Category: Discipleship

Posted on

Reflections on 9/11

My guess is that you know exactly where you were when the news broke on that dark day in 2001. I know I do. 

I was starting my day in my office of the church building in Kentucky when one of my members, a parent whose child was in our church’s preschool, burst into my office declaring, “I just heard on the news that a plane has flown into one of the Twin Towers.” Bewildered, denial set in as I knew those buildings were too tall for such a foolish mistake. That someone might intentionally fly a plane into the buildings was beyond the scope of believability. My guess is that it was for you, too. I checked numerous online news websites and discovered headlines confirming the report, but since the articles were being written in real time, I was unable to access any of the details.

My memory of the following days is a blur. Stories of heroism were overshadowed by stories of despair. Since Cile and I did not own a television set at the time, it would be two weeks before I saw actual footage of the planes flying into the buildings. We were visiting her mother when I saw the video; my heart sank, and my gut felt sucker-punched. I was two weeks behind the emotional trauma everyone else experienced.

On the immediate Wednesday night following 9/11, our church held a prayer service. The three elders and I reflected on both the events and Scripture, trying to shed some light on this dark event. On Sunday morning our church prayed for those directly and indirectly impacted by this terroristic act of war. Drawing from a shared empathy, I relayed to the church that somewhere in the surrounding New York City area lies a church with a vacant pew. The previous week someone(s) was part of the visible community of believers, while this week they are forever part of the unseen worshiping community. That church has an open wound that will not heal easily or quickly.

I also thanked a Canadian family who moved to the States years earlier and were members of our church. While I had no official authority to speak on behalf of our nation – and they had no official authority to offer any response – I did speak. I thanked them for the Canadian government clearing air space and opening their airports so that American planes, who could divert their course, could find a safe harbor. Canada, like the rest of us, did not know what dangers lurked by such a gracious move. They authorized the move anyway. Our congregation of 200 applauded our Canadian family.

Twenty-three years have passed since that dreadful day changed our lives. In some ways the hole has not been filled. We’ve had plenty of time to process the events while much water has rushed under the bridge or over the dam.

As I reflect on the nightmare of that day, I find at least three things worth sharing, all of which is rooted in Scripture. First, “Let your light shine” (Mt. 5:16). A year after 9/11, I took my first doctoral course. One of my fellow students had been in the grocery store getting food and snack supplies for the nine days we’d be on campus. He happened to have picked up a magazine from the checkout line. As he stood before the class holding the magazine he started sharing with us his 9/11 experience. He was in the Denver airport when the planes hit the towers. The terminal shut down cancelling all flights. He spent the next few days waiting for air space to open, flights to be rebooked, and opportunities to return home. The magazine in his hand was a one-year commemorative magazine of 9/11. As he was in the check-out line, he said, he picked up the magazine and started flipping through the pages to find that a photographer had shot a candid picture of himself with a group of people sitting against the wall. He showed us the magazine and said, “This is me.”

People are watching. People are always watching. They notice the deeds we do and the words we say. They witness the acts of kindness or our darker deeds. They observe how our talk harmonizes with our walk or creates dissonance. Jesus wants us to capitalize on that dynamic. Since people are watching, then, he encourages us to let our lights shine in those dark places to brighten the way home, and where God gets the glory due him.

Secondly, “As far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Rom. 12:18). Following 9/11 voices emerged expressing concerned that fear and distrust might create an unrepairable “us against them“ mentality. Until 9/11 Americans perceived itself as secure, invincible, and that war carnage happened elsewhere. After 9/11 America’s perception began to shift. Suddenly, our nation’s security was breached, we felt vulnerable, and war’s carnage was not hidden in our backyard but hanging on our clothesline for all the world to see.

With the internet unleashed, the world immediately shrunk. As a mobile society, we found connecting to each other a great blessing. Facebook and Twitter meant we could communicate with friends all over the world. But social media came with a dark side. A very dark side. Instead of unity and community, people began spouting hard core beliefs without any concern for the hurtful words attached to them. No one had to look into the eyes of the people as they hid behind a computer screen. Those without a voice or venue found a place to express themselves, almost priding themselves on promoting hateful or divisive ideologies and themes. Adding to the mess has been the bad faith people and “bots” whose singular purpose is to stir up conflict, turning people against each other. The chasm continued to widen.

How COVID played in the division of society will be studied for years on end. Suffice to say, social distancing came with a relational price tag.  

Hear this warning: from politicians to preachers to practitioners, too much messaging has been divisive and has fueled the “us against them” perception. Words matter, and shrouding the words beneath ideology or religion never justifies divisive rhetoric. Instead of hiding behind a computer screen, we need to look into the eyes of our neighbors and recognize that we are all Imago Dei, made in the image of God. Instead of hanging onto our pet peeve issues or political rhetoric or ideological individuality, we need to hold onto each other. Instead of looking for a reason to divide, we need to passionately pursue the reason to unite. Or as Paul might say, if there is going to be unrest and conflict between people, make sure you are not the cause.

Finally, if “the end is near,” then make it a glorious end (1 Pet. 4:7-11). Peter entertains the possibility that the world’s story is about to close, though I suspect he probably has Jerusalem’s fall in mind (C.E. 70). Any catastrophic event feels like the world coming to its end, from the Stock Market crashing in 1929, to the bombing of Pearl Habor in 1941, to 9/11. With such a terrorizing end in sight, Peter refuses to prey on people’s fears. He doesn’t go into how bad it will get, nor does he exploit people’s anxieties by dangling hell over them. Instead, he tells his church to keep doing what they have always done, and what they have always done best.

Peter highlights some of the core tenants of the Christian faith.* He tells them to be clear-minded and to keep praying (v. 7). Someone, like Chicken Little running around stirring up the pot because he fears the sky is falling, is not clear-minded, and I doubt that person is praying. In the next chapter Peter will exhort his readers in prayer to “Cast all your anxiety on (God) because he cares for you” (5:7). God really does care for you. Secondly, he tells his readers to love deeply (v. 8), a love that stretches a person to the limits. Some people are easier to love than others, and everyone is hard to love at some point. When we throw ourselves into love, the multitude of sins gets covered because love leads to forgiveness. Thirdly, he says to continue practicing hospitality (v. 9). Opening one’s home in the first century not only provided a place where the church could meet, but ongoing lodging for those passing through the area. Opening one’s home, though, is hard work so Peter takes the grumbling part off the table. Finally, he says to use your gifts to serve others (v. 10). The center of the universe is not you, but you can use your gifts to minister to others, and through that action serve the true Center of the Universe.

Not a lot of excitement in this list and I doubt that it will be very marketable. But in a world where fear drives conversations, the everyday mundane Christian service keeps us well-grounded. The result is that fear is kept at bay.

As we bring closure to this reflection on 9/11, I am reminded that in the spring of 1870, the Connecticut Legislation was in session. During the meetings, dark ominous clouds formed and closed in over the Capital in Hartford. With many legislators still rooted in a pre-modern era world-view, they believed the end was upon them. A call for adjournment was made and it looked as if everyone was going home. However, one man, Abraham Davenport, opposed the motion to adjourn. Addressing the legislators he said,

“I am against adjournment. The Day of Judgment is either approaching or it is not. If it is not, then there is no cause for an adjournment. If it is, I choose to be found doing my duty. I wish therefore candles be brought.”*

Davenport wanted “to be found doing his duty.” Whether we are in a time of peace or in a time of war; whether we live in a context of fear or a context of faith; whether we are living in an abundance of freedom or the freedoms have been stripped away; whether we are flourishing in a time of unity or in the splinter of division; whether we are reaping another Great Awakening or sowing in spiritual apathy; or whether we are basting in the brightness of light or the ones bringing light to the darkened world, we chose to be found doing our duty. Therefore, let’s call for the candles, and then go light this world by being found doing our duty.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

* See my book, The Lord of All Things (published through Amazon.com, 2024), 182-185.

Posted on

Letters of Recommendation

My college admission likely hinged on the quality of recommendation letters written by personally selected alumni. My grades were far from impressive, reflected in my ACT scores. I was an academic bubble risk because I was an ADHD/dyslexic kid before ADHD was diagnosable and dyslexia was understood. Reading and reading-comprehension, with an inability for rote memorization, all but doomed my hopes of a college experience. Truth be known, some even told me to quit dreaming of going to college. I needed help getting into my college of choice, because I was not getting in on my own merits.

I sought out my high school principal, my cross-country coach, and my preacher – all whom graduated from the school I was sending my application to – and asked them to write a letter of recommendation. They agreed. I never knew what they wrote. They never shared, and I never asked. All I knew was that I needed someone to go to bat for me. I needed someone to speak for me if I was going to have a chance to begin my academic studies.

Letters of recommendations help in introductions, giving credibility to the one whom the letter is written about. They are a common practice and have been around for a very long time. You have probably written one or have had someone write one for you. They are a staple in society. They are a staple in almost every society.

The letter connects three points of a triangle. The first point is the subject or whom the letter is about. The second point is the recipient of the letter who does not know the subject personally. The third point is the author of the letter who knows the subject and the recipients, and acts as a mediator to introduce the two. The one writing the letter pours his/her own credibility into the subject since the subject has no credibility with the recipients. Essentially, letters of recommendation sound like this: “Hey guys, Jon here. I know Joe and I think Joe is a good guy who does good work. You guys ought to give Joe a look, or a second look.”

Since letters of recommendation introduce people and give an endorsement to lay a foundation for believability, they are commonplace and, as said earlier, have been around for a long time. Long before access to the internet, or making a quick phone call for verification, or dropping a quick text to a friend, carrying a letter endorsed by someone else or a group of people was crucial in establishing credibility.

No better example of this can be found than in Acts 18. Apollos, who was in Ephesus at the time, wanted to preach in Corinth. So, the church in Ephesus wrote letters to the church in Corinth on behalf of Apollos (Act. 18:27). The church in Ephesus knew Apollos, but the church in Corinth did not. With a letter from the Ephesian church, the Corinthian church welcomed Apollos with open arms. From 1 Corinthians we know that many came to love Apollos and his preaching (see 1 Cor. 1:12; 3:4-6, 20-22).

Letters of recommendation played an important role and function in society, especially in the early days of the church. Having some proof of who you are goes a long way in establishing trust, rapport, and credibility.

One of the issues Paul was facing was that the Corinthians were seeking letters of recommendation from him. Supposedly, some individuals had arrived in Corinth carrying such letters. Who they were, what the content of the letters were, and who authored the letters are all unknown. The simplest answer is that the individuals and letters originated from Jerusalem. If that is the case, we are likely not talking about James, the brother of Jesus, or Peter, or one of the other apostles, but a faction group in Judea that resisted Paul, his teachings, and his mission.

So, a group of individuals carried letters of recommendation to establish their credibility with Corinth. Paul had no such letters. Paul needed no such letters. But the group infiltrating the church began using Paul’s lack of letters against him. They had letters, he didn’t. They had credibility, he didn’t. They had authority, he didn’t. They had support from Jerusalem or Judea or whoever penned the letter, Paul didn’t. And that became their point of entry into undermining Paul’s ministry. He had no letters.

Paul had no letters of recommendation because Paul needed no letters. He came to Corinth empty handed, except for the message of Jesus to share with people. No church existed in Corinth when Paul arrived. Working bi-vocationally he set up a tent business to support himself, while speaking, teaching, and preaching in the Synagogue on the Sabbath. He planted the seed and started cultivating the church in Corinth. Nurturing their faith, he led them through the waters of baptism and out of the darkness of paganism. They knew him. They worshipped with him. They walked with him. He had no reason to carry letters of recommendation as the Corinthians probably knew him better than people in Jerusalem.

Thus, when Paul probes the Corinthians, he asked them rhetorically, “Do we need . . . letters of recommendations to you or from you?” (2 Cor. 3:1b). Of course, he doesn’t need such letters. But then he turns the issue on itself, stating in the next line, “You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody” (3:2). The proof of Paul’s credibility and ministry is not based on a letter written by someone a thousand miles away who never ventured into Achaia but written by the church themselves through their faith and growth in the Spirit.

Paul places the burden of proof, not on someone else, but on them. When people look at Paul’s ministry, he will not allow them to judge it by his personal credentials. He does have them: a Hebrew, an Israelite, a descendant of Abraham (2 Cor. 11:22-23), circumcised on the eighth day, tribe of Benjamin, Pharisee, and faultless in regard to legalistic righteousness (Phil. 4:4b-5), and schooled in Jerusalem under the feet of Gamaliel (Act. 22:3). Paul neither relied on those experiences to garner his credibility, nor flaunt them as a means to strengthen his standing. Looking at his people in the pew, he implored, “You are my letters of recommendation. Your lives, changed by the gospel of Jesus Christ, are the proof to validate my ministry.”

If you ask me, the easy step is to provide a letter from someone verifying your credibility. Letters are a dime a dozen. I once wrote a letter for a young man I knew six months so that he will get into a school. I questioned why he should ask me; I barely knew him. He said, “It’s just formality, I’ve been accepted into the school already.” Drumming up a letter to provide as proof of ministry is easy in and of itself. The hard step is to look at the people we minister to and allow them to be the proof of our ministry. Has the body produced the Fruit of the Spirit? Has harmony replaced dissonance in the community? Has love, forgiveness, and grace switched with hate, bitterness, and legalism? Is the community marked by being a place of healing or a place where pain festers? Is the community caring for the marginalized or consumed with serving their own people? The hardest part in all of this is the trust one must have in a community to place one’s credibility with their behavior.

For our hospice care, the most important letter we write is the one on the heart of our patients and their families. What they say about us and about our service is the letter worth reading. We make that happen by how we engage and serve our patients and their families.

I once experienced a profound letter of recommendation. It wasn’t written on paper, nor was it about me. It was penned in and from the heart of my sister.

Deanna and I were playing under the dining room table on a Sunday afternoon. We were in the third grade and were reflecting on Sunday school class hours earlier. I don’t remember what were playing or why we were under the table. I don’t remember what time of year it was, but I suspect it was summer since our Sunday school teacher did a no-show at church. With no back up teacher in play, Deanna and I were sent up a grade for Bible class. I can’t remember if we were sent to the 5th and 6th grade class or the junior high class, but I do remember the classroom was among the upper rooms of the church building, a place I rarely ventured to. I remember climbing the stairs to the classroom like we were climbing steps of a mountain to visit the wise guru. We entered the room where a handful of children were being taught a Bible lesson from their teacher. The teacher was our mother.

I don’t remember what the lesson was that morning as most of that day is a memory fog. What is clear, as if it said it yesterday, was the comment my sister made to me under the table in the privacy of our own little world. Deanna looked at me and said, “When mom teaches, she makes you want to be a better person.” Mom did not have a lot of credentials as a teacher, but she had biblical knowledge, a passion for the Scriptures, and a heart for storytelling. She made the text come alive with clear application for our lives. Thus, it was an easy step to be a better person because she showed us how.

What Deanna stumbled across that Sunday afternoon under the dining table sits at the core of Paul’s thought in 2 Corinthians 3. Teaching, preaching, or ministering is less about crossing denominational doctrinal “T’s” or doting “I’s,” and more about whether the person teaching, preaching, or ministering is inspiring you, motivating you, or modeling for you to become a better person, to become a better version of “you,” who reflects Jesus Christ. And when you are that better person, God gets the glory while your source of inspiration is validated through your life. And no letter of recommendation can substitute for a transformed follower. As Paul concludes, “You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts” (2 Cor. 3:3).

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

That Kind of Rejection

The situation in Corinth had turned from simple turmoil into something toxic. The church had rejected Paul, much like Israel rejected the prophets of old. The difference here may be nuanced as the apostle had planted the church in Corinth. He wasn’t a traveling salesman peddling wares and convincing people they needed to buy something they didn’t need. No, he invested both physically and emotionally into the very lives of the Corinthians (6:11-12). He saw their relationship as a parent to a child, like a parent who is “all in” on their children. He opened his heart to them, and they not only refused to reciprocate (6:12), but they flat out rejected him.

Something was brewing in Corinth and its odor was rank. The pot was starting to boil and what was spilling over was spoiled. While we don’t know the details, we know the results. Corinth discarded Paul and his leadership like an old worn-out shoe, hurting him, and forcing him to leave. They were like the prodigal son to their father, saying, “I wish you were dead!” Sadly, they stood in a historically long line of God’s people, both in the past and in their future, rejecting the Word sent to them.

Rejected. No one likes to be rejected. A manuscript is submitted to a publisher only to be returned with a thank you, but no thank you note. Rejected. An application is filled out and an interview is set, only for the position to be offered to someone else. Rejected. A boy gets the nerve to ask the girl out on a date, only for her to turn him down. Rejected. A mother cooks a dinner and sets it before her family who won’t eat what she prepared for them. Rejected. No one likes to be rejected, but we cannot stop the inevitable.

When we are rejected, we often turn inward and feel the rejection is our fault. We did something wrong. Like an armchair quarterback, we analyze with 20/20 vision, believing that somehow we now have clarity. So analyzing our actions, we should have spoken when we should have kept silent, or kept silent when we should have spoken. We came across too strong when we were too soft, or we were too soft enough when we should have been stronger. It’s enough to drive someone crazy. We accept blame and kick ourselves in the process, all the while our egos and self-esteem take the hit.

In the movie, Back to the Future, Marty McFly is encouraged by his girlfriend, Jennifer, to submit a tape of his band to a record company. Hs response is immediate defeat, “I just don’t think I can take that kind of rejection.” Jennifer thought the demo was good, real good. What is more is Deja vu moment when Marty McFly travels back thirty years in time and meets his father, George, who repeats the very same line to Marty who is trying to convince him to ask Loraine out for a date. “I just don’t think I can take that kind of rejection.” No doubt, Marty and George speak for many of us when our confidence is shaken. 

A not-so fun fact is that we have been preconditioned for rejection. Studies have shown that by the age of five a child knows his/her value, or said another way, the child’s self-esteem is already defined. Before the child enters school, he/she already knows, not only if they are loved, but how much they are loved. They then carry that awareness through school and into adulthood. Each step of the way, each victory and each defeat they face reinforces either the acceptance or rejection model.

My sister is adopted. Mom and dad brought her home when she was five days old. Fourteen months my younger, we were like twins as we ventured through school together. We have many fond memories from being classmates, to athletes, to church, and to graduation. I wouldn’t trade my sister for anything and cherish the memories and relationship we have today. But it wasn’t always easy for my sister. Hovering over a good home and godly parents is the reality that her birth mother gave her up for adoption. Whatever the reason, and it’s a powerful story beyond this scope of today’s message, dark clouds of rejection always hovered over my sister.

Rejection is a part of life.

We live with rejection because we have so many choices. If you don’t like this church, go to the next church down the street. If you don’t like chicken, then you can have the other chicken, pork. And if you don’t want pork, you can have steak. If you find you’re not in good hands with the insurance company then maybe another will be like a good neighbor. If you don’t like country music, then you can listen to rock. The moment we choose is the moment we accept something but reject another. Even if we just prefer one to the other, a level of rejection exists.

We live with rejection because people refuse to work on themselves. When something is wrong on the inside but is often ignored or denied, then that energy must find its focus elsewhere. A married couple who have very little in common with each other, and the slightest disagreement quickly escalates, find a common enemy to focus their negative attention. It becomes their rally-cry to avoid the work needed to save their marriage. Sometimes the target is a leader. Very often it’s the church leader or pastor. So they reject the pastor and focus their attention on him to save their marriage while ignoring the very pieces falling apart in their own lives.

We live with rejection because of the level of narcissism that permeates throughout society. Narcissism is the “Me Generation” on steroids. People, who believe the world revolves around themselves, have always existed. It’s just that today it seems that more and more narcissist have a platform through social media and the freedom to demand attention or to have their own way. No longer concerned about community or others, and lacking compassion, the narcissistic tendencies demand everything be done their way with no room for compromise. When we encounter a person or people who only think of themselves, they will quickly find a way to reject you.

We live with rejection because some people are not ready for a new idea or even to hear the truth. We step into a patient’s home to talk about end of life experiences, and they’re in denial. Believing they will get better and recover, funeral arrangements are left undecided. Once the subject is broached, offense is taken at the thought of dealing with eminent death. So we slowly work with them, building trust, and walking with them so that when the day comes the patient and family are ready and accepting of death.

Our hospice ministry is to enter the homes and lives of the individuals we are called to serve. Sometimes the patient and family are eager to embrace our guidance and instructions for care. Other times, we find ourselves and help rejected by the very ones trusting us. We offer to bathe our patients who refuse our care. We offer to provide medication to numb the pain or to heal a wound, but they refuse to take the medication. We offer spiritual care, but the patient refuses to allow Spiritual Care into their homes, and when they do, they fail to tell their story truthfully to us. A worse-case scenario is that the person entering the home is rejected and even blamed for the patient’s problems. And we walk away with Marty McFly running through our heads, “I just don’t think I can take that kind of rejection.”

When Paul was rejected by his Corinthian church, he disclosed his heart, and in the process maybe offered us a way to work through rejection. First, he temporarily distanced himself from the church, refusing to make another “painful visit” (2:1). Paul wasn’t running away and being passive-aggressive. Instead, he was allowing the dust to settle before engaging with the church. Secondly, while Paul did write a letter them, he refused to write out of anger, but instead he wrote out of shedding many tears (2:4). Paul was hurting, and rightly so. Being rejected hurts and often causes deep wounds. Sometimes we need a good cry, and Paul seemed to embrace those tears. Thirdly, Paul refused to pull the “authority card” on the Corinthians (1:24). Refusing to rely on his position, rather, he pointed to his disposition, a Spirit of brokenness that had come through many tears. In fact, Paul responded to the Corinthians like the father in Luke 15. He absorbed the rage and rejection without retaliation. Granted, later on Paul promises to bring discipline if attitudes and behavior will not change (13:2-3). For now, the apostle is allowing the temper-tantrum of the church to run its course. He does so, finally, because he holds out hope that the church will reaffirm their love for him (2:3).

No one wants to experience rejection, but rejection is one thread woven through the fabric of reality. And like you, Marty McFly’s quote keeps running through my head, “I just don’t think I can take that kind of rejection.” When we are rejected by friends, family, or patients, just remember we do not stand alone because even the great Apostle Paul was rejected.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

Transformed

The key to the superhero world is anonymity. I know you’re probably thinking, the key is having superpowers, and you’re probably right. But hear me out. Anonymity not only protects yourself from villains having direct access to your personal life, but anonymity helps protect your loved ones from those same villains seeking revenge. Thus, Batman is the alter-ego for Bruce Wayne. Spider-Man is the superhero name for Peter Parker. Clark Kent is the costume for Kal-El or Superman. Then we have the Transformers who thrive on anonymity. They hide in plain sight, disguised as cars, trucks, semis, airplanes, and at times, even ghetto-blasters.

In the 2007 Transformer movie, Sam Witwicky shops for his first car, financed by his dad of course. He finds a broken down yellow 1977 Camaro. The salesman, Bobby Bolivia, foreshadowed something more when he said, “Drivers don’t pick their cars. The cars pick the driver, as there’s a mystical bond between man and machine.” In Sam’s case Bolivia was right, but he had no idea how right he was.

It’s not long before someone steals Sam’s new car, or at least that’s what he thinks happens. When Sam reports his car stolen to the police, he describes the moment where he discovered the car was a sentinel being, “My car transformed before me.”

I remember the first time watching the movie. The special effects were so clear and detailed that, honestly, believing a car can suddenly transform was not a stretch to the imagination. Even though the cartoons were well after my time, the movie capture the childhood fantasy in me.

Transformed. Like a caterpillar entering its cocoon for a month before emerging as a beautiful and colorful butterfly. Transformed. Like the art of origami, taking a flat 2-D piece of paper and creating an intricate and interesting 3-D form. Transformed. Like a home renovation or fixer upper sponsored by Chip and Joanna Gains who start the deconstruction followed by the reconstruction of a home. Transformed. Like when Bob Harper and Alison Sweeny motivate overly obese people in a boot-camp-like atmosphere to shed the pounds away. Transformed. Like Paul describes the Corinthians after listing the worst of sins, “. . . and that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of Jesus Christ . . .” (1 Cor. 6:11), as he notes that they are not the same people today as when he had introduced them to Jesus. Transformed.

Transformed is an expectation, not wishful thinking. But is it even possible for someone to change? To find someone who has metamorphosed from one type of person into someone totally different feels like a pipe dream. We probably fantasize of such transformation, but live with the disappointment of it never experiencing it. Sadly, we probably know more people who were good and godly turn godless. But what about someone changing into good?  

Paul writes, “And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever increasing glory, which comes from the Lord” (2 Cor. 3:18). Did you catch that, “are being transformed”? Paul draws from the Exodus story when Moses wore a veil after encountering God on Mt. Sinai (v. 13) in order that Israel would not witness his flaming face fading into a dull exposure. Moses’ face, exposed to the brilliance of God’s presence, begins to radiate. He chooses to wear a veil to conceal the dimming of his radiant face. While the story is quite remarkable in and of itself, Paul’s point is that the Old Covenant read without Jesus creates its own veil (v. 15-16). Lifting the veil is reading the Old Covenant through the lenses of Jesus which allows the transformation process to take hold so that we begin to think, talk, and do what Jesus did.

If I could capture this transformation process Paul is talking about, I believe it can be found in exploring the well-known prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, which has been reworked into lyrics for a song. The prayer asks for the Spirit to overcome the natural reaction of the flesh. Where we find hatred, we bring love. Where we stumble upon strife, we speak peace. Where there is darkness, we shine his light (not our light, but God’s light). Here’s the words of this song:

“Lord make us instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let your love increase.
Lord make us instruments of your peace,
Walls of pride and prejudice shall cease|
When we are your instruments of peace.

Where there is hatred, we will show your love
Where there is injury, we will never judge.
Where there is striving, we will speak his peace
To the millions crying for release,
We will be his instruments of peace.

Where there is blindness, we will pray for sight.
Where there is darkness, we will shine his light.
Where there is sadness, we will bear their grief
To the millions crying for relief,
We will be your instruments of peace.

Embracing the prayer of Assisi certainly holds transforming power in and of itself. Not only will it shift our perspective, but once we embrace the prayer, I believe the possibility of people being transformed increases, even if it’s just one person.  

Gene was an unbeliever who was described as harsh, impatient, indifferent, unappreciative, and even unconcerned about the people around him. But this unbeliever met a believer. He ran into a force he had to reckon with when he met Esther.

Their introduction was by two teenage friends, who just happened to be their sons. The boys, seeing something in each parent, devised their own Parent Trap to get them together. But there was a hitch, as this was real life and not a Disney movie: Gene was not a Christian, and Esther was not interested in being unequally yoked to a non-believer. To her credit, not only did she have her faith to consider, but her children as well. Out of the boys’ hands, and even out of Esther’s hands, God began to act. God worked through Esther so that Gene might be transformed.

Gene was willing to study with Esther, and was opened to being mentored. All this fell in line with a man who could see discipleship as an extension of his own discipline. From the guy who chose to eat spam and an oatmeal cream cookie for lunch. Every. Single. Day. Choosing that instead of Esther’s cooking. Or the fact that he went to bed every night at 11:00 – and sent everyone else to bed too. This discipline kicked in and he studied with Esther and he began buying into what she was selling. By the time the two married, he was a Christian man with more transforming to come.

Gene credits his ongoing metamorphosis to the respect he had for Esther. In a journal connected to a men’s class at church, discovered by his family and was composed some ten years in after his wedding day, Gene made clear the source of his change. In his own words, he writes,

“My moral, spiritual, relational standard has been affected greatly with the help and guidance of my wife, Esther” . . . My Esther has influenced me for the better, my whole outlook on life has been completely turned around. I now give more thought to my answer and more of a Christian response in all my actions, thanks to her evidence in my quest to live a Christian life.”

When I think of Gene, I’ll always remember him sitting by Esther’s side at the hospital while his bride was recovering from a fall. He sat by her side he gently held her hand, patting the top of it, and refusing to leave her. I didn’t know then, but I know now that I was witnessing the end product of God working through Esther to transform Gene so that . . .

his harshness gave way to gentleness,
his impatience surrendered to patience,
his indifferent submitted to compassion,
his un-appreciativeness conceded to thankfulness,
and his unconcerned mindset yielded to a caring man.

As we circle back around to the 2007 Transfomers movie, Sam and would be girlfriend, Mikaela, are given a choice. Danger is already upon them, which they can embrace the unknown future including the unknown risks and perils, or they can walk away, trying to return to a normal life. The key word is “try.” Bumblebee has the car door open for them – that 1977 yellow Camaro form – while they ponder their decision. Sam looks at Mikaela and says, “Fifty years from now, when you look at your life, don’t you want to say you had the guts to get in the car?” Suddenly, perspective is clear, and the choice becomes a no-brainer. The adventure awaits them as they climb into the car.

Jesus has a door open for you and he’s inviting you to the process of transformation. It’s a lifelong process. The question is, are you going to ignore the invitation and try to resume your so-called normal life, or are you going to accept the invitation and get in for the ride of your life?

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

We Make It Our Goal to Please Him

On the edge of settling in the land of Canaan, some of the land has been conquered, while much was still a wild territory still needing tamed. Joshua will not be with them during the next phase of their journey as he will soon age-out. He will not leave them, though, without a final message. After rehearsing Israel’s story, he offers an altar call, challenging the people of God to make a choice. They can either serve the gods their forefathers served, including the ones in Egypt, Mesopotamia, and the ones now in Canaan. Or, they can serve the One True God who led them from bondage through the wilderness and found victory during the early days of the conquest. Joshua’s conclusion is succinctly focused: who will they decide to serve?

Joshua touches on a theme relevant to life. We will serve something. History has proven this point time and time again. Humanity will serve gods created in the imagination of the human mind. Dark things always emerge from humanity’s mind, especially when tied to religion. For instance, who thought that such dark deep debauchery, like offering children as live sacrifices to Molech, was a good idea?

If Joshua were speaking to today, he might assess our culture differently and add a different god we tend to serve: ourselves. We can be so self-absorbed that we think of no one else but ourselves. Our rugged individualism drives our personal decisions so often that we hurt those around us, or most dear to us. We are not an island in and of ourselves, but we act like it, without ever realizing how our lives are so interconnected like a jigsaw puzzle. We can serve God, but it’s almost like we make it our goal to please ourselves.

Paul may not have Joshua in mind when he writes, “So we make it our goal to please him” (2 Cor. 5:9), but there may be a connection. While Joshua speaks of choosing to serve someone or something, Paul assumes we are choosing to serve God. Indeed, he ups the ante from simply serving to our goal of pleasing God. From our part we want God to experience great pleasure through our serving him. Let’s switch that narrative: from God’s part he wants to take great pleasure in our serving him.

Can you let that wash over you a bit? God takes great pleasure from our service to him. Like a child who draws you a picture and it gets mounted to your refrigerator; like a teenager who voluntarily busses the table and washes the dishes without being asked (at least more than once) and your heart is warmed; or when a patience receives foot care from a nurse or an aide and an amazing sense of relief comes over the patient.

Unlike the gods created in the minds of humanity where one never knows how to please their deities, or where they stand with them, or how the rules change from year-to-year or mood-to-mood. Our God is a god who not only takes pleasure in us but wants to take pleasure in his people. And our God is consistent with what pleases him.

When we extend the comfort received from God to others,
                God takes great pleasure in us.
When we forgive those who have trespassed against us,
                God takes great pleasure in us.
When we are paraded before the public as a stench,
                God smells a fragrant aroma and takes great pleasure in us.
When we check our motives and agendas at the door,
              God takes great pleasure in us.
When we experience the transformation power of the gospel so our lives conform to his
will,
                God takes great pleasure in us.
When we feel our fragile brokenness and refuse to lose heart,
                God takes great pleasure in the gospel planted in our lives.
When we endure suffering as a mark of an act of following in Jesus’ footsteps,
                God takes great pleasure in us.
When we no longer burn bridges but take steps toward reconciliation,
                God takes great pleasure in us.
When we operate out of generosity for others who are suffering,
                God takes great pleasure in us.
When we finally see the shallowness of the celebrity glitz and glamor side of ministry,
                God takes great pleasure in us.
God takes great pleasure in us,
                Because God wants to take great pleasure in us.
So indeed, we make it our goal to please God.*

For eight years of my life I gave myself to competitive running. I know something of goals and motivation. Through high school and college I set my goals and worked toward them. I sacrificed and prioritized my life around running. I gave up sleeping-in or skipped parties that went late into the night. At the same time I made a list and set to accomplish them from running varsity, to school records, to conference championships, to State and National recognition. Some goals I achieved, others I never quite reached. Goals are important, but motivation to achieve those goals are as well. Looking back on those years, sometimes I lacked the motivation of the daily grind of running.

Paul offers the incentive for us to step out as we work to please God. While we find encouragement knowing that God takes pleasure in us, Paul, none-the-less, heightens our desire to achieve our goal of pleasing him. In 2 Corinthians 5 Paul offers us two motivations: a positive one and a not-so-negative one.

The Positive Motivation is from verse 8 when he says, “We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord.” This is not the only time Paul makes this claim, he makes it three times. In verse 6 he says, “. . . that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord,” and then after stating our goal is to please him, he adds, “. . . whether we are at home in the body or away from it” (v.9). All three times he alludes to our “bodies” being the physical barrier that prevents us from reaching God. In some ways we’re trapped as the physical body limits us. We cannot see God, except by faith. We cannot touch God, apart from faith. We cannot stand in his presence, but through faith. The body we inhabit, in many ways, keeps us away from God. No wonder we feel times of drought, believing God is so far away from us.

Paul is acknowledging the limited reality of our physical bodies, though he knows that one day we will be with the Lord. This thought is the positive motivation for pleasing God. We will see him and be with him and stand in his presence. All the pain will be gone. All the comfort we long for will be given. The scars of Jesus will permanently heal our scars. No more sin. No more remorse. No more shame. Pure joy and love will surround us. We make it our goal to please God because the payoff will be, not now, but then. The payoff will come when we are with the Lord. Think of it like this, God will return us to innocence of Eden where he will walk with us in the cool of the day. What a powerful image for motivation!

Do you remember that challenge about choosing either a million dollars up front or a penny a day doubled for a month? I’m not a math mathematician, but apparently if you take the million dollars up front you forfeit some four million dollars due to compound interest. Here’s the point, our pleasing God to encounter him later is the long road, not the short cut. We long for and believe in the later payoff, even willing to sacrifice a seemingly short term windfall. Our pleasing God may not pay off now, but it will then. And it will pay big.

The Not-So-Negative Motivation comes from verse 10 where he says, “We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each of us may receive what is due him, for things done while in the body, whether good or bad.” Paul is creating a somber moment where he describes Judgment Day like the tribunal he experienced when was brought before Gallio while ministering in Corinth (Acts 18:12-17). To be held accountable for (words and) actions while in our bodies is sobering for sure. I feel the bite as I have done and said plenty in my life I regret which still haunt me today. That said, Paul is not trying to scare us, but to motivate us to use our lives to please God, something he assumes we want to do.

More importantly, Paul does not mention “condemnation” nor “hell,” as we should be slow to insert those words here. The issue is not saved versus unsaved, but the quality of service rendered to God. Christ will be assessing our deeds done in the body, not our destiny. To be clear, Paul may be seeing this moment as his own personal vindication for the trials and suffering he has experienced while in the body during which the Corinthians have rejected his leadership for the antagonists who lured them away from Paul. The apostle looks on that particular day with hope that Jesus will say to him before the Corinthians and the antagonists, “I took great pleasure in the work you have done.”

The motivation is that God will be assessing our own goals of pleasing him, not our eternal destiny, as that is already settled. The question is, “Will God take great pride in our service, or will he expose us as nothing more than a fraudulent sham?

The “Not-So-Negative Motivation” leads us to purge our motives from all our false pretenses and agendas. We care for our patients and endure difficult environments, not because our job demands it. No. We work out of hope that one day we get to be with our Lord as he evaluates our service to him. I can see him saying, “I really enjoyed that time when you . . ..” So in the meantime, we make it our goal to please him.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

* The list is comprised of themes found within Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians.

Posted on

Awakened to a New Perspective

John Keating, the literature teacher at the fictional Welton Academy in the movie Dead Poets Society, always saw the world through unconventional means. He had his students rip the entire first chapter of their textbooks out for disposal because poetry cannot be measured by mathematical probabilities. To demonstrate the danger of conformity, he took his students outside to march around the courtyard. But the scene that grabbed me was when he had his students stand on top of their desk to view the room. All the desks were still in place. The chalkboard continued to be mounted on the wall. The mini library was still intact. What changed was the students’ perspective. Standing on the desk gave them a different way of seeing the same situation. Perspective is everything.

Sometimes we find ourselves boxed in and trapped because the only view we have limits our perception. Sometimes simply stepping outside the box – outside our surroundings – gives us the new vantage point needed to see something new or different in a way we’ve never noticed. Other times it’s removing the blinders that hinder us from seeing the peripheral.

When Thomas Edison interviewed potential scientist to work for him, he took them to lunch. He ordered soup for the scientist. When order came, he sat back and watched what happened next. If the potential scientist reached for the salt before tasting the soup, the interview ended. If the potential scientist tasted his or her soup before reaching for the salt, the interview continued. He did not want his scientist to have their minds made up beforehand. Sadly, Edison failed his own criteria. In the war of currents, he boxed himself in with direct current (DC), making his mind up beforehand that DC was the only viable current, when others found success in experimenting with alternating current (AC). Perspective is everything.

When Peter saw the vision of Jesus in Acts 10, he was awakening to a new perspective on the Gentile mission. While Peter had preached that everyone who called on the name of the Lord will be saved (Act. 2:21), he hadn’t realized that such promise was offered to the Gentiles. When he saw that God had given Cornelius the Holy Spirit just like he had, he realized God’s plan. When Paul saw the light (Act. 9), he shifted from persecuting the church to becoming its biggest advocate. Readily admitting his own sinfulness (1 Tim. 1:15), he discovered that if God’s grace and mercy was more than willing to reach him then that same grace and mercy will reach the Gentiles (Rom. 1:15). Perspective is everything.

In any case changing the angle by which we view something alters our perspective, and that’s a good thing. When our perspective shifts, so does the way we see the world. We see people and situations differently. We tend to see them clearly. They say never criticize someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes, so we understand their journey. We become sympathetic and empathetic to their plight. Will we change our opinion? Maybe not. But our inflexible views might soften. And if they soften we might step into compassion. For if we can view each other through the lenses of friendship, maybe we’ll stop viewing each other distrustfully as enemies.

What the writers, director and producers around Dead Poets Society were trying to grasp was that options were available if we’re willing to see them. How we navigate through life largely depends on the perspective we bring to living. Is there one path or two? Can we step out of the box? Are we working with blinders? What if we stood on top of our desk to view the situation? Suddenly, the world looks differently, and options begin to materialize. Perspective is everything.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

Countering the Cancel Culture

Someone said it was a good year for cancelling. They may be right in that the number of moments in the Cancel Culture war seemed to have escalated in 2020; it feels like everyone jumped on the bandwagon. No doubt the movement has been fueled by three unique factors merging into a perfect storm. First, the toxic behavior of social media where people feel free to post their unhinged thoughts without fear of backlash. Secondly, cultural norms have and are shifting faster than our comfort zones can process. And thirdly, a pandemic that has forever changed our world. Whether you believe the pandemic is a real threat or hyped up fake news, the result is the same: we are in a very different place coming out of pandemic than we were two years ago going into the pandemic.

Cancel Culture is a form of group shaming, usually issued to a public person or company for decisions or actions that are deemed offensive (yea, I Googled it). One might say that the shaming is an attempt to reform behavior through pressure, while others admit it’s simply a political power-grab. While the term, “cancel culture,” has only recently been coined, the idea has been around for many years and both sides of the spectrum has participated in its game.

The summer I graduated from college, a movie about the life of Christ was generating a lot of buzz. Long before social media, televangelists and local preachers were urging viewers and churches to boycott The Last Temptation of Christ. I was trying to complete course work to graduate and get married so I wasn’t tuned into the debate. Later in the summer a preacher I knew was given an opportunity for a private screening with other community leaders to view the movie for themselves. Yes, the movie was controversial and undermined the gospel account of Jesus. However, he added his perspective, while the movie wasn’t good, its bad publicity will draw people out to see it for curiosity’s sake. Had Christians not drummed up such noise, it would have gone under the radar and bombed in the theater.

About a year later the Exxon oil tanker, Valdez, struck the Prince William Sound Bligh Reef, spilling ten million gallons of crude oil. The spill was the worst on record, ever. While multiple factors were in play to cause to spill, the captain and Exxon Company were deemed guilty of negligence. Cile and I decided to forgo purchasing gas from Exxon to protest the spill. Our weekly tank of gas did nothing to curtail the some 400 billion dollar enterprise.

When Disney decided to offer health insurance to LBGTQ partners, as if they were recognizing a benefit only for married couples and families, the Southern Baptist Convention pushed to boycott the company. That was in 1997 and today, after buying the rights to Pixar, Marvel and Star Wars, the threatened boycott was like flies being swatted by an elephant.

Yes, these are my experiences, but I’ve found both sides of the ideological isle use “cancel culture” in their arsenal. When deployed the tactic doesn’t work and often backfires in the process. On one side, those cancelled are viewed with sympathy or curiosity which draws more attention to them or their cause, while on the other side their personal lives are ruined: the punishment of public shaming is far greater than the original offence that ignited the shaming.

While the catchphrase, “cancel culture,” is not in the Bible, the theme is a reoccurring motif. And it doesn’t always unfold like we think it should. Cain kills his brother, but God chooses not to cancel him (Gen. 4:11-12). In fact, he protects him from being canceled (Gen. 4:13-16). Saul sins and God cancels his dynasty, handing the kingdom over to David (1 Sam. 16:1). Then David sins – arguably sinning greater than Saul – and God forgives David (2 Sam. 12:13). Paul tells the Corinthian church to expel than man sleeping with his father’s wife (1 Cor. 5:9-13). But when Paul wants to cancel John Mark, Barnabas will have nothing to do with it (Act. 15:36-40). It seems the Bible sends some mixed messages regarding Christians living with a “cancel culture.”

From a wider lens, the biblical narrative not only draws us away from the “cancel culture,” but gives us the means to counter it. First, embrace the imagery of pilgrims (1 Pet. 1:1; 2:1) by avoiding political baggage. Not only do we not belong or feel at home in this world, but every cultural battle has a political bent to it. Instead of the Gospel bending culture, the political culture bends the gospel to something palatable for us to taste. We can feel more comfortable with our surroundings. Secondly, make room for righteous reconciliation (2 Cor. 5:16-21). Because, at its core, the “cancel culture” polarizes people, pitting us against them or you against me. Thus, the Gospel becomes ineffective at either bringing righteousness or reconciliation.

Someone said it’s a good year for cancelling. I’m pretty sure sarcasm was dripping from their pen while they wrote it. In truth it’s never a good year for cancelling. But it is a good year when pilgrims promote righteous reconciliation.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

CHURCH: Rooted in a Pagain World

Jesus re-counts a series of parables in Matthew 13, most of which deal with agriculture and farming. Following the story of the sower sowing seeds (v. 1-23), he tells about the wheat and the weeds (v. 24-30). Here a farmer sows good seed, but during the night his enemy sowed a weed that grows to look like wheat. In fact, this particular weed is almost indistinguishable from the wheat. Almost. More so, the weed is destructive and can devastate the entire crop, and not just this crop but corrupt the field for years to come. When the workers asked the owner what to do, they assumed the right action was to go out into the field to pull up the weeds. Instead, the owner feared for the wheat. “While you’re pulling the weeds, you may root up the wheat with them. Let them grow together until harvest” (v. 29-30a).

“Let them grow together” is a risky move. I’m not sure I can agree with it, either. Neither do you. We know the sayings, “Birds of a feather, flock together.” “If you lie down with the dogs, you wake up with fleas. “One bad apple can spoil the whole bunch.” ”You’re known by the company you keep.” Even Paul, not satisfied with saying it once, said it twice, “A little yeast works through the whole batch of dough” (1 Cor. 5:6b; Gal. 5:9). So allowing the weeds to grow with the wheat is a risky move and clearly gives bad has an open lane to overtake the good in the process.

But what is the alternative solution? If the workers go out and uproot the weeds, the owner fears that they’ll be unable to distinguish the difference between the weed and the wheat. What looks like a weed may in fact be uprooted wheat and what is passed over as wheat may in fact be weed destroying the wheat around it. Allow each scenario to play out in your mind and it’s like a catch-22; either choice is fraught with risk.

The parable gives us cause to pause. We tend to be like the workers, believing that we can clean up the field by rooting out the evil. We know and can spot the difference between the wheat and the weed, and uprooting them is possible without destroying the wheat. Or so we believe. But in our attempt to clean up the world, we do more damage and destruction than if we were patient. Allowing the wheat and the weed to grow together until the harvest provides clear distinction between the two so that the Owner himself can oversee the separation process.

God’s Church is rooted in a pagan society. The biblical story is clear and does not gloss over the reality that we live in a fallen world. Sin is prevalent and pervasive. Like a weed it takes hold of people at their roots to steal nutrients and to suck out life. We’re called to grow and thrive in a field that has more than its fair share of weeds. Our calling sets the bar very high. We’re planted in a pagan society, but the pagan society is not to take root in or lives.

Herein lies the problem. We’ve convinced ourselves that the society we live in is better, sanitized and even “Christianized;” sometimes it feels like it is while other times it’s as pagan as any other society. We’ve come to believe that we’re planted in a field without weeds or at least the weeds are minimal at best. Thus, we’re confused and disorientated when we see society acting so un-Christ-like, or see morals and ethics continue its decline. We pray for our leaders, but it feels like we’re wasting our breadth. We pray for a society that ultimately is choking us out.

So as we tend to our field, we trust in the Owner’s wisdom. We shy away from rooting out the weeds in fear of rooting out the wheat. Instead, we continue to work the ground so that the wheat will grow and bear fruit (Gal. 5:22-23). So when hate ravages, we cultivate love. When despair expands, we nurture joy. When conflict and turmoil overtake, we foster peace. When intolerance extends, we develop patience. When cruelness chases, we pursue kindness. When stinginess rears its ugly head, we enrich with generous goodness. When disloyalty and falsehood dominates, we plant truthful faithfulness. When self-indulgence influences, we encourage self-control. Because, when we’re rooted in a pagan world, we still have to grow.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

An Impossible Dream: Wannabe Knights Fighting Windmills

A hero lives within all of us. We champion the weak while triumphing over the wicked. Most of us have nurtured the hero at a young age by wearing a cape or mask and maybe packing a toy side arm. We pretended trees were our forts, boulders were lookout points and our bicycles were our horses. We fought our enemies and secured the safety of the damsel in distress. We dreamed an impossible dream.

As we entered adulthood the hero within us never died, but continued to thrive as we championed greater causes. Maybe we feed the homeless in a soup kitchen. Maybe we help lead one of the addiction support groups. Maybe we volunteer to read at the local elementary school. Maybe we collect supplies for a children’s home or loose change for a crisis pregnancy center. Deep down we know we’re doing good and helping overcome something bad.

Life can be complicated. And the battles we choose to fight hold the life we live in the balance, or at least we believe so. Too many times we’ve convinced ourselves we’re fighting giants when we’re really fighting windmills, and the dream is impossible to realize.

Don Quixote was the Man of La Mancha. A man of chivalry. A knight, or at least he saw himself as a knight. With his squire by his side, who was actually a poor farmer named Sancho, Don Quixote sought out his adventures to conquer evil and to save the good. His most notorious battle was the fierce giant. Everyone else only saw him fail at taking down a windmill.

I once had a conversation with my college roommate, Mike Anderson. Trying to be respectful, I was seeking insight to the personality of a mutual friend. This person tended to exaggerate problems and events, in part to make himself the hero of the story. At least that was my assessment. With Mike always diplomatic and a kind person, I needed him to taper my opinion. Instead, he concurred, saying, “Well, Jon, he does like to fight his windmills.” When we’re wannabe knights fighting windmills, it’s an impossible dream to reach.

Herein lies the difficulty of anyone who watches Don Quixote fight their windmills. A sense of reality has been abandoned and no one can tell the knight that what stands before him/her is only a windmill, not a giant. Or Don Quixote creates a crisis in order to pretend he/she has the answer to the produced problem. Either way, reality has been sacrificed for drama, and Sancho convincing The Man of La Mancha otherwise is just as futile as Don Quixote fighting the windmills.

Since trying to stop a person from fighting windmills is in and of itself an impossible dream, then redirecting our time and energy into something else might be more beneficial. By focusing on Jesus’ ministry we can solidly ground our own ministries and avoid chasing windmills.

Mark 10:45 is often thought of as the focal point to Mark’s gospel. Jesus, in responding to the disciples who wanted the top places of power in the kingdom, told them that “. . . the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Two words in this one verse brings discipleship and ministry away from the windmills and straight to its core.

Serve. Jesus didn’t expect people to serve him, but he did his best to serve others. The most explicit moment recorded of him serving is the washing of the disciples’ feet in John 13. Humiliating and degrading, Jesus willingly performs the task everyone else felt was beneath them. Regulated to the low-man on the totem pole, Jesus embraced and modeled servanthood for us. As one cliché nails this moment, “People don’t care about how much you know until they know how much you care.” Serving bridges the gap between what you know and how much you care.

Sacrifice. While Jesus had envisioned his crucifixion when he spoke these words, his entire ministry was cradled in sacrifice. He gave up heaven for earth (Phil 2:5-11). He gave up his time and energy so that he may heal the masses of people who came to him. Day after day he emptied himself so that God might fill him again to repeat the process time and time again.

Service and sacrifice keep ministry and discipleship well-grounded, not to mentioned, humbled. Even if we decide to fight windmills, and the temptation is always present for those battles, perspective and credibility is always built on service and sacrifice. Only then is the dream possible.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

A Royal Headache: The Strings Attached to the Crown

News from across the pond travels as fast as soundwaves, and is often felt like shockwaves reverberating on the waters. This week was no different as Harry and Meghan sat down with Oprah in a tell-all interview. Some of the details they outlined were headline-grabbing giving Buckingham Palace a royal headache. But are we really surprised? The Royal Family has had its fair share of drama from Charles and Diana to Charles and Camilla to Andrew’s link to Jeffery Epstein. The Royals could produce their own reality TV and, no doubt, be a blockbuster sell.

Harry and Meghan have abandoned their connection to the monarchy and moved to America to seek their lives independent of Great Britain. From Harry’s perspective he lost his mother and lays much of the blame on the British media. The same British media intruding on his private life then is intruding on his life now. He levels another part of the blame on The Firm, the insider term to describe the destructive and controlling system overlaying the Monarchy. That same system squeezed out his mother and was already squeezing out his wife. Clearly, being a Royal means that there are strings attached to the crown, and sometimes those strings have tangled with people’s lives. Fearing for their future, they chose to cut the strings, sort of, and walk away from the system to pursue life on their own terms.

I didn’t sit down to watch the interview, I have other things to worry about than tuning into wealthy, aristocratic sibling rivalry. But the interview blew up the news cycle. Even though the colonies broke from the Empire over 200 years ago, like an abusive relationship, we’re too emotionally attached to a family that has no control over our lives. So with Oprah leading the way, America (and other parts of the world) tuned in to what Harry and Meghan had to say. And they said a lot.

As much as I like Harry, and obviously I don’t know him personally, choosing a tell-all format is an unhealthy way to deal with conflict. In fact, it’s a power move because they have inside information they’re willing to share select pieces of with the world. They have evidence that should be kept within the confines of Buckingham Palace. Tell-all venues feed the goods and gossip, making you feel good in the moment. Unfortunately, the fallout leaves you feeling dirty. Sure, Harry tried protecting his grandmother from accusation, but the fan is too large to keep her from being hit with the words. What is clear is that between Diana and Meghan’s experience, the Cinderella-type stories are lies built with a house of cards. Ordinary people have no common identity with the Royals.

But two other statements from the interview are worth highlighting because they reach beyond aristocratic and paupers. The first is the fear of seeking mental health for the supposed stigma attached to it. Meghan was undergoing an emotional breakdown and the palace was afraid of the news media having a field day with that information. Denial of a problem is the real sign of weakness; seeking help is step of strength. Owning weakness is not only biblical but at the heart of the gospel (2 Cor. 12:5, 9-10). I’m not sure how the media would have responded, but I know individuals suffering are fearful of what people around them will say if they found out. Someone struggling with depression keeps suffering in silence. A marriage begins to unravel but signing up for counseling might expose the façade they’ve managed to create, so the marriage continues to unravel. Someone fears going to the doctor because something else wrong might be discovered. In the process, the condition worsens. Real strength acknowledges our weakness and steps into getting help.

The other statement came, not from Harry’s grandparents, but from the Firm. He refused to share the source, family or staff members, but the statement is disturbing at so many levels. “They” were disturbed by the possible skin tone of Harry and Meghan’s baby, Archie. People obsessed with optics rarely are concerned about people, but are focused on themselves. As unnerving as a preoccupation with skin color is, God has never focused on color. He’s focused on the heart (1 Sam. 16:7). Our own sinfulness keeps us from embracing and celebrating the diversity of God’s color scheme. Or the vision Martin Luther King once conveyed, we judge people not on the color of their skin but on the content of their character.

Before Meghan married Harry, British comedian, John Oliver, said that the Royal family was “. . . an emotionally stunted group of fundamentally flawed people.” He’s probably right. When anyone or family is focused on image and optics, then issues will be ignored and swept under the carpet. When a person or family of power is concerned with only image and optics, then the damage in its wake is severe. But we don’t have to be a Royal family to experience such dysfunction. We can take an honest look at ourselves.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)