Loving Racket

Everyone knows life never fully measures up to what we want it to be. And we all have ways of responding to it when it doesn't. Noise may be one of them.

Here's what I mean: ever feel like you can't turn off the TV, radio, or other media even when you're not actually listening/watching? I noticed this years ago when I had to commute to work in the car. Even on days when I wasn't really paying much attention to the radio, or when I wasn't really that interested in what was being said or played, I had to have it on. It was like turning it off made me uncomfortable - I couldn't handle the silence.

Why, I wondered? Maybe because I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts. Perhaps if I was alone with them they would wander to the chronic pain in my home, or the goals Amy and I (mostly I) had set that didn't get achieved in our time frame. Maybe the constant background noise was a way of crowding out serious reflection and thinking.

Maybe I wanted it that way.

But perhaps that's not the Biblical way of seeing life's disappointments. Maybe there's a healthier, more God-honoring way of responding to them. That's where the following quote from John Wesley, which I found just recently, really struck me. Wesley talks about what it means to really submit to the kingship of Jesus in our lives. He writes:

Whether it be higher or lower, a prosperous or afflicted state: be content that Christ should both choose your work, and choose your condition; that he should have the command of you, and the disposal of you: make me what you will, Lord, and set me where you will…I put myself wholly into your hands: put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will; put me to doing, put me to suffering, let me be employed for you, or laid aside for you, exalted for you, or trodden under foot for you; let me be full, let me be empty, let me have all things, let me have nothing, I freely and heartily resign all to your pleasure and disposal

There it is: a whole different perspective on life's disappointments. Not something to be crowded out by noise, but something to be embraced as the road our Lord has ordained for us. But I cannot think this way, not truly, unless I have embraced the kingship of Jesus deeply.

So I wrote a short devotional Bible study for the Colson Center, based on this quote from Wesley, that draws us in to the Scriptures and what they say about living a Prostrate Life. I hope you find it as meaningful as I have.

The Difference A Biblical Worldview Makes

I've been doing a lot of writing lately, but almost all of it has been at the Colson Center web site rather than here on my own blog. However, my cute wife just chewed me out big time, pointing out that just because I wrote elsewhere doesn't mean I can't link to it - and she's right!

At Harvest Church right now I'm teaching through a series of messages explaining what a Biblical worldview is, and how it affects everyday life. I've also been writing articles on the same subject. In fact I've just finished a series of 8 short articles that describe how to live Biblically in 8 major areas of life:

1. Relationships - Community In A Box

2. Money /Possessions - Materializing The Kingdom

3. Education - Justification For Higher Education

4. Politics & Government - Hollow Power

5. Religion / Spirituality - My Way Or The Higher Way

6. Culture & Entertainment - A Truly Special Effect

7. Environment / Creation Care - Global Caring

8. Science & Technology - Supervised And Personal

Worship Is...

Our church staff recently examined what Jesus meant in John 4:24 when he told us to worship in "spirit and truth." In that passage of Scripture, worshiping "in spirit" was a direct contrast to worshiping at an external location (either the Jewish temple in Jerusalem or the Samaritan holy site on Mt.Gerizim ). Jesus is saying worship involves the soul, the inner being. Worship, we might say, comes from the heart.But he also said to worship "in truth." In context, this is a reference to himself as the Messiah, the fulfillment of God's plan as expressed in the Bible. His words, his revelation of his plan - in short, his truth - are to guide our worship.

“Worshipping God isn’t just singing, it’s much more than that.” Ever hear something like that? I have, many times. And I agree. But of course that raises the question: if that’s what worship isn’t, then what is real worship? What makes an act of genuine worship… well, genuine?

Passages like John 4:24 lead me to the definition of worship that I’ve gone back to over and over again throughout the years: genuine worship of God is the response of our hearts to seeing God clearly. This makes accurate information about God (in other words, good theology) absolutely essential to genuine worship. The mind is fully engaged in the worshipful act, guiding our hearts in response. When we see God clearly for who he is we have something to respond to. The more I know of God, the more deeply, accurately, and authentically I can worship him.

I like this definition because it encompasses the whole person; heart, as well as mind and will. I think this provides at least two important benefits. First, it helps us understand what makes an act – potentially any act – worshipful. Second, it adds depth and helps us avoid shallowness in worship.

Any action can be an act of worship. For example, we recognize it as an act of love when I spend money on something my wife loves on her birthday. It is the same when our love for God and our appreciation for how richly he’s blessed us makes us take pleasure in giving to the church or to those in need. Our heart is responding to him, and out of gratitude and love we spend money on the things that matter to him. That makes generous and cheerful giving an act of worship.

The same idea applies to any area of life. Taking time to study my Bible, serving people or the church, obedience to God’s moral standards, etc., these can (and should!) all be responses to who God is. And when they are, that makes them a form of worship.

This also helps prevent worship from devolving into mere sentimentality. Worship isn’t so much about creating an experience or an emotional moment. It’s about helping worshipers see more and more clearly who God is and what he’s done, and then providing opportunity for people to respond to that from the heart.

So the question becomes, how can I live my ordinary life in a worshipful way? How do I do laundry, raise children, pay bills, go to work... as a response to who God is and what he's called me to do?

How easy do you find it to live all of life as an act of worship? What have you found helpful in doing so?

Community: Now Only $14.95 Per Person!

I’ve been thinking a lot about community lately. And I’m not the only one; community is high on the priority list for most people who attend a church in America today. But while community is important to almost everyone, that’s about where the commonality ends.

It seems there are as many different opinions of what church community should look like as there are people. The church I pastor, like many other churches, is made up of all sorts of different people. We have different church and denominational backgrounds (including many with none at all), different personalities, and different life experiences. This can lead to different ideas about how “community” should function.

With so many different opinions, how do we experience community at church? In fact, what is God’s ideal for church community? Interestingly, the Biblical phrase most frequently used to describes community is “one another.” As in pray for one another, bear one another’s burdens, encourage one another, be kind to one another, exhort one another, teach one another, admonish one another, be patient with one another, and love one another. Two things stand out in my mind as I examine this Biblical list of “one-anothers.”

First, Biblical community is all about, well, one another! Community does not mean a few insiders reaching out to the masses. It isn’t mainly about the few pastors or elders of a church pursuing each member, which would make community a top-down thing; something done to us. Rather, the Bible is describing community as all of us reaching out to all of us. Biblical community is a delightfully organic thing, engaging every person in a thriving dance of giving and receiving. Because community is not a one-way thing, the person who walks in to a church, sits down, and waits for community to happen to them is going to be waiting a long time. And the person who goes from church to church doing this, evaluating each one on how relational the church is will almost assuredly never find what they're looking for.

Which leads me to the second thing: a direct implication of the “one-another” language in the Bible is that community is not something you find. Community is something you help make. Many people bounce from church to church looking for community the way we might hop from store to store in search of just the right plasma TV. But because of its one-another nature, community can’t be boxed and put on a shelf for discovery. Community is not something we find at church; community is something we bring with us to church.

Community happens when I determine to be a one-anothering kind of person, and I seek opportunities to share love, grace, patience, encouragement, and burden-bearing with those around me. It does not require me to have a socially outgoing personality. Rather, it requires me to spend enough time getting to know people that I know what needs they have, and what will encourage them. Then it requires me to take a little risk, by stepping out and meeting that need.

At that moment, you’re touching another person’s life powerfully. You become Jesus to them, you begin a strong relationship, and you make God’s church a little bit more like what he wants it to be.

And that’s way better than anything you can get from a store.

A Dawning Realization, Which I'd Rather Not Admit...

...is that God changes me most, and makes me a far better, more Christ-like person through pain. There, I said it. Yuck. Not a huge fan of pain.

But it's true. There's something about being stretched to a breaking point by stress and difficulty that stretches and expands your character as well - if you let it. I'm coming to see this ever more clearly, through experience. When I come out of really challenging times, depleted and drained, I find myself strangely more empathetic; more sensitized to other people. I tend to sympathize more easily with their pains, and I also tend to appreciate other people who are naturally compassionate more readily. In other words, I'm a bit more compassionate myself for having been stretched.

I got to thinking about all this recently as we worked through a particularly intractable pain issue with Amy. We've learned how to cope with chronic stuff for the most part, which is good because like most guys I do NOT appreciate the feeling of not having full control over my circumstances. I also find that difficulty in my bride's life is much harder for me to handle than in anyone else's life, including my own. She's something of an Achilles' Heel, you might say. So this recent bout really frustrated me.

As always, God provided some answers and the ability for us to act on them. So we're "through it" for the time being. But I was just telling her that now, on the other side of it, I find myself changed. Why is it, I wondered aloud, that God has to use pain to change me? (And why does she get the unlucky task of being the main way for God to get my attention? What a lousy lot... sorry babe.) Most likely, pain is the road to change because under normal circumstances my life is pretty good. I'm generally in control and generally happy with the results. At such times I fall easily into a self-satisfied state, and lose my focus on the big picture. It is then that the worst of my nature can take over, and I can find myself task-oriented and not sufficiently engaged with other people.

That reminded me of a saying that a friend shared with me years ago - I don't know where it originated - and he asked me what I thought of it: "God cannot use someone greatly until he has wounded them deeply." I wasn't sure whether I agreed with it back then, and I'm still not entirely wild about the way it's worded. But I think it may be on to something. If that statement is saying that pain and difficulty can stretch our capacity to care for others, and that we thus become more like Christ when we walk through dark times, then I'm increasingly inclined to agree.

At the very least, I know that for this task- and intellectually-oriented person the times that strain me most are the times that increase my capacity for love the most. First of all for God and the future, unshakable kingdom he's promised us in Hebrews 12:28-29. And because of that, greater compassion and empathy for other people, whom he loves.

Whether I'd like to admit it or not.

Death Undone

Gather 'round, ye children, come
Listen to the old, old story
Of the pow'r of death undone
By an infant born of glory

Lyrics by Andrew Petersen

These song lyrics introduced our church's dramatic telling of the Christmas story this weekend. And in so doing they began to thaw my heart, which I admit was a little cold. To be candid, when it came time to leave home and head out for the first of our Christmas services I didn't really want to go.

I was physically tired, emotionally drained from a long season of ministry, and preparing for a long week of travel ahead. I didn't want to go be a pastor and lead a church service. I didn't even want to talk about Jesus' birth as the culmination of God's vast redemptive plan - a subject you normally can't get me to shut up about. I just wanted to stay home.

So when I arrived, I was pretty out of it emotionally. But one thing that has really struck me these past couple months as our church has studied God's redemptive plan, is how God is undoing death. Maybe it's the suffering that people close to me are experiencing, or maybe it's just my inner longing to go home - real home - I'm not sure. But the songs and scripture passages that have meant the most to me lately are those that speak of brokenness mended, sickness healed, and death killed.

"Listen to the old, old story, of the power of death undone, by an infant born of glory..." As I listened to those words reverberate with music throughout the church, it hit me that this was the point of Christmas: the undoing of death in all its forms. As our arts teams moved through the story of creation, fall, and redemption, culminating in the birth of the one who would kill death and reverse the Curse, I felt selfishness steadily draining from my body. God, what have I to be frustrated about? Whatever ails me, whatever is causing pain and fatigue of life, you are the answer to it.

My fatigue, fed by focusing on my immediate circumstances rather than God's big plan, was dominating my perspective. Could I see beyond my mundane circumstances? Could I see the same ol', same ol' stuff of life as part of God's much larger plan?

That perspective shift set me up perfectly to do my part in the services. I wrapped up the dramatic presentation by talking about Simeon in Luke 2:22-33. Here was a guy who saw beyond the mundane, the everyday. No one noticed when Mary & Joseph brought Jesus to the temple to be dedicated to God because that was such a normal thing for parents to do back then - happened every day. But Simeon had the eyes to see something much greater going on in this particular case, with this particular kid. He knew this was no ordinary boy. This was God's answer to everything that's wrong with the world. Simeon saw Jesus' birth as the death-knell of death itself, and he responded accordingly: with worship. How else could one respond?

Cancer, chronic pain, old age and "natural death" (why is it we call something so unnatural, natural?), saying goodbye to loved ones, exploitation, starvation, oppression... I or people I care about have been affected by them all just this month. These things wear the world out. They wear me out.

But they have lost. Jesus is here. Death is undone. And that means everything to me.

Merry Christmas.

The Elusive Search for a Christ-Filled Christmas

We're now well into the relentless run-up to Christmas, which seems to creep back a bit more every year. The impenetrable wall of Thanksgiving used to shield the months of October and November from overt Christmas season displays. But now even Turkey Day seems to be getting overwhelmed by the the steady onslaught of wreaths, bells, and little incandescent lights, which are now appearing earlier and earlier.

It's probably not news to anyone that this relentless holiday advance is driven largely by retailers. And it's usually at this point that Christians - especially pastors like me - begin to decry the consumerism of Christmas, lambasting a materialistic culture for defacing so holy a day with commercialized vandalism.

But I'm not going to.

Not that materialism isn't a problem at Christmas - it certainly is. But there are at least 2 reasons why I'm not going to pounce on commercialism as the source of what's wrong with our celebration of Christmas. First, it's obvious. And it's been talked about endlessly. There are already plenty of voices weighing in on how to de-commercialize Christmas, and many of these voices much more articulate than mine (like this one for example).

But the second reason is that I think the Kingdom of God is better served when Christians look in the mirror and do business with their beloved God, rather than looking out the window and wagging our collective fingers at those who don't know any better. If we're interested in putting Christ in the center of Christmas, I think one of the best ways is to look anew at Scripture and enter more fully into the implications of the Christmas story. You can read what I mean in an article that just published at the Chuck Colson Center for Christian Worldview.

The answer may be different than you think.

Simeon, who longed for the coming of the Messiah, holds Jesus while Mary & Joseph look on (Luke 2)