The Face of Defiance

You've never been told the real story of David and Goliath.  All of the sermons you heard growing up about a little shepherd boy pulling off the improbable defeat of mighty Goliath were WAY overblown.  The underdog wasn't the shepherd.  On that day, if you were a spectator looking down into the valley of Elah, your money would be on David.  The reason you've never heard the real story of David and Goliath has nothing to do with the actual event, and everything to do with our perception of power.*

The Philistines had set up their camp along the southern ridge of Elah.  The Israelites were on the northern ridge.  Between them was a vast ravine.  Neither army moved.  To attack meant descending down the hill, and then making the suicidal climb up the enemy's ridge.  Finally, the Philistines had enough.  They sent their greatest warrior to resolve the deadlock one on one.

Goliath was a giant, to say the least.  Close to seven feet tall, and wearing a bronze helmet with full body army.  He carried a javelin, a sword, and a spear just for good measure.  His attendant preceded him, carrying the shield.  The giant faced the Israelites, and shouted up to them, "Choose one man to come down here and fight me!  If he kills me, then we will be your slaves.  But if I kill him, you will be our slaves!"

In the Israelite camp, nobody moved.  Frozen by fear.  Controlled by the power that radiated off this giant.  For forty days this went on.  Every morning Goliath came out and offered up his challenge, and every morning nobody from Israel took him up on the bet.  Then a shepherd boy, about fifteen years old, who had come down from Bethlehem to bring food to his brothers volunteered for the battle.  "Don't worry about this Philistine," David said with the typical confidence of a teenage boy, "I got this."  

"Don't be ridiculous!", King Saul exclaims, "You're a boy who's never fought in your entire life.  This guy has been fighting since before you were born!"  But, the kid was adamant.  He had faced more ferocious beasts than this while protecting his herd of sheep, he argued.  Finally, the king relented.  The shepherd boy raced down the hill to meet the giant in the valley.  And so began one of the most famous battles in history.

However, Goliath had prepared for a warrior to battle him in hand-to-hand combat.  To protect himself from body blows, he had worn an elaborate tunic of armor comprised of hundreds of miniature fishlike scales weighing close to one-hundred pounds.  He had bronze shin guards and bronze plates protecting his legs and feet.  He wore a heavy helmet and carried three separate weapons, all designed for close combat situations.  The force of any one of these weapons, when wielded by the strength and from the height of Goliath, would have pierced any armor worn by an Israelite.

Then David shows up with a sling in one hand, a shepherd staff in the other, and a bag of stones over his shoulder.  No armor.  No defense.  Pure offense.  At that moment, both armies knew who the winner would be.  The question is, why didn't Goliath?  To understand this, you must understand ancient warfare.

Ancient armies had three kinds of warriors: Calvary (armed men on horseback or in chariots), infantry (foot soldiers wearing armor and carrying shields), and projectile warriors (archers and, most importantly, slingers).  Each unit acted to balance the other, like the game rock, paper, scissors.  The long pikes and armor of the infantry defeated the cavalry.  The speed and armor of the calvary defeated the projectile warriors.  And the accuracy of the projectile warriors was deadly against the sluggish infantry.  The Old Testament book of Judges says that an experienced Israelite slinger could be accurate "within a hair's breadth" of their target.  The Romans later developed a special set of tongs designed specifically for removing stones that had been embedded in a soldier's body by a slinger.

Goliath believes he will engage in a classic duel with another heavy-infantryman to decide the standoff.  David, an expert slinger who has killed dozens of wild animals using this weapon, has no intention of honoring the ritual.

Eitan Hirsch, a ballistics expert with the Israeli Defense Forces, did a series of calculations showing that a typical-size stone hurled by an expert slinger at a distance of thirty-five meters would have hit Goliath's head with the stopping power of a modern handgun.  Hirsch says that "David could have slung and hit Goliath in little more than one second- a time so brief that Goliath would not have been able to protect himself, and during which he would have been stationary for all practical purposes."

Goliath watches David approach with scorn.  How dare the Israelites insult him sending a kid to do a man's job!  It would have been better for them to simply surrender than to sacrifice this child!  Furiously, David screams as he descends the hill, "You come to me with sword, spear, and javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of Heaven's armies- the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied.  Today the Lord will conquer you, and I will kill you and cut off your head.  And then I will give the dead bodies of your men to the birds and wild animals, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel!"  (Remember, this is a fifteen-year-old kid saying this!)

Immediately, David reaches into his shoulder bag for a stone, places the stone into his trusty sling, and begins whirling it around over his head at six or seven revolutions per second.  Terror overcomes Goliath as he realizes the truth of his situation.  What could he do?  He was carrying over a hundred pounds of armor, and weapons optimized for close combat.  David was never even in reach of Goliath's weapons!  The battle was effectively over before it started.  David was a slinger, and slingers beat infantry, hands down.

But why has there been so much misunderstanding around this famous battle?  Why have we been taught that this is a story about the impossible odds overcome by the underdog, rather than the truth?  This is a story about identifying power, not overcoming weakness.

From the very beginning, David had the upper-hand.  For forty straight days, Goliath had come out and telegraphed exactly his strategy.  David, with no military field experience but a lot of common sense knew that the best way to defeat infantry was through a projectile.  And, he happened to be a good shot.

Too often, our response to an overwhelming situation (or a "giant", if we want to keep this metaphor going) is to respond in the same way as King Saul and the Israelites.  They saw how hopeless their armor, weapons, and skills were in comparison to Goliath.  They knew there was no way a man could defeat him by fighting on Goliath's terms.  But David saw Goliath for who he truly was: a sluggish and exposed infantryman.  Instead of allowing the giant to expose his own weaknesses, David recognized the power within himself.  When provided proper perspective, the battlefield always changes.

On what battlefield is the giant your facing?  At work?  In your home?  In your relationships?  Is there an addiction, or a sin, that you can't break no matter how many times you've tried?  Is there a hopelessness to your marriage, even though you both desperately want to make it work?  Is there an uncertainty to your future, and it scares you to death?  Or maybe it's that you feel overwhelmed, and you have no idea how you are going to make it through.  Who is the giant?

Now, and more importantly, how will you fight it?  You see, David didn't need a new weapon, better armor or more time to train.  David needed a reminder of who he was, and who Goliath was not.  He needed perspective  Look at David's response to Saul on why he wanted to pick this fight: "The Lord who rescued me from the claws of the lion and the bear will rescue me from this Philistine!"

David trusted in only one thing: that the same God who had been there for him before, would be there with him through the battle.  You see, the story of David and Goliath is not a story of overcoming weakness, it's a story of identifying power; specifically, the power of God.

God didn't perform a miracle through David that day, he didn't alter his situation, or step in to fight the battle for him.  David fought the battle with a renewed perspective: the same God who had been there before will be there again, no matter how big the giant may be.

So, the next time you face your own giant, remember who has the real power.  Identify Him.  Utilize Him.  Know who you are because of Him.  It might just change the whole battle.

Be Honest.  Be Open.

This is the Christian Safe Zone.


*The majority of the research for this post is credited to Malcolm Gladwell's incredible book, David and Goliath.  In it, Gladwell tells dozens of stories that all illustrate one key point: power is never what it seems.  If you haven't already done so, I highly recommend reading it.  You can find it by CLICKING HERE.

Love Trumps

Houston, Florida, Mexico, and now Peurto Rico.  Every day I wake up and there seems to be another natural disaster.  Another loss of life.  Another city destroyed.

Charlottesville, the NFL, and now Las Vegas.  Every day I wake up and there seems to be one more event that is causing profound disagreement.  Another story breaking that will also cause a break in a relationship, and possibly even a city.  Another signal clarifying how disunified we are from our neighbors.

I don't want to waste this post stating my opinions or beliefs on these issues.  I don't want to try and extrapolate some truths from these events; that will only further the distance between two sides, and trivialize the monumental impact these cities are currently trying to recover from.  Instead, I want to offer an alternative.  A different destination for our minds to wander and for our conversations to venture.

There is a word I learned my sophomore year of college from the greatest teacher I ever had, Doc Reece.  The word was rarely used in the Greek language, mostly because of its specificity.  However, the Gospel writers (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John), made the word infamous.

AGAPE

It means to "will the good" of someone.  Literally, it means to love someone with such genuineness and selflessness that your ultimate desire is to see them become better than what they currently are.  That could mean "willing the good" for them financially until they are able to make ends meet.  it could mean "willing the good" as their dreamer and advocate when they are depressed.  It could even mean "willing the good" for an enemy who has done nothing to warrant your favor or affection.  "Agape" has nothing to do with how they feel towards you, or how they treat you.  The burden of proof for this altruistic kind of love is placed squarely on the one giving it.

So, what does this kind of love mean for Houston, Florida, Mexico, and Puerto Rico?  What does "agape" have to do with Charlottesville, the NFL, and Las Vegas? How does your mindset change when "agape" is the destination?

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For thousands of years, it was believed (and still believed in some cultures) that bad things only happen to bad people, and good things only happen to good people.  If a bad thing happened to you, then you must figure out what bad thing you did and correct it.  But, a good person would never help a bad person.  They believed if you brought the "storm" on yourself, then you should deal with it.   However, this entire concept changed because of one unknown attorney.

The attorney sits and listens to the greatest preacher he has ever heard.  His friends had told him about this young zealot: how his stories left you spellbound and his teachings left you striving for greatness.  However, as an attorney, he had learned to question everything, to look for the loophole.  Maybe it was out of a desire to try and stump this great teacher, maybe it was sheer curiosity, or maybe it was something more, but whatever the case may be, he found himself at the next event with this teacher.

The young preacher didn't disappoint.  He retold some of the same stories and truths that had garnered him such notoriety.  But, seemingly inspired by something greater, began to challenge the very foundation of the religion he represented.  He stated you must not only, "Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, soul, mind, and strength", a teaching well-known to any Jewish man, woman or child, but that you must also "Love your neighbor as yourself."  To do this was to fully live out God's plan for your life.

The audience is silent, almost indignant, but the young attorney is mesmerized.  Who is this man that turns the very words of God on its head, and redefines what God "wants?"  As a man accustomed to questioning everything, this left him in a very vulnerable position.  He had questions, and the only person who had the answers was this teacher.  So, at the next possible occasion, the young attorney once again found himself in the audience.  And once again, the young preacher proceeds to unleash his revolutionary teaching.

As was common in Jewish culture, while the Rabbi taught, the audience sat.  Jesus stood, and once again proclaimed his message of hope and love.  And as was common, at the end of his teaching, Jesus opened himself up for questioning.  Anticipating this, the attorney stood up in the crowd, and recited the question he had been practicing for weeks:

"Teacher, what must I do to receive eternal life?  Jesus replied, 'What does the law of Moses say?  How do you read it?"  Thrilled that his line of questioning was working according to plan, the attorney responds, "You must love the Lord your God with all of your heart, soul, mind, and strength", and with the faintest smile continues, "and, you must love your neighbor as yourself."  Thrilled that someone had answered completely, Jesus grins: "Right!  Do this and you will live!"

But just as Jesus was about to walk off, the attorney stops him.  Now it was time for the real question; what had been bothering him ever since he first heard Jesus preach.  "And who is my neighbor?"

Nobody knew at this point that the most famous story of all time was about to be told.  Nobody knew the phrase Jesus was about to coin would be turned into an idiom, monikered across hospitals, imprinted upon companies, and used as a universal statement of kindness and love.  You know the story, even if you've never stepped foot inside a church.

Jesus told of a man who was traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho, a notoriously dangerous path when he was attacked by robbers and left for dead.  A priest walks by and sees the naked and bloodied man.  "He must have done this to himself", he thinks and continues walking.  Next, an elder in his church (a Levite) walks by and sees the naked and bloodied man.  "He must have done this to himself", he thinks and continues walking.  Finally, a Samaritan walks by...

The hatred between a Jew and a Samaritan was not only common, it was socially and culturally acceptable. It was institutionalized racism.  For a Jew to even speak to a Samaritan would ostracize them from their community and their friends.  If a "good" Samaritan saw a naked and bloodied Jew along the road, he would ask, "Should I bother touching this man so that I can kill him?"

But, the Samaritan stops when he sees the naked and bloodied Jew.  He bandaged his wounds, put his own coat on his back, sat him on his own donkey, and took him to the closest inn.  He paid the innkeeper two days worth of pay to take care of the man and then promised to come back and reimburse the innkeeper for any additional expenses that might be incurred!

Jesus twists the knife of guilt further and further into the only other person standing...the attorney.
The audience stares: silent, indignant, mesmerized.  Jesus pauses before asking one of the most history-defining questions of all time:

"Which of these three was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?"

Mesmerized, indignant, and nearly silent, the young attorney cannot even bring himself to say the word of the one who "willed the good" of his Jewish neighbor.  He mutters, "The one who showed him mercy."

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There is a kind of love that looks beyond race, beyond politics, and beyond mistake.  That kind of love only looks to "will the good" out of the one in which they have differences.

There is a kind of love that looks beyond their finances, time constraints, or physical distance.  That kind of love only looks to "will the good" by bandaging the wounds and providing payment for the one who cannot do it themselves.

There is a kind of love that not only told the story of the good Samaritan but became the good Samaritan for you and me.  He bandaged our wounds and healed our sins.  He took the robe of a king off his back to place it on yours; calling you his child.  He paid far more than two days wage for you.  He paid with his life.  And he asks us the same the question he asked that young attorney that fateful day:  Who is the neighbor to the one who saw a need a met it? Who is the neighbor to the one who knew the price and paid it?  Who is the neighbor to the one who "willed the good" from the one who didn't deserve it?

Love is the destination.  Now go and do likewise.

Be Honest.  Be Open.

This is the Christian Safe Zone.

What's the Point (of Church): Part 2

Everywhere Jesus went, controversy followed.  From the prostitute who interrupted Jesus' meeting with the Pharisees to the story of the "evil" Samaritan who had the audacity to help a Jew; Jesus never shied away from stirring the pot.  But, the perpetual question that swirled around him was one of identity.  Specifically, "Who are you!?"

Eventually, Jesus broached the subject directly.

He was just outside the newly crowned capital city of King Philip's empire, Caesarea Philippi.  Philip's father, King Herod had erected a magnificent temple made of white stone where citizens came daily to worship their emperor God, Augustus Caesar.  Just eleven hundred feet above this temple, on the slopes of Mount Hermon, Jesus sits down with the Twelve, and asks them the very question that had plagued his audiences: "Who do people say that I am?"  

Peter (who's name means "rock" in Greek) responds, "You are the Messiah [the Christ], the Son of the living God!"  Elated, Jesus responds, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah, for this was not revealed to you by man, but by my Father in heaven." And with a clever play on words, Jesus adds, "And I tell you that you are Peter [rock], and on this rock, I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it."

This is the first time the term "church" shows up in our New Testament, and it's referenced within a prediction.  Jesus predicted that nothing, including death, would stand in the way of His church.  But, there is something else that is referenced here; something that our English translation misses.  The Greek word (ekklesia) where we get our word, church, is not a religious term!  An ekklesia was simply a gathering or an assembly of people called out for a specific purpose.  You could have an ekklesia of soldiers called out for war, or an ekklesia of citizens called out for civic purposes, but you would never have an ekklesia referencing a specific location....only a specific gathering.

Ekklesia always referred to a gathering of people united by a common identity and purpose.

So, what the disciples heard Jesus say was this: "I am going to build my own assembly of people and the foundation for this new assembly will be ME!"

But, if ekklesia means "gathering", why don't we just call church "gathering"?  Where did church come from?  Jump forward with me two hundred and fifty years.

In AD 313, Constantine (the soon-to-be-emperor of Rome), legalized Christianity in the Roman Empire.  Well, technically he legalized the freedom of religion.  Christianity was illegal up to this point because Christians were insistent about this whole "only worshiping Jesus" thing...what a bunch of sticklers.

Before Constantine's rise to power, Christian worship was relatively informal.  Believers met in homes, enjoying potluck banquets they called "love feasts", singing hymns, reading Scripture, discussing theology, and most importantly, sharing communion.  In rare cases, a gathering of Christians in a religiously tolerant city would be able to dedicate a special room for these gatherings, but these rooms were few and far between.  

But after Constantine's rise, powerful people brought their former ideas about worship with them as they professed a new belief in Christ and began influencing Christian ekklesias.  Worship began to incorporate protocol including incense, ornate clothing, choirs, and pageantry.  Worship became formal and hierarchical, relegating the congregation from participants to spectators.  Buildings began to be erected on top of the graves of martyrs.  If the land around the grave wasn't conducive to building, they would exhume the bones, and transport them to their desired location.

Within a decade of this edict, "the Way" was no longer an expanding group of people sharing a unique identity and purpose.  It was a location, filled with rules, paid staff, and predictable services.   The Gothic (or Germanic) culture used the word kirche, which means "house of the lord", and was used to refer to any ritual gathering place, Christian or otherwise.

Eventually, the New Testament was translated into English.  But instead of following protocol and using a word-for-word translation from Greek to English, the word church was changed from ekklesia to kirche.  A kirche is a location.  An ekklesia is a purposeful gathering of people.  "Church" went from a movement to stagnation.  From gathering to spectating.  From participation to protocol.  This simple word created the most dangerous dynamic that the Christian "church" faces today:

Whoever controls the location controls the church.

So, what does this all mean?  Simply put, it means that how you view the church determines how you live out your faith.  

Do you believe that the church is a building you go to weekly for inspiration or a gathering united behind a movement?  

Do you believe that your church is conducting services or making an impact?  

Do you believe your church is united around a model or a mission?

Do you believe the church's money is allocated based on the needs of the community or the facility?

Do you believe you are meeting or gathering?

Do you believe you are a part of an ekklesia or a kirche?

I can tell you with certainty that the people I know who have left church did no do so because it became too much of an ekklesia.  That it became too focused on it's surrounding community; to concerned with sharing its resources; or to deliberate in its mission of reaching those outside of their current group.  They left because it was a kirche who was first and foremost concerned with keeping its kirche as protected and comfortable as possible.

So, if the church is a gathering, who gets to participate?  What are the requirements for membership?  How good do you have to be to stay in the club?  That's all in the next post.

Be honest.  Be open.

This is the Christian Safe Zone.

What's the Point (of Church)

What the Church is and what the Church should be are two radically disproportionate institutions.  The Church you go to on Sunday (or your parents go to, and you hear about it on Sunday afternoon) is a far cry from what is was created for.  Originally, the church was a gloriously messy movement with a laser-focused message and a global mission.  Now, it is an argument waiting to happen.  I'll go so far and say that you probably don't even agree with other Christians about what the purpose of the Church even is!  How can the Church be effective, grow, and transform lives and communities if we can't even agree what role she plays in our lives?

I'm really upset about this.  Through all of the turmoil and heartache that I've experienced at the hands of Christians, I still deeply love the Church.  As Bill Hybels famously states, "The local Church is the hope of the world."  That's why I started in ministry, and that's why I still love it today.  The Church has the ability to genuinely change the landscape of our culture if we give her the freedom to do so.  The problem is, we (pastors included) don't know the role of the Church.  We don't know what personality makes up a "good" church.  Is it the music?  The preaching?  Their involvement with the poor?  How they spend their money?  No!

To understand the role of the Church, you have to understand the creation of the original Church.

What separates Christianity from every other world religion...ever...is the simple fact that its growth was fueled not by what they believed, but what they had seen.  It wasn't the teachings of Jesus that sent his followers into the streets preaching, but his resurrection.  The men and women who were leaders of the first Church were not believers, they were eyewitnesses!  So, how did the Church begin?

In Andy Stanley's book, "Deep and Wide" (which should be required reading for anybody considering ministry) he describes the launch of the first Church this way: 

A small band of Jewish dissidents defied a superpower and a religious system that had been in place for thousands of years and, in the end, prevailed.  At the center of this grassroots movement, originally referred to as The Way, was a Jewish carpenter whose message centered around a "kingdom" that wasn't directly connected to this world.  He spoke mostly in parables that few could understand.  He insisted that those who followed him love the Romans and pay those onerous taxes.  He alienated the influential and the powerful.  He offended practically everybody.  His family thought he had lost his mind.  After only three years of public ministry, he was arrested, publically humiliated, and executed.  Sounds like the perfect way to start a movement.

Stranger still, these Jewish separatists claimed that not only had their leader risen from the dead but that they had touched him, eaten with him...they had seen him!  Within a few weeks, their numbers swelled from the hundreds to the thousands; to the point where The Way replaced the entire pagan pantheon of gods as the primary belief system of the Roman Empire.  From a purely secular point of view, it would seem as if the Church grew in spite of itself.

However, if you know your church history, you know that once the church got legalized, it got organized.  What was once organic became institutional.  What was once a movement became an establishment.  Two thousand years later, we are still struggling to regain our identity, purpose, and passion.

Very few people think "movement" when they hear the word "church" today.  But that is the very struggle we see in today's church.  We have become fossilized.  Our ideas have turned to law, and our fluidity to adjust has been hampered like a bad hip.  The church needs leaders who are willing to do what is necessary so that they hand their churches off better than when they found them.  The church needs men and women who are willing to put themselves up for scrutiny and to counteract the adage of, "this is just the way things are."  They way the Church "are" is not what the Church needs to be today are two very different institutions.

I'm not saying that the construct of the Church is wrong, or that the original tenets need changing.  I'm arguing for a re-evaluation of why we, as Christians and leaders of churches, continue to fall into the same habits.  Let's ask the difficult question:

What is the Church?
Who is it for?
What traits should be characterized in every church?
How can my church change?

I know we won't all agree on every point, and that's fine.  But before we part ways on method and approach, it's critical that we find common ground on the purpose and core characteristics of the Church.  Churches have isolated themselves for too long over petty differences.  It's time to unite under the banner of "Christian" and spur the Church onward together.

I know that I haven't given any specifics on how to go about moving the Church forward, finding common ground, and identifying the purpose.  My next few posts will address all of that.  I've taken some time off this blog the past few weeks to wrap my head around this issue.  I'm planning a "summer series" if you will identifying the major issues the current constructions of the Church faces, and providing real, tangible solutions to the problems.

Stay tuned.  Next post, I'm going to need your help!  As always:

Be honest.  Be open.

This is the Christian Safe Zone.

Beating the Slump

It's just me and you talking, right?  Can I be honest?  I'm in a bit of a slump when it comes to God.  My prayers don't flow as easily as they used to.  I'm feeling restless at the lack of clarity to my future.  Days seem to fly by one to the other before I can even catch my breath.

Maybe the change in my schedule has thrown off my routine.  Maybe I'm not reading the Bible because it's no longer my job to study it.  Maybe my faith was never that strong to begin with.  And, as I travel further and further away from being a “professional faither”, I’m realizing just how hard this whole faith thing really is.

                      

But, that’s how relationships are.  Give and take.  Highs and lows.  Ebbs and flow.  It's not that I've fallen out of love; it’s just that for the first time I have to really work at it.   I’m not complaining; this is probably the best thing that could happen to me.  I can’t take anything for granted.  Every moment I do steal away to read, pray, and write is precious.  They are just not as numerous as they once were.

If faith in God is conversely a relationship with God; than shouldn’t I approach this slump with the same perseverance and attitude as I would in my own relationships?  What I felt a slump in my marriage?  How would I respond?  What steps would I take to rectify the relationship?  Where would I poke and prod to discover the weak points in the connection?

First, I would remember what created this love in the first place. What memories do I have that brings levity to the weight?  I would remember all of the times they have been there for me, even when nobody else was.  I would allow myself to be captivated by that love once again.  It’s so easy to see only the hand in front of your face when the fog descends.  But it only takes that one song, a visit to that one spot, that one conversation with a friend to allow their love to flood your memories once again, and breathe life into the deadness of your relationship.

However, that only works for a moment.  Memories are just that – momentary glimpses into the past.  For any relationship to work there must be a future.  But, how do you manufacture a future?  You certainly can’t contrive love out of thin air, but as long as you both still want the relationship to exist (and I’m pretty confident God does), you can work on it.  You can take each day as they come, and commit yourself to taking positive steps forward every day.

I fell into a slump because my routine got broken.  I never meant to stop praying nor reading my Bible, but when my schedule changed, so did my habits.   It's time to develop a new routine.  What will make this time different?  I have to start by doing one daily discipline better than what I did yesterday.  Be more focused today than what I was yesterday.  Pray differently than what I prayed yesterday.  Learn something different than what I learned yesterday.  Resist the temptation to say, “This is just how things are” and instead say, “This is what I want it to be.”

Inevitably this daily internal battle will grow tiresome.  What happens on the days when simply “trying harder” conflicts with the two-dozen other responsibilities I have to try harder doing?  That accountability for continued perseverance and development must come from somewhere.  There must be some support system around you.  Somebody for you to turn to who not only knows your strengths and preferences, but also knows where to place the scaffolding to support your weaknesses.  We are works in progress, there’s no shame in admitting it.  The only shameful thing is pretending you’re already complete.

That’s one reason I love the church we’re going to right now.  The entire staff is open about their flaws.  They’re not scared to admit their imperfections, ask for support, and love equally (regardless or tithe or attendance).  I remember having lunch with the senior minister after a few weeks of attending their church.  He had no idea who I was, my background, or my agenda.  What struck me was his honesty about who he was, not who he wanted me to believe he was.  It was so refreshing to talk with somebody who’s only goal was for me to grow for (in his words) “as long as I was apart of this community.”  I love that!  And if there is a key to unlocking my slump, it is found in investing into this community.

In spite of all of this, I still have hope.  In the midst of my doubts, this slump, or in the days where I wonder why this relationship is so important to begin with; I have hope.  Hope is a rising-to-the-occasion kind of faith.  It is the undergirding to all that I believe, and why I believe it.  We will all have moments where we will be knocked down, pushed around, and devoid answers.  Hope pulls us back up.  Hope offers a plank of wood after the shipwreck.  Hope says, "I'm enough, even if you aren't right now.

I’m guessing if you’ve gotten this far, you’ve nodded your head a few times.  You get the depth and the sometimes overwhelming sense of impossibility that comes with a slump. I’m hoping these words offer some sort of starting point; a place to begin.  Relationships are hard; faith is harder.  But, with the right attitude and support, it not only can get better, it can be better than you could ever ask or imagine.  I’m not there yet, but I know I will be.  Until I do…

Be Honest.  Be Open.

This is the Christian Safe Zone.

When God Isn't Enough

I've been stuck on a question for the past month:

Enough?

Am I doing enough?

Am I good enough?

Is God going to do enough?

When is enough, enough?

And I find myself wrestling with this question; wondering if maybe God allows things to go too far sometimes.  I watch the news at night, see the innocent children dying because of war, and I wonder why God doesn't do more.  I read on Facebook the stories of young moms dying of cancer, and I wonder why God doesn't do more.  I know my own sins and my own struggles, and when my own prayers go unanswered, I wonder why God doesn't do more.

I know He's always there, always around, but what if...maybe...He allows us to wander a little bit too far, cause a little bit too much trouble, and bring a little bit too much pain along with us?  What if the reason God doesn't fix all of the problems we see is because He actually isn't "enough"?

I feel like a heretic even asking this question.  I mean, on every retreat I went on in high school, we sang "Enough" by Chris Tomlin (which was even played more than "Good Good Father."  I know, hard to believe, right?)  I've heard countless sermons reminding me that no matter what happens, God is always enough.  I've even counseled people who were battling through some of the most traumatic events a person can handle, and advising them to let God be enough, and to let go of the rest.  Was I lying?

In many ways, this question of "enough" is embedded in the Bible from the very beginning.  In Genesis, when God tells Adam and Eve they can eat from any tree except the tree of knowledge of good and evil, that fruit now becomes the only thing they see.  You can almost imagine them staying up at night talking about how good the fruit probably tastes, what they will learn God has withheld from them by eating the fruit, and when they will eat it without God seeing.  And one afternoon, when they know God isn’t around, they sneak a bite and understand the full measure of what is to be human. 

But, have you ever wondered why they ate the fruit in the first place?  It wasn't because they were unhappy.  It wasn't even because they believed Satan more than God.  They ate the fruit because they wondered whether or not God was in fact enough...if He was everything that He claimed to be.  And they theorized that if they had equal knowledge of God, then they would be able to decide for themselves if God was enough...if God could be trusted.

Strangely enough it was only in testing God and making the wrong choice that they were able to find the God who loves, saves, and is enough.  By eating the fruit and suffering it's consequences, they were able to realize the fullness of their sin and the fullness of His grace.   In a moment, their imperfections were magnified in the presence of Perfection, and they had to leave.  But at that same moment, God extended grace, and became enough for them on the other side of Eden.

He should have disowned them.  He should have destroyed them and started over.  How could He allow two measly humans to destroy everything that was so perfect He came to visit it every day?

Because His love was more:

More than His own Creation
More than His own plans
More than His own life
More than enough.

I don't want to trivialize what's happened to you.  I'm not going to attempt to understand why they died, why you lost that job, why your marriage didn't work out, why you can't have kids, why you can't kick that habit, why terrorists, cancer, and nerve gas exists.  But I do know this:  God didn't create it, and He doesn't like it either.   I know it because I can see what He originally created, and what He gave up to allow us the freedom to choose Him.

You don't sacrifice everything just to destroy it later.  You sacrifice everything to be apart of it.  The cross of Jesus says to us there is nothing God won't do to bring us home - except for us to choose Him.

When Jesus came, He made one thing abundantly clear: He's in this with us.  The good and the bad.  The evil and holy.  The sacred and the secular.  He's in it with us.  And, while we may question, stomp, get angry, and resent Him for not stopping all of the evil and travesty we see around us, we also know that one day He will.

The resurrection wasn't just our pass into Heaven, it was the complete undoing of what Adam, Eve, and the rest of us have done.  It is opening the gates to Eden once again, and filling the earth with His love and grace once more.  It is restoring all things to the way He intended.  One day, everything will be made new.

But in the meantime, while we watch the news, see the suffering, and experience the heartache of life, know that He's in this with you.  He is enough.

When you are overwhelmed with sorrow; know that in that moment, He is enough to wipe your tears.
When you are burdened because your mistakes have caused more harm than you once realized; know that He is enough to offer you grace (even if no one else will).
When you watch the news and question where He is in the world; know that He is watching it with you, and also with those you are watching.
When you are in the wilderness; know that He offers Eden.
When you experience death; know that He is life.
When you see evil; know He is love.
When you cannot be enough; know that He is, and always will be.

Enough?  Let Him be.  Because He already is and always will be.

Be honest.  Be open.

This is the Christian Safe Zone.

When Storms Kill Dreams

I was 28 years old, and knew what I was going to do with the rest of my life.  I would continue to work as a student minister for the next 3-5 years, developing my speaking abilities and growing my reputation.  Then, at the first available opportunity, I would take on the role as either the teaching pastor or the senior pastor of a small progressive church (or just start my own) that would eventually grow into a megachurch.  This growth would afford me national opportunities to speak and live out my dream to be a well-respected and notable pastor.

Yup...I was dumb.  It's ok you can say it, "Kyle, that sounds really immature."  Yeah, well that's because I was.  I mean honestly, I really believed this!  I even had a name for my new church, and a logo to go along with it..."Union City Church".  I'll draw it on a napkin for you sometime.

I had been in full-time ministry since I was twenty-two years old.  I had been deemed an "expert" on God before I knew anything about God or life or even how the world worked.  Some people thought I was a gifted speaker, but whether or not that was true, I had not allowed the time and space to figure out who I was.  I had been preaching words I didn't even understand and offering advice I didn't fully trust.

And then with a few strokes on the keyboard all of those dreams were gone...I was out of ministry.  I had made the conscious choice that continuing to gorge my ego would ultimately destroy me.  My dreams had been killed, and frankly it was better that way.

It wasn't until I came face-to-face with the upheaval of my ego, and the immediate termination of my well-planned goals that I understood how short-sighted I had been.  By my own doing, I had become a slave to my ego.

Jonathan Martin in his book, How to Survive a Shipwreck says, "Whatever is death for the ego is liberation for the soul."

This is undoubtedly what I've discovered.  Through the death of my plans, my dreams, and my goals I have found more freedom to question and discover who I really am, and why I'm really here...it's been painful.

There is no easy way to be humbled.  There is no anesthesia for living free.  I had to be willing to let go of what was most important to me (my dreams for a successful ministry career) to find freedom.

Kathryn Dowling Singh is a PhD hospice worker who has devoted her life to be with people through the process of death.  In her book, The Grace in Dying, she concludes that for those that have time to die, there is an astonishing grace in the death process.  While at first the patient fights and resists, the body and soul are forced into agreement as they lose the capacity to care for themselves.

This is why it's common for the patient to testify to a place of ultimate serenity, peace, and clarity.  With no more strength or will for the ego to cling to, there is a purer, truer way to be alive.  Unfortunately, it's often not until we are victims to the process of physical death that we are able to receive this gift.

On September 7, 2016, my wife lost her grandfather, Tony, to cancer.  He would have celebrated his 75th birthday on Red's opening day this year.  But, the weeks leading up to his death were some of the most celebrated, peaceful, and revealing times in his life.  For weeks Tony and I sat in his living room and talked about faith.  He went to church growing up, understood basic Christian theology, but never considered himself a Christian.  Though while his body deteriorated, his humility grew.  He began to realize how loved he was, how unworthy he was for all that he had been given, and how selfish he had been in his decisions.  This realization that he was loved by friends and family despite his previous actions led him to wonder if God could love him too.

One afternoon in particular we were sitting and talking about Heaven.  He wanted to know if it was real, and what it was like.  I explained that it was not a bunch of clouds and cherubs, but a vastness of unexplored beauty, and a city with God in the center of it all.  Then, he asked what he'd always wanted to know, "Is it to late for me?"  "Never." "If He'll have me, I want to be there with Him."  We cried, we prayed, and after a few minutes to change clothes, I baptized him in his shower.

In losing his life, Tony had found it.  This is the promise of authentic Christianity- losing our lives to find them.  This is the meaning of taking up the cross and embracing death before the deathbed.

At some point you too will feel the loss of control, the loss of autonomy, and the sense of helplessness.  It could be through a phone call, a pink slip, or a doctor's words.  It could be the death of a spouse, the death of a dream, or the death of your ego.  You will feel the heavy wave throw you underneath the water, and refuse to let you up for air.

But God uses these moments of weakness and exposure to show us what true life looks like.  He will grab your hand, pull you up to the surface, and help you catch your breath.  It's only when you are shaking, soaked, and scared that you see clearly the storm, and the Savior controlling it.  He doesn't care if that storm has been created by your own doing or not; He just wants to show you how to weather it.

 No wonder the apostle Paul says that the message of the cross is, "foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. (1 Corinthians 1:18)

It is much easier to believe in a religion where Jesus can carry that cross for you, rather than one where we are dragging it beside Him.  It's much easier to believe in a religion where Jesus calms the storm while you sit in a hurricane-proof house.  But that is the promise we receive in baptism- it is only when we choose to die with Christ that we can experience real life with Him.

 Your back is going to be scratched up.  Your hands will bleed and crack.  Your muscles will ache with the weight.  Things that were once so valuable will be lost to the storm.  It's painful, it's real, and it will force you to re-evaluate what was once so important.

Jesus never promised easy.  He promised freedom.  But freedom can only be found when you face the truth around you.

Maybe you did it to yourself.
Maybe they left you.
Maybe the doctor told you.
Maybe that boss fired you.
Maybe that plan failed.
Maybe that life is over.

You're not alone.

We were never meant to stage our brilliant comeback, pull ourselves up from our bootstraps, and get ourselves unstuck without help.  And the truth is, it's better that way.

I found freedom to be who I need to be, not who I want to be.  Don't be afraid when the storm comes; just grab onto the one who controls it and hang on.  He's done this a few times.

Be honest.  Be open.

This is the Christian Safe Zone.

Losing, Finding, and Offering Hope: Palm Sunday

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There are certain moments in all of our lives where we do not know what to expect.  Times when no matter how prepared we may be with information and resources, we never really know what to do.  Moments like beginning a new job, starting a new relationship, moving to a new city, receiving the phone call from the doctor, attending the funeral, watching your parents get divorced, being confronted with your addiction.  

And it’s in these moments when the only thing that we can hold onto is hope.  Hope for the future.  Hope for a change.  Hope for a cure.  Hope for a new and better life.  We are all looking for something that tells us, “It’s going to be ok.  You can breathe now."  

But the question is, “What do we put our hope in?”  When life seems chaotic and you are not sure what the outcome will be, where do you turn for reassurance, for peace, for hope? 

This Sunday is Palm Sunday.  Chances are if you grew up in church, you remember the old Bible story about Jesus riding down on a donkey, and everybody throwing palm branches down on the road as He went by.  But, what so many of us miss from this Sunday School story is the magnitude of this event.  It was on that day, in this moment, when Jesus forced everyone, no matter their beliefs or backgrounds, to decide once and for all what they would put their hope in.

Here's what happened:

Six days before Jesus’ death, on the first day of the Passover celebration, a procession begins to enter Jerusalem.  It was a grand celebration, reserved only for this sacred day.  People are lining the roadway for miles just to get a glimpse at this historic moment.  The excitement in the crowd swells as the beginning of the procession commences.  In their jubilation, they shout phrases like, "Son of God, "Lord",  "Savior", and "Peace on earth."  It is a resounding statement to their undying loyalty to this man…this king. They are witnessing the procession of none other than the Roman army as they enter the city of Jerusalem.  

Pontius Pilate, the same man who will give Jesus up to the Jewish mob only six days later, leads this Roman procession.  His troops march behind the man who represents Rome itself.  They are rugged, muscular men in leather and newly polished steel.  They keep cadence in loud, crunching steps.  Pilate himself wears a flowing cape and shining armor.  This is no minor squad on some routine errand that marches into Jerusalem.  It is a parade of might meant to warn, but also to reinforce a city that is about to be occupied by upwards of 200,000 Jews as the enter the city to celebrate Passover.

There is also a religious purpose behind this procession as well.  As Pilate rides into Jerusalem, he represents a god...the emperor.  In fact, Caesar is “the Son of God,” according to the religion of the empire.  He is praised as “lord,” “savior,” and the bringer of “peace on earth.”  

This is the religion of the state.  Pilate is a conqueror entering a conquered city.  The people in Jerusalem belong to Rome.  As the procession ends and the officers take their positions, the message is sent:  “There will be no uprisings this week.  A greater god rules: Tiberius Caesar, the Son of God.  He is Lord, even over the god of Jerusalem.”  Or so that’s what Rome thinks.

On that same day, another procession begins on the opposite side of the city.  It too is a grand celebration.  It too is scripted.  It too signals the victory of a God.  Jesus is entering Jerusalem, riding on a colt, as a large crowd lines the roadway.  The colt is intended as a sign.  Its use is not an accident or a last-minute decision.  It’s part of a very specific statement; a declaration of war.  By Jesus riding a colt into the Holy City, he is conjuring up an extremely familiar image to any Jew.  King Solomon, the last great king of Israel, rode just such an animal to his own coronation as king.  The image would also bring to mind to any good Jew the prophetic words of Zechariah:

“Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion!  Shout, Daughter Jerusalem!  See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt.” (Zechariah 9:9)

It's a dangerous declaration: "A king has come, and he is even now among us."

And so it is in this spirit that Jesus makes his way down into Jerusalem.  As the crowd grows to get a glimpse at this rabbi, this miracle-worker, they continue shouting their joy.  And, in a time-honored tradition to welcome royalty, the people lay their robes and palm branches at the feet of Jesus.  It is a carpet meant for a king…the Son of God.  They are “preparing the way,” demonstrating to this man that they receive Him as their ruler.  The passion swells; the excitement spreads, and soon this massive crowd begin chanting a verse of Scripture meant only for the coming Messiah, the Son of God.  They shout, “Hosanna to the Son of David!  Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!” (Matthew 21:9)

And For anyone in Jerusalem at this moment in time, they were faced with a crossroads.  There are two processions; two Sons of God; two pathways to hope…and yet only one choice.  How do you know which king offers you hope?

In my own brokenness, I feel the pull to rely upon myself; to seek out hope and a solution from my own means.  It’s easy.  It’s safe.  It’s also very limited.  We've all faced that dreaded reality when no matter how much we may know or how great our abilities and resources may be, it's not going to be enough.   

It’s that moment when you realize whatever you have placed your hope in doesn’t hold water.  With panic and dread you look on, but there is nothing you can do.  You are limited, you are fallible, your ways can’t hold up.  So, when the reality of life comes crashing around your prefabricated existence, in whom will you place your trust?  Will you put hope in yourself and your abilities, or will you lay down your branch and offer allegiance to a greater God?

But, whenever reality gets too real, and hope looks like a distant memory; remember that there are two processions.  Another Son of God, another source of hope awaits.  He is the Mighty King, the Creator God, the resurrected Savior, the source of hope!  He is, was, and always will be “I AM”.  

We have hope that our lives will be better BECAUSE we are not!  We are not strong enough, talented enough, good enough, or smart enough.  We never were and we never had to be.  And thank God for that because when I place my hope in Jesus, when I give up trying to do everything my way and depend on Him, I become exactly what I was created to be...free!  

You see, when we lay our palm branches down at the feet of Jesus, we pledge our complete and total allegiance to Him and to His ways.  It is not a sign of weakness or of failure.  It is a sign of hope!  I have hope, because I AM not, and neither are you.  But He is, and He always will be.  

This Palm Sunday, take a moment and imagine how different your life would be if you laid that branch at His feet.  When you relinquish the control you have on your life, and seek a solution from a greater source.  Have your plans failed you?  Then come to the one who offers a hope that has never shaken, has never wavered, and rightfully claims the title, “King of kings”, “Lord of lords”, and “Conqueror of death”.

Be honest.  Be open.

This is the Christian Safe Zone.

Food, Family, and Forgiving the Church

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Chances are if you are reading this, then you have spent at least some portion of your adult life in a church.  And chances are, if you have spent some time in a church, then you have also experienced one of the cruelest truths of the Church- it is as hurtful as it is healing.

As I talk with and read more about people leaving the church, many of them do so from a place of pain and loneliness.  They feel alienated, isolated, like they didn't fit in that community.  Maybe it was because of their views on evolution, or because they were gay that they felt alienated.  Maybe it was because of how a pastor demeaned their doubts or patronized their ideas that they felt isolated.  Maybe it was because as they matured and became more intellectually aware, their faith remained prepubescent.

Whatever the reason, a place of healing and community became a place of hurt and isolation.

The truth is, that church, those people who made you feel hurt, isolated, and alone don't even know they did this to you.  And even if they did know, there is nothing they can do or say that will take away the pain.  You have been hurt, and you want them to feel the same.  But the only person who will ever be hurt is you.  Vengeance doesn't heal.

So how do we forgive the very people that have hurt us?  How do we rid ourselves of that pain?

It starts with a meal.

Now the good news is that every major faith tradition offers some kind of solution for righting wrongs and finding forgiveness.  But only one person ever offered himself as the solution.

Jesus' close friend and disciple, John, is given credit for writing the book of John and three other letters in the New Testament.  And he tells us that somewhere around AD 30, another guy named John showed up doing the strangest thing.  He was baptizing.

Jewish custom dictated that any convert to Judaism must partake in a ceremonial washing as part of the conversion process.  But John was baptizing other people (or as my friend Garry once famously said, "Cannonballs for Jesus").  Matthew, Mark, Luke, an historian named Josephus, and even the Qur'an all mention John...the Baptist.

Now, this obviously bothered the Jewish religious leaders of the day.  To baptize, to ceremonially cleanse people of their sins, required an authority that was unheard of, and totally against religious practice.  Only God can get rid of sin!  And so these religious leaders travel to see John in action, and they ask him under whose authority he is baptizing these people.  And he says, "You haven't met him yet.  But he is so powerful and so holy that I'm not even worthy to be his servant!"  (Paraphrase.  The real verse is found here.)

The next day, John is doing his thing and as he looks up, he sees Jesus coming down the bank of the river in his direction.  And he says the strangest thing-something that 1,500 years of Jewish tradition has created context for:

"The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, 'Look!  The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!" (John 1:29)

For 15 centuries Jews had been sacrificing lambs to cover their sins and to receive forgiveness.  But everybody knew the blood of an animal could never fully compensate for the sin of a person.  And in this proclamation by John the Baptist, he gives the biggest clue to the true identity and purpose of Jesus.

But nobody understood.

It wasn't until three years later at the Passover meal that Jesus gave the biggest clue of all, and our answer to forgiveness.  He said don't eat this meal- this same meal that our ancestors have celebrated now for 1479 years-as remembrance of a lamb over a door for the deliverance of the Israelites from Egypt.  Instead, he took the classic Passover meal and flipped it on it's head.  Listen to what he said:

"And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, 'This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.'  In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, 'This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you."  -Luke 22:19

This was sacrilegious to the Jewish religion!  No wonder he was arrested only hours later.  Beaten.  Lied about.  The very hands that healed the sick and raised the dead were stretched out and nailed to a Roman cross.  And unlike most victims of crucifixion who suffocated under the weight of their bodies, Jesus bled to death...as the Lamb of God who had come to carry away the sin of the world (the hurt that you have done and what's been done to you.)

The pain that they have caused you subsides when you realize Jesus endured it for you and them. The same Jesus who invites you to commune with him at his Father's table has also invited those who have alienated you.  The same Jesus who was turned against by his closest friends has shown that forgiveness is only given to the undeserved.

You will know that forgiveness has begun when you recall those who have hurt you and and feel the power to share a meal with them.

One of the most beautiful things I can think of is communion.  It's the time when we look past the hurt, the stress, our grievances with others, and as a family of God, break bread and share a meal together.   I'll be honest, I'm not ready to invite those who have hurt me into my home and share a meal with them...but I know that's when I'll forgive.

And one day, when I die, I'll be sitting at the table with them by my side, having that meal with Him...together, as the family of God.  It's time to realize that we are already family.  And nothing brings a family closer than a shared meal.

Families hurt.  Families fight.  Families can really screw up.  But families also forgive.  Next time you walk into a church, will you do so remembering that you are surrounded by family?

Be honest.  Be open.

This is the Christian Safe Zone.