God Came Through

About a year ago, Breena and I decided to step out in faith and move forward with planting Ember Church. Though we were surrounded with a great group of friends who were also committed to the task, we knew that I needed to find a full-time job to support my family while we planted. This is called bivocational ministry, and while most church planters and pastors don't go this route, there are some of us who choose to minister the way Paul did. (Paul was a tentmaker and a leather worker, trades he held while establishing churches in the various cities to which God led him.)

Very early on in this process I had a serious conversation with God. It went something like this: "God, if you want me to plant Ember Church, you've got to get me a job. In this economy, and with my past history of job searching, it's truly going to take a miracle for me to get a job. So I need you to move for me." I didn't sense God telling me anything in that moment, though the first Ember sermon ever proclaimed this truth: God is with those he calls. I believed that God would come through for me, for my family, and for this church.

Months went by with no progress on the job front. The church started on schedule, but still no job. Then Bexley was born, but still no job. Thanksgiving. Christmas. I was beginning to doubt that God was with me. I was beginning to doubt that he would come through with a job.

Sometime during the holidays I had pressed through my period of doubt and began to trust God again. I was more confident than ever that he would come through with a job, and very soon. Then came the new year, and companies started posting job openings again. There was one job posting that caught my attention for it's unorthodox language, and I determined to give this one a little extra attention. I wrote the most audacious cover letter you've ever seen. My opening line read like this: "You can stop your search now, because I'm your guy." I got a call from them the same day! After a year of submitting applications and resumes with no response, I got called back the same day.

I waited and waited to find out if I would get that first interview. On Tuesday of the following week I received an email from the HR department asking if I was still interested in the job, and whether I had gotten the email the previous Friday to set up a phone interview. "What email," I shouted! "I never got an email!" Some technical glitch had occurred, and I never received it. The most important email of my life, and it got tied up in cyberspace. What is this, 1997?

Of course I responded right away, and had a great interview the next day. Then the waiting really began. Would I get the second interview? Would I make into the next round? Several days passed before I heard anything, but I finally got the good news. They were bringing me in for a face-to-face interview!

I called my parents and they offered to buy me a suit. (How am I this old and still don't own a suit?) I gladly took them up on the offer, and had a really good interview. That was Friday, and they were interviewing two more candidates on Monday. So, once again, I waited. But I had been waiting for about a year for God to come through for me, so a few more days wasn't going to be too bad.

It must have been Wednesday when I got the next call. They wanted me to come back for a third interview! This was unprecedented, for me. Not that I've never gotten a job anywhere, but that I've ever participated in this many rounds of interviews. This time, I interviewed with the team members with whom I might be working, and then with mentors within the company. Both of these interviews were to determine if I fit with the team and the culture of the company. I thought both interviews went really well, and had a strong sense that, by this point, there weren't any other candidates being interviewed. When I got home, I told Breena, "I think I'm going to get this job."

That was Friday, so we had another weekend of waiting. Monday came and went, so I decided to call the manager on Tuesday. When I got through to him, he dropped this bomb on me, "I was just getting ready to make you a verbal offer. Can I call you back in an hour with the details?" BAM! And like that, I had a job. A great job. At the best place to work in central Ohio.

God came through. It was his time (not mine), but he did it. He came through for me, my family, and Ember Church. I've only been at work for a couple days now, but I already love it. I'm excited to go there. I'm excited to get started on video production. I believe in the company and what they're doing. I believe in the culture they're trying to create. I simply can't imagine how things could have turned out better for me, and I am very grateful to God for his faithfulness. I pray that he will come through for you as he has come through for me.

Pastors and Money, Jesus and Paul

This post is a response to a comment from a friend, who was responding to Tuesday's post, Tithing.

For the issue of giving to the local church, we have to look to Paul because, as you say, Jesus was dealing with a pre-local church context. In fact, he was dealing with a Jewish context where tithing was a part of Torah, and he encouraged the people to tithe. "You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former." (Mt. 23:23)

So then, to Paul. This is from 1 Corinthians 9.

1 Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord? Are you not the result of my work in the Lord? 2 Even though I may not be an apostle to others, surely I am to you! For you are the seal of my apostleship in the Lord.

3 This is my defense to those who sit in judgment on me. 4 Don’t we have the right to food and drink? 5 Don’t we have the right to take a believing wife along with us, as do the other apostles and the Lord’s brothers and Cephas? 6 Or is it only I and Barnabas who lack the right to not work for a living?

7 Who serves as a soldier at his own expense? Who plants a vineyard and does not eat its grapes? Who tends a flock and does not drink the milk? 8 Do I say this merely on human authority? Doesn’t the Law say the same thing? 9 For it is written in the Law of Moses: “Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain.” Is it about oxen that God is concerned? 10 Surely he says this for us, doesn’t he? Yes, this was written for us, because whoever plows and threshes should be able to do so in the hope of sharing in the harvest. 11 If we have sown spiritual seed among you, is it too much if we reap a material harvest from you? 12 If others have this right of support from you, shouldn’t we have it all the more?

But we did not use this right. On the contrary, we put up with anything rather than hinder the gospel of Christ.

13 Don’t you know that those who serve in the temple get their food from the temple, and that those who serve at the altar share in what is offered on the altar? 14 In the same way, the Lord has commanded that those who preach the gospel should receive their living from the gospel.

15 But I have not used any of these rights. And I am not writing this in the hope that you will do such things for me, for I would rather die than allow anyone to deprive me of this boast. 16 For when I preach the gospel, I cannot boast, since I am compelled to preach. Woe to me if I do not preach the gospel! 17 If I preach voluntarily, I have a reward; if not voluntarily, I am simply discharging the trust committed to me. 18 What then is my reward? Just this: that in preaching the gospel I may offer it free of charge, and so not make full use of my rights as a preacher of the gospel.

Verse 14 is crucial because Paul declares a command directly from Jesus, that those who preach the gospel should receive their living from the gospel. Paul, however, lets the Corinthians off the hook in this regard, not because he's being magnanimous, but because of their stubborn and judgmental hearts (v. 3).

The problem is not that Paul shouldn't be asking for money and is, it's that the congregation is judgmental toward and offended by him when he does. The root of this problem, as I stated in the previous post, is that money is an idol for all of us.

Let me go one step further. Almost every pastor I know would do the ministry for free if it were possible. I can't think of a single person in the ministry, that I know personally, who is doing this because it seemed like a wise career choice. They are all doing it because they believe God has called them to the task, and they are so passionate about the proclamation of the Gospel that they would forsake lucrative careers in other fields to give their whole lives to the mission of Jesus. (In case you were wondering, a Master of Divinity is the only Master degree where the typical holder earns less than those with just a Bachelor degree.)

Nobody goes into ministry for the money. I, myself, ministered for free for 2 years. I'm trying very hard to minister for free right now, and am extremely grateful for the generosity of Ember Church in the meantime. Paul ministered for free because the people in Corinth were hard-hearted and judgmental. (In fact, it's more likely that he had to rely on the support of other, more generous and kingdom-minded churches to supplement what he lacked from his tent-making work.) But that is not God's plan for those who preach the gospel. Again, verse 14, "The Lord [Jesus] has commanded that those who preach the gospel should receive their living from the gospel."

We could even drop down another level and talk about what Jesus commanded his disciples when he sent them out in, say, Mark 6. (Which is the passage I'm preaching from this week at Ember.) Verse 8, "Take nothing for the journey except a staff--no bread, no bag, no money in your belts." What is he saying? He's saying, "Trust my Father to provide for your needs through the generosity of those to whom you preach." So even as far back as the first commissioning of the disciples we see that Jesus' intention is for them to "receive their living from the Gospel."

Someone might say, "Well that's convenient for you to say, guilting people into giving so that you can earn a salary." But that cynicism doesn't negate the explicit command of Jesus. While we pastors, Paul included, might walk on eggshells and put up with a lot because of this cynicism and judgmentalism, it is not what Jesus intends for his church. And the cynicism is wrong. It is, biblically, wrong. But we pastors, like Paul, put up with it for the sake of the gospel. We hem and we haw over money, and we pussyfoot around because we think that, because we earn our living by preaching, we don't have the moral authority to preach on money. That's simply bogus. If money is a near-universal idol, and the Gospel has something to say about all of our idols, and we're called to preach the Gospel, then we've got a moral obligation and a command from Jesus himself to preach on money. If you (and this is a general you) as a Christian are offended by biblical teaching on money, then your idol is showing, and you should expect God to do something to your idol along the lines of what he did to Shiloh, and then to the Temple in Jerusalem.

Tithing

Warning: This post is about money. 

Further warning: Money is probably the most powerful idol in your heart.

I've written this post because money is an important topic for Christians to talk about, but many of us pastors are afraid to talk about it because of the sins of those who have gone before us. We are afraid. But, alas, some things must be said, even at the risk of being lumped in with the Jimmy Swaggarts of the world.

In the interest of full disclosure, part of my motivation to write this post is the financial state of Ember Church. However, I have no intention of trying to motivate people in my own congregation to give so that the church can be rescued. If you were at church last week when we publicly discussed our financial circumstances you know this. (If you attend Ember and missed this information, but would like to know more, please let me know.) What Ember needs is for me to find a full-time job somewhere else in the city, something I am trying to do in earnest. However, what I've written below still needs to be said. As usual, I've tried to state things as clearly and frankly as possible.

I'm convinced that the reason we don't like to talk about or hear about money at church is because we love money, put our faith in it, and wrap our identities around it. Let me be plain. Money is an idol. The more viscerally you respond to a sermon on money, the more likely it is that you are harboring money as a powerful idol on the throne of your heart. I know those are strong words, but I believe them, and I believe they need to be said. God hates all of our idols because they steal his rightful place in our lives, and they ultimately make us less than human.

Last week at Ember I mentioned, while talking about the church's finances, that part of why we tithe--give to the local church--is to wage war against the idol of money that captivates our hearts. If greed is the idolatry of money, then generosity to God's work is the antidote to our greed.

What does the New Testament say about tithing?

Oddly enough, the NT does not mention tithing, though for the earliest Jewish Christians it seems likely that they would have continued to tithe to the Temple, and then given an additional amount for the work of the Church. The Gentile Christians did not have to pay a tithe (which was really closer to a national tax for Israel) for the upkeep and operation of the Temple. So what drove them? Here is a sampling of some Scripture from the NT. (Thanks to a commenter at the Jesus Creed named Amos Paul for compiling these.)

1 Corinthians 16:1-2 • Now about the collection for God’s people: Do what I told the Galatian churches to do. On the first day of every week, each one of you should set aside a sum of money in keeping with his income, saving it up, so that when I come no collections will have to be made.

Romans 15:27 • They were pleased to do it, and indeed they owe it to them. For if the Gentiles have shared in the Jews’ spiritual blessings, they owe it to the Jews to share with them their material blessings.

1 Corinthians 9:11 • If we have sown spiritual seed among you, is it too much if we reap a material harvest from you?

1 Corinthians 9:14 • In the same way, the Lord has commanded that those who preach the gospel should receive their living from the gospel.

2 Corinthians 8:12 • For if the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what he does not have.

2 Corinthians 9:7 • Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.

Notice that there is no set sum, like a tithe (10%), for the NT churches. Rather, giving is governed by the principles of grace, willingness, and generosity. C.S. Lewis noticed this absence of specific direction, and concluded thusly:

“I do not believe that one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid that the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare. In other words, if our expenditure on comforts, luxuries, amusements, etc., is up to the standard common among those with the same income as our own, we are probably giving away too little. If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot because our charitable expenditure excludes them.”

In other words, give until it hurts. Make sacrifices for the work of God, and especially for the local family of God to which you belong. The church's responsibility is not to make its pastors rich, but to make their work possible, and a joy. God takes very seriously the work to which he has called ministers, and his will is for them to "receive their living from the gospel."

Should I tithe when I am in debt?

I hear this question from time to time. "Isn't it God's will for me to be out of debt? Shouldn't I put that ahead of giving to the church?" In fact, it is God's will for you to be out of debt. However, if you're not going to give to the church because of your debt, then neither should you buy any new clothes, eat out, go to the movies, buy Christmas or birthday presents, or do anything else than the absolute, bare minimum required to survive until you have successfully paid off your debt. If you're so concerned over your debt (and you should be concerned over it) that you would withhold from the work of God in your midst, then you should also withhold from yourself every blessing of life in modern America. No cable. No Netflix. No internet. No cell phone. And you should probably sell as much as you possibly can in order to speed up the repayment of your debt.

Have I overstated things? Maybe I have. But is it right to withhold from God's work and indulge yourself? A cell phone might not feel like an indulgence, but when you're giving $100 to Verizon every month and $0 to your local church, and you claim that you're too in debt to tithe, perhaps something has gone awry in your heart. Perhaps there is an idol on the throne of your heart, the throne that rightfully belongs to Jesus.

My family is in debt. We have a mortgage. We have a car payment. We bought a new HVAC system in 2010 that we're paying off. We had our basement waterproofed. We have a significant chunk of debt to pay off. But, despite our debt, and even though I'm the pastor of the church to which we tithe (Yes, pastors tithe too!), we give sacrificially to Ember Church. We do it because we love the local church, and believe in the power of the community of Jesus and the necessity to fund it. (Incidentally, our giving has not increased since planting Ember. We give the same percentage to Ember that we gave to Heritage.)

To answer the question, Yes, you should tithe even when you are in debt. For many of us, we are in debt because money has been an idol. Paying off your debt will not solve the idolatry problem. But I believe that generosity will.

How much should I give to the local church to which I belong?

There is no definitive number for this. Let the principles of grace, willingness, and generosity guide you. You need to work out with God just how much to give. But don't ask, "How much can I afford?"; ask, "How much, God? How much must I give to kill the idol of money in my heart? How much will it take to starve the beast within me?" I know a family that gives 10% of their pretax income to the local church. They do pretax income because they want to make sure that God and the Church gets financial resources before the Government.

Here are some more tithing tips:

• Don't chop up your giving. If you've decided on a certain amount to give to the local church, don't reduce that amount to support missionaries or do other charitable giving. Let the local church be your first commitment, then support missionaries from your abundance, if you are able. Also, trust the church to be able to responsibly direct the funds.
• Never tell your pastor, "My tithe pays your salary." If you still consider it "your tithe", then you haven't been gracious, willing, or generous. When you put it in the basket, it doesn't belong to you anymore. Just as "your taxes" don't pay for every single thing the government does, so "your tithe" doesn't pay for everything the church does.
• Don't withhold tithe to make a political point or express your dissatisfaction with the pastor. This is childish. Don't let your money do the talking when you're perfectly capable of doing the talking yourself.
• Trust that God will provide. My family has consistently given more than we can afford, and we have consistently seen God come through for us. Because of God's faithfulness in the past, we have faith for his continued provision in the future.

Tithing is, in the end, a discipleship issue. Tithing calls us to fully root ourselves in a particular faith community, and to follow Jesus in the most sensitive of areas--our bottom lines. It is an act of war with the idol of money. It is an exercise in faith, and God will prove himself faithful.

Mountain Tops

A lot of folks at Ember are also involved with Cru (formerly Campus Crusade for Christ), which just had their annual Christmas Conference in Indianapolis. It was, as usual, awesome. I can't wait to hear about it from more of my friends!

I also attended a lot of conferences and retreats as a college student. These were, what I called, "Mountain Top Experiences". They are spiritual highs. You come away from these events highly-motivated, deeply-passionate, and just overall on fire for God.

Typically, however, the fire would die down and the passion would fade, and I would return to "normal", which basically meant I became a shy, timid, cynical person again. I would berate myself for not being able to sustain the spiritual high I got at the conferences and retreats. I thought this was a mark of my being immature and weak. Fortunately, I've learned a few things about myself and about life with God since then, so I'd like to share a few of the things I've learned here.

First of all, The spiritual high is designed to fade. The mountain top experience is emotionally and spiritually unsustainable. And that's okay. What's most important is not what you do or believe on top of the mountain, but what you do and believe in the valleys. You are far more dangerous to the devil in the valleys, if you persist through them with faith, courage, and obedience, than you are on the mountain tops. Anybody can get excited about God for a weekend, but one of the distinguishing marks of a true disciple is that he or she remains faithful to God within their times of spiritual and emotional discouragement.

Secondly, Follow through on whatever commitment you made. Keeping your promises to God is vital to fostering a good relationship with him. You might have been in the heat of passion and fire for Jesus when you committed to him a year of overseas ministry (or whatever), but you still made the promise. Keep it. The devil will do whatever he can to get you to break your promises to God. Remember that when you start rationalize your way out of keeping your commitments.

Lastly, Focus on keeping your trajectory upward. If you could graph your spiritual life, how excited and passionate you are about Jesus, what it would look like? Yes, you will have peaks and valleys. But is it moving in a general, upward (meaning more encouraged and more passionate) trend? To accomplish this, you're going to have to participate in spiritual disciplines. You have to get the things of God firmly rooted into the soil of your heart. So I say, start a prayer journal. Use youversion.com (or their smart phone app) to start a Bible reading program. Spend 10 minutes today completely disconnected from all media, in total silence. Raise your hands in worship even when you don't necessarily feel like it. Force yourself to engage with God beyond how you're feeling in the particular moment. Push yourself. If you do that, you'll look back on your spiritual high in ten years and think, "Wow. That's my normal, now."

I hope this helps. If you have any other tips, leave them in the comments section.

New Books

Make no mistake about it; I am a huge nerd. I got a small book order in the mail yesterday, and I am so excited to dive into these books! Check them out:

The King Jesus Gospel by Scot McKnight is one of the books I've been waiting to get my hands on for a while. Though it did come out this year, I wasn't able to pick up a copy right away. But now that I have it, I'm very much looking forward to reading it. McKnight is, for me, a breath of fresh air. So much of contemporary evangelicalism has been bifurcating between the emergent church (Brian McLaren, Tony Jones, Chris Seay, and you could throw Rob Bell in there as well) and the neo-reformed movement (Mark Driscoll, Francis Chan, David Platt, with John Piper playing the role of the Godfather). I don't identify with either of those groups--the former because they seem to be throwing the baby out with the bathwater, and the latter because they've made the tub so small the baby doesn't fit in it anymore. While I don't agree with all of McKnight's views either (for example, I'm not a pacifist), I find that he is a reasonable voice of Arminian centrism within American evangelicalism, and perhaps the only one. All of the popular-level, American evangelical pastor-theologians seem to be coming from a Calvinist perspective. I'm beginning to feel like an evangelical without a place in American evangelicalism, and I'm curious to see what will happen to believers who, like me, reject reformed soteriology. Will there be an evangelicalism for us? This is why I'm so excited to read The King Jesus Gospel.

Ember's next preaching series will be through the book of Titus. Because I somehow managed to make it through seminary with barely a commentary to my name (thank you, Gordon-Conwell library!), I try to purchase the best commentary for each book and rely on the work of that scholar. Towner's commentary on the Pastoral Epistles comes highly recommended from several sources, and is a part of an important commentary series, The New International Commentary on the New Testament, which is edited by the brilliant Gordon Fee.

When I get a commentary, I try to find one that's been written recently. This is not because I'm a cultural snob (though I probably am), but because the newer commentaries, at least the good ones, will deal with the most important, relevant, and best material from the older commentaries. Biblical studies is a field that has developed and changed over time, and methods of interpretation have evolved since the Bible was first written. A good commentator will give you the best thoughts of those who have written before him, as well as adding the best of his own research and thinking.

I am a huge, huge fan of N.T. Wright. His books, particularly The New Testament and the People of God, Jesus and the Victory of God, The Challenge of Jesus, and What Saint Paul Really Said (as well as his more popular level works like Simply Christian, Surprised by Hope, and After You Believe) have dramatically changed the way I think about and live out my faith. For so long I had been hoping that he would put out a translation of the Bible, and here it is! I'm so looking forward to adding The Kingdom New Testament to my devotional reading, as well as to my study, particularly for the upcoming Titus series at Ember. I've had a chance to briefly scan through his translation, as well as read the introduction, and I think it's going to be very good. I'm particularly interested in reading his translation of Romans, because he once quipped that if you've only read Romans in the NIV, then you've never really read Romans. I have been reading the new NIV this year in my reading plan, but that's already taken me all the way through the New Testament, so I'm going to substitute The Kingdom New Testament on the second go around.

And then there's this last book, Simply Jesus. It's also by N.T. Wright, and I don't know anything about it. I had no idea he was writing about Jesus again; but I suppose this could also just be an updated version of The Challenge of Jesus. Whatever it is, I'm very excited to dive into it, as I'm sure that anything Wright writes on Jesus won't disappoint.

I don't know what kind of a value you place on reading, but I can honestly tell you that I would not be where I am, who I am, or doing what I'm doing right now if it weren't for the books I have read in the past decade. Reading is my primary form of learning. I take in information, process it internally or here on the blog, and then it slowly integrates its way into my life, forming me and shaping me. I believe this process is taking place under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and it is a part of what he is doing in and through me to conform me into the image of the Son of God. Not only that, but as the pastor of a church, I take it as my responsibility to engage with serious thinking regarding Scripture, Theology, and Doctrine on behalf of the congregation, and then to translate that information in such a way that it works into their hearts as it has worked into mine. That is part of what I try to do in my preaching, and also, in a freer way, here at the blog.

Before I can get to these books, I have to finish King's Cross by Tim Keller, which is also an excellent read. I hope to get back into the habit of doing book reviews here. Lord knows I've got plenty of good material to work with!

Book Review: The Pastor

Every once in a while you come across a book that is good for your soul, steering you back onto a course you hadn't yet become aware you had left. I've had the good fortune of reading two of those in the past couple months. The first was Pure Scum by Mike Sares (you can read my review of it here), and the second was The Pastor by Eugene Peterson.

The Pastor is a memoir, the bulk of which is taken up with Peterson's life before he moved to Vancouver. It is filled with stories of his childhood in Montana and his church-planting days in the Baltimore area. Peterson's pastoral reflections are priceless, and should be read by everyone in the ministry.

It's difficult to review a memoir. They're his stories. It was his life. What I want to write about, then, is how his book impacted me on a personal level.

There are many temptations in ministry. Envy is one. Whose church is biggest? Whose church is most renowned? Which pastor has the national ministry? Who is saving the most souls? Whose books are selling fastest? Inevitably, the answer is, "Someone else." Envy is a pastor-killer. Go to any church conference and you'll hear pastors comparing attendance figures. If that ain't sad...

Peterson has taught me that none of that matters. It's all a trap. His church never grew past a few hundred--paltry numbers in today's megachurch climate. His words to a friend seeking significance through church size hit me like a ton of bricks: "The church you want and expect is the enemy of the church you are being given." If you're a pastor or in the ministry, you need to read that sentence again. Write it down, hang it on your door. Put it on your computer desktop. Here, let me type it bigger and bolder so you can read it better.

The church you want and expect is the enemy of the church you are being given.

Is it sinking in yet? God is giving and has given you a church, a congregation, a flock. (Not, by the way, an audience. God never gives you an audience.) But you are discontent with your church. You lust for more attendees, more resources, a wider appeal, a broader reach, more recognition, more fame, a book contract, a speaking circuit... The list goes on and on. But God doesn't care about your selfish lusts, and he certainly doesn't owe you anything. The church you want and expect is the enemy of the church you are being given. Embrace the church God has given you. Embrace the people under your spiritual care. Be their shepherd.

Book Review: It

How do you write a book review of a book that is unsure of how to define it’s primary concept? Such is the conundrum of It by Craig Groeschel, a book ostensibly about church leadership. While Craig never defines (and admits being unable to) It, many of us know exactly what he’s talking about. It’s the sense that God is up to something here in a way that is not typical. It’s a spiritual attraction. A buzz. But it’s deeper than that, too. It’s Spirit-empowered joie de vivre, if you define joy and life as the spiritual fruit and eternal life, respectively. It’s the activity of shalom—that sense that all is right in this place.

Some churches have It and some churches don’t. Some churches used to have It but lost It, and now they want It back. Other churches have never had It and want nothing to do It. It is mysterious. It is dynamic. It is spiritual. It’s not something that can be observed, but you know It when you see It. It is a feel-thing.

Because this It is so hard to define, Groeschel spends much of his book talking around It. The second part of the book, which is the bulk of It, lays out the seven things that contribute to It: Vision, Divine Focus, Unmistakable Camaraderie, Innovative Minds, Willingness to Fall Short, Hearts Focused Outward, and Kingdom-Mindedness. These seven attributes of a church create an atmosphere of Spirit-empowered joie de vivre, that sense of the deep joy of eternal, resurrection life where It is practically painted on the walls.

The most poignant chapter, for me personally, was Unmistakable Camaraderie. Churches that have It like each other. They get along. They have fun. Craig tells stories of practical jokes played at the office, and he even offers a few digs at some of his friends on staff. While this type of work atmosphere doesn’t appeal to everyone, it certainly appeals to me. Ministry is supposed to be fun. Look at what we get to do! Sure, it’s hard sometimes, and you’re often walking with people through the darkest times of their life, but there is something joyous about this calling that you wouldn’t expect to find in commercial enterprises. It doesn’t exist in churches with staff cultures where strife, isolation, and competition are the norm. It is the adventure of a team moving in the same direction, and having a good time along the way.

The most important chapter, however, is the penultimate: Do You Have It? Does It Have You? Craig begins with the story of how he lost It, how he got caught up in trying to be a good pastor and lost sight of the God who was his first love. Slowly and subtly, the passion drained out of his relationship with God. He found himself worshipping the Church rather than Jesus. It took him two years to kill his idolatry and get his passionate love back for his Savior. The challenge to pastors and leaders is this: If you want your church to have It, you must have It. It comes from God, and you have to return to your first love.

If I had to define It, I would do so relationally: It is God’s happy and favorable response to our joyful, humble, passionate and faith-filled response to his gracious, loving initiation of a love-relationship through the cross and resurrection of Jesus. I know that’s a mouthful, which is why the book is just called It. That’s how I read It, anyway.

Have you seen It in your church? Have you seen a church or ministry lose It? Do you have It, or have you lost It? What must you do to get It back?

The Cabin

The mountain peaks burst through the clouds like massive granite daggers punching holes in the deep blue sky. A great valley stretches as far as the eye can see. In the summer a sparkling blue lake would dominate the landscape, but now all is covered in snow. The great evergreens that manage to survive up here are stooped low by the weight of the snow, barely discernible in the whitewashed landscape. The sun burns brightly, impossibly high in the sky.

At the head of the valley is a simple log cabin, the only evidence of humanity in this pristinely preserved plot of God's country. Smoke curls from the chimney, signaling the invitation and call: "Here is warmth, rest, peace, and joy. Here is shelter from the cold. Here is a drink to warm your body and a meal to renew your strength."

Maybe this sounds like hell to you, but for me it's idyllic. When I think about the lives of America's most influential pastors, this is the image that comes to my mind. It's not that I think they actually live in cabins like this, but the image is an impression, a metaphor, for their life as I imagine it. Put simply, they are living the life I want to live. They are successful in ministry . They are writing books. They are speaking at conferences. They are in-demand, famous, and well-respected. It's hard not to want what they have; it's even harder not to idealize (or idolize) them.

But here's the thing. As I enter that idyllic cabin in the mountains, as I go through the great wooden door and into the warmth and richness of the interior, as I gaze at the masculine trinkets decorating the walls and warm myself by the roaring fire, I realize something: Nobody lives here. It's not just that nobody's home, it's that this house is vacant. It's unoccupied. The idyllic life I imagine these pastors have doesn't exist. It's not where they live. The cabin is empty.

What it looks like from the outside is not what it is on the inside. Fame and celebrity are fundamentally false, and the picture they paint (or tempt you to paint in your heart) is a lie. Don't give in to their temptation, and don't be deceived. That cabin may look perfect from the outside, but inside, it's uninhabitable.

People Versus Mission

I came across a passage of Scripture this morning that has really struck me. It's Romans 12:10.

Be devoted to one another in love.

I wrote, yesterday, about the nature of the Gospel--it was a critique of a post from Steven Furtick, pastor of Elevation Church in Charlotte, NC. Part of the DNA of their church is "to be more focused on the people we’re trying to reach than on the people we’re trying to keep." While I appreciate the ministry of that church, and have been blessed by it, I worry about this part of their DNA.

In fact, this is part of the DNA of many Evangelical churches in America. It's the Willow Creek Model; all that matters is the number of people who become Christians. Pastor Furtick says it with audacity:

Focus on the people you want to reach and you’ll keep the people you want to keep. Let the rest walk. They’ll find a church elsewhere to graze.

The way I see it is they’re just occupying the space of a person who needs to hear the gospel. You’ll fill their seat.
And it will be with the person who needs it the most.

How do you reconcile this with Paul's command to "be devoted to one another in love"? Furtick's approach places the mission ahead of the people, and anyone who doesn't get on board with the mission can "find a church elsewhere to graze". So much for devotion.

It is not like God to write people off, to dismiss them to another pasture, for having spiritual needs after they've embraced the Gospel. The most important lesson I've learned in the last year is that my life is not about the mission, it's about the people. Jesus has called us not to climb a mighty mountain or calm a raging sea, but to "make disciples", to "be devoted to one another in love", and to "carry each other's burdens".

Again and again, the Bible tells us that this life is about the people, and that each person is magnificently loved by God no matter where they stand on the spectrum of salvation. Our calling, as ministers of the Gospel, is to be shepherds of the sheep, and we will be held accountable for each one in our flock.

Is there a mission? Of course there is, but the people come first. Missions are temporal, but people live forever. Therefore, "be devoted to one another in love".

A Moment Or A Movement

I don't normally write a post like this, critiquing the work of others, but I came across something yesterday that I thought deserved some commentary. Steven Furtick, lead pastor of Elevation Church in Charlotte, NC, wrote a post called Fishers of Men, Not Keepers of the Aquarium on his blog that, I believe, creates a false dichotomy between evangelism and discipleship.

I should say, from the outset, that I have a lot of respect for Pastor Furtick. I've visited his church once and listened to him online several times, and I've been impressed and encouraged each time. The ministry of Elevation Church is fantastic, and the way they're reaching people who are far from God is exemplary. But I think that drawing distinctions between being "fishers of men" and "keepers of the aquarium" is unhelpful and, perhaps, unbiblical.

We Evangelicals talk a lot about "being saved". What we mean by this is that there is a point in time at which we believed the gospel, which means that we confessed Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, repented of our sins, and received the forgiveness he offers at the cross. This moment in time actualizes God's forgiveness in our lives, invites the Holy Spirit to fill us and empower us for service to God, and guarantees our place in heaven. This is how we understand salvation to work, and why we believe that "moment" is so vitally important, and why so much of our ministry efforts are exerted to bring people to that point of decision.

The trouble we have, and the trouble that I see Pastor Furtick leading his church into, is that this moment becomes all-important, to the detriment of the days and years which follow. It's like a film director who pours all of his energy into the opening scene of his movie. Sure, that opening scene is great, but the rest of the movie is a sloppy snooze-fest. It's no wonder people walk out before the end! This approach to ministry--the emphasis on the point of decision--creates a false dichotomy between evangelism and discipleship, inevitably elevating the former over the latter.

Evangelism literally means "Gospeling"; it is the announcement of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Discipleship is the living out of that Gospel--that is, walking as Jesus walked. The two go together; in fact, perhaps the best way to think of the relationship between the two is that evangelism is the means for which discipleship is the end.

When we look at the Great Commission (Matthew 28:18-20), we see that Jesus' final command was not to evangelize, but rather to "make disciples".

"All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."

In other words, Jesus is saying, "While you're going on your way, while you're living this new life, do unto others as I have done unto you these past few years. As I have made you my disciples, so you must make them my disciples." (Incidentally, the only imperative verb in this section is the one we translate "make disciples".)

Part of Elevation Church's code is "to be more focused on the people we’re trying to reach than on the people we’re trying to keep." But the task of Christian ministry--of being an undershepherd of the Good Shepherd--is to keep everyone we reach and continually reach everyone we've kept. The Gospel is never done with you. Salvation is not a moment, it is a life. As Paul says in Philippians, "continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling." The Gospel is doing far more than saving individuals from hell or even announcing the forgiveness of sins. In the Gospel, God is making all things new. This is not a moment; it is a sweeping, unstoppable, wholly consistent movement of the Spirit of God that began at the cross of Jesus Christ in Jerusalem and has now spread to every corner of the globe.

Pastor Furtick writes, "the people you’re trying to reach aren’t interested in the church that has been created by the people you’re trying to keep." If that's true, then you've utterly failed at living the Gospel and, in fact, being saved. The Gospel never stops working on you. You never stop being saved. There is no "in" here, there is only "getting there". God is not out to make converts; he is out to make disciples. We must be careful to not confuse the two.

Born For Babylon

Jeremiah prophesied that God's people would be in exile in Babylon for 70 years. That means a lot of Hebrews lived and died only in Babylon; they never spent a day of their life in the Promised Land. They never saw the temple or traversed the topography of Zion. They were born across the great river, and there they died. Exiles, through and through.

We hear a lot of talk these days about finding God's best life for you. We talk a lot about destiny and calling, always with the thought in mind that we are meant for something great. God has a great plan for your life that will exceed all your wildest expectations. It sounds so breathtaking and exhilarating--the spiritual equivalent of climbing El Capitan every day for the rest of your life.

But what if you're meant for only exile? What if you're one of those people who are born and who die in Babylon? What if God isn't that interested in making all of your wildest dreams come true? What if he doesn't care about how satisfying your life is?

Jesus talked a lot about losing your life, and how losing your life for his sake is the only way to really find it. We've hijacked that statement, and we've dressed up all of our egotistical insecurities about significance and success and greatness and accomplishment into Jesus-clothes. We lay down certain delusions of grandeur only to take up certain others that have been spiritualized and "sanctified". We become counselors and pastors and professors and public servants; we start non-profits and plant churches because we want our lives to have some kind of significance, and we claim that these vocations, and these tasks, are how we "find significance in Christ".

But what if finding your life really means losing your life and abandoning all hope of ever finding it again? What if Jesus really meant it when he said that we have to lose our lives for his sake, or that the last shall be first, and the first last? What if following Jesus means never being significant, or successful, or great? What if it means that you will accomplish very little in this lifetime?

Maybe you were born for Babylon. Others may go to Jerusalem, and even call you to follow them there, singing the songs of Zion. But you're meant for Babylon. You're one of the folks who has to lose his life, hoping not in unveiled significance later on in this life, but in redemption and resurrection in the life to come. You're the one who has to throw yourself completely on Jesus and live with him in Babylon. Can you accept it?

Equipped for the Task

When God called Jeremiah to the prophetic ministry, the poor priest from Anathoth wasn't sure God had the right man. "Alas, Sovereign Lord, I do not know how to speak; I am too young." I'm just a boy, he said, and I'm terrified of speaking in public. According to his own assessment, Jeremiah was not the prophetic type. That was a job for brave men who had the rhetorical prowess to shout down the naysayers and counter the critics. When Jeremiah looked in the mirror, he saw a little boy with a slow tongue. He didn't have what it takes to be a prophet.

God, however, saw things quite differently. "Get yourself ready! Stand up and say to them whatever I command you. Do not be terrified by them, or I will terrify you before them. Today I have made you a fortified city, an iron pillar and a bronze wall to stand against the whole land--against the kings of Judah, its officials, its priests and the people of the land." God looked into the heart of Jeremiah, where lay his deepest void and most humiliating lack, and said to him, "You are not a boy. You are a fortified city, an iron pillar, a bronze wall; and you will stand against this entire nation!" Jeremiah looked at himself and saw youthful weakness, but God looked at him and said, "Strength and power!", and, behold, it was!

God called Jeremiah to a task that required a new name, a new identity--strength where there was weakness, fullness where there was void. God then equipped Jeremiah for the task by speaking into his void and weakness. God saw that which was not and called it into being. "Today I have made you a fortified city..."

You need a new name from God. Your void is crippling you, and you cannot fulfill his calling on your life until you hear that new name. The old names, the names you have given yourself or others have given you out of evil intent, are holding you back from God's plan for your life. The old names have to die, and the new name must come to life. God wants to speak his fulness into your void, his strength into your weakness, his abundance into your lack. God sees you as you are not, calls out "Strength and power! Discipline and character! Love and forgiveness!" and, behold, it is!

Your new name--your new identity--are manifested through the presence of God in your life. This presence is available only because Jesus has made it so through the power of the Holy Spirit. You cannot receive this new name if your are proud, selfish, or resistant. It will not come until you bend your heart to God. Only be near him, and he will equip you for the difficult task to which he has called you.

If You Want to Change the World...

...Change the men. If you want to change the world, change the men who run it, work it, till it, and move it.

If you want to create a consumeristic society, delight men's eyes with pornography and children's games, forcing them to remain in a perpetual state of arrested development of juvenile maturity and interests. These grown boys will have no idea how to produce goods or create anything of quality; they will only know how to buy, use, and throw away.

If you want to create a ruthless society, abuse the men when they are boys and teach them that only the strong, heartless, cruel ones survive and get to the top of the food chain.

If you want to create a tolerant society, emasculate the men and shame them into neglecting their strength by telling stories of abuse and bullying. Use education to turn little boys into little girls and create a generation of feminized males that is more in touch with their emotions and more interested in the flighty fair of fashion culture than with strength, honor, and accountability.

If you want to change the world, change the men. That's the truth, and it's time for the church to stop ignoring it. It's time for the church to stop coddling men and idolizing women. God desperately wants to be the Father this generation so desperately needs, but he needs the church to step up and start producing men--real men--who build families where wives and children flourish, businesses where employees excel, governments where justice prevails. God will Father this fatherless generation through godly fathers raised up by the church.

If you want to change the world, change the men. Men, if you want to change the world, be changed.

Lesser Things

Today was one of those days that I needed a word from the Lord all day. Fortunately, in his sovereignty, God spoke to me last night through Jeremiah 12:5. “If you have raced with men on foot and they have worn you out, how can you compete with horses?” I sensed him calling me away from all the things that make me bitter—the frustration of ministry, the unfairness of life, so on and so forth. That, he said, is a race against men. Those are lesser things.

As it turns out, this was precisely the word I needed this morning. I got some disappointing news bright and early today, and rather than devolving into a pattern of bitterness and anger, God lifted me up and sustained me with this thought: Run with horses.

Running with horses means forgetting the lesser things of life. It means not being dragged down by disappointment, frustrating circumstances, or shattered dreams. The worries and anxieties of suburban, American life is a race against men. It’s a race that God has not equipped me or called me to run. My race is with the horses, a race I can’t possibly hope to win without his help.

Running with horses demands that I lift my eyes to Jesus. It requires me to get my chin off my chest, to stop feeling sorry for myself, and to recognize that what God has called me to is not, nor ever will be, easy. This race demands more from me than I can possibly hope to muster. It immediately takes me to the end of myself, to the point at which God must provide the energy, strength, wisdom, and courage to persevere. It is a call to the focused pursuit of excellence in all areas of life.

Our culture teaches us to pursue the lesser things—money, fame, fulfillment, and success. American culture, including many evangelical pastors and authors, tells us that God wants us to be satisfied in the lesser things. All too often, the church tells us to run against men.

But the lesser things don’t matter. Jesus said, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you as well.” In other words, run with horses, and the lesser things will take care of themselves.

Lift up your eyes. Get your chin off your chest. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You won’t find God in the rat race. You won’t find God amongst the lesser things. No, God is out in the wild, running with the horses. 

Run With Horses

Of all the characters in the Bible, I think the one I most identify with is Jeremiah. He was a malcontent. He complained to God all the time. His melancholy weighs heavily on his writings. And yet he was passionate, and the word of God was like a fire inside of him, burning him up from within. He tried to shut up. He tried to walk away. He tried to get out. But he couldn't. He was compelled by the word that God had planted deep within his soul.

God has a peculiar way of speaking to people like that: He asks them questions. I don't mean silly little questions like, "Hey, how's the weather down there?" I mean incisive, stop-you-in-your-tracks-and-shut-you-up kind of questions. Sometimes that's the only way to get us to stop complaining or feeling sorry for ourselves.

In chapter 12, Jeremiah offers this complaint to God:

1 You are always righteous, O LORD,
     when I bring a case before you.
     Yet I would speak with you about your justice:
     Why does the way of the wicked prosper?
     Why do all the faithless live at ease?
2 You have planted them, and they have taken root;
     they grow and bear fruit.
     You are always on their lips
     but far from their hearts.
3 Yet you know me, O LORD;
     you see me and test my thoughts about you.
     Drag them off like sheep to be butchered!
     Set them apart for the day of slaughter!
4 How long will the land lie parched
     and the grass in every field be withered?
     Because those who live in it are wicked,
     the animals and birds have perished.
     Moreover, the people are saying,
     "He will not see what happens to us."

Jeremiah's all upset because these wicked folks, who only pay lip service to God, are living great lives. They don't have any problem paying the bills! They've got the 3,000 square foot house in the safe neighborhood. Their kids get to go to private school. They drive the best cars. They've got all the new toys. Meanwhile, I'm stuck back here in the ghetto! There's crime all over the place. My kids go to a bad school. My car's held together with duct tape. But you know me! You know I'm legit! I'm true. I don't mess around with you. I live it, I believe it, I say it and I pray it. Oh I know you're righteous God, but you need a little help with your justice.

Have you been there? Feeling sorry for yourself because your life is hard? Because you're poor? Because God seems to be coming through for everyone but you? I've been there. That's an easy place for me to get to, let me tell you.

What do you expect God to say to you in those times? "Don't worry, just be patient. I've got it all taken care of. I'm sovereign. I'm in control. I own the cattle on a thousand hills. I've never seen the righteous forsaken, or their children begging bread. I will provide for all your needs." All good things, right? Comfort in our time of need. But I bet you'd never expect to hear God say this:

5 "If you have raced with men on foot
     and they have worn you out,
     how can you compete with horses?
     If you stumble in safe country,
     how will you manage in the thickets by the Jordan?

And all God's children said, "Oh, snap!" Whenever you complain to God, get ready for him to ask you a question that will absolutely tear you in half. And yet, within the verbal beatdown, God is calling Jeremiah (and you and me) to something higher--something far greater than this present rat race.

You see, Jeremiah had been running the wrong race. He looked around him and saw other men, mere humans, and they were leaving him in their dust. But God did not call Jeremiah to run against men. He called him to run against horses.

If you're bitter, or frustrated, or disappointed with God that your life has not turned out like you thought, it's because you're running in the wrong race. God hasn't called you to run against men. God has called you to run with horses. He has called you to a far more difficult task--an impossible race. He has given you something to do that you can't possibly do on your own. If you think the task God has given you is manageable, then you're not thinking big enough. You're supposed to run with horses. And win.

Here's the gameplan. (And this one has to come from Isaiah, because Jeremiah is just too cynical to ever think like this.)

Those who hope in the LORD
     will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
     they will run and not grow weary,
     they will walk and not be faint.

Put your hope in the Lord, and only in the Lord, and you can run with the horses. Don't put your hope in the things you want, even the good things. Don't hope for a better life. Don't hope for a more effective ministry. Don't hope for more money. Don't even hope for justice! If you hope for anything but God you'll be running the wrong race, and you will get worn out. But if you put your hope in God, and only in God, not even the horses will be able to keep up with you.

Fans, Followers, and Friends

A friend of mine recently made a great comment about ministry and it's temptations. He said, "Do you want fans, or do you want followers?" Fans or followers. Do you want people who like you or who will go where you go and do what you do?

One of the strongest temptations of the preacher is to develop a fan base, like we were a baseball team or some kind of branded product. Fans cheer you on. They give you affirmation and stroke your ego. They subscribe to podcasts, download sermons, and read blogs. They buy your books and do your small group materials. But they don't know you and you don't know them. There is no relationship.

So rather than trying to build a fan base, we, as ministers, should try to build a group of followers. We should be out in front, leading the pack and calling them forward. We should be casting a vision for people, giving them a compelling story to find themselves in. Followers will help us accomplish our goals. They will do what we do and go where we go, and in the process the kingdom of God will be advanced.

But will it? Is having followers the endgame of ministry? Is that what we should be about? Is the kingdom of God advanced by leading a group of people toward the accomplishment of certain goals or the realization of a specific vision?

When my friend made his insight, I thought it was good, but it didn't come to rest on my soul the way certain truths do. There was more to the story, I thought. But I couldn't articulate it until the words of Jesus shot like lightning through my mind.

I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. (John 15:15)

I think the real distinction is not between fans and followers, but between fans, followers, and friends. Jesus called his disciples his friends twelve hours before they all abandoned, denied, or betrayed him (which he knew would happen). They were more than fans and more than followers. They had become his friends. People he loved. People with faces and families that he wanted the best for.

Jesus didn't call Andrew and Peter, James and John and the rest out of their previous occupations in hopes of building a fan base or a following. No, his hope was that these guys would become his friends. The endgame of ministry is not to have a bunch of fans or followers, but to have a group of friends for whom you would die, and who would die for you. You could have 100,000 podcast subscribers and a vibrant ministry, but if you're alone at the top then you have failed. If you haven't made any friends as a minister, then you haven't ministered.

Stop trying to build a fan base and stop trying to gain a following. Start making friends--real friends who know you on a soul-level. Fans find new favorites and followers get weary of being anonymous. Friends will go with you and be with you because they love you and you love them. They'll stick by your side because you know each other.

Which would you rather have: 40,000 fans, 4,000 followers, or 4 good friends?

A True Parable

In my back yard there is a mighty birch tree, nearly 100 feet high and 20 feet around at the bottom. The top half is white as the snow, and it gleams like a bleached limestone obelisk against the cloudless blue sky. It's leaves are beautiful (though they haven't budded yet) and hung on to their lofty branches late into the autumn months. It is one of my favorite trees in all the world.

It stands not 20 feet from my house, and so it poses a danger to my family should it ever fall. But it's roots are strong, shooting straight into the ground like the steel and concrete anchors of a suspension bridge. It has survived, unscathed, the hurricane that struck Ohio two years ago, so I don't worry about it toppling from the wind.

But there is a grave danger, posed not by the massive height of the tree, but from a humongous weed that has sprouted up not two yards from the giant birch. To nearly everyone, this huge weed appears to be a perfectly healthy tree. But it is not a tree. It is something else entirely. And it threatens the life of the tree and my family. You see, this disgusting, disease of a plant has shot its roots directly toward the beautiful birch, threatening to kill it from beneath the surface.

Though the weed is a mere shadow of the birch, it is life-threatening. It must be cut out, uprooted, before it turns the good tree into an instrument of death and destruction. The weed is itself a perversion of a plant, and it is trying to turn the birch into a perversion--an object not of beauty, grace, and majesty, but of chaos, danger, and death.

The weed has grown up in the shadow of the birch, unhindered and unchecked. It is often counted among the trees in the yard, though it is only an impostor. The weed must be killed. It must be fully removed. Its roots must be cut and untangled from the roots of the birch. It's branches must be hacked off and cut into tiny pieces. It's stump must be pulled from the ground. This is hard, tedious work, though the rewards in the end are worthwhile. When the weed is gone, the birch is free to grow to new heights, unthreatened by the strangling and perverting roots of the shadow tree.

More Lost Ruminations

Jesus acts like he doesn't owe me an explanation--like the calling is a sufficient act of grace in itself and I should be thankful simply for being chosen.

I wrote that a couple days ago and it's been haunting me ever since. And like I said before, I'm beginning to understand.

I understand now that, if Jesus had given me any more clarity and direction since Ember fell apart then my life would, once again, be centered around the calling. The mission, the task, would become my idol. My gifts and sense of purpose would be the primary source of significance in my life, rather than the one from whom those gracefully flow.

So rather than making my calling an idol, I've made the search to recapture it the idol. The quest and the question have become the center. Only persons can sit on thrones, and yet I have offered the throne of my being to a nonentity--a vapor and a nothing. A quest. A recapturing of old glories that, like the wildflowers in the high country of Tuolomne, have blossomed and faded in their time.

What a wretched state it is to idolize a nothing. What emptiness is found in the centering of a phantom. Oh, how I have been mistaken all these years! Jesus didn't call me to a task. He didn't call me to a plan. He called me to himself. No wonder he didn't give me an explanation--you can't explain love! What a wonderful act of grace is this, that he would save me from the mission in order to be loved! And then, to love.

Lost

Lost. I'm a fan. Of the TV show, not the physical or existential states of being. I've been watching the show from the beginning and I've always had this sense that it's inherently biblical, but I could never put my finger on it. After tonight's episode I'm beginning to understand.

If you haven't seen the show I don't want to give anything away. I will say, though, that predestination v. free will is a central theme. Cool, huh? And they've managed to hold a huge segment of the population's attention for six years!

Another major theme of the show, and the one that I really resonate with, is the concept of the unexplained calling. That is to say, certain characters believe that they have been called to the island but they don't know why. They don't know what they're supposed to be doing, and even as they begin to find out it's only like the slow opening of a spring flower to the sun. One of the major revelations of this season, though, is who exactly has been doing the calling.

Without getting into any detail (for the purpose of not spoiling it), I wanted to write about something that I was struck by in tonight's episode. One of the characters was shell-shocked. He was frustrated, at the end of his rope, because he had accepted the calling. He had said 'Yes' but he had never been told what the plan was. He didn't even know what his own role was supposed to be. He was just there, obeying and waiting... Waiting for answers... Waiting for the plan...

Sometimes I feel like that too. I've accepted the calling of Jesus, but the details are fuzzy. And he tells me to wait... But I get frustrated because I want answers. I want to know what I'm waiting for, and why it's taking so long. But Jesus acts like he doesn't owe me an explanation--like the calling is a sufficient act of grace in itself and I should be thankful simply for being chosen. And I am grateful for being chosen. But sometimes I regret saying 'Yes'...

That's the tension of Lost. That's the tension of my life.

The Prophets

Tonight I taught probably my favorite e4 session--the one that covers the prophetical books. There's so much material in the prophets that we don't actually get into the content of the books. Instead, using the introduction of Abraham Heschel's brilliant book The Prophets, we work through the prophetic pathos and what it must have been like to be one of these people that stood between God and his people.

One of my favorite quotes from Heschel is this one:

The ultimate object and theme of his consciousness is God, of whom the prophet knows that above his judgment and above his anger stands his mercy.

In other words, yes God gets angry. Yes, he judges. But greater than that, standing behind and above it, is his mercy and lovingkindness. In the prophets, judgment and hope are two sides of the same coin. When God threatens destruction, he inevitably comes around to the promise of restoration.

He utters judgment not in the cold manner of a jurist reading a sentence, but rather in the heart-broken tones of one who has been made a cuckold of again and again. We hear him say, not "5 to 10 hard labor", but "I've loved you from the beginning! Why do you turn away from me? Don't you know those other gods are no gods at all?!"

The prophets reveal not a God of wrath but a God of love (who has a very good reason to be angry). We see not the cold, abusive father, but the jilted husband, the one who trusted over and over, only to be made sport of by his adulterous bride. What's most remarkable about the prophets is not that God judged his people and sent them away into exile, but that he sent them thousands of messengers and gave them hundreds of years to turn back to him.

And you thought this "God is love" stuff started in the New Testament...