I teach Middle Schoolers—perhaps the biggest bunch of walking insecurities ever to grace the planet. So concerned with the approval of others, so lost as to their own identity. I am many years and many miles removed from Middle School.
Mostly.
Poser
I care so much what you all think of me.
Too much, really
I stand before you as I would a mirror
Trying to show my best side
Hide my flaws
I pose
It’s what I do
What I am
If I let you see what is really in me you will run
As well you should
So you see only what I would show you
Part of me
The part that does not bring shame
The part that looks worthy and right and good.
“Oh Lord, you have searched me and you know me.”
On Sunday I’m OK with that
On Friday…not so much
They are potent words.
Terrifying words
Healing words
Saving words
Words I am not brave enough to embrace.
To be known is…dangerous
Vulnerable
So I ape a form that is not mine, and strike a posture that I hope is convincing.
I like the pose—it is wise and good and Godly and not me.
I pray that someday my form will fit this pose I take
Yesterday, I discussed the idea of witnessing by accident. If you missed that post, you would be best off to go and read it, then come back to this one. Otherwise, this current story will have a less profound impact on your life, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?
Ready? Let’s go…
Romania, 1990. I was on a mission trip, and had the opportunity to preach. It was a brutally humbling experience, during which I learned that the word “gypsy,” while innocuous in the West, is a full-blown racial slur in Romania.
Oops.
In any case, after the service a young man about my age came up to me and introduced himself as Ovidiu. He spoke creditable English, and asked if he could show me around the city. Anxious to escape the whispers and stares caused by my inadvertent racial epithet, I jumped at the chance. Off we went.
The two of us spent several hours sightseeing and conversing. Ovidiu told me about life in Romania, and how it had changed since the fall of the dictator Nicolai Ceausescu (which had occurred just three months before my visit). I told my new friend about my life in America, and how God was at work, not only in my country, but in me.
That evening, we returned for the evening church service, where I managed to bring greetings without causing an international incident. After I finished, the pastor took over. At the end of his message, the pastor gave an altar call, and my new friend came forward to accept Christ.
My new friend who I thought was already a believer.
I had assumed I was fellowshipping; it seems I was witnessing.
Later, we talked, and Ovidiu explained the situation. His mother was a member of this church, and was constantly trying to get her son “saved.” He had no interest in such things. She had finally persuaded him to come to church that morning to see the American speak. Ovidiu had invited me to go sightseeing, not for fellowship, but simply to practice his English. During our time together, Ovidiu had listened to me talk of Christ. “You made it sound so normal, so natural,” he said to me. “You made me think that it might really be true.”
Praise God that I didn’t know I was witnessing to Ovidiu. If I had, I probably would have driven him miles away from God with Christianese and lofty blather.
Because I’ve done that too, you know.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t witness on purpose. I’m just saying that we should speak normally to people about our life with Jesus. Witnessing is not an isolated action; it’s the overflow of our lives. If my vocabulary changes because I am suddenly “witnessing,” then there’s something seriously wrong with either how I speak about Christ, or how I speak in my everyday life. In the end, the way we live–our day in, day out approach to the challenges and the people around us–says more about our faith than any words we speak.
Especially when we use the wrong words completely.
Lest you think I am being a bit heavy today, let me finish with a story about how my wife inadvertently started a cult. Once upon a time, she who would someday be Wife of My Heart was a new Christian on a missions trip to Mexico. She was talking to a little boy, trying to tell him about the love of Christ. My bride’s love for God is amazing; her command of Spanish, less so. She told the boy that Jesus died for his sins, but the boy seemed puzzled. She repeated her message; he looked at her strangely, but listened.
In Spanish, “Pecado” means, “sin.”
In Spanish, “Pescado” means, “fish.”
I picture this little boy going home and telling his family of the angel who appeared to him to tell him of Christ’s love for the family goldfish. I see the word spreading through the land, and a whole new understanding of bumper sticker fishes coming to light.
“You know, a couple of weeks ago I really hated your guts!”
Lovely.
Several questions hit my mind all at once.
“Why did this person hate my guts a couple of weeks ago?”
“Why does this person no longer hate my guts?”
“Why does this person feel the need to tell me this in line at the supermarket?”
“Who is this person?”
I see that some backstory is required here. I was nineteen years old, and working at a grocery store. My shift was over, and I was standing in line waiting to buy tasty snacks. The woman behind me began to speak to me, and she opened her conversation with the aforementioned,
“You know, a couple of weeks ago I really hated your guts!”
There. Now you are up to speed, and only as confused as I was at the time. Remember, I was only nineteen. I would not be a middle school teacher (and thus immune to such remarks) for many years yet.
Fortunately, the woman continued speaking, and allowed me to figure out what was going on. You see, I had recently become a Christian, and I was pretty excited about my new life. She had been a Christian for many years, but had turned away from God. Somehow, life had harmed her, and she had blamed it on God. This had turned into anger, and bitterness, and separation.
One day she had found herself in my checkout line at the grocery store. As she waited, she heard me “chattering” (her word) with a friend from church, who was also in line. As she put it, “You were so stinking happy about God, I wanted to puke!”
That’s customer service, right there. You don’t get vomit inducements at just any store.
She went on to explain that, though I was oblivious, God had begun to work in her at that moment. She spent several days hating me, even cursing me (delightful!) for being such a “Ninny” (again, her word). Then, slowly, she began to deal with Jesus.
And He with her.
Now she was standing behind me in line, thanking me for helping to bring her back to Christ.
Uh…no problem.
If you are a follower of Jesus Christ, you are His witness.
Every day.
All the time.
Like it.
Or not.
Trust me; the above episode did not fill me with pride. On the contrary, even thinking about it now gives me the willies. Because really, here’s the question: How many times has God done that? Or how many times has he tried, but I wasn’t cooperating? For all the occasions when I have bumblingly “witnessed” to people, how often has it been my life that overrode my words—for good or for ill?
I have another story of being an “accidental witness,” but it will have to wait for tomorrow. For now, I’ll leave you with this question: Are you living your life in a way that proclaims Christ, even when you’re not “proclaiming Christ?”
Whenever I get some time off, I immediately think of all the things I have to get done during my time off. I want to be organized—knowing that organization is key to any successful endeavor—so I create it.
The List.
It does not come into being quickly. The List takes time. It must be carefully thought out, organized, prioritized. The list is fluid, growing and evolving through the first hours and days of freedom. One does not simply jot The List down on a scrap of paper with pencil or pen or crayon—no, Friend, that would be unworthy of such a document. The List must be crafted on the computer, because computers are important and efficient. Things happen when you use a computer. Things like checking Facebook and playing solitaire, which appear frivolous but are in fact essential to the free flow of ideas and inspiration.
One must consider all aspects of life when creating The List. There are household issues—cleaning, organizing, repairing. For example, #35 on my current list reads, “Reclaim garage from a year of neglect and failed projects.” There are family items, like “Have quality time with kids,” and “Reclaim marriage from a year of neglect and failed projects.” Then of course we have personal goals covering things like writing (#2, “Write a bunch of blog posts so that I’m not always three days behind and writing in a blind panic,”) and exercise (#17, “Reclaim body from a year of neglect and failed projects.”)
It is crucial to develop the list carefully, because it will define my time off. I have to see, in great detail, just what I will fail to accomplish during my vacation. You see, there is a very powerful, predictable pattern at work whenever I make a list. For example, let’s say that I have a week off, and the list already created. The days will go something like this:
Day 1 Rest, nap in my chair, and read fluff. After all, God commands us to rest, and I wouldn’t want to upset him right at the beginning of my vacation.
Day 2 Accomplish many things that are not on the list. These would be things like laundry and dishes, which do not have to be done today, but will give me a sense of quick gratification at my ability to accomplish, as well as allowing for cheap shots at my family for not having done these things already.
Day 3 Go to the hardware store and buy lots of materials with which to attack the most difficult, and least likely to be accomplished, item on The List. Like, say, “Build an underground bomb shelter/game room.”
Day 4 Admit that the weather, geological conditions, and my general lack of skills and training render the Day 3 project undoable. Go play, because, hey you can’t work all the time, right?
Day 5 Make one of the phone calls on the phone call section of The List. Leave a message. Retire to my chair for many hours while waiting for the phone call to be returned, because I wouldn’t want to miss that important call while I was off doing something else. That would be inefficient.
Day 6 Realize that my vacation is almost over and that I have accomplished nothing of value. Check The List to verify that elves have not come in the night to finish everything on my behalf. “Pad” The List with items I would have done anyway—like “trim toenails”—to create the impression that I am really a powerhouse. Do the heavy mental lifting to conclude that, if I worked nonstop for the remainder of my time off, I could not achieve half of what is on The List. Get twitchy and frustrated and take said frustration out in passive aggressive attacks on my family, prompting them to dream of the day I go back to work.
Day 7 One of two things happens at this point. Either I continue in the path of frustration and stress, causing my family to devise plans for an “accident” to claim the insurance money, or I get a grip. Getting a grip involves looking at Scripture and reading passages such as
In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps. Proverbs 16:9.
And
Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you don’t even know what will happen tomorrow…Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” James 4:13-15
Should I refrain from making lists? No, it’s good for me to plan and try to use my time effectively. But I need to remember that The List is not The Lord. It’s OK if I don’t get it all done; in fact, it’s guaranteed that I won’t. (As my son points out, I add two things to The List for every one that I cross off.)
What I need to do is remember that my time is His time. Every day, every moment is a gift, and I should spend it accordingly. That might eliminate a little of the fluff, and help me to accomplish what is really important.
Like solitaire…I’m getting really good at solitaire…
I am Husband. I am Father. I am called by God to be the spiritual leader in my home. It’s one of those callings I have received, of which I want to live a life worthy. Of.
So I make plans to have Family Worship. You know, a time to read Scripture, pray, discuss, and sing together as a family. It is a great plan, and I am a great planner, and it never seems to work.
I can envision it perfectly. We begin shortly after dinner. Everyone is home, the family is settling down for the night—it’s our own private vespers. I play a little guitar, and my family is transported to the very throne room of God. Then we read the Bible, and I expound upon the mysteries of Truth as my children sit, awestruck at their father’s wisdom, and my bride silently weeps with the knowledge that this spiritual Atlas is her soul mate. As we pray, we are drawn, singly and corporately, closer to the Lord. In nations around the globe, lives change and darkness is pushed back…
It’s a really good vision.
Pretty much better than the reality.
See, the reality is that we seldom begin Family Worship until bedtime or well after bedtime. You may recall that I get unreasonable after a certain hour—that’s about the time we usually start. There’s no time for music, so we just pray, and it ends up being pretty rote. Occasionally I’ll read Scripture—it takes about thirty minutes to make it through four lines because I am unreasonable and sleepy and because we have raised homeschoolers who like to actually understand what they read.
When the kids were little, we used to all climb up on the bed together for Family Worship. It was cuddly. These days we are all larger than we used to be, so we end up cramped and cross. We jostle each other and jockey for position. Holding hands is always entertaining, with teenage siblings in the mix.
At about this time the dog usually comes wandering in to lick any exposed feet, which transports you back from the Throne Room really quickly. If the offended flesh happens to belong to one of my ladies, screaming and leaping ensues. Meditation is replaced by pandemonium, and lives are not changed so much as threatened.
And yet…
I’ve got to figure that God is more pleased with our pathetic attempts than with my glorious visions. We are a real family—frighteningly, annoyingly real—and I know that’s a priority for God. I’m not saying we can’t do better, because I know we can. He deserves our prime time, not our leftovers. Still, we bring him what we have, and who we are, and he does not turn us away.
As a Dad, I want to be a better leader. I want to inspire my family, and, frankly, impress them with my spiritual manliosity. It doesn’t often work out that way. I’ve heard leadership described like this: If you think you are a leader, take a look behind you. If someone is following, then you are leading. If not, then you are just out for a walk.
I look back, and they’re still with me. So, for better or for worse, I am the spiritual leader of my family. I will do all I can to do it right, and I will drink deeply of grace.
I’m not pleased with our worship. Praise God, he is.
There has been a lot of hullabaloo in the news lately over same sex marriage. Many people–even some Christians–are lauding the recent Supreme Court ruling as a triumph for equality. The slogan “Love Wins” is, basically, everywhere. Those who oppose gay marriage are responding, at times with malice. In most arenas, sober, mature discussion has been blasted aside by venom and sarcasm. At the ripe old age of sixteen, you may find it tough to navigate your way through a society that so strongly disagrees with what you’ve been taught.
Maybe I can help.
It will come as no shock to you that I don’t have all the answers.
But I do have a few.
Maybe four.
Here they are.
God says that homosexuality is wrong.
Yes, he does. As people of God, you can’t back away from that fact.
Now, there are three kinds of folks you might find yourself in a conversation with on this subject. The first is the Christian who agrees with you. Don’t argue with this guy. He’s already on your side. The second is the person who doesn’t believe in God, or who doesn’t trust the Bible. Frankly, there’s not much you’re going to say that will convince him that homosexuality is sin. At the moment, he has bigger spiritual fish to fry. We’ll talk more about him in a bit.
It’s the third guy you need to be ready for. He is under the deception that homosexuality isn’t really a sin. He may have weak contextual arguments from Scripture; he may simply argue that God is a fan of love in any and all forms. This guy is dangerous. And he is wrong.
Genesis 19. Sodom and Gomorrah. You know the story. It’s the text that most people go to when addressing this subject, and for good reason. God destroys two entire cities for rampant sin…the sin of homosexuality. Jude confirms this in his letter to the believers, and 2 Peter addresses it as well. In Romans, Paul declares homosexuality to be unnatural, and a result of Man’s abandonment of God. And, of course, in Leviticus God clearly calls homosexuality “detestable.”
Yes, there are people who will argue with all of these examples, but frankly their arguments don’t hold up to a straightforward reading of the text and the application of some good old common sense. Don’t take my word–or anyone else’s–for it–study the Scripture for yourself.
Let God be true, and every man a liar (Romans 3:4).
The World doesn’t want to hear it.
When I was in college, a buddy and I decided to campaign for the office of God. We argued that there should be term limits on deity, and that the time had come for fresh ideas.
We were joking…mostly.
The fact of it is, though we didn’t realize it, we were demonstrating a pretty ancient mindset. In Genesis, God said, “Let us make man in our image.” For the rest of history, man has been saying, “Let us make God in our image.” You see, most people don’t really believe that God exists–not as an actual person. They see him as a philosophy, a societal construct that we use to teach right and wrong. As such, God can be reinvented, or thrown out entirely, to suit the current fashion. That’s why you hear phrases like, “Well, I could never believe in a God that…” Seriously, can you imagine any real person you would discuss like that? “I could never believe in a Grandmother who was a terrible cook.” Really? I had one. Your lack of belief did not make your great-granny’s Imitation Crab Casserole any less nasty, or my indigestion any less uncomfortable.
In the absence of a God who is a real person, people are free to make up their own rules. Society becomes one giant game of Calvinball.
Following God will not make you popular
If you choose to believe the God of the Bible when it comes to the issue of homosexuality–or any other issue, for that matter–you will encounter grief. Just gird your loins and get ready for it. I don’t say this lightly. You are my kids, and I would love to protect you from every hurt and have the world adore you. I would choose to see you lauded for your strength and grace and intelligence and Godly character. But if you stand for truth–and I pray that you do–that ain’t gonna happen.
People will laugh at you.
People will call you hateful.
People will insult your intelligence.
People will ignore your arguments and attack your person.
It will hurt. It will be frustrating. It will make you want to back down, to make nice and let everyone think you’re spiffy. But you can not. You must not. Because…
You have an enemy…but he isn’t gay.
When someone ignores the truth, when someone mocks God, when someone attacks you for your beliefs, it is easy to see him as an enemy.
But he’s not your enemy.
He’s the guy you’re here to rescue.
Look, I’m no fan of the “victim” mentality, but the fact is that homosexuals are victims. They have been lied to and preyed upon by society, by politicians, and by the Father of Lies himself–Satan.
What lies, you ask? Well, one of them–that God does not call homosexuality sin–we’ve already talked about. But there is another, even more prevalent issue you need to be ready to address, and it goes like this: Homosexuality is not a choice; people are born that way. You can’t condemn people for doing what is natural for them.
Two things: First, the evidence is still not conclusive–not even close–that homosexuality is genetic, so that argument doesn’t hold as much water as it might. But what if it is? What if, just for the sake of discussion, we say that homosexuality is genetic? Well, then we get to Second. Second: just because something comes naturally does not make it right, moral, or good. We live in a fallen world. The effects of the fall reach even to the genetic level. There is an established genetic predisposition towards all sorts of addictions, but we don’t encourage the alcoholic, the meth user, or the gambler to “do what comes naturally” to them. In fact, we encourage them to stand firm and fight their addiction, to transcend the grip of sin in their lives. We call them, with the help of the Holy Spirit and their brothers and sisters in Christ, to overcome.
A Christian who is caught up in homosexuality just might be convinced by biblical arguments to leave the lifestyle. The unbeliever? Highly unlikely. So how do you rescue those who don’t see a need for rescue?
You pray for them. Not at them, not about them, but for them. You stand up for them against the rulers and powers of this dark world, against the true enemy of whom they are unaware.
You listen to them. Each is a person, not just a sinner. Each has his or her own story, their own personal struggle. Treat them accordingly.
You stand with them. Don’t lower the bar of righteousness, but don’t beat them with it, either. How would you respond to a friend who was cutting, or drinking, or cheating, or skipping out on God? You would tell them the truth, wrapped in love.
You know, kinda like Jesus did.
I know I’ve droned on for a while here, and there are still plenty of questions I haven’t addressed. But, like with every aspect of this Dad thing, I’m doing what I can. Frankly, I would rather wrap you both up in bubble wrap and keep you from all that is dark and warped and icky in the world. But that’s not what I signed on for when I promised God to raise you for Him. And I know that is not what would bring you real joy. Instead, I pray that you will continue to grow, confident in your faith and in your ability to share that faith with a sad and aching world.
You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven (Matthew 5:14).
This little light of mine, I’m gonna…
Sorry.
You know, sometimes I don’t want to let my light shine. It just seems so little, so dull—I can’t imagine anyone glorifying God because of it.
I’m sure you never feel that way. Just humor me.
I am writing this from atop Zanja Peak, a wannabe mountain a few miles from my home. It’s 11:00 at night, and I’m in the middle of a night hike. As I worked my way up here, I remembered something. Nature gets dark at night. Really dark. So dark that if Mandibles of Death, the fluffy yet vicious golden retriever, weren’t with me, I might be a tad trepidatious.
I have a head lamp, and yes I do look silly wearing it. That’s not the point. The point is, at home the light looks pretty mild. I sometimes have to double check to make sure it’s on. Out here, in the ohsovery darkness, it’s a different story. As I hike along, if I hear something go bump/slither/growl/snarl in the night, I click my trusty headlamp and the world is ablaze with light. It’s so bright that my night vision is ruined for several minutes, which can be an adventure all its own, but that is also not the point.
This world is pretty dark, spiritually speaking. That little light of yours may not be much to you. To a lost soul, it may seem like the very glory of God.
You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot(Matthew 5:13).
Salt is a funny thing. Too much of it will make you gag. Too too much of it will kill you outright. And yet it is essential to life.
Salt is easy to overlook, easy to forget about. When you’re cooking, it’s fun to focus on the interesting spices—cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamom. Who notices salt? But just leave that pinch of salt out of your recipe and see how bland your meal becomes.
Salt is preserving.
Salt is healing.
Salt gives flavor.
People are funny.
God can use us to bring flavor to people’s lives.
To heal
To preserve
We are sometimes overlooked, but we are an essential component of God’s plan for the lives around us.
And yet, when we put too much of ourselves into the mix—when we try too hard to be noticed—we mess up the recipe.
This is an awkward analogy, but I’m sticking with it.
You are the salt of the earth. Your saltiness—that which makes you useful to God—is the Holy Spirit working in you. When you try to work in your own power, you lose your saltiness. There’s too much you. And you mess things up.
And your work is pretty much worthless.
Don’t try to work for God today, Beloved. Instead, let him work through you. Let him sprinkle you where he will, and let the Holy Spirit do his job in the lives around you.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven(Matthew 5:10).
Did you ever read Foxe’s Book of Christian Martyrs? It tells the stories of men and women who suffered death—in various gruesome forms—rather than deny the name of Christ.
Intense.
And humbling.
I have never been threatened with death for following Jesus. Chances are, neither have you. Throughout history there has been persecution. Even today, there are many in the world that risk imprisonment or worse for following Christ. But not here. Not now. For better or for worse, we live in a society that allows us to worship God openly, without fear of reprisals.
For the moment, anyway.
I’d like to think that, if real persecution came, I would stand firm, braving whatever might come with a song of praise on my lips.
I’d like to think that.
But I just don’t know, do I? Frankly, I sometimes crumble in the face of the micropersecution that does come my way.
The odd look. The occasional raised eyebrow. A little mocking because I don’t speak or act in the way that the world does. It’s amazing how little it sometimes takes to send me packing.
Today, as we head out into our respective Wednesdays, let’s act in such a way that we stand out for Christ. If that results in persecution, let us embrace it and rejoice.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God(Matthew 5:9).
Jesus is a peacemaker.
Peace between God and Man.
Peace between Man and Man.
Peace that passes all understanding, yet guards our hearts and minds.
The Son of God is calling you to follow in his footsteps today. So, take a good look at the day ahead of you. What potential conflicts are waiting? What person will likely push your buttons and make you twitch? What raging interpersonal storms do you get to sail into?
These are all opportunities.
Oh, I know they don’t feel like opportunities, Beloved. Except perhaps opportunities to practice your stress management and work on finding your Happy Place. But they are, in fact, opportunities to walk as Jesus did—to be a peacemaker.
Will you take the opportunity today, Beloved? Will you be a child of God? Will you stuff your pride and walk in grace and humility?
I teach Middle Schoolers—perhaps the biggest bunch of walking insecurities ever to grace the planet. So concerned with the approval of others, so lost as to their own identity. I am many years and many miles removed from Middle School.
Hey Kids,