Friday, May 30, 2008

Third Base

Although I was never a big fan of football coach Barry Switzer, there is one quote from him that I really like. He once said, "Some people are born on third base and go through life thinking they hit a triple." I'm not sure why a football coach is making a baseball analogy, but that's beside the point. There is a truth within those words that calls us to humility.

Our culture celebrates the independent spirit and the "self-made" individual. But is anyone truly self-made? Can we really attribute our successes, however we define them, to nothing more than our own efforts? None of us experience life in a vacuum, unaffected by others and untouched by circumstances. And while we are certainly responsible for the choices we make, we cannot ignore the impact of influences and opportunities we did not create or control. The fact is, I've had a lot of help along the way. Humility calls us to remember, and be grateful for, the people and opportunities that have shaped us.

I want and need to improve my memory. May I always be aware that:
  • I am here, not because of what I deserve, but through the love and grace of God. And God loves everyone else just as much as He loves me.

  • I have been helped and blessed by people who have loved me and invested in my life. I would not be what I am without their influence.

  • I have been given resources and opportunities that others have not. That is not a reason for pride, but a call to humble gratitude.

There is certainly nothing wrong with recognizing hard work, and true humility does not ask us to belittle the gifts and abilities God has given us. We find it easy, though, to cross the line into self-sufficiency, believing that we have earned by our own merit all that we have and are somehow more deserving than others. But at the very heart of the gospel stands the idea of redemption, restoring that which cannot restore itself. If this is indeed the great need of humanity, then I must also accept the reality that no one is self-made, and the gifts that have been given to me are exactly that - gifts. I am where I am, not because of my own ability, but by the grace of God extended to me in countless ways throughout my life.

Just because I'm standing on third base doesn't mean I hit a triple.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Unconvincing Arguments

Even as a kid I loved to argue. Right or not, I had an answer for everything. If I couldn't win the argument with logic, I would do so with plain bulldog tenacity. I could argue even the most ridiculous position to the point that the other person just wore out and quit.

I used to think that was a great quality until God gave me a child who is just like me. Now, not so much.

As the followers of Jesus, we spend a lot of time arguing, defending what we accept as the truth of God's Word. We fight with school boards, governments, scientists, and Oprah. We develop curriculum, organize associations, and orchestrate email campaigns, all for the sake of winning the battle with those who don't believe what we believe. We literally spend millions of dollars of the Kingdom's resources and countless hours of time and energy trying to win arguments with the world.

I'm not going to say that's a bad thing, and in no way would I ever question the heart or motives of those who take on these battles. But I am at the point in my life where I'm asking some tough questions, and here is one: Why do we, as Christians, spend so much time and effort trying to prove the Bible right and at the same time completely ignore so much of the Word in our own relationships?

Think about it. We will defend a creationist view of Genesis 1 to the point of death, but easily turn a blind eye to Jesus' words about forgiving others. (Matt. 6:14-15) We are quick to protest the liberal scholars who seek to redefine the "historical" Jesus, but slow to follow the Biblical direction for resolving conflict. (Matt. 18:15-17) We don't hesitate to express our discontent when society fails to conform to our values, but can be oblivious to our own lack of love for those not like us. (Matt. 5:43-48) While we try to argue the world into believing the Bible, the attitudes and conduct within the body of believers too often contradict the very words we defend.

I know - we are frail human beings and none of us is perfectly like Christ; therefore, inconsistencies will always be a part of the earthly picture. That doesn't mean we shouldn't speak truth to the world around us. Okay - but my struggle is not so much with the reality that inconsistencies exist as it is our failure to confess those inconsistencies in a genuine spirit of humility and repentance. That failure conveys the attitude of arrogance and judgment that so often brings division within the church and mars the image of Christians for those outside the church. When we argue with the world about Biblical values, while ignoring our own failures in following Jesus' words, others will easily dismiss us as self-righteous and hypocritical. What they see is someone more concerned about winning arguments than being like Jesus and loving people.

I have come to realize that the inconsistencies I choose to ignore are not hidden to those around me. They see what I choose not to see, and if I am going to draw anyone into Christ's Kingdom, I must open my eyes and acknowledge my personal failures. The truth is, I am too often guilty of selective hearing. The Scripture is easy to hear and use when it seems to speak to someone else, but it's another story when the light is turned on my own heart. When I finally acknowledge that, and confront my own struggles, I find that I begin to look at others differently. Rather than seeing an opponent who must be argued into submission, I see a person who needs love and grace as desperately as I do.

Personally, I don't know too many people who have successfully been argued into the Kingdom, but I do know many who have found a relationship with Jesus because somebody loved them. Perhaps we would be more effective in our mission if we spent less time trying to win arguments and more time creating communities of love, grace, humility, and acceptance. In a world that is broken and dysfunctional, a community like that just might be a convincing argument.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Lessons From Chocolate Deprivation

I have learned that I can actually live without M&Ms. This is no small matter given my intense devotion to chocolate, and believe me, it was not initially my idea to wander down this path of discovery. The truth is, my doctor has been on my case for years now about cholesterol, triglycerides, and the like, but I typically chose to alleviate the pain of his guilt-ridden warnings with more M&Ms. A few months ago, however, the conviction stuck and I decided that I needed to make better choices and live a healthier lifestyle. So, as a part of this new and improved approach to life, I cut M&Ms as a regular part of my diet. And guess what - I didn't die.

Actually, when I do have M&Ms now (only occasionally and in moderation), I seem to enjoy them more. Before, they were a daily compulsion that I had to fill and I ate them thoughtlessly rather than gratefully. It seems my sacrifice has resulted in a new sense of appreciation.

So I guess a little self-denial can be a good thing.

In a consumer-minded culture like ours, self-denial is not generally valued. We are driven to have more, use more, eat more, and buy more. We are part of a society that has everything, but values little; that wants it all, but is grateful for none. Even as the followers of Jesus we can find ourselves caught up in the same cycle of addiction to earthly things. Perhaps it would benefit us to rediscover the spiritual discipline of self-denial.

Clement of Alexandria (c. 150-c. 215) claimed that the body has the potential to be either the temple of the soul or the tomb of the soul. The difference between the two lies with the word attachment. When I am attached to something, I must have it; and when I must have it, it controls me. Those who are controlled and driven by temporal things lose their focus and attention on the things of the Spirit. The result, necessarily, is the loss of spiritual vitality and passion. Spiritually speaking, we become walking tombs.

Clement, along with many witnesses in the history of the Church, believed that self-denial helps us to break our attachments to worldly possessions, activities, and pleasures. Times of fasting remind us that we do not have to have these things and we do not live for them. Periods of voluntary sacrifice refocus our hearts and minds on the priorities of the Kingdom and draw our attention back to the voice of the Spirit. And when we return to the things we have given up for a while, we are able to receive them with true joy and gratitude as the gift of God, rather than a thoughtless compulsion. Breaking our attachments brings freedom, and rather than a tomb, we become a temple.

What would happen to our level of spiritual passion and focus if we practiced, consistently and deliberately, the discipline of self-denial? What if we gave up, just for a time, something that has the potential to control us and assume a higher priority than it should? There is no shortage of possible suspects: food, work, shopping, TV, sports, internet - the list is endless in our culture. It's not that we need to give them up forever, or that they are necessarily bad in and of themselves; we just have this tendency to become consumed, losing our sense of priority and spiritual focus. A little time without them helps to keep us free from unhealthy attachments.

Clement once said, "We ought to behave as strangers and pilgrims. . . as people who are not passionately attached to the created world but use it with all gratitude and with a sense of exaltation beyond it." I think Paul expressed it this way: "And even though 'I am allowed to do anything,' I must not become a slave to anything." (I Cor. 6:12, NLT)

Not even to M&Ms.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

It Is What It Is, Part II

As I expressed in the previous discussion, we cannot deny that the world, left to its own direction, simply is what it is. "Sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all, because all sinned." (Romans 5:12) The human condition is one of sinfulness and that cannot be changed apart from the grace of God. It is also true, unfortunately, that the professed followers of Jesus sometimes choose not to be expressions of God's grace in our world, opting instead for isolation and judgment. And when we choose that path, it seems hypocritical to complain about or be surprised by the state of the world; we're like those who choose not to vote but want to reserve the right to complain about the government, or people who won't change their diet but expect their cholesterol to come down. (Okay, that last statement was actually a personal confession.)

But, in all this, let's not forget the good news: The world has not been left on its own, even when we fail to be the salt and light we are called to be. The grace of God is at work around us, even when we choose not to take part in that work. The Spirit of God is faithful to stir hearts and minds while speaking truth and drawing lost people. More is going on in the heart of your neighbor than you see on the surface. In the book of Acts, Ananias was shocked when he was called to go and pray with Saul of Tarsus. Certain the Lord was confused, he let God know what this guy Saul was really like. But God had done a work beyond Ananias' line of vision, and He continues to work today in surprising places and in the hearts of unlikely people.

But even as we acknowledge this loving and faithful work of the Spirit in our world, we find ourselves once again challenged: Are we really a part of what God is doing, or are we merely content with operating our own programs in comfortable isolation? Is it possible we have allowed self-interest and religious habit to keep us from seeing what God is doing and wants to do around us?

Assumptions can be powerful and deceptive. I have too often assumed that maintaining the operation of a church is the same as living out God's purpose. But can we hold to that assumption if we are not seeing lives transformed into the image of Christ? It's not that the operation of a church is wrong or unnecessary; it just cannot be substituted for our purpose. The very character of God, revealed in Jesus, assures me that He is working in our world. Whether or not we are a part of that work is a different question entirely, and it's one we need to ask ourselves with humility and reflection.

I heard someone say that, at this point, they believe God is doing more outside the established church than inside. Honestly, I was initially offended by the thought. But criticism often stings with an element of truth. I have to admit there were those in Jesus' day who were pretty good at running the religious institution, but were blind to what God was doing. At the same time, there were those on the outside who saw and believed. And as I recall, Jesus said something to the religious folks about the outsiders "entering the Kingdom before you."

May we never be so proud as to think those words could not possibly speak to us.

Friday, May 2, 2008

It Is What It Is

My lawn has serious issues. The grass is thin and pale, bare spots abound, and there are some things growing out there I've only seen on the Discovery Channel. It's sad, really. It always helps, too, when the neighbors have lawns that look like golf courses. I'm sure they love me.

But I can't blame the yard for its sorry state. The fact is, I hate yard work and I have no idea what I'm doing even when I try. Once in a while I spray some stuff I bought at Walmart and throw a little grass seed around; but in all reality, I'm clueless. And since the yard can't fix itself, it remains in its pitiful state. It simply is what it is.

Sometimes we forget that the world can't fix itself. We have a tendency to respond to the condition of our world with an almost prideful sense of shock and disbelief. We look at the darkness and brokenness around us, shake our heads, write it all off as a sure "sign of the times," and then retreat to our safe sanctuaries to wait for the end of all things. Occasionally, in the name of culture-changing ministry, we forward an email to other Christians telling them who to vote for and who to boycott. And when confronted with our failure as the Church to make a genuine difference in our culture, we conveniently remind ourselves of how bad it is "out there," and matter-of-factly pin the blame on the world and its unwillingness to come to us.

It seems to me that Jesus laid the responsibility on another doorstep. He said, "You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl." Rather than being surprised by the condition of the world, Jesus sets a challenge before those who are called to be salt and light. The truth is, if things are to change, the followers of Jesus must move beyond the safety of the church's walls and the comfort of friendly circles. We must be salt in a decaying world and a light in dark places.

Sinners can't be anything but sinners apart from the grace of God. Rather than pointing a finger in shock and arrogance, I need to humbly remember that there, but for the grace of God, go I.

Darkness can never be anything but darkness if the light remains hidden. If the darkness seems to be spreading, perhaps we should, in all humility, consider Jesus' words and accept that we have failed to live as the genuine expression of His light in the world.

A world in bondage to sin will not come running to us on Sunday morning simply because our churches are open. Rather than shaking our heads in disbelief, maybe we should ask with broken hearts, "How can we show love to them right where they are?"

If we, as the people of salt and light, remain disconnected and hidden from those who are lost and hurting, we have no right to be surprised by the world's condition. The world simply can't fix itself. Left on its own, it is what it is.