New Pages

My friends, I’m losing the war with time this week.  Those of you still in school can feel my pain.  Midterms are hunting for heads and there just aren’t enough hours in the day to barricade all the doors.  So what am I doing writing a blog when I could be using my time wisely?  I would think the answer was obvious.  I’m being bad.

I tried to pick up a caterpillar today.  He was walking down the middle of the sidewalk.  My rescue attempt was rewarded with a viscus, green substance all over my index finger.  Some defense.  I gently put him back onto the concrete and marveled at my luck.  He probably smirked as he inched towards the grass between the road and the sidewalk.  Rascal.

I finished my moleskine today.  It wasn’t this massive sense of accomplishment, but it felt good.  I’d spent over a year filling that notebook with my thoughts (I write in random spurts of desperation).  It’s a shameful read, looking back over those faintly yellow pages.  Judging by my handwriting, I’m mostly six years old.  There are a lot of scratches that aim for poetry.  There are a lot of unorganized, sloppy notes on various Bible verses.  Rantings and ravings, charts and half-baked lyrics, fragments of a language I thought about starting (it’s just tweaked Igpay Atinlay). It’s a book full of table scraps from my life.

Do you know what I’ve decided after skipping like a stone over those pages?  I don’t recognize myself.  If that paper was glass, the voice staring back at me has changed like wine.  Perhaps I’m worse.  Perhaps I’m better.  Maybe there are shades of success and decay no matter the angle.  But I’m different.  A  whole calendar has beaten me like a dead horse and I thank God I’ve not become some lumpy mound of glue.

That’s all this is.  Just thinking out loud and pondering change.  Time to start a new notebook.

The Little Gods of the Church

When I was a young church mouse, I sat in the pew as our pastor spoke against idols.  He would tell us that idols were not limited to the carved statues we read about in the Old Testament.  From behind that suit and pulpit, he would warn us that idols could be whatever thing we placed above God as supremely important in our lives.  It was so hard to sit still in those pews.

Now, before we move on, let’s be clear.  I didn’t care about idols at the time.  I didn’t care about anything he said.  But through the years, I’ve somehow retained small fragments of his list of subtle gods.  Sports…education…family…careers…girlfriends and boyfriends…ice cream…

When Jesus Christ changed me from a church mouse into a man (a common fairy tale in the Scriptures), I was shocked to discover that our old pastor had been telling the truth!  All this time, I had been a Canaanite leaving out fruit for those demons to eat.  Liberation is an ongoing process and grace is ferocious.  I constantly have to snap the necks of the gods in my life.

That being said, I’ve been thinking more about idols and the dark corners they live in.  In thinking, an uncomfortable truth has bubbled up to the surface.  Those dark things live and breathe in every church that dots this earth.  They’re simply camouflaged.  They’re snakes dressed up in the skin of angels.

And they have to disguise themselves.  If they didn’t, we would denounce them before they could whisper in our ears.  Money?  Sex?  T.V?  Such idols are far too “worldly” to go unnoticed in our evangelical culture.  They’re too jagged and toxic to lure us in without a fight.  So the devil, brilliant strategist that he is, has perverted the things near and dear to the church’s heart.  He doesn’t bother to batter down the gates.  He merely dresses up as the things we love.

Christian idols are always disguised as honoring to God.  Here are some of the big ones I’ve noticed: apologetics, right wing politics, “Christian music”, prayer journals, ministry, the idea of a Christian nation, our devotions (which aren’t usually very devoted), and our own appearance as a good Christian.  The list rattles on and changes according to whatever soil a certain church is planted in.  I’m just going to punch a few of them in the throat right here and leave you to ponder the rest and respond if you wish.  I truly love hearing from you.

A Christian Nation

There are some people who love Jesus and hate the Republican Party.  There are some people who love Jesus and hate the Democratic Party.  This is fair because Jesus doesn’t fit into a political party.  When we try and force Him to wear our buttons and endorse our slogans, we start to drown in foolishness.  Nevertheless, there are some out there who remained convinced that America was once a Christian nation.  They are passionate about returning our country to that status.  Their Christianity has become nothing more than a vehicle for such change.

But didn’t we already witness a historical experiment in theocracy?  Didn’t we already see a country where the executive branch (the kings) made the Bible the law of the land? Weren’t the Ten Commandments hanging in their courthouse (so to speak)?

Yet which prophet had anything good to say about Israel?  Which prophet did Israel not kill? If a “Christian nation” didn’t work out then and there, where the Lord Himself set it up, why do we persist in the idea that it will work now in America, where God has not instituted such a system?  The pursuit seems to be an utterly fruitless crusade.  And it is a crusade that shrinks God down into a policy.  It is an idol.

Our Devotions

I refrain calling them “quite times” because, honestly, it reminds me of taking naps in kindergarten.  But what I’m talking about is the spiritual discipline of a Christian getting alone to talk to God and dwell in the Scriptures.  It’s a beautiful thing.  But it too is in danger of perversion.  Our time alone with Jesus becomes an idol when we become performers and dealers.

We look at our devotions and we make them as sincere as possible (God knows we hate to be legalists) and we feel that if we are devout, then God must love us.  If we are truly obedient and joyfully following Him, then He will love us.  It turns us into performers who are solely concerned with holy living to secure love.  Our best attempts to be real with God can become nothing more than paper thin legalism.

Or we go into it quite honestly to get something out of God.  We assume that if we take the time every day to spend time with God, then He is duty bound to bless us.  We deal out a solid quite time each day and, in return, God must become our slave.  But God cannot function as a slave.  It’s against His very nature.  And the dealers, too, become just as idolatrous.

Our devotions can simply become a means to an end.  We make sincere (and insincere) time with God into a golden goose, either to get the love we crave or the blessings we feel we deserve.

Christian Music

I’ll go ahead and call this “Christian music” as well.  Some Christians who are more culturally oriented make a big deal out of the music they listen to.  They feel that the only type of music a Christian should listen to is Christian music.  I can’t help but wonder if they exclusively wear Christian shoes and eat Christian toast.  They label all secular music as sinful.

The problem here is that the nature of music excludes regeneration.  In other words, music doesn’t have a soul that can be saved.  Jesus did not die for music.  Music cannot become “Christian”.  It is an amoral thing, neither good nor evil.

Now, to be fair, I know what folks mean when they talk about Christian music.  They’re referring (in most cases) simply to the lyrics.  They have in mind the JPS levels of the music.  For those who aren’t clear on this, the JPS level is simply the Jesus Per Song level.  It’s the frequency at which the name Jesus is mentioned in each song.  A high JPS level means it is Christian.  A low level means that it is secular and bad.  There are many problems with this perspective.  But that’s for another entry.

The point is, regardless of whether the existence of Christian music is dangerous, holy or a little of both, the attention it commands easily turns it into an idol.  And Christian music is just an ambassador for the whole of the evangelical subculture.  If it isn’t branded with a cross, it somehow becomes unclean.  Again, understand me.  I’m not anti-Christian music.  I dearly love those people who listen to it.  What I have a problem with is when they elevate the Christian subculture above the actual person of Jesus.  To these folks, I plead with you: take your eyes off your merchandise and fix them back on Jesus.

Much more could be said.  I’m sure that much more will be said.  But for now, I suppose that some things will have to remain unsaid.  I am suggesting that we all start examining ourselves in the church.

We already know the dangers that are in the world.  Preachers have been shouting about them for centuries.  What we need to do is look inwardly and sniff out the snakes that sing like angels.  If we do not, they will poison us and our souls will quietly bleed to death.

The Magic That We Love

When I was young, Mom used to take me on errands. She’d take me to the grocery store and we’d walk across that vast parking lot, stopping occasionally to refill our canteens and give the horses a rest. But eventually, we’d reach the doors of the store. We’d reach those automatic doors. We’d reach those automatic, magic doors. Now, a magic door is one of life’s simple pleasures when you’re five. But a magic door that obeys your command? Such things should be illegal when you’re that young. And I would refuse to let my mom into the store until I had intoned the ancient mantra: “open sesame”. Then those glass doors would slide apart, I would pump my chubby fist in the air, and we would enter like conquerors, welcomed by a subservient gush of conditioned air.

Now that I’m older, I’m well aware that automatic, sliding doors don’t obey my command. Even though they’re magic, it turns out that they scatter their favors to every customer, regardless of age or authority. Despite this, I was impressed with a very real sense of control. I still remember what it feels like to have the authority over some elemental power that is greater than me, outside of me.

I feel this same sense of entitlement and authority is implemented recklessly within the church. The church wields its own flavor of magic. It’s hard to catch because it’s dressed up like a Precious Moments doll. It looks very innocent and it looks very holy and it’s as harmless as a cobra in a petting zoo.

The cobra that hisses loudest is “the Sinner’s Prayer”. I think this is the clearest example of sorcery in the church today. Do you know what I mean? Let me lay it out for you.

You’re in a church youth group. It’s a Wednesday night. Some folks have their shoes off. The carpet has been stained many times over by ice cream and coke. You are sitting five rows back in a phalanx of metal folding chairs, elbow to elbow with church kids of various heights. If you don’t know what a phalanx is, stop right now and look it up. It’ll be good for you. Anyway, there’s a man at the front of the phalanx waxing long and passionately with an open Bible flopped over his palm. Suddenly, he looks concernedly into the rows of blank stares. In a whisper, he orders us to bow our heads and close our eyes. He then tells us to repeat these words, silently and to ourselves: “God, I know that I am a sinner. I am truly sorry. I want to turn from my sins and trust in Jesus for the forgiveness of my sins. I invite Jesus to come into my heart and my life to become my Lord and Savior. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

The speaker then informs those who repeated his prayer that they are now saved and that they will go to heaven and that Jesus is now living in their heart.

Now, aside from making Jesus out to be some sort of cardiovascular parasite, these repeated words (if said earnestly) guarantee salvation.  Or at least, that’s what magic is supposed to do. The only problem with this is the Bible. There’s no mention of a sinner’s prayer in the Bible. And there’s certainly no evidence that the sovereign Lord, who is a law unto himself, is compelled, like a genie, to deal out eternal life because someone said a formula.

So, what is this? It is pure conjuring. It’s calling down a supernatural force by the means of a spell. The Sinner’s Prayer is nothing more than an incantation. Nowhere in the Bible do we find a set of certain words that arm wrestle the omnipotent Lord into dispensing salvation to the speaker. But for decades, Christians have chanted a spell to command the God of the universe to claim eternal life. Perhaps we should stop trusting in religious magic and start trusting in Jesus. Take a hard, long look into the Scriptures and look at how and why God extends salvation. Stick your head under those waters and see if you don’t come back up gasping for truth. Let me know how it goes so we can compare notes.

Misc.

This sweltering dirt patch of beauty is called north Texas. It’s beautiful, dirty and patchy. It swelters frequently until mid-October and the sidewalks don’t ever seem to stop in my neighborhood. They wind and whine and tell long stories. The sidewalk that wraps around the corner where our house tilts is one of the more talkative ones. You walk on it and it just begins to tell you its life story. It tells it every day and the story never changes. Every day, each step reveals the exact same plot. So, I rely on the scenery to keep things fresh. Yesterday, I saw a beagle taking an old man for a walk. We have fun.

One of the beautiful things about being a Christian means that I can’t help but see the world through the reality of Scripture. This is monumentally liberating. It means that I don’t have to write this blog based on the number of times I say the name “Jesus”. I don’t have to write about Christian things. But rather, I’m a Christian free to write about all things. Because I see this world according to the reality that God set up in Scripture. So, I see all the gifts of common grace. I see all the pictures of Christ’s death and God’s sovereignty. I see the clinging flavors of a twisted fairy tale and I see the beauties of realized humanity. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Time and chance overtake us all. God crowns the year with bounty and strips it bear the next time around. And He is completely just, even in this sweltering dirt patch. He makes me glad with things and people. He makes me glad with what He has created (Ps.92:4). How can I not take full advantage of that? All that He has made to enjoy is mine to enjoy. Pastors really should be teachers of hedonism.

Does anyone else smile when autumn suffocates summer? A season of death, decay, and very classy entropy slowly closes its hand around the throat of popsicles and fireworks. I picture autumn as a mummy wearing a very nice scarf. And it has glowing eyes and mist for breath. It’s probably not ironic but it’s immensely interesting to me.

There’s a dead wasp in the back room of our house. Our house is kind of a funhouse with its uneven floors and the slight chance that it all might collapse if you step on it wrong. And as in every funhouse, there’s an element of terror. I’m of the opinion that if an insect flies and it stings, then it is pure evil. Wasps, bees, yellow jackets (and all other members of their brotherhood) have terrorized me since childhood. So, when I found the husky corpse of a wasp behind the blinds, I want you to understand the sentiments running through my mind. It’s still a danger. Its abdomen is outfitted with a cold sword that is just waiting to cut me. Should I touch it? Should I flush it? Dare I? Or should I revel in its demise? After all, here is a powerless, lifeless representative of the enemies of my happiness. I’m tempted to gloat in the impotence that lies there, collecting dust and forgotten by time.

But then I wonder if his hive mourns him. Did they send a folded flag to his widow? Was he simply declared M.I.A.? How in the world did he even get behind our blinds? God saw it. God was well aware. Worth a ponder.

So, I have no “teaching points” here. This is mostly a therapeutic vomiting of what I’ve been thinking about recently. Feel free to put a towel over it.

Parting shot: did you know that 75% of the Bible’s content is historical narrative? Three fourths of the Holy Scriptures is story. Do you think that content is well reflected in the content of the sermons we hear?

On deck (but not in order):

1.) Soon, I’m going to start writing a bit about the Christian magic that we wield within the church. It’s probably not what you think. But it might be. At any rate, I tingle with anticipation.

2.) I’m going to look at the music of Bach and the lyrics of David and tamper with their respective outputs. Whether you walk away with my opinion that music flows through Bach like an hourglass (as time does with Jesus’ birth), I won’t lose sleep. I just think it’s neat.

3.) I plan to write a little about the gods of the church. Christians have a lot of little altars that we love to sacrifice on.

Thank God for Obama…Or Repent

Good evening, friends.  I’ve missed you. 

Recently, I was forced to be in a room where conservative talk radio was being blasted overhead.  I have a feeling that even if the speakers had been whispering, it still would’ve sounded like shouting.  And what were the talk shows shouting about?  They were shouting about our president, Barack Obama.  It irked me in a way that only Ray Romano can irk me. 

Now, I’m not going to defend Obama’s politics.  If you’re wondering, I am diametrically, vehemently opposed to the man’s politics.  However, I am equally as passionate about thanking God forBarack Obama.  Run with me here.

I probably wouldn’t even bring this up if not for the fact that so many Christians (yes, people who claim to love and obey Jesus) are bad mouthing our President.  I’ve always thought it to be a truth universally acknowledged that one human can disagree with another human and still show respect.  Just because I differ with Gretchen Wilson on whether or not she should continue to make music does not give me the right to take potshots at her.  But we aren’t talking about country music here.  We’re talking about our President.  And I’m just writing to the Christians here.  Understand me.  I mean to say that Christians have no right to disrespect the President.  While they may protest and uphold civic duties and be conscientious citizens, Christians are actually commanded by Scripture to honor the President.  Where am I getting this?  I am unbelievably glad that you asked.  Romp with me.

In 1 Timothy 2:1-2, Paul urges Christians to pray for and thank God for all men.  He then qualifies who “all men” are: kings and all who are in high positions.  Did you catch that?  It’s one of those broom closet verses that we don’t really pull out until Memorial Day or the Fourth of July rolls around.  We don’t pray for certain groups of people.  We don’t pray for the Republicans only.  We pray for all people.  The word carries the idea of “all sorts of people”.  David Prince, a phenomenal preacher out of Kentucky, makes this excellent point: Christians love tribal prayers.  We love to pray for our own.  We love to pray for those who line up with our ideologies, with our theologies.  There’s nothing wrong with praying for our own but if those are the only people we ever pray for, we’re in big trouble.

At the time of 1 Timothy’s writing, the king Paul was referring to was the Roman emperor Nero.  Nero was psychotic.  Nero was homicidal.  Nero loved to murder Christians. Nero was much, much, much worse than President Obama.  Forgive the irony, but Obama pales in comparison to Nero.  So if Christians were to pray for Nero, how much more should we pray for Obama?  Listen.  Christians do not have a divine right to complain.   Scripture commands(yes, commands) us to thank God for President Obama.  If we do not thank God for him, we are in sin.  If we do not pray for him, we desperately need to repent.  If we do not disobey this command, we scorn the very sovereignty of God.  More on this later.

But do you see what happens when we pray for and thank God for President Obama?  Do you know what happens when we pray for those people we particularly disagree with?  Our hearts get turned inside out.  It forces us pray for those who don’t have our agenda at heart.  It makes us pray for those we wouldn’t invite over at Christmas.  It’s almost like Paul picks out the group that Christians would have the hardest time praying for and then commands them to pray for them.  Genius.  When we pray for Barack Obama, it forces us to pray prayers that are shaped by the gospel, not prayers that are shaped by our own agendas. 

To be so tribal, to only pray for our own, is not just unbiblical.  It is dangerous.  It makes us forget the gospel.  It turns us into elitists.  It morphs us into arrogant, selfish people who only love those who love us.  I think Jesus was opposed to such preferential treatment (Matthew 5:46-47). 

Do we not realize that we are commanded to honor all people, including President Obama (1 Peter 2:17)?  Have we forgotten that “the Most High rules the kingdom of men and gives it to whom He will” (Daniel 4:32)?  Did you read that?  God decides which men lead what countries.  That means that God decided to give America to Barack Obama to lead.  God turns the hearts of rulers in whatever direction He chooses (Proverbs 21:1).  If you thought God wasn’t on the throne Nov. 4, 2008, you can sleep easy now.  God was in control.  He was actually composing and performing the election, willing it to happen just like Coltrane willed out sublime solos on Kind of Blue.  And rest assured, God knows what He’s doing.

One more thing.  Ecclesiastes 10:16-20 talks about how to react to the human authority placed over you.  Solomon, the writer, acknowledges that whether the ruler is noble or ignoble, it will affect the land and those who live in it.  But he cautions, “Even in your thoughts, do not curse the king”.  The current disrespect launched daily at Obamarises well beyond mere thoughts.  Solomon says, whether he’s a good leader or not, respect him.  Why?  See the above paragraph.  God made (not just allowed) Barack Obama to be our president.  The authorities above us are instituted by God (Romans 13:1).  That may sound like blasphemy to some Christians.  Perhaps they need to grab a cup of coffee and devour these texts for a while. 

Now, I don’t normally get on a political soap box.  Soap boxes make me uncomfortable.  I prefer futons.  Those who know me are aware that I take great pleasure in avoiding political debates.  But I’ve simply had to listen to too many sneers and jabs at our president and this entry is the overflow of what that exposure has birthed in my soul.  Christian, feel free to disagree with the president.  Feel free to express your disagreement.  But don’t you dare be disrespectful to the man God has put over us.  Don’t you dare mock God’s sovereign will.  Don’t you dare leave President Obama out of your prayers. 

So, who wants to get together for presidential prayer groups as so many Christians did for President Bush?  Next week is pretty open for me.  Any takers?

Iron

It’s probably too late to be writing.  I’m mostly on fumes tonight.  But this has been rattling around in my skull all day and I think the remedy is a little logorrhea.  Bear with me, friends.  I’m hoping to cut someone here.

God tells us that “Iron sharpens iron and one man sharpens another.”  The address of that verse in Proverbs 27:17.  Visit it.  It’ll serve you cookies.  Now, what I love about this verse is that, in the Hebrew, the second half of the verse is so beautiful.  A more literal translation reads, “Iron, by means of iron, grows sharp and a person sharpens the face of his friend.” 

How does iron sharpen iron?  It has to scrape itself against another piece of iron.  It has to create friction.  It has to shape what was dull by force.  The point of the proverb is painfully clear.  People are to become sharp in the same way that iron is sharpened.  So, the question becomes: how are people made sharp?

Well, let me say how it does not happen.  People are not made sharp by proximity to possible means.  People are not made sharp through eye contact.  People are not made sharp by mere intentions.  And people are not made sharp by soft, harmless interactions.

No.  There is much conflict and friction.  There has to be!  Sharpening is dangerous business.  There’s always a risk that you’ll bleed.  Here’s why that is a very good thing.  The Hebrew carries the idea that the sharpening of people is a face-to-face affair.  Whoever said Christian friendships have to be soft and safe?  Christian community is not full of doe-eyed, precious moments.

If my friends don’t, at times, make me uncomfortable and convicted, then they’re not acting like friends.  If no one is asking me the sharp questions, it’s as harmless as an ice cream social (and probably just as healthy).  A true friend will look me in the eye and speak truth until I’m whittled into something useful.  If not, I will remain dull. 

What’s the harm in being dull?  People who belong to Jesus are alive to be useful to Him.  He has the right to be our Master in every possible way.  If Jesus uses us, that makes us tools.  At the time of writing, metal was the material of choice.  You know where I’m going with this.  It’s not fuzzy.  If we aren’t sharp, how useful can we be?

So, why is it that we shy away from hard questions?  Why is it that our conversation is so very superficial?  I’m not suggesting that every interaction should result in bloody noses and tears.  But what I am suggesting is that we start being honest in our conversations, that we start asking the honestly hard questions.  What do you think?

Full of What?

It’s a strange feeling, having your heart break first thing in the morning.  It’s an even stranger feeling to realize that you’ve misplaced all your priorities for the past week.  This afternoon found me at the blurring line where those two sensations collide.  It was a glorious inferno of stupidity and wisdom.

I was reading Jesus’ words this morning.  You see, Jesus has this habit of completely shattering everything that I hold dear until I learn to see Him as supremely beautiful.  This morning, He continued His mission with unrelenting tenderness.  I am so reckless a fool.

In the twelfth chapter of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus is surrounded by people and someone yells out (the voice sounds drunk in my mind), “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.”  This guy was probably the baby brother, seeing as the eldest usually got the inheritance once the father died.  So, the baby brother (let’s call him Teddy) is consumed with getting what isn’t his.  What is that called?  It’s called covetousness.  That’s right.  Little Teddy is coveting his older brother’s money.  That means that he wants, he strongly desires, he lusts after what his brother has.  And he wants Jesus to step in and referee.  He wants Jesus to agree with his covetousness.

Jesus, in His maddening, lovely way, shoots right back and says that He isn’t here to referee that sort of thing.  But then He takes Teddy’s (and my) sin and turns it into a picture of our hearts and their desperately ridiculous tendencies.

Jesus addresses the covetousness in the man’s heart.  He says, in Luke 12:15, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”  Now, when I hear that, I think, “Okay.  So, I shouldn’t want someone else’s car or someone else’s wife or someone else’s ______ (insert noun) because that’d be a sin”.  But that only scratches the surface!  The more important matter is why.  Why shouldn’t I want those things?  Why would that be a sin?  It’s because my life does not consist in the abundance of my possessions. 

Oh!  Do you see?  Do you see how Jesus shatters me alive?  Equating a good life with what I have is what I do naturally!  It’s what we all do!  It’s how we’re bent.  It’s because we’re so hopelessly broken and twisted.  We’re such laughable and tragic monsters of iniquity.  Our sinful hearts are constantly scrambling and clutching for whatever shines, hoping to build a sweet enough life to distract us from the gaping nothingness in our souls.  This was where my heart broke.  This was where I laughed until I cried cold, dragon-sized tears. 

Why?  I wept because Jesus was telling me that my life is more than my education, more than my friends, more than finding a beautiful and godly wife, more than the thoughts people think about me.  Life is more than what I have.  Life is built, life is designed, for some thing much more infinite than the sparkling pieces of goodness that I scavenge for.  My life, body and soul, is to be held captive in devotion to Jesus.  That’s the point of me.  I was made for Him (1 Corinthians 6: 13).  And life doesn’t have arms long enough to catch Jesus.  Life isn’t deep enough to hold Jesus.  So life can’t fill its own meaning.  Only Jesus can stoop down to touch a life and give it value and worth.  The meaning of life is to love and worship Jesus.  Without it, life is indeed a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.

Do you see the silliness in trying to piece together meaning from things (or people or ideas)?  It’s like trying to create your own night sky with a black blanket and Christmas lights.  It’s a cheap imitation and it’s weak in its finitude.  But all similes fall short to grasp the depth of our misplaced affections.  Only Jesus is big enough to fill our desires.  Because, remember, our desires are intended for Him.  We simply divert our wants into paler, poorer things.  That’s humanity, a crime against itself.

So, that’s what broke my heart this morning.  And it was a strange feeling.  The knowledge that life is made up of more than stuff forced me to acknowledge my own blindness.  It made me just want Jesus.  And it felt natural because I was created for Him.  May God make us far sighted, to behold His unfathomable beauty as the only real way to make life worth the effort.

Rethinking the Color of Communion

It’s hard to write a story about ducks.  Making progress though.

I think crazy things sometimes.  I know that I do.  And sometimes, I make the mistake of sharing those things.  This might be one of those crazy mistakes.  Bear with me.

Sacred does not equal solemn.  Reverence does not equal silence.  Now, Jesus died for the joy set before Him (Hebrews 12:2).  Communion is the remembrance of the death that brought us life!  Yes, it was a painful, most tragic thing for the Son of God to die.  But Christ scorned the shame of the cross.  He despised it.  And He looked past it to the joy of bringing many sons to glory. 

Here’s my thought.  Evangelical Christians say that we celebrate Christ’s death in communion.  We say, using the beautiful language of 1 Corinthians 11, that we “proclaim the Lord’s death till He comes”.  But at least in the churches I’ve attended, the celebration of Christ’s atonement rarely has ever rose above the whispered tones of a piano.  Why are we so solemn?  I understand that we are to examine our hearts before we take communion but one can be thoughtful and joyful.  Where did we ever get the idea that being reverent before God was the same as being quiet before God?  Have we forgotten the blend of joy and reverence that David had when he danced with all his might before God (2 Samuel 6)?  How undignified!  How loud.

This is not a hill for me to die on.  It would be a very small hill.  But I’m merely suggesting that, on a whole, we are encouraging the wrong emotion, the wrong state of heart when we remember our Savior’s death.  We stress low volume and sorrow.  Perhaps that’s the wrong color in which we see it.  Perhaps we should be looking at it in through a joyful,  celebratory color.  The only reason I can think of for why we don’t is that thoughtful sorrow is easier to fake than thoughtful joy.  What do you think?

Paper Crowns for Shabby Monarchs

We are little sovereigns.  I mean “sovereign” in the old kingly sense of the word.  We don’t use the word in any of its flavors much these days butI was thinking about this recently.  I think it’s the essence of pride.  Or if it’s not the essence, it’s at least an extension of the essence.

If I’m honest, I’m most unhappy when I’m not being treated the way I feel that I deserve to be treated.  If I’m sad, that means that I’m not getting the happiness I deserve.  If I’m lonely, then the attention due to me is not being rendered.  Do you see what I’m getting at?  All my discomforts and all of my very real problems are, in my mind, the violation of my inalienable right to happiness.  Never mind how those rights of mine came to be inalienable (or if they really are inalienable).  That’s not the issue right now.  The issue is that when someone cuts me off in traffic or treats me as less than human or fails to be sensitive to my desires, the little king in my heart puffs up with indignation and demands justice. 

Of course, next to God’s sovereignty, our “right to rule” our own lives seems silly.  It would even laughable if it weren’t so desperately tragic.  To say that God is sovereign is the same as saying that God is a law unto himself.  He answers only to himself.  The justification for every act of God is simply that he wanted to do it.  But what about us?  God is the utmost reality, the realest real that exists (or that could ever be imagined).  Next to so real a king, our pitiful plays at self-sovereignty appear downright transparent.  We are all shabby monarchs. 

And, if we think aboutit, our indignation when someone treats us unfairly is our way of saying “Now wait a second!  My paper crown is just as real as your paper crown!”  Now, if it were a real crown, why would there be any need for such an argument?  What if what would happen if we were to remember that all the we claims and all our rights were given to us by God?  Even the strength and will to attain is a gift.  So what do we have that we did not receive?  Perhaps if we realize the bad joke of self-sovereignty, our little kingdoms would begin to dissolve.  Maybe that’s why ingore reality and cling to our paper crowns?

The Most Subtle Knife

Have you ever read Obadiah?  Maybe you have.  He’s not very popular with the chicks.  He’s not a bullfrog like Jeremiah.  He’s got a weird little book, in my opinion.  It’s weird because he’s a prophet of God and he’s not talking to Israel.  He’s talking to a country called Edom.  Ever heard of it?  It’s not around anymore.  No map holds those borders these days.  Where’d they come from?  Remember the story of Jacob and Esau?  If you missed the story, here’s a quick recap.  It’s in Genesis.  Good story.  Rebekah is married to a guy named Isaac.  Isaac is the son of Abraham.  Father Abraham had many sons.  And many sons had Father Abraham.  Abraham was the guy that God chose to start the nation of Israel.  Cool?  Okay, so Rebekah is pregnant with twins (or wombmates, if you will).  Before these twins are named Jacob and Esau, God chooses Jacob to prosper and to carry on Israel’s lineage.  Esau isn’t so favored.  Why does God choose Jacob and not Esau?  Because He wanted to.

All that to say, Esau goes on to become the father of another nation.  That nation is called Edom.  If Israel is the St. Louis Cardinals, then Edom is the Chicago Cubs.  Rivals.  Bitter rivals.  And one is chosen by God to prosper with 10 World Series titles.  Sorry.  :O)  So our boy Obadiah writes, by the command of the Lord, to Edom and basically tells them, in no uncertain terms, that God is going to wipe them off the face of the earth.  Terrible, sober, scary message for them.

Why is God doing this?  Edom was prideful.  Read the book yourself.  It’s just 21 verses.  The Edomites were very confident in their stone fortress capital of Petra.  They were very confident in their invincibility.  They were very confident in their scholars and their warriors.  Basically, they had a sweet system set up, they were quite powerful and they knew it.  But what kills me about this book isn’t just that God destroys a nation for their pride.  That doesn’t surprise me.  I mean, it’s terrible and awful and great but it’s not evil.  God is well within His rights to do it.  That’s what sovereignty means.  He’s a law unto Himself.  But what kills me when I read Obadiah is the universal makeup of pride that I see staring back at me from the page.  I recognize it, ya know?  Here’s what I mean.

God says that He’s going to wipe out the Edomites because “the pride of your heart has deceived you”.  Pride tricked them!  Do you see what God is saying?  He’s saying that ‘your pride absolutely blinded you!  You had no idea you were even prideful and I’m going to kill you for how prideful you are.’  Again, I’m not outraged by how “unfair” that is.  But I’m moved to actual tears because I know exactly what that’s like.  No joke.  I can sit back in my chair and drink my Dr. Pepper and shake my head at the page all I want.  “Stupid Edomites.  So silly to be so prideful.  Don’t they know that pride was what got Satan kicked out of heaven?”  But if I were to let this book get inside of me and let it run through my emotions like acid, then it begins to eat away at my pride and the Spirit forces me to see that I am JUST LIKE THEM.  I am just like those Edomites.  Do you understand me?

The word “decieved” here means to cheat, to beguile.  Pride is so subtle and so crafty and so marvelously quiet that you can walk around smiling and praising Jesus while your soul absolutely bleeds to death.  It goes unnoticed because it happens in your heart.  That is to say that it happens at the utmost center of who you are.  That is where pride operates.  And once it slowly slips the veil over your heart, then the rest of your body becomes blind to the problem.  You have no idea that the well has been poisoned.  I recently was forced to see that I have been incredibly prideful towards those that I love.  And I had been prideful for years without realizing it.  Years.  Do you read me?  I’m 22.  This issue had been going on for a decade.  And two days ago, when the Spirit finally shot me through with the truth about my sin, I broke down and cried my heart out.  Sad right?  Oh, on so many levels. 

Now, have I not been a Christian for a decade?  I believe that I have.  And that’s what scares me.  Pride is an omnivore.  It eats alive both Christians and people who don’t love Jesus as their Master.  For the true Christian, it can’t cut God’s love for us.  We can’t lose our salvation.  God would be a small little deity if pride could grease up His grip on us.  But it still is our most dangerous enemy.  The Christian only has one thing to fear: his or her own sin.  Pride smears his name over every vice that has ever haunted mankind since the Garden.  Since pride blinds us to its own existence in our souls, we have to literally beg God to show us where it is.  And then we have to beg God to kill that pride in us.  I say beg because sometimes our only hope is to cry like a child.  We are so dependent on Him.  We’re just little kids really.  Go read Obadiah and repent and beg God to make you love Him more.  Love you guys.