listen. The conviction grew stronger. Then all in a flash (well, over a couple hours anyway) I came across several things that made the weekend message quickly fall into place, including my friend Diane's testimony which I hadn't read in several years. The service was done, the message was given, and I believe grace and truth carried the day. Without my control. Hmmmmm...

Next up: a friend with a large family and modest income got hit with a big surgery bill, and a mere 4 days later was also told by his tax preparer that instead of getting a couple thousand dollars back from Uncle Sam, he owed a couple thousand. Over $5,000 in new debt slammed him almost at once. I felt horrible. We talked. We brainstormed. We sought control! None could be found. So, trapped in that familiar pit I simply prayed. I actually asked God to drop $5,000 out of the sky in one form or other, because I didn't see how anything would change otherwise.

The next day he discovered an error the tax preparer had made, and it turns out that a small refund is coming as he'd originally thought. That was a $3,100 swing, just like that. There's another possible mistake which could result in a larger refund, and some hope on the medical bill front also came through unexpectedly that day. Wham. Without my control. Hmmmm...

Finally, Amy's had a rough week. She was fighting a flu which inflamed her chronic pain and also resulted in a bizarre new back muscle pain problem, all of which finally culminated in a searing headache. She hadn't slept well, and I was powerless to fix any of this. Stuck at the bottom of a very familiar pit. I can tell you, it stinks. On second thought, I really can't tell you how badly that stinks.

I put Tommy to bed that night and we prayed that God would give mommy a good night's sleep - just that - although I figured that was virtually certain not to happen. She slept for almost 8 hours straight and over the next couple days made remarkable progress on all fronts. All without my control. Hmmmm...

What is the point? He is the breakthrough. Not me. The common factors in each situation were that I had zero ability to make anything happen (though I had a role to play). I prayed - as did others - and things happened.

By the way, there's a wrong lesson that can be drawn from this. The point is NOT that God will do what I want if I just ask him. If you read this and think I'm saying "just ask God to take your problems away and he will," then I'm not communicating. That's not it at all. He might, he might not. He is God. He does what he does, not what I want him to.

No, the right lesson is this: God is the one who both determines a path and enables progress along it. Not me.

I sit here writing this at 5am. I've been up since 3:15. Couldn't sleep. Like a lot of pastors, I suspect, I awoke in the middle of the night with concern for my church and the spiritual growth of its people flooding my mind. Couldn't get back to sleep. I'm encouraged by the example of the Apostle Paul (another control freak, by the way) who said that concern for the churches he planted was one of his heaviest burdens. So it goes, I suppose, in this church leadership thing.

So I prayed for a while, realizing that I'm doing everything I can and should be doing that I'm aware of, but that in the end I cannot make people grow in faith. That is not my role, it is God's. He is the breakthrough.

Maybe this energetic go-getter needs to learn that so that I don't contend for his glory, even unintentionally. Maybe the worst possible scenario for a church isn't that it goes nowhere, but that it goes somewhere in our eyes and people get the credit for that instead of God. He is the one who makes life change happen, and he gets the credit (glory) for it. It's his church after all.

Only a control freak would want it otherwise.

What to Give, What to Give...

Deciding what to give someone else isn't just a challenge at Christmas time or on birthdays. For the Christian, deciding what to give to the Lord's work is an ongoing challenge. As a pastor I've had numerous people inquire over the years into what the Bible actually teaches about our giving. "But wait," we might say, "that's not a difficult decision at all. God specified in the Bible exactly what we're supposed to give: 10% of our gross income." That's true, the Bible did say that. However, it's not quite that simple.

Different Day, Different Law
The Bible taught God's people to give 10% of their gross income to the Lord in Leviticus 27:30-32. Notice, that's Leviticus: the law for God's people under the Old Covenant. But we're under the New Covenant now. Leviticus is the same book that also taught God's people to avoid eating pork and to bring an animal to the priest and have it killed for their sin. But we don't do those things anymore. I'm quite the fan of good, thick-cut bacon, and in almost a dozen years of full time pastoring I have (thankfully!!) never seen anyone bring a goat to church on a Sunday morning so I could slaughter it for them.

You see, part of the reason people have asked me over the years what the Bible teaches about giving is that they hear "you should give 10%; it's in the Bible," regularly, but they sense that something is amiss because that's Old Testament Law. And they're right. Sometimes I think evangelical teachers & preachers might be guilty of cherry-picking the pieces of the Law of Moses which suit our purposes, and leaving aside the rest.

Now, the question of how to correctly and consistently apply the Law of Moses to Christians today may need another post by itself (perhaps some thoughts on that should be the next post?). But for now, the important thing to note is that the strict 10% giving law is one we're no longer under. 2 Corinthians 9:7 says that we should give "not under compulsion", so it's clear that being forced to give a certain amount is not the Biblical ideal. That doesn't mean the 10% standard is meaningless (more below), but it does mean it's not our rote obligation.

The Good and Bad with Law
And that's a good thing. In fact we usually like the idea of a law going away; of personal freedom, and of making our own choice. But let's be honest, a strict law in the Bible does have some advantages. For one thing, I know exactly where I stand with God! Did I give 10%? Then I'm good with God. Clearly defined lines provide a ready answer to the question 'am I giving enough?', and as such they provide a sense of security.

But there's a downside too: clearly defined lines also provide a limit on personal growth. After all, if I knew that God required me to, say, read my Bible three times per week, would I have incentive to read it more than that? Likewise, if I'm supposed to give exactly 10% and I do so, the result is that an "I've done my part" mentality sets in, and this actually de-motivates me from further growth.

New Testament Giving
So then, we're back to the question: how much does God want me to give?

Rather than specifying a specific amount of money to give, the New Testament provides 4 principles which every Christian should use to evaluate - and plan - their giving. All 4 principles can be found in 2 Corinthians 8 & 9, as well as throughout the New Testament. My suggestion is to give your giving plan some concerted thought at least once per year, and let these principles shape your giving plan.

Principle #1 - Generosity
2 Corinthians 8:3-7 tells us to excel in the grace of giving, up to and even pushing the limits of our means. Clearly, we're to give generously. But how much is "generous"? God leaves that to each individual to determine. But that's not as undefined as it might sound at first. After all, we know generosity when we see it, don't we? We also know its opposite - stinginess - when we see it too. When a man who earns $200,000 per year gives $100 to a local charity, we don't call that generous. Nice maybe, but not generous. He can afford it. But when a family of 6 living on $25,000 per year scrimps and saves so they can give the same $100, we rightly say 'wow, that's generous!' In the same way, as you look at your income, your spending, and your giving, would an honest, third-party observer look at what you give and call it "generous"?

Principle #2 - Cheerfulness
2 Corinthians 9:7 tells us that whatever amount we give, the giving is to be done "cheerfully". This isn't really about how much I give, but rather about how I feel about the act of giving. Does my money leave my hand reluctantly? Does my heart sigh when I write that check to my church because I think of all the things I could do with that money for myself? Does giving feel like a burden? Or is it a joy? God cares very much about where our hearts are at in the giving process. In 2 Corinthians 8:3-4 Paul lauds the Macedonian churches because they literally begged to give. It was not a burden, but a joy! That's what God wants from us.

Principle #3 - The Precedent
I mentioned above that the Old testament 10% tithing law still has some relevance for today: it serves as a precedent. God no longer stipulates a specific amount that his followers must give, but when he did he specified 10%. So based on that precedent, if I give less than 10% now, it is not likely that my giving would be considered by God as being "generous".

I've heard the 10% giving standard referred to as God's "training wheels" for giving. I think that's a good metaphor. With a bicycle, the point of taking the training wheels off is not so that you will ride you bike even slower, but that you would really take off and go much farther and faster than the training wheels allow you to. So it is with giving. God once stipulated 10%, and now he takes that mandate off of us and says "give cheerfully and generously!" with the goal being that we would delight in doing much more than that.

Principle #4 - Reward
Some Christians are uncomfortable with the Biblical doctrine of eternal rewards, but we shouldn't be. 2 Corinthians 9:6 makes the point clearly and forcefully: if you give a lot now, you'll enjoy a bigger reward for all eternity. Why does God tell us this? To motivate us to fund his kingdom now. It's difficult to get excited about giving more when it feels like a loss. But it's far easier to get excited about it when we realize that the more we give, the more we gain in eternity. Biblical giving isn't a net loss, it's a net gain.

But this requires having an eternal perspective; that is, living this life in light of the next. When I sit down to plan my giving, am I thinking only about this year, this month, or this week? Am I 100% focused on the needs and expenses I have right now, and how much I can afford to let go of today? Or is part of my thought process focused on eternity, and how much of God's kingdom I want to have made happen when I stand before God? Remembering that today's sacrifices = much bigger reward later is a powerful motivator to give.

Give Like Eternity Depends On It
These 4 principles...

...Generosity
...Cheerfulness
...Precedent
...Reward

shape the Christian understanding of giving. When we fully embrace what Christ has done for us, and when we become captivated by his future plan for a redeemed life on the New Earth full of God's goodness and glory, giving takes on a whole new meaning. The reasons we give change, and consequently the amounts we give do as well. As we fund the expansion of God's kingdom rather than of our own little kingdoms, more and more people come to understand who Christ is and experience his forgiveness. But if God's people become too fixated on life here and now, others may miss out on the gospel of Christ.

God wants us to give like eternity depends on it. Because it does!

A little girl becomes a young woman

Tomorrow my amazing daughter turns 13. Thirteen!

Elizabeth, I can't believe that many years have gone by since I held you in one arm, tightly wrapped is a blanket just minutes after your birth. They say that a newborn infant's eyes can't completely focus right away, but I find that difficult to believe. As I stared into your pink face and deep brown eyes I was pierced to my soul by how intently your eyes gazed back. You weren't just dazzled by the lights of this new world. Rather, your eyes met mine and you were intent on my face, peering into my eyes with all your might and even trying to life your head to get closer. That moment forever marked me.

And it is a fantastic picture of your character. From your earliest moments you have been energetic, outgoing, and focused on people. You have learned the right meaning of compassion, of determination, of beauty, and of worship. All by 13. And that makes you a remarkable human being.

You have brought a brightness to my heart, like a fresh mountain breeze in the sunshine. Whether we're fishing, hiking, playing Wii games, singing, or even just driving to school in silence, I value every moment I have with you. I'm proud of the dedicated, hard-working, level-headed, compassionate woman you're fast becoming. You just keep doing what you're doing - there's no limit to the ways that God will use you.

I love you more than words can say,

Dad



A tribute to my teenage daughter!

Endowed... By Whom?

President Obama recently slipped up while quoting the Declaration of Independence. Not once, mind you, but twice. Both times he committed the same error, stating that "all men are created equal and endowed with certain inalienable rights..." Notice what's missing? Three simple words: "by their Creator."

Is it merely coincidence that a president who is known for his intelligence and public speaking acumen would commit the same simple error on two separate occasions, merely a month apart? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Either way, this all got me thinking about something that's far more important than Barack Obama, or any other president for that matter. It got me thinking about the importance of those words, "by their Creator." Why were they put in the Declaration of Independence in the first place? And what happens if you take them away? All sorts of bad things happen, unfortunately.

The Declaration of Independence gave moral justification to America's separation from England by basing it in "nature and nature's God." At the time it was written, one didn't have to be a dedicated Christian in order to embrace that document. "Nature's God" could be understood in a number of ways, Christian, Deist, or otherwise. The same is true today: One doesn't have to be an evangelical Christian like I am in order to support the Declaration.

But one does have to acknowledge the same "self-evident truth": that the fundamental equality of all men, which is what ensures our liberty, derives from the Creator. The consequences of failing to acknowledge this, as many people (including our president) seem wont to do these days, are potentially disastrous. I flesh this out a bit in a recent article at the Colson Center, in which I ask Do We Still Hold These Truths?

Polishing Diamonds

Ever notice how cool and exciting things eventually become mundane? You know, something that you were so excited about once is now just a ho-hum part of your everyday life.

I'll never forget how excited I was in the weeks leading up to the purchase of our first house. We'd been married for 5 years, all of which had been spent living in rented apartments. Our daughter was 18 months old, Amy was not working, and I was in graduate school and working a full time job at City Hall for a mediocre salary. So our home-buying hopes were not high. But then the real estate swell started really picking up steam (yes it led to the infamous big crash of 2008, but this was before all that) and we suddenly were able to not only qualify for, but to actually afford to buy a house.

I was so excited about our first little house! Big yard for the kids, no walls shared with noisy neighbors, a piece of ground we could call our own. I was flying high the whole day we moved in, and waking up that first morning in our own house was just cool.

But over time the euphoria, predictably, declined. A year after we moved in, waking up in our own house was just... waking up. I no longer felt pleasure at having my own walls. And while the yard was still nice for the kids to play in, it was also a lot of work to mow each week! Don't get me wrong: we were happy with our house. But the early sense of excitement we'd had had diminished, because the comparison with what we'd had before had been long forgotten.

This happens in our relationship with God as well. One of the reasons we may feel less than enthusiastic about him is that we've forgotten just what we have in Christ. And maybe remembering how great a thing he is, and how great a life and future he's secured for us, is the path to appreciating him more fully rather than taking him for granted.

Sometimes a diamond shines better after it's been scrubbed and polished. And sometimes our appreciation for the beauty of Christ increases when we scrub off layers of accumulated familiarity. That's the subject of an article I wrote, which was inspired by a trip Amy and I took to Astoria a few years ago. You can read it at the Colson Center: Appreciating Magnificence

It Isn't Ours To Change

I've been thinking a lot lately about truth. Biblical truth to be exact, in this truth-allergic age.

I just finished another edition of the comparative worldviews course I teach at George Fox University, and this group of adult students was interesting. They were a very bright and active group and they had a wide variety of beliefs. And just like a lot of people these days, this group really struggled with the idea of truth. I mean, really struggled. Many of them just couldn't get their heads around the idea that any one way of looking at the world might be more accurate than the other ways. In other words, these intelligent and hard working people just couldn't understand how one view of life - any view - could be true.

But many Christians seem to be in the same boat. Truth just doesn't compute these days, and maybe that's what so many evangelical Christians are responding to. There seems to be this all out rush to redefine Christianity; to get our truth-allergic world to see Christianity as not "truthy." We're pouring forth a nearly endless stream of books, blogs, and videos proclaiming "Hey! Check us out! Jesus is allergic to truth as well!"

Increasingly, Christians are down on the church, down on doctrine, and down on religion (even though that's what following Jesus is, contrary to popular opinion). These days we love questions, but we hate answers. We celebrate ignorance (mistaking it for humility), and despise knowledge. We're up on the journey, but down on the destination. In fact, it is now so popular to bash religion within Christian circles that one of the quickest ways to become influential with today's Christian generation is to write criticisms of theology, church, and Christianity itself.

What is this all about? Christians working hard to define themselves as not Christian? This isn't crazy, we're assured. In fact we're told that Jesus himself was down on truth and religion. We have drunk deeply at the well of this idea. for example, I recently saw a Christian describe their faith by saying "I rejected Christianity in order to follow Jesus."

Huh? Respectfully friends, I think we're confused.

It's one thing to critique how we run our churches, do our theology, and practice our religion. There is much to critique, as I've written here and here for example. To a point this is healthy - even necessary. But often I think we're identifying the wrong problem. Whatever the church's faults, being the church and standing for revealed truth are not among them. We're constantly taught the value of truth (Proverbs 23:23), of sound doctrine (Titus 2:1), and of the word of God (Matthew 5:17-18). And we're taught that Jesus is the Lord and head of the church (Ephesians 4:15-16), so apparently whatever its faults, it means something to him.

And that's what I'm really driving at, and what I think so many Christians these days are missing. To follow Jesus means to follow him his way. To be a part of his kingdom means he is the king. He makes the rules, calls the shots, and determines what matters. Being his follower means learning to accept this from him whether we like it or not. Actually, it means more than that: it means learning to like it too.

Our efforts to redefine Jesus as non-truthy and following him as non-religious are not only misguided, they are also overstepping our bounds. We're not free to change Christianity. It is the Way of Jesus. It is living life by his rules, traveling the road he marked out, for his glory. If we abandon this road, we have abandoned him.

We can't change Christianity. It isn't ours to change.

Why We Read

Are You Listening To Me?
Ever had the experience of talking with someone who isn't really listening to you? You know, they hear your words just long enough to form their own thought or their own idea, and at that point they disengage from what you're saying and just wait for a chance to jump in and talk about their thing. And of course you know they weren't really listening to you. They weren't interested in trying to follow your train of thought, or connect with your heart or your mind. They're only interested in making public the private goings-on of their own little mental space.

Amy and I talked about this just the other day, and we've had similar conversations with a Filipino friend named Lidj who writes a reflective, heartfelt blog called Crown of Beauty. There are those who listen just long enough to look for an opportunity to make their own point, or to get a quick shot of inspiration themselves. They hear only in order to speak, not in order to listen. On the other hand there are those who listen in order to connect with the heart of the speaker. They invest themselves in following another's flow of thought, and seek to get out of their own shoes as best they can to walk in the speaker's shoes. I have learned the value of this from people like my bride and our friend Lidj.

You know, I find it telling that ours is a world full of lonely people. And at the same time it is also a world full of people who are not great listeners. Coincidence? I think not.

Blowing Out Mental Cobwebs
C.S. Lewis applied the same thinking to what - and how - we read. He once wrote that we should all make sure that we read some old books; books that were written in a totally different time period than our own. The benefit is that these books can help us not get stuck in the thinking of our own time. Old books, Lewis wrote, are like "the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds." Reading books from people who lived long before us, and who saw the world differently, gives us perspective and stretches our understanding. In this way, old books help us grow as people and allow us to see things we wouldn't have seen if our thinking was limited only to the vantage point of our own times.

What Lewis was getting at is a problem common to all people: we're comfortable with what we already know. Because of this we're often not terribly interested in entertaining new thoughts or new ideas. After all, being stretched or challenged takes energy, work, and the willingness to tolerate a bit of discomfort. Left to ourselves, we sometimes feel very little incentive to want to change.

What Did He Say?
I find it telling that ours is a world full of people who increasingly know no perspective but their own. And at the same time it is also a world full of people who do not read for an author's meaning. Coincidence? I think not.

When we read, we tend to read for what we want to get out of it. Does it inspire me? Intrigue me? Entertain me? If so, I call it good writing. If not, I don't. In either case the author's intent has not registered as something of significance. We're focused on what we received, not necessarily on what the writer was saying. After all, if it doesn't inspire or benefit me in some immediate way, why should I care what an author wants to say?

Understand First, React Second
When I teach Christian Worldview to adult undergraduate students, I tell them that if they want a good grade from me they have to do two things on every assignment in the following order: first, understand what the author/speaker is saying. Comprehend his flow of thought well enough that you can give it back to me in your own words accurately. Then, and only then, may you move on to the next step, which is to evaluate what he is saying and agree or disagree.

Why do I make such a point of this? Because it doesn't come naturally to us. We tend to quickly get wind of where an author or speaker is going, and we immediately begin making judgments about it before we've even heard him out. We know what we're comfortable with and we have little interest in being stretched beyond it. So we prejudge what others say before they've even finished saying it, which is a defense mechanism of sorts in that it gives us permission to stay comfortable, and to prevent new thoughts from challenging us.

The challenge for the students is a difficult one. I issue this challenge in part to get non-Christian students to at least understand Christianity on its own terms, not just some popular misconception of it. But you know what? The Christian students in my classes are just as bad at this as everyone else. Throughout the course we look at some non-Christian worldviews too and I tell them the same thing: learn it first, fairly and accurately. Then you may respond. But this is hard for many of them to do. The moment they get wind that an idea came from somewhere other than the Bible, their brains shut down and all the emotional defenses go up.

The students who do take me up on the challenge all end up saying the same thing, whether they're Christians or not. They tell me the class was informative, challenging, and they'd never thought about their beliefs in this way before. Many of them go so far as to say they weren't even aware that they could think about their beliefs this way. Because they accepted my challenge to understand first, they leave the class with a whole new set of tools to process what they believe and why. They're better people for having been stretched. For having listened.

Sacred Stretching
And all of this affects our relationship with God. Too often, I think, Christians approach the Bible or the Sunday morning sermon with exactly the same mentality. How often do we open the Bible looking for good advice, looking for a nugget of truth to carry us through our day, or looking for feelings of inspiration, pure and simple? We come to the Bible with our questions, with our felt needs. We come with our agenda. And we may not be listening.

But what of God? What is his agenda? What's he trying to say? What did a Biblical author have in mind when he was writing the text we're looking at? What was his point, what was he trying to get across? Do such questions even occur to us?

God has given us his word to increase our understanding. He does not merely offer us comfort, inspiration, and warm feelings (though these things are sometimes part of the package). Rather, the Ancient of Days beckons us to his throne so that he can teach us, stretch us, and make us new creatures. He does not intend to increase our comfort with who we are. He intends to unmake who we are, so he can remake us in the image of his Son.

The Old Book
So I think CS Lewis was right: we should read old books to expand our perspective and broaden our horizons. But as Lewis himself pointed out, this only works if we read for the author's meaning; if we view the reading of a book the same way we would view a tour through a museum, in which we go to learn and a docent instructs us in things we did not know. Authors of good old books are docents of knowledge. Let them teach you.

And perhaps we should read The Old Book with the same idea in mind. Perhaps we should avoid approaching the Bible firmly ensconced in our existing, limited point of view, determined to find something that fits who we already are. Rather, let us come to the Scripture as the storehouse of the knowledge of the Holy One, and let his Holy Spirit be the Docent of Things High and Lofty.

These things may indeed be too high for us now. But if we let him have his way we'll find that he will re-make us so thoroughly that we will be able to bear them. If only we'll open ourselves up to the adventure.

Learning to listen - to read for understanding of the author rather than just for affirmation of what I already know - is a priceless skill. When this discipline takes root in us it actually changes our character. It makes us good listeners, good friends, good people. And most important of all, it makes us good followers of Jesus Christ.

As Jesus himself said, "he who has ears, let him hear."