Tag Archives: jesus

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Stop Acting Your Age

On Sunday I preached from Matthew 18:1-4

1 At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”
2 He called a little child, whom he placed among them.
3 And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
4Therefore, whoever takes a humble place–becoming like this child–is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

I talked about such questions as:

  • Why did the disciples ask this question?
  • Why did Jesus choose a child to illustrate his point?
  • What does it mean to ‘enter the Kingdom of Heaven?’
  • How can we become like children?
  • Who then IS the greatest in the Kingdom?

You can read the manuscript here.

Or to download the .mp3, go here.

To stream it, well, just click the play button below.

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Changed for Good: Move Toward the Other

Wicked

Last week Kate and I went up to Portland’s Keller Auditorium to experience the Broadway show, Wicked. And believe you me, it’s as good as people tell you it is!

If you don’t know much about Wicked (which I did not), it tells the backstory of some of the characters from The Wizard of Oz. The story focuses on the Wicked Witch and Glinda the Good Witch. We learn that these two, before becoming witches, met one another as young girls at school. And they could not be more different from each other, and yet they develop a relationship that blooms into a friendship.

Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) is a social pariah. People strive to stay away from her.
Glinda is the most popular girl in school. People strive to be in her company.

Elphaba’s skin is a strange shade of green. The only one in her school.
Glinda’s skin is perfect and white. Just like every one else in school, but better.

Elphaba is super smart.
Glinda is… well… super pretty.

Elphaba comes from a life where she grew up being despised by her father.
Glinda was the prize jewel of her family.

Elphaba grew up with the primary responsibility to serve her sister’s every need.
Glinda grew up where people served her every need.

I could go on and on. But it is clear that these two are dissimilar in just about every way. If you were to imagine the opposite of one, you’d picture the other.

And that’s precisely what they were: the OTHER.

I Have Been Changed For Good

The show was ripe with brilliant  music, but my favorite came towards the end. During the climactic moment, when it looked like Elphaba’s doom was just around the corner, Glenda and Elphaba share a moment together and sing the song “For Good.”

Here’s a sampling of the lyrics:

I’ve heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true
But I know I’m who I am today
Because I knew you…

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made from what I learned from you
You’ll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend…

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

(Elphaba):
And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I’ve done you blame me for

(Glinda):
But then, I guess we know
There’s blame to share

(Both):
And none of it seems to matter anymore

Who can say if I’ve been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better

Because I knew you…
i belive I have been changed for good…
i have been changed, for good

Both witches came to this place of realization that their lives had been greatly affected by each other. That they both believe they are now better people because of their friendship. That they have been changed for the better because they know one another.

And isn’t that one of the most beautiful things that happens when we engage with the OTHER?

When we step outside of what’s “normal” to us.
When we intentionally seek out those who are different from us.
When we move towards the other.

Jesus Knew This

As much as some of you would prefer there to be a Bible verse that says, “and God declares it good that you shall move toward the other” (preferably by Paul, but we’d take it if it were Jesus), nothing really comes to mind.

But what DOES come to mind is, I believe, even better.

Rather than Jesus just TELLING us that there is value in moving toward the other, he SHOWS us.

He moved toward the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4.
He moved toward the woman caught in adultery in John 8.
He moved toward fisherman and a tax collector in Luke 5.
He moved toward a leper and a Roman centurion in Matt 8.
And the list goes on…

We see in Jesus what the Way of Love looks like, and it involves (in part) our willingness to seek out those who are different from us. But not so that we can change THEM, not with some ulterior motive or agenda, but because something beautiful emerges when two people who are so very different from each other learn to see each other as something more than just a label or a stereotype. When they are no longer the “them,” or “those people.” When we move toward the other, we make an effort to tear down the superficial walls that separate us and we open ourselves up to learn so much about who they are, what makes them tick, why they are so different… and in turn, we learn that much more about ourselves.

Wicked tells the story of two people who couldn’t be more different from each other, and yet the closer they moved toward one another the more changed they both become FOR THE GOOD.

Democrats, move toward Republicans and see them for who they are.
Whites, move towards Latinos and Asians.
Straights, move towards a gay person.
Young people, move towards an older person.
Rich, move towards the poor.
Healthy, move towards the sick.

You will be changed for the better. I promise you.

“You’re changing that boy’s life.”
“No… he’s changing mine.”
-Leigh Anne Tuoy, to her friend, talking about Michael Oher, in The Blind Side

 

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Fish & Loaves: God is not a Withholder.

A few weeks back, I listened to Mars Hill’s podcast (the gooder Mars Hill, not the sorely misguided/misogynistic/chauvinistic/homophobic led Mars Hill), and to my great delight they had a guest speaker that morning: the wonderful Ian Morgan Cron. Ian is an Epicsopal Priest and author of books such as Chasing Francis. A friend of mine connected me with Ian back when I got fired from The Grove, and Ian was a blessing and his words were a gift to me at the time.

Ian speaks often on the subject of the Eucharist. Communion. Holy Supper. The bread and the wine. And his time at Mars Hill was spent accordingly. His text for the morning was probably not your typical selection when teaching on communion. He chose the story of Jesus feeding the many thousands of people (the only miracle, besides the resurrection, that shows up in all four gospels). We’ve all probably heard the sermon that focuses on the boy in the story who gives up some barley loaves and a couple sardines. And in that sermon, we are encouraged to give all that we have to Jesus (just like the boy), and no matter how small or insignificant we may think it is, Jesus can do great and mighty things with it.

And I think that is true. There is certainly truth (or Truth, if you must) swirling within that aspect of the narrative.

But Ian did something different with the text. Something I’d never heard suggested before.

He talked about how people in that culture, when traveling great distances (as many in the crowd would have been), would, if they could afford to, travel with plenty of supplies. Lots of food. The people of means would travel with provisions, enough for the journey and perhaps even the stay.

And so, spread among the thousands of women, men and children that day (or days), would have been a smattering of families that had LOTS of food. Many more might have a little food. And perhaps most of them were poor and didn’t have anything on them.

With that in mind, Ian suggested that perhaps the true miracle of the story is not that Jesus magically created fish and loaves out of thin air (although he’s careful to not dismiss this possibility, if that’s what you believe happened), but the true miracle is that Jesus used the dramatic action of the boy to challenge and change the hearts of ALL that were there. So that those who had plenty (and might previously NOT have shared it), were now embracing the way of love and providing for those who were in need. God changing the hearts of people. A much more impressive (and beautiful) miracle, if you ask me, then God simply making food and feeding people for a day.

He closed by suggesting that one of the major causes of sin in our lives is because we believe in scarcity rather than abundance. We believe that God is holding back from us, and so we strive to acquire, to keep, to hold on to. We live as though we think that God is withholding from us.

But God is not a withholder.

God is a giver. God is a blesser. Out of the abundance of the endless Giver, God blesses.

In turn, we recognize that we are blessed to bless others.

I am (have been) struggling to live this way. The myth of scarcity is convincing. Powerful. And its siren-song has lulled me in to a season of distrust and despair. Not truly believing that God is NOT a withholder. Rather, I’ve found myself accusing the Lord lately of holding back on me.

Yesterday was my wife’s birthday.
Katie is the love of my life. And in HER, yesterday, I re-discovered that God is not a withholder.

No, God has given me more than I could possibly imagine. Much more than I deserve.

God has given me my wife.

And in light of THAT, how can I ever buy in to scarcity, ever again?
For she has been my rock, my strength and my source of hope these past few months.
Her faith has sustained us, sustained ME. And I will be forever grateful for her and to her.

No, God is certainly not a withholder.

And my bride is my proof.
I love you, Katie.

 

Celebrating her Bday by seeing The Lorax with our boys.

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Opposing the Already Oppressed

Nothing says “un-Christian” more to me than the responses of some Christians, organizations and churches to the recent ruling in Washington and to today’s announcement that California’s Prop 8 is unconstitutional.

When thousands (millions?) of American-Christians start to rally up the troops once again to combat any progress the LGBT community makes.

I just can’t fathom the spirit that says, “oh yeah! you think you gained some steps toward equality and respect and dignity in this country!? Well we will just see about that! We’ll rally together enough people to shoot you back down again! And if you don’t stay down THIS time, then we’ll just keep trying! Every time you take two steps forward, we’ll gather enough support to push you three steps backward!”

It just feels unChristian, doesn’t it?

I realize I’m bias. I realize that since I’m a straight-ally, and in full support of human equality when it comes to the rights people ought to have regardless of their sexual orientation, that my opinion on whether the above posture is “Christian” or not is going to be slanted. My version of Christianity, in my mind, takes after its figurehead: Jesus. And Jesus, as best as I understand him, was concerned about things like love, justice and unity. Not so much concerned with fighting to oppress the already oppressed. And certainly not concerned with a persons sexual orientation.

Nonetheless, when people who profess to also follow Jesus actively fight and campaign to continually keep gay and lesbian couples as second-class it makes me question their fundamental understanding of Jesus’ message, his Way, and his Kingdom.

Part of me can kinda-sorta understand a Christian’s commitment to what they view as the only acceptable form of marriage, and how that leads them to actively support movements to protect that belief. I don’t agree with them, but I respect their actions as coming from their convictions. But at some point, on some level, to just continue and continue to fight and campaign and appeal and argue, it just feels mean. I realize this sounds contradictory, and I’m okay with that. But to me there is a difference.

What am I proposing, then? I’m not entirely sure. I suppose it’s silly to say, “if at first you don’t succeed, then happily give up and go home.”

It’s just the immediate sense that I get from reading people’s response. The instant state of, “quick, assemble the crew, the enemy has gained some ground and we need to respond immediately!” I guess there’s just something innate to that that rubs me the wrong way, and feels less “Christian.” Less “Jesus-y.”  (Although, to be fair, I think opposing gay-marriage in the first place is not Jesus-y).

Some day, in the (hopefully near?) future, arguments like this will be behind us. We’ll reminisce about these days with a strange sense of, “wait, why did our country not let gay people marry?” in similar ways that we now reminisce about the days when blacks and whites had to drink from different fountains. That doesn’t make any sense to us now. And one day this won’t make sense to us either.

In the meantime, if you find yourself to be one of the millions of followers of Jesus who don’t think gay people should be allowed the same basic right as you, then I ask you to hold that conviction kindly. Handle it with love. If your sense of “what’s right” is so strong that you just have to fight gay-marriage, then please do it with grace and humility. Don’t immediately rush to kick the man again who just started stumbling to his feet.

I guess that’s what the above movements feel like to me.

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If you love Jesus, MUST you hate religion?

So, you’ve probably seen it. This video where the spoken-word poet talks about loving Jesus but hating religion. I’ve watched my FB blow up with people sharing this, and tried to avoid it just because… but I decided to watch it today.

If you haven’t seen it, here it is:

Since this IS my blog, and all, here are my thoughts on it (as you read this, picture me standing somewhere cool, looking in to a camera, attempting to do “spoken-word.”)

So I see that this video has been going around,
tickling peeps ears with the spoken-word sound.
Almost 7 million views of this one video,
and so to stay relevant, to YouTube I go.

Watch it and listen, is what I just did,
but honestly it left me slightly sordid.

Was Jesus REALLY anti-Religion?
Or just anti the purchase of a temple-sold pigeon…
I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive
in the same sort of way that the this dude on YouTube did.

Jesus was angered by EMPTY religion,
seeing the poor and the hurting who lived in,
the time when God’s people were called out to bless,
but they cared for their purity and said “to hell with the rest.”

I guess what I’d rather this poet had done,
was emphasis Jesus as being the one,
who said,There IS a religion in the Kingdom of Heaven,
See for yourself… James 1:27.

This video creates false dichotomies,
but since it’s done real pretty we say “yes please!”
Before you click ‘share’ and repeat this sensation,
perhaps in your status place this iteration:

“In Jesus I’ve found the way of truth, love and peace
A religion that offers a hope for all things.
In Jesus we seek no hypocrisy,
cause THAT is what drove this Teacher crazy.”

Not “religion.”

(or something like that…)

 

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Trusting in the Emmanuel

“Behold, a virgin shall conceive in her womb, and she shall give birth to a son. And they shall call his name Emmanuel, which means: God is with us.” -Matthew 1:23

This statement by an angel, to the frightened carpenter Joseph, is one of the standard issue Christmas verses. And lately, it won’t get out of my head. But not because of it’s presence, rather because of it’s absence.

Here’s what I mean. This Christmas season has been the hardest for me to live within the reality that “God is with us.” Instead, I find myself wrestling almost daily with believing that God is truly near, that God is here and present with me. I realize and fully admit how narcissistic that sounds, and I try to guard myself from making such individualized statements about God (i.e. it’s all about God’s presence with ‘me!’ and then I may or may not choose to acknowledge God’s presence with ‘us’). But this season my heart is going there whether I want it to or not. My mind argues, and wants to hold tight to the knowledge of the presence of God, but my heart wars against it and finds reasons to doubt. Finds reasons to argue, reasons to latch on to the parts of my life recently that have been excruciatingly hard. The other day I wrote about some of this battle as it was reflected in attending church for the first time in a while.

And what’s curious to me is that lately I have had several very powerful reasons to accept the reality of the presence of God in my life right now. And yet, my heart still resists. It’s as though I’m living the chorus of the Mumford & Sons song, “Winter Winds”

And my head told my heart
“Let love grow”
But my heart told my head
“This time no”

So what has my head been telling my heart lately?

My wife is one week away from giving birth to our 4th boy. And what a beautiful reminder of God in so many ways. The God who creates and gives life to Creation has blessed us with the ability to create 4 miniature humans of our own. And the advent of THIS baby boy comes at the same time of year that the God who emptied God’s-self became clothed in humanity. What a perfect reminder.

And yet my heart resists.

The other day I had a conversation with someone who shared with me an incredible story of how I had been used by God to show up in someone else’s life at the exact right moment. I sent this person a text (someone I’ve texted maybe 5 times before in my life) letting them know I was thinking of them and pausing to pray for them. Come to find out, they received that text at the exact moment that something extremely difficult was happening in their life. There was maybe a 5 minute window that this moment even existed, and THAT’S precisely when I felt compelled to text them. There’s more coolness to the story that I won’t share here for the sake of anonymity, but suffice it to say that it was definitely a powerful indicator of “God with us.” And I know that the person who received my text was impacted by the presence of God. And I know that I, too, ought to have been impacted in this way.

And yet my heart resists.

A month ago we threw our kids, dog and a fish in the van and left our home in Arizona. Like many in this country, we are upside down with our mortgage. And like many, we were needing to sell our home quickly. For those who have been there before, you know the stress and strain that latches on to you when you move to a different state and leave behind a home that you hope and pray will sell. Two weeks ago, on Monday, we put our home on the market. By Tuesday we had five offers. By Thursday we accepted an offer and it went to the bank for approval. I can’t say for sure whether God assisted this process for us or not, but probably at another time in my life I might have easily attributed this moment to a blessing/presence of the Divine.

And yet my heart resists.

What I’m discovering is that while my mind has been presented with numerous evidences for the reality of God’s presence in my life, my heart seems intent on rejecting such notions. My heart is still lumbering along at a frustratingly slow pace since it was crushed several months back. My heart is still, at the very best, resisting God… and at the very worst, blaming God.

During the Advent season we are invited to a time of waiting. Of anticipation and expectation. The four words oft associated with Advent are Joy, Hope, Peace and Love.

But this season I might add a fifth word: Trust.

Better yet, I might just replace the original four with Trust.

You see, perhaps God (if God is at the moment doing such things) is inviting me in to a learning season of Trust. Perhaps God sees in my life areas where Trust is lacking, and during this season I get to lean in in a whole new way.

Trust, as I’m learning, isn’t the same thing as Faith. Here’s what I mean…

The author of Hebrews wrote, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (11:1). Or maybe you could say, faith is what you cling to when your heart has a conviction about something but you simply can’t wrap your mind around it. But Trust? Maybe trust is what you cling to when your mind has a conviction about something but your heart can’t acquiesce.

Faith for me right now isn’t necessarily the issue. I believe in the ever-presence of the Creator, the always-thereness and always-nearness of the Divine. But right now I’m struggling to trust in that which I believe in. Or, to put it more simply, I’m struggling to feel what I know. We lean in to faith to help us overcome our lack of knowing. Right now, I need to lean in to trust to help me overcome my lack of feeling. Maybe the feelings will come… maybe not. Feelings are pretty flighty like that. But as finite humans we nonetheless rely on them quite a bit.

So, for this Christmas season, I might stick with the author of Hebrews, but go backwards to the second chapter. “But we see him who for a little while was made lower than the angels, namely Jesus, crowned with glory and honor… I will put my trust in him” (2:9,13).

I may not know what that looks like. I certainly don’t know how to do it. But just being able to step back and see a glimpse of what God might be calling me to right now in my life is enough. I will lean in to that, and by doing so, lean in to God. Lean in to the Emmanuel, the God who is with us. The God who, I am led to believe, is with me.

And then, maybe then, I’ll move from the chorus of “Winter Winds” to the final verse:

And if your strife strikes at your sleep
Remember spring swaps snow for leaves
You’ll be happy and wholesome again
When the city clears and sun ascends

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Tri-Awesomeness

Andrew Peterson

Harry Potter Books

Fresco of Jesus

Like my wife says, “Three of my favorite things converge together: Andrew Peterson, Harry Potter, and Jesus.”

If you like any of those three I invite you to read this fantastic blog by singer-songwriter/author Andrew Peterson, and his thoughts on the Harry Potter series.

Among other awesome things he says, he writes this pretend letter to Potter author, J.K. Rowling and says:

By the way, I’m a follower of Christ, and I see him in your story. I don’t know if that’s intentional or not, but you should know that he’s in there. In fact, it wouldn’t be a huge stretch to say that reading your books has helped me to praise him even more for his courage, his sacrifice, and his strength to conquer the hosts of hell to save us.

To which I offer a resounding AMEN!

I have fallen in love with the Potter series over the past 10 years, and ardently defend it against those who would believe it is somehow evil or inherently wrong for Christians to read. These sorts of statements merely come out of ignorance, so I try not to get too worked up. Nonetheless, they are beautiful books, an amazing story, like Peterson says, Jesus is in those stories.

 

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Jesus in Revelation

Typical understanding of Jesus in Revelation

I’ve been reading Brian McLaren’s newest book, “A New Kind of Christianity,” and I was very moved and encouraged by some of his thoughts on Jesus in relation to how he is portrayed in the book of Revelation.

I’d love to give you the full context and background of his thoughts, but I’ll just let you buy the book and read it for yourself. But I DO want to share this bit with you because I found it brilliant and challenging.

He (Brian) is addressing one of his critics who accused him of recasting Jesus as a “limp-wrist hippie, with a lot of product in his hair who drank decaf and made pity Zen statements about life while shopping for the perfect pair of shoes.”

Brian’s critic countered with the following characterization of who HE thinks Jesus is:

“In Revelation, Jesus is a prize-fighter with a tatoo down His leg, a sword in His hand and the commitment to make someone bleed. That is the guy I can worship. I cannot worship the hippie, diaper, halo Christ because I cannot worship a guy I can beat up.”

To which I say, “Why the Face?!?!” (Don’t get that reference? Check it out here…)

But, moving on.. Brian then quotes the Revelation passage the above critic was referring to, 19:11-16

11I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and makes war.12His eyes are like blazing fire, and on his head are many crowns. He has a name written on himthat no one knows but he himself.13He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God.14The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen,white and clean.15Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. “He will rule them with an iron scepter.” He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty.16On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.

Brian then goes on to offer a different way to understand this passage. You’ll have to get the book for that… But I would like to share then his thoughts about how contradictory it would be to view Jesus in Revelation as his critic above does (and many others, even if it’s not so crude and outright) in light of who Jesus was and what he said during his earthly ministry. It’s fairly long, but worth the read…

To repeat, Revelation is not portraying Jesus returning to earth in the future, having repented of his naive gospel ways and having converted to Casesar’s “realistic” Greco-Roman methods instead. He hasn’t gotten discouraged about Caesar seeming to get the upper hand after his resurrection and on that basis concluded that it’s best to live by the sword after all (Matt. 26:52). Jesus hasn’t abandoned the way of peace (Luke 19:42) and concluded the way of Pilate is better, mandating that his disciples should fight after all (John 18:36). He hasn’t had second thoughts about all that talk about forgiveness (Matt 18:21-22) and concluded that on the 78th offense (or 491st, depending on interpretation), you should pull out your sword and hack off your offender’s head rather than turn the other cheek (Matt 5:39).

He hasn’t given up on that “love your enemies” stuff (Matt 5:44) and judged it naive and foolish after all (1 Cor 1:25), concluding instead that God’s strength is made manifest not in weakess but in crushing domination (2 Cor 12:9). He hasn’t had a change of heart, concluding that the weapons he needs are physical after all (2 Cor 10:3-4) or that the enemies of the kingdom are flesh and blood after all (Eph 6:12), which would mean that the way to glory isn’t actually by dying on the cross (Phil 2:8,9), but rather by nailing others on it.

He hasn’t sold the humble donkey (Luke 19:30-35) on eBay and purchased chariots, warhorses, tanks, land mines, and B-1s instead (Zech. 9:9-10). He hasn’t climbed back to the top of the temple and decided he made a mistake the first time (Matt 4:1-10), or concluded that from now on he’d be smarter to follow Peter’s Greco-Roman “human” strategies (Matt 16:23). He hasn’t decided that the message of the cross is a little too foolish after all (1 Cor 1:18) or that Christ killing his foes is way more exciting than that lame, absurd “hippie” gospel of “Christ crucified” (1 Cor 2:2).

He hasn’t decided that my loyal critic was right, that nobody can be expected to worship a king they can beat up (Matt 27:27). He hasn’t decided that a tattoo down his leg would look a whole lot toughter and macho than scars in his hands, feet, and side (John 20:27). He hasn’t decided to defect to the Greco-Roman narrative, since the majority of people who claim adherence to the religion that bears his name seem to frame their lives by it rather than by his good news of the kingdom of God.

Revelation celebrates not the love of power, but the power of love. It denies, with all due audacity, that God’s anointed liberator is the Divine Terminator, threatening revenge for all who refuse to honor him, growling “I’ll be back!” It asserts, instead, that God’s anointed liberator is the one we beat up, who promises mercy to those who strike him, whispering, ‘Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). The suffering, serving one who bled on a cross–not the one with a commitment to make others suffer and bleed–is the King of kings and Lord of lords. In response to the crucified one’s name–not Caesar’s or any other violent human’s–every knee will gladly bow.

You may or may not agree with all the points above, but hopefully the big picture is something worth considering. If we DO anticipate Jesus returning to destroy and crush people, then we must wrestle with how that can line up with all that he did and taught. Will he, in the end, change his mind about the way of peace, mercy, forgiveness and grace?