Jesus' brain confusion workout

Photo compliments of http://blog.stack.com/

This morning as I read Mark 10 in preparation for one of my morning men's groups, I had a realization of the genius of Jesus' communication style. He often taught in parables and used cryptic language to ensure that it was only by faith that someone could understand his teaching. His stories were simple, relevant and incredibly poignant, yet, if a person didn't have an openness and a humble desire to learn, then they could be confusing or antagonistic, as was the case with the pharisees who "understood that he spoke the parable against them." (Mark 12:12) This was also to fulfill the scriptures, which predicted that "they may indeed see but not perceive, and may indeed hear but not understand, lest they should turn and be forgiven." (Mark 4:12, referencing Isaiah 6:9, 10 and others).

I don't think Jesus taught this way to be cruel or keep some people from "getting it". In fact, I think it was the opposite. He so badly wanted people to repent and acknowledge him that he made a confrontation with the condition of a listener's heart unavoidable. Jesus chose his words carefully to maximize their impact, forcing hearers to wrestle with his meaning and engage not just intellectually, but spiritually. He graciously would explain the parables to his disciples, but not after letting even them stew for a bit. I believe this is why he seemed to always avoid people's expectations, knowing that a little mystery helps til the soil of the soul. Even his silence did this (remember Pilot?)!

This methodology was made clear to me in Mark 10 when Jesus heads for Jerusalem and continues telling his followers about his death. This is his third prediction in which, instead of being cryptic and metaphoric, he speaks with painfully clear words that he would suffer, laying out his betrayal step by step. And the disciples still don't get it! It's likely that Jesus repeats himself here, because in chapter 9, after the second of the three predictions, Mark tells us the disciples "did not understand the saying, and were afraid to ask him." (Mark 9:32) He's trained them to look for the real meanings behind the stories and just when I bet they started feeling confident in their ability to understand their Teacher, he switches things up. He can't really mean he's going to die, right, guys?

Why speak that way and switch up his style if he knew they wouldn't get it? I believe he knew when to play with their expectations in order to bring about a faith crisis. As a brilliant Teacher, Jesus was stretching their minds and hearts, whether it was with metaphor or simple, plain truth. In the workout world, we call it muscle confusion, which is the process of mixing up exercises to "confuse" the muscle fibers forcing them to compensate for the new movements and therefore to grow stronger. Jesus used brain confusion to make the soul grow stronger.

The question for each of us then is whether we are willing to wrestle with Jesus' teaching, whether we allow ourselves to enter into the mystery of the word of God, as confusing and convicting as it may be. Are we ready to hear? Hungry to see? It's much easier to walk away saying, "Oh, he didn't really mean that," or to be offended and disengage. Have you read Jesus' teaching on caring for the poor lately? Divorce? Homosexuality? His return? There's plenty to be confused and/or offended about, but the wrestling in humility to leave your pattern of thinking for His is where faith is found and trained, and where your soul grows strong.

An Abortion Proclamation

Today, I retweeted this post by Kevin DeYoung (@RevKevDeYoung):

Everyone celebrating Roe should look in the eye a woman who just miscarried and tell her "It was just a clump of cells."

It posted to my Facebook page and I received a private passionate reply, one that I think missed the point of the post, likely due to the guyser-esque emotions that this topic incites. The reply simultaneously defended fetuses as more than "clumps of cells" and sympathized with abortion as an often necessary outlet for abused and shunned women. It obviously affected this person very deeply, provoking a patchwork of dramatic statements that awkwardly quilted an argument both compassionate for women who chose (or were forced) to abort their child and sorrowful over the tiny souls who suffered death even before they could experience birth.

I myself get quickly enflamed by the subject, as I see it as a direct affront to my Christian faith, which sees children as a blessing from God and prohibits murder. An abortion swims about in a broader pool of complex social problems and failures of love, which I find all very frustrating. So as I read the response, my own emotions were jostled, knowing that the words were likely motivated by a knowledge of the subject more acute than theory, but also feeling the conviction of a holy God who weeps and broils over humankind's insistence on violence and death in multitudinous forms. I'm sad this is even a discussion. I'm angry I have cause to be angry. I also feel compelled to speak some of my thoughts and counterpoints, hopefully with some clarity, and to share a call to anyone within reach of my community that may be considering abortion.

It was rightly pointed out by this writer that there are many ills in society that put some women in the position where they feel that terminating a pregnancy is the only viable option. This may include rape, incest, and relationships tainted by abuse, drugs, etc. These cases are not the majority, though. Numbers of women (this was passed on to me by a friend at Life International who talked with many of the hundreds of women who sought an abortion at the clinic that is now their ministry's headquarters in Grand Rapids, MI), chose to abort a child simply for the sake of convenience, like the thirty-something professional woman and her husband who terminated the child in her womb thinking it would too greatly compromise the perfect two child household they had already achieved.  To say that the vast majority of abortions are emergency or abuse related is simply false. Nor can I fail to point out that an abortion, regardless of the reason behind it, is a moral decision, which a woman (and her partner) must take responsibility for. I state this humbly recognizing that there are situations which are very complex and difficult, but the way out is never through a contrary evil. I was recently counseling with someone who said, "Sometimes the only way out of a sin is through another sin." That is bankrupt thinking and one (especially from the mouth of Christian) which belies a tragic absence of faith in the power, sacrifice, and love of our Savior.

This fighting evil with evil ethic is what is behind the suggestion that abortion prevents the tragic lives and criminality of the many unwanted children who are born to women who didn't seek or were prevented from seeking a termination. These children suffer rejection and abuse and degrade society, the argument goes, which apparently is enough to remove the dignity of their existence. It would be better for everybody if they were never born. When I hear this, I wonder how many of these should-have-been-aborted people, no matter how criminal, would agree. The fact that Roe v. Wade actually caused a drop in the crime rate has been convincingly hypothesized by the Levitt and Dubner, authors of Freakonomics (2009). But I still see no ethical justification for murder unless you are a hardcore classical utilitarian, a position that is generally untenable to any person with some appreciation for equality and a respect for basic human rights.

But wherever abortion lies on the ethical spectrum, the fact remains that there is a lot of brokenness out there motivating abortion and creating just-as-bad alternatives for the babies that get a chance at life. This is where people argue against the church especially. I agree that Christians ought to do a better job, both reaching people before violence and/or irresponsibility make abortion an option and supporting mothers and fathers who choose to have the child. However, to fault Christians/society for abortions because they have failed prevent or fix the problem is a tenuous argument. It would be like me saying it's your fault I burned down your house because you didn't stop me from getting a hold of matches. If you know I'm an arson, it would behoove you to take precautions, but I must bear the responsibility for my actions. And frankly, I think Christians do more to serve and support the poor, broken, and orphaned than just about any other demographic. I know for a fact my church would go to great lengths to support and love anyone wrestling with the emotional, physical, and logistical trauma of an unwanted pregnancy.

And so rather than just stew about the world's moral decline and continue to be a part of the stereotypical problem, here is my public declaration and promise to any person, man or woman, within my community's reach who might be considering an abortion: in the name of Jesus Christ my Savior, who laid down his life for me and to whom I am eternally accountable, I will lay down my life for you. If you need help, my family and my friends will be there for you. We will listen. We will cry. We will share. We will work. We will celebrate. We will adopt. We will change diapers. We will make meals. We will love you and we will find a way to help you do the right thing. We will not be perfect, but we will try and maybe if you try, too, we can both find hope and life.

I can be reached at http://recastchurch.com.

Thanks for my wife, God

William Tyndale comments on Genesis 18–25, the making of the woman (emphasis mine):

The New Testament draws much of its teaching on the sexes from this crowning paragraph of the chapter, which is the dynamic, or dramatic, counterpart of 1:27, 28. The naming of the animals, a scene which portrays man as monarch of all he surveys, poignantly reveals him as a social being, made for fellowship, not power: he will not live until he loves, giving himself away (24) to another on his own level. So the woman is presented wholly as his partner and counterpart; nothing is yet said of her as childbearer. She is valued for herself alone.

I am so glad to be married to my wife. Don Filcek in his January 13, 2013, sermon sits on this important point and I found it impacting. He reminds us that woman wasn't made because men are dummies and need to be taken care of or even because the job of stewarding the earth was too much to handle. It was primarily a social need. It wasn't good to be alone (God's observation, not Adam's), and I love how Tyndale saw this: "he will not live until he loves." God is love and his breath in us gave us soul and the essence of our life is His love animating our existence, and the essence of marriage is and sharing of that love, that life. An opportunity to reciprocate life between two equals, caring and assisting each other, being intimate with and knowing another.I love you, Nicole. Thanks for being my side. Thanks for being my love.

Just the way you aren't

God doesn't love you just the way you are. He just loves you. And no, he doesn't want to leave you that way. God just loving you the way you are (as a raw human) is like saying you're totally valuable, super great and totally righteous. If that were the case, well, He'd owe you His affection and we would have a works-based gospel, but the reality is just the opposite. He doesn't love you for what you are–a disgraceful lawbreaker, hell-bent on having your own way and both consciously and unconsciously at odds with holiness–but loves you in spite of that sinful condition. That's grace–that God digs you not because of, but in spite of who you are.

When we accept the "God loves me just the way I am" mentality, we fail to understand that He in fact does want us to change. He wants us to be better, He wants us to love more, He wants us to make the world a better place, to stop doing evil and to learn to do good (word up, Isaiah). Resisting personal change and improvement because of a false sense of God's love for us results in laziness and self-righteousness.

You ask with sarcasm in your voice like any good evangelical would, "So God isn't happy with me unless I'm a good person?" Yes. That's totally, absolutely true. And He loved you enough to give you every opportunity and every resource needed to be that good person He desires, even though you don't deserve it. It's through faith in Jesus, who paid your gigantic spiritual credit card debt with His blood and through the Holy Spirit who is like your heavenly administrative assistant, that YOU, by living a life of increasing surrender and obedience, can put a smile on God's face. That's grace. He makes the way, so we can walk in it. Those who say "stop trying to please God with your life because He'll think you're trying to earn it" are wrong. They've misunderstood. If that's how you're operating, don't change your behavior (doing good things), change your attitude (from "God owes me" to "I owe God").

"What if I can't change?" you might ask. "What if it's too hard? What if I fail? What if I give myself a complex by trying to be something I'm not?" Remember, we're not earning God's love. Yes, that would suck if God would only love us if we were good and perfect. We would be doomed and without hope, heads drooped in continual despair. But he loves us, period. Yesterday, today and tomorrow. In sin and clawing out of it. He loves, loves, loves, always and forever (to quote a ballad about technology). Love does not equal happiness or approval. Love is what breaks a heart when a relationship is severed or a life is squandered. It's the fact that love remains in spite of wrong or evil or discipline that makes it hurt so good (to quote an 80's rock song). Dysfunction and mental illness come from thinking you can earn God's love from your actions, as if it will evaporate when you mess up. Health and life come from knowing that you have always been loved and always will be and that continually working to improve is the most beautiful expression of thankfulness you can offer your Father in Heaven.

So don't settle for who you are. Let the reality of being loved by God unsettle you into becoming who He wants you to be.

Now read these verses: Leviticus 11:44, 1 Peter 1:15, Psalm 18, Hebrews 9:13, John 14:24, Romans 5:6 and 8:29.

The Gander Problem - Project Open Arms and OJM

Image courtesy of the Humboldt Arts Council in the
Morris Graves Museum of Art.

In the world of "wild or domesticated water birds of the family Anatidae" (thank you, American Heritage), the goose is the girl and the gander is the guy. From here we can easily surmise the meaning of the phrase, "What's good for the goose is good for the gander": if something falls into the category of ought or should for the woman, it's just as likely to be beneficial, highly suggested or mandatory for the male of the species. After some very in depth research, I discovered the phrase became popular in the propaganda materials of the fowl feminist movement of the mid-sixties, which brought about an equalizing of the roles of husbands and lady geese in the raising of goslings (true story). From there, the phrase has been borrowed and generalized by the American vernacular to bring attention to the case of the double-standard in any relationship, where one person is instructing another in what ought or should be done, without fairly including him or herself. It's in this more general sense that I've come to see a "Gander Problem" in the global church regarding the care of orphans.

To fully explain myself, let me talk about a commonly noted problem in the development sector at large for a few moments. In recent history, those who saw the paternalistic tendency of development partnerships (giving money to poor or undeveloped nations) offered stern warnings almost as soon as funding started to hit bombed-up Europe following the World Wars. Those with the economic, intellectual, and moral superiority to win wars supplied the resources and direction to the losers in a fatherly gesture of reconciliation and rebuilding. This was seen by some as egotistical, authoritarian, or "paternalistic" (if there were know-it-all fathers, then the recipients by default were children). And there was some legitimacy to these critics' observations, seen by the fact that many aid recipients were not heard or respected in terms of their needs and desires. The donors called the shots. This unfortunate reality, especially the relationship between the United States and Europe in the 1940's, was birthed from the same value womb that delivered institutions like the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, still the main drivers of global aid and economic restructuring today. Some would say the paternalistic model is still alive and well: those who know (the West) help those who don't (everybody else). This attitude has trickled down to even small players in the Western non-profit world, both globally and domestically, and into the general population.

This perspective is not totally off base, though. We the West are good at some things: we have technology, an entrepreneurial spirit and education. Our economic history and global influence lend some credibility to our super power status. Personally, I don't want to live anywhere else. I love America and we have some of the best-hearted, most generous people on the planet, but I'm also willing to admit that we're sometimes arrogant when we help others, thinking we know exactly what they need to do to "fix" themselves, while we seem fine to ignore or diminish our faults. I've had this very struggle myself working in Uganda. I've caught myself walking through fields or villages and thinking, sometimes out loud, "Man, if they'd only [BLANK], they would be so much better off," or "It's so simple, I can't believe they're not already [BLANK]..." and other lordly nonsense, which I'm sincerely trying to say less of. But am I really that great? Is my church perfect? Is my town a model of Christian citizenry in action? Is American culture without need of improvement?

If paternalism is the bad habit of development, hypocrisy is the debilitating addiction, and some of us are really strung out. It's a rush when I visit my friends in southern Uganda and teach and preach about God's "orphan justice mandate", working with all my energy to inspire and envision them to take seriously God's call to care for the least of these. It's a high to coordinate training and capacity-building that helps them flesh out this ethical obligation taking shape in their hearts. Seeing the churches in Ddwaniro, Kamengo and Kabakayla demonstrate both faith and deeds sends feelings of joy rushing through my veins like little else I've experienced. These are the benefits of this work and due to the real needs in the two-thirds world, we ought to continue to pursue such efforts with the extras of our wealth and feel good about doing it. However, my joy buzz has been killed by a nagging sense of hypocrisy, a "do what we say, not what we do" understanding of the reality back home. Many times, when I've slept in a pastor's house, where sometimes up to twelve orphans live with five or six biological children, I've asked, "Would anybody in the U.S. do this? Would I put myself out to this extent for the sake of providing needy children some semblance of a family?" In my experience, the answer is generally no to both questions. What's good for the Ugandan goose is a little extreme, and come on, mostly unrealistic for the U.S. gander, right?

Let's be fair to us ganders. The contexts are very different and developed nations have extensive welfare systems that generally meet the basic needs of the children in a way that is rarely available to even better off children in much of Africa and other two-thirds world nations. Clean water isn't so much of an issue, education is available even if not taken advantage of, and it's against the law for hospitals to not provide care in an emergency. Hunger may be more of an issue, but we have soup kitchens and meal plans. It's pretty rare to find street children in our cities these days. All of this is good. It's good that we have these systems in place (from a rescue perspective, at least). So aren't we better at caring for our vulnerable kids than anybody? Additionally, we have laws that make it difficult if not impossible to care for twelve orphans just because "God told me to." So what's the problem? As an United States citizen, aren't I way ahead of the game? Doesn't the fact that I pay taxes mean I already take care of the orphan? And sometimes I give a little to people who are willing to show the rest of the world how to be like us. Isn't that enough?

I would love to ask the more than 4,600 wards of the State of Michigan who have their proverbial fingers crisscrossed in knots that someone, some family, some where, might, just might think they're worth keeping around for more than a couple months. I just watched a video where a boy named Albert had to "sell" himself to prospective adoptive parents by saying things like "I like rollerblading" and "My favorite food is Chinese food" and "I just want a family to love me and adopt me and my sister and my brother so we can get out of the system". I wonder what his response would be. My personal answer is that if there are kids without homes, then no, it's not enough. The fact that the majority of the "Christians" in Michigan (nation?) aren't willing to take care of even one orphan reveals in us a frightening spiritual deficiency (there are 10,000 churches and 5,000 kids in MI). God help us if we exchange our obligation of personal obedience for a state run welfare system.




So here's the crux of our Gander Problem and what OJM, in support of Bethany Christian Services, is doing about it: as U.S. church representatives, we cannot in good conscious continue to challenge the international church to step-up and care for the orphans in their midst if we are unwilling to do the same. Orphan Justice Mission is based in Michigan, which has around 5,000 current waiting children in immediate need of families, which is the ultimate and primary need of any vulnerable child (not food and water). So, through an initiative called Project Open Arms, we are partnering with Bethany and various other agencies to inspire and inform people about the pressing need for adoptive and foster-care parents right here in our own state. We will promote Project Open Arms through our various media channels and through our speaking engagements as we have opportunity. And we are currently working on a volunteer-run awareness campaign, which we would love your help with.

The idea is to inform and challenge. Most Michigan residents are unaware that the cost to adopt one of these children in most cases is less than $200 out of pocket, since the State subsidizes the application process. There are also tax-write offs and other assistance options available, so the financial barrier is minimal (and yes, I'm aware of the ongoing parental provision in that statement). What is left to overcome is the "inconvenience" factor, to which my first thought goes something like, "the cross wasn't very convenient for Jesus, either, was it?", but then I tell myself not to be so sarcastic and self-righteous (I am currently a recovering gander). Yes, taking a child, especially an older one, is something that ought to be well thought out. It could go badly. It could cause heartache, and I have personal friends who could testify to that reality. It could also be the best thing you've ever done in your life. It could allow Jesus to grab you by the shoulders and look you straight in the eyes someday and say with a straight face, "well done" and "thank you". It could mean American-Dream-colored scales falling from your eyes so you can see clearly what makes life worth living: love. For me, it's going to mean loss of that sense of religious hypocrisy and an embracing of the example of my Ugandan friends. That's going to feel good. Goose and gander, in harmony again.

This has been a long introduction to our partnership with Bethany and Project Open Arms. Thanks for getting to the end, but I'll warn you: this is only the beginning. We're praying for you, for us and the whole State of Michigan and especially our orphans.

Stay tuned for more posts and updates in the future as we share ways that you can help. For now, please visit our Project Open Arms page, which links to several other Michigan adoption resource sites. And please pray about what God is asking you to do to make sure every one of our Michigan orphans has a home.

Good Siblings

Adelaide, Evie and Dad

My wife recently had a bout of mom-guilt due to what she thought was an overreaction to our eldest daughter's behavior, which had been quite trying one day recently. Adelaide is a sweet, compassionate little girl, but on this particular day, beginning shortly after her emergence from bed, her attitude went sour. She was repeatedly disobedient, especially in the way she was speaking to those around her. She had an episode with a neighbor girl where she said some hurtful things, a few cases of "talking back", and then, just as the day was ending, an outburst directed at her three year old sister, Evie. As the two were playing, Evie moved a book that Adelaide had directed one of her dolls to "read" and this unauthorized interruption of pretend education caused her to harshly blurt out, "Evie! You are such a pest!" My wife, hearing this from the neighboring bedroom, had enough.  She burst into the room, voice raised and finger wagging. Nothing cruel or diminutive was said to Adelaide, but Nikki made it abundantly clear that in the Douglass house, we love one another, we don't belittle with our words and comments like hers would not be tolerated. Adelaide got the message, as evidenced by tears, and obediently apologized to her sister.

Looking back on the situation, Nikki felt bad because she worried that her reaction was too strong. An older sister calling a younger sister a pest isn't that uncommon, and there are far worse interactions between siblings. But behind Nikki's anger was the awareness that words are powerful and can damage, resulting in empathy for a child whose feelings were hurt and disappointment in another for doing the hurting. In addition to frustration, there was a little meanness in the tone of Adelaide's statement, and Nikki rightly wanted to root even that small kernel of cruelty out for fear that it might take up more permanent residence in her heart. My counsel to my wife was that she had done nothing wrong and that strong reactions to sin are for our kids' benefit. This is in fact, the example we have from our heavenly Father, exemplified here in Jeremiah 5:23, 25-29 (HCSB, emphasis mine):

But these people have stubborn and rebellious hearts.
They have turned aside and have gone away...
Your sins have withheld My bounty from you,
for wicked men live among My people.
They watch like fowlers lying in wait.
They set a trap;
they catch men.
Like a cage full of birds,
so their houses are full of deceit.
Therefore they have grown powerful and rich.
They have become fat and sleek.
They have also excelled in evil matters.
They have not taken up cases,
such as the case of orphans, so they might prosper,
and they have not defended the rights of the needy.
Should I not punish them for these things?

God was tired of watching his own children treat each other cruelly, living selfishly and in disobedience and His tone is angry and exasperated. He is at His wit's end seeing those who are rich neglecting those who are poor, such as when an older sibling refuses to treat a younger, more vulnerable sibling with the care and respect of family. Through the prophet, He unleashes the chastisement of an indignant heavenly Father, warning that His wrath is not far behind if correction is not heeded.

Reading this passage, I can't help but reflect on my role as a "sibling" in the family of God. I know that I'm rich. I have a home, two cars and a motorcycle, a few investments, numerous modern conveniences and more techno toys than my time allows me to fully maximize. I have more food than is healthy for me on a daily basis and I'm highly educated with no fear of medical treatment, police protection or property rights being unaccessible. God calls that "fat and sleek" and though I honestly wouldn't count myself as a wicked man, "full of deceit and excelling in evil matters", I do wonder whether or not I've truly taken up the case of orphans, my little brothers and sisters in Christ, that they might prosper. My role as Executive Director of Orphan Justice Mission is no free pass; I must continually grow in my personal commitment to orphans in the family of God, not just in preventing myself from doing evil to them, but in learning to do good, so they might prosper (Isaiah 1:17-18).

Orphans in Africa can seem very far away from us here in America (and thus ignorable), but in today's world they aren't. It takes some effort, sure, but we are fully capable of assisting those in with dire need like never before, wherever they are found. If we don't, I worry that what God passed on through Jeremiah to Israel might be applied to us, that like my wife with our girls, His heart would be broken (and angered) to see His children behaving so poorly. I invite you, with me, to heed our Father's instruction, apologize for our negligence and start loving our little orphaned brothers and sisters as we ought. Supporting Orphan Justice Mission is a great place to start.

Encounter Retreat 2010 - What's My Prayer Life Like?

This question (what's my prayer life like) doesn't surprise me. I think it's a part of a cadre of curiosities that crop up around anybody who takes the pulpit. Whenever I listen to a speaker or preacher who has the hubris to tell other people how to live their lives or seek God, I'm always thinking, "Is this dude legit? Does he practice what he's preaching?" I'm not saying that all preachers are arrogant, but we do need a certain confidence in ourselves that we have something to say and the righteousness to be qualified to teach others. In 1 Corinthians 9:27, Paul states, "Instead, I discipline my body and bring it under strict control, so that after preaching to others, I myself will not be disqualified." And we know that one of the big problems in the church today (well, okay, since always) is the hypocrisy of the priesthood. It's always been a challenge for men who are called to lead others by example in pursuit of God to stay on course, especially in a discipline like prayer, which is less open to public view. It's not hard for a preacher who is telling others to hit their knees and to find he hasn't been on his in awhile.

Every preacher has to wrestle with the difficulty of presenting God's instruction to others knowing full well that he falls short himself. I had to deal with it very early on. I don't deal well with hypocrisy, especially in my own life, which was one of the reasons I left the youth ministry several years ago. I had not yet matured to the point where I felt I could consistently tell my kids to read their Bible everyday, PRAY, serve, etc., because I didn't feel I was doing them well. And speaking about living for God is a lot different than actually doing the living, so my position as a youth pastor was little comfort. Now, a part of my scenario was my own idealistic (might we say legalistic?) view of a disciplined Christian life (up at 4:30am to pray for an hour, feed the chickens with the other monks at 5:30, read the LXX from 6 to 8, go to work, worship over lunch, make beeswax candles in the afternoon and chant yourself to sleep). I was told and shown over the years that Christians pray everyday and read their Bible constantly. Those were the biggies, but what was hard for me, and always left me feeling guilty, was that I wasn't that disciplined. I couldn't pray all day every day. I got bored. I eventually realized that my struggle with those things was that my primary motivation for doing them was a sense of obligation. It wasn't that I really wanted to know God, it was just what Christians, especially youth pastors, did. It was not until I started to let go of some of my legalistic inward motivations and let my Bible study and prayer disciplines be shaped by my actual life circumstances that they became truly meaningful excercises in my life.

A word of caution here. There's much to be said for discipline, which we all know isn't usually very fun. We may not feel like praying or reading our Bible every moment or even when we know it's what we ought to be doing, but maybe we should anyway. I'm not suggesting that we should be wholly driven by feelings. As my buddy Dietrich B. has said, it's often the faith that follows obedience, not the other way around. But you may need to step away from rigid empty habits for a time in order to rediscover the romantic, organic dependence on the Spirit of God that lets you have true moments of intimacy with Him through reading your Bible or praying.

So, all that to say that my prayer life, in one word, is "improving". Prayer for me, apart from a sometimes guilt-induced exercise, has just been hard even when I approach it with a sincere heart. I grew up hearing that prayer is "just like talking with a friend". Yeah, maybe a mute friend who you only get to talk with on the phone. God seemed strangely quiet to me most of the time and our "conversations" felt like one way affairs. If you're one of those people who "hear" from God, I'm skeptical/jealous. I've asked God many, many times since I was very young to speak to me. Not fuzzy feeling, wake-up-from-a-good-night's-rest-and-have-a-hunch kind of speak; not the conglomeration-of-all-my-godly-friends'-opinions kind of speak, but "Hi, Kyle, I'm Yahweh. Now, about that career path you were considering..." kind of speak. So far, He hasn't taken me out to coffee. This expectation, however, produced a lot of frustration and even doubt in my heart. Is God really there? Is He being rude? Say something, Lord!

I've gotten past this expectation of prayer for various reasons, and it has greatly improved my prayer life. First, I've been helped by the fact that, when I look at the people God speaks to, I realize I don't hold a candle to them. Sure, they were all sinners like me, no one is righteous, not one, blah blah. But most of the folks that get to hear the voice of God were sold out mommas and papas who demonstrated crazy faithfulness and holiness. Not that they didn't mess up, but they purusued God hard. I confess I haven't put forth that kind of effort. Have I stayed up all night long, meditating on God's law and crying out to be saved from my enemies like David? Nope. Have I been exiled to Babylon and decided to eat brocoli the rest of my life and disobey a directive of the King to pray to him only at the risk of my life like Daniel? Nope. Have I wondered around Asia minor getting pummeled in every way imaginable just to share the Good News with pagans like Paul? Nope. So step one was realizing that I'm no spiritual giant and that if the fault is anyone's, it's mine. Yet, these scriptural examples of godly men of prayer inspire me and teach me and maybe someday I'll get there (God didn't speak to many young guys, btw). Secondly, human effort aside (and I would say that accounts for maybe 10% of the problem), God's will is mysterious and He shows mercy and favor to whom He will. He has not yet found it necessary to speak to me directly and He may never. I'm okay with that. My job then, is to try and overcome my spiritual laziness and pursue God through prayer in ever increasing measure. I don't expect God to speak to me anymore, I simply talk to Him and know He's listening and I'm okay with that. The other angle on this is that God sometimes speaks to those on whom He's about to put the smack down, so we ought to be careful what we wish for.

I haven't heard God speak much, but I've seen Him answer numerous prayers in my life. My wife, my kids, my job decisions are all things I've prayed over and He's blessed me. Some things I haven't gotten, but that's okay. I see in the overall framework of my life that God is guarding me, leading me, shaping me. I rejoice when my request lines up with what He knows is best for me and grants it. Many of the prayers He's answered have been weak ones, too. Ones I've just sort of thrown up, too weak to really put any umph behind them, which has reminded me that it's not by my effort but by His amazing power that His will is accomplished.

So, nuts and bolts: In reference to my description of "improving" above, I'm finding myself praying more and more and with more faith as I take more opportunities to voice my thoughts to God. I don't have specific prayer time in my day; I pray sporadically as things come to mind, in all sorts of places and at various times. Driving, mowing the lawn, reading the Bible, waiting for a download to complete or reading a friend's email are all times when I might feel the need to pray. My most thorough prayers are with friends, though. Whether at church or in a Bible study or sitting in the living room talking about life, I love those times of prayer most, when we together move some sound waves in God's direction. I pray with my kids at meals, bedtime and at other random times, too. I want them to know how to pray more than a bedtime Jesus poem. Nikki and I pray, but not as consistently as we'd like (that's definitely something to work on).

Another thing I've found really helpful is to pray scripture. If you're struggling to know how or what to pray, open your Bible to the Psalms (though many other passages work well, too) and read a couple verses and decide in your heart that the Psalmist's prayer or praise is yours, too. I've found that to be a great way to prime the pump.

That's my prayer life. I make no pretense that I'm a prayer warrior. I've often felt it was the weakest part of my spiritual walk. If I preach it hard, I'm likely telling myself to get with it as much as anybody else, trying not to get disqualified. But I can tell you from personal experience, without an ounce of hypocrisy, that if you give God an inch in your life through prayer, He'll take a mile. Imagine how far we would go if we truly learned to pray without ceasing.

Exciting News!! I changed my blog name

Taking a Walk...meh. Sounded kind of cheesy to me. So I changed it. Stuff Kyle Says. Also dumb, but more descriptive and less euphemistic. Maybe I'll get really popular and people will refer to my blog as SKS, like "Hey, did you see that sweet article on SKS?" That's awesome. And highly unlikely.

Response to "Then All H–ck Broke Loose"

Below is my reply to an article (Then All H–ck Broke Loose) that the founder of my organization Orphan Justice Mission Tim Stoner wrote recently. It's a great piece and adds to the discussion regarding Rob Bell's new book Love Wins.

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Tim, well done. I always appreciate your sense of historical context and it's a reminder (which Rob mentions also in his piece on Good Morning America's website) that we are just another link in the long chain of sinners and saints who have for ages been wrestling with God over these big questions. Is there an older one than "Can a good God allow suffering?" (isn't Job the oldest book in the Bible?).

I respect Rob. I spent time at Mars when I was in G.R. and I learned a lot from him. My main take away was the repetitive teaching that Christianity is not about tickets to heaven, but about God's transformative work in our lives now, that He's Lord now, not just someday but here, in this moment. This was a powerful motivation in my effort to get involved with Orphan Justice Mission (as we discussed at that first meeting in the M-6 Panera) and still informs my Christian worldview. I've also known he's been theologically controversial in the past, and I have given him grace, knowing that all of us, like it or not, get something wrong, possibly even our strongest convictions. Yet what I witnessed during my time at Mars was a sincere love of Christ, an appreciation for the scriptures and call for faith-based action (and some of the best worship I've ever been a part of).

That being said, this one has me worried. I think it's extremely difficult to argue that Hell is not Hell (even if you rely on the faulty assumption that God some how changed between the Old and New Testaments). God is not clear on everything, much to the surprise of my more fundamental friends. I have always appreciated Rob's emphasis on the discussion, or the "white space" surrounding the black characters on the pages of scripture, as he calls it. This is not saying there isn't truth or that somethings can't be known for sure, but the very fact that God has decided to entrust his record to stories, poetry and letters says that he's okay with us having questions, with having to dig and debate and wrestle to find truth. Hell is certainly one of those topics in which we are given only small snippets of and we ought to be careful not to claim we know all there is to know about it. What the scriptures do make clear, however, outside of hyperbole or metaphor, is that it exists, it will suck and is for those who have rejected Jesus Christ. Hard, yes, but that's the Bible, so I appreciate your point that God defines God, not man, and He has decided to show us all of his qualities, Love and all the other traits that help us understand what holy love is. I will read Rob's book and hold onto my hope that he's not going where everyone says he's going. I remain indebted to much of his teaching, but if he has become a universalist, well, that's lame and shows a blatant disregard for core teachings of scripture.

Just a few left over thoughts:

I think your position that Rob can't conceive of a God who causes, engages in, is present during suffering is faulty. I have not read his book Drops Like Stars, but I think that's the whole idea, that God actually uses suffering in our lives to create beauty. Mars Hill has also used Lent in a very orthodox sense as a time of reflection on human suffering and the Passion narrative.

Also, for those railing Rob and triumphantly, boldly, cockily celebrating the existence of Hell out of a sense of pious scriptural orthodoxy, I would say be careful (not talking about you here :) ). One of my greatest frustrations with Rob's opposition is their arrogance. For example, I once heard John MacAurther on the radio essentially insulting Rob, not just his theology or his teachings, but him personally. And the now famous tweet from John Piper "Farewell, Rob Bell." Rob's teaching may be dangerous, but the posture and behavior of some of our best evangelical theologians fits easily into the definition of hypocrite. The write well about the Spirit of Christ in our lives, but don't present it well in public. The one thing the universalists may have going for them is that they have a more complete understanding of the terribleness of Hell, and more love for those who would be/are doomed to such a fate than those of us who so boldly talk of the judgment of God because we believe we are protected from it. They simply can't hold the tension between love and holiness and so remove it rather than allowing God to remain above a perceived paradox. Evangelicals may have it right by acknowledging God's judgement, but I would love to see those who fight so vehemently for Hell's existence work just as hard keeping people out of it. And that takes way more than just clean cut doctrine.

Encounter Retreat 2010 - The Young Marriage Question

So...welcome back, myself. Haven't posted since 2009. Shame, shame. Got a good reason to get the gears turning again, however. I just spoke at Miracle Camp's 2010 Encounter Retreat for college folk. It was a good time studying Colossians (4 sessions, 4 chapters, right, ya'll?). During the third session, where we got into some of Paul's more practical day-to-day living suggestions, I opened things up for a question and answer free-for-all. We only got about half way through, but I promised to answer the rest somehow. Thus, my return to the Blogosphere. I won't do them all at once but will answer one to three questions per blog; not two, nor four shall I compose but two, yet sometimes three and at times one shall be my...I'm sorry–couldn't help the descent into a Monty Python reference.

So, to kick it off, an obviously hot topic:

Question 1: How the heck did you get married at 19? And how did you know?
Question 2: You were 19 when you got married, at such a young age how did you know she was the woman for you, a sign from God?

Thanks, person, for the almost-swear for emphasis! Yes, there were times I thought it was crazy, too.

So, how I got married at 19: Step 1 - found a woman, Step 2 - made her like me, Step 4 - refused to be reasonable and asked her to marry me, Step 5 - smiled and nodded as she planned the wedding. Easy as that. Maybe, however that leaves a few important things out, like asking her dad for permission (which I did).

Cuteness aside, I got married at 19 because I felt I found a woman that I could commit to for the rest of my life. No, I didn't get a message from God about Nikki and standing in Zales looking at rings and deciding if I was really going to go through with it was a totally freaky decision, but a decision made on good evidence. We shared the same values, we loved being in each other's company, we were both athletes, enjoyed each other's families, lived in the same area, etc. Nikki actually had a list of 40 some qualities in a husband and I met them all except two: good singer and handles money well. I'm happy to say I'm growing in both, but the idea is that a lot of things lined up. I still had to make a leap, though. It's like sky-diving. You check and double-check your 'chute, but at some point you just have to jump.

When I talked about the idea of marrying Nikki with people I respected, they all thought it was a little soon but didn't think it was necessarily a bad idea. We didn't have much money, but we both "worked" (Nikki had school paid for through a scholarship at Western) and I was a part-time youth director. We also had very supportive family, which made it a lot easier early on and took some of the pressure off of us financially. And personality-wise, we were both mature enough to take the marriage step. Not that we were totally prepared for all that marriage entailed, but the foundation was there. I can't say that's true for everybody (and that's not a slam - it's just reality). So for us, it worked.

That's not to say that part of it wasn't youthful zeal and impatience. I'm not good at waiting, and in this case that's mildly Biblical. It's not Biblical to be stupid, but Paul says in 1 Corinthians 7:9 that even though it's better to remain unmarried (for unhindered service to God), if they don't have self-control (which I didn't have much of at 19), let the couple be married so they don't burn with passion. Thank you, Jesus.

A few thoughts for those thinking about young marriage:

• Marriage doesn't make a relationship better - it puts it through the fire to see if it can last.
• Marriage makes life easier in some respects (you don't have to drive home every night at 1 A.M.)
• You will both have a lot of growing up to do (you will change as people and will have to deal with the "you're not the same person I married" scenario, which everyone deals with but more so when you marry young).
• Money will make life hard (not having it or having it).
• Not being established in careers will mean big compromises. Be ready to potentially give up some big dreams to stay together.

Overall, I'll say that marrying Nikki was absolutely the right choice. Marriage is one of God's greatest tools for shaping someone's life and character, and if you're going to jump in, just be ready for the chiseling process. The result, if you're up to it, is a thing of matchless beauty.

Praying in McDonalds

I got done with my Tuesday morning Bible study with my two little brothers this morning and decided to set up camp and work for awhile. It had all the fixin's for moderate productivity: a big table, annoying pay-as-you-go AT&T wifi (e.g. no internet distraction), and the cooling half of a medium mocha.

As I'm crunching away on a policy document, my iPhone gently turns down the music to inform me of an incoming call. My sister Kelli is on the phone. Slightly panicked and near tears, she tells me that a friend of hers, who I also happen to know through church, has been in a motorcycle accident. She just received the news from a second hand source who had little information but told her, "it doesn't look good."

A sinking feeling came over me. This acquaintance of ours lost his sixteen year old son in a terrible car accident not two years ago and he has surviving twin sons. I got the tingly sensation in my jaw and finger tips that accompanies the possibility of crushing tragedy. Not another member of that family, not so soon, not in such a similar way. Kelli, who is currently re-exploring the Faith right now, asked me pointedly, "Will you pray, Kyle?" I said I would and hung up the phone.

Two booths down from me sat another acquaintance of mine, talking with his wife. He had said hello to me on his way to his seat. He used to serve in a local church; they are Christians. I needed to pray, but for some reason, I didn't want to pray alone. Though I was mildly embarrassed to interrupt their conversation to ask them to pray for a situation that was unconfirmed but potentially devastating, I took off my head phones and walked over to their booth. They looked up politely and I told them the story, closing with, "Would you guys mind praying with me?" My friend said, "sure," slid over and let me sit down. We each prayed, not long, but enough. Part of my prayer, besides surrendering to the will of God, was that this information would be incorrect, that Kelli would have gotten an exaggerated version or a false report. In my heart, I was asking God to roll back time, to undo the deed–the same prayer I had prayed as a little boy after the reality of my mom's death sank in. Not knowing our friend's actual situation gave me ridiculous hope that maybe it wasn't too late yet, the nonsensical faith that wondered if things that may have already been done could be changed. We got to the amens, I thanked them and returned to my seat.

I then called Dave, our friend's pastor. I told him I didn't know much of the story or the actual severity of the accident, but that he should probably check it out. Though we didn't speak it, I could tell from his voice that we both understood what the worst case could mean for this family. He thanked me and hung up. I tried to go back to typing, wondering whether there was more I should do.

About ten minutes later, Dave called. What would be the news? He sounded happy. "He's alright," he reported. "He was in an accident, but besides a few stitches and possible surgery on his thumb, he's fine. He's headed home right now." Thank God.

Did God answer MY prayer? Did He answer ours? Did He really roll back time, undo the deed, bring our friend back from the dead? To say yes would be pretty self-centric of me; God is not rearranging fate on my behalf. The trouble with expecting God to answer a prayer is that there are many more vantage points than that of single petitioner; giving one person what he or she wants may mess up what God wants for everybody else. And yet, as I just read the other day, Jesus tells us that if we believe, we can cast mountains into the sea (heal bodies, steer motorcycles, ripple time?). I don't know what God was doing this morning in McDonald's, if anything. I could not disagree with someone who would say, "Your prayer just happened to line up with what had already happened." But, whatever the case, we prayed for something and it came true. Again, thank God.

Key to the Cuboard

I found this sermon excerpt by F. B. Meyer profoundly impacting. I came across it in Dave Browning's book Deliberate Simplicity. He pulled it from www.sermonindex.net on August 8, 2008, from Meyer's sermon entitled "What Is It?". I have nearly nothing to add to it; it speaks for itself. My only question to you is the question I had to ask myself: have you let Christ take your last key?

Sixteen years ago I was a minister in a Midland town in England, not at all happy, doing my work for the pay I got, but holding a good position amongst my fellows. Hudson Taylor and two young students came into my life. I watched them. They had something I had not. Those young men stood there in all their strength and joy. I said to Charles Studd:
"What is the difference between you and me? You seem so happy, and I somehow am in the trough of the wave."
He replied: "There is nothing that I have got which you may not have, Mr. Meyer."
But I asked: "How am I to get it?"
"Well," he said, "have you given yourself right up to God?"
I winced. I knew that if it came to that, there was a point where I had been fighting my deepest convictions for months. I had lived away from it, but when I came to the Lord's table and handed out the bread and wine, then it met me; or when I came to a convention or meeting of holy people, something stopped me as I remembered this. It was the one point where my will was entrenched. I thought I would do something with Christ that night which would settle it one way or the other, and I met Christ. You will forgive a man who owes everything to one night in his life if to help other men he opens his heart for a moment. I knelt in my room and gave Christ the ring of my will with the keys on it, but kept one little key back, the key of a closet in my heart, in one back story in my heart. He said to me, "Are they all here?" And I said: "All but one." "What is that?" said He.
"It is the key of a little cupboard," said I, "in which I have got something which Thou needest not interfere with, but it is mine."
Then, as He put the keys back into my hand, and seemed to be gliding away to the door, He said:
"My child, if you cannot trust Me with all, you do not trust Me at all."
I cried: " Stop," and He seemed to come back; and holding the little key in my hand, in thought I said:
"I cannot give it, but if Thou wilt take it Thou shalt have it."
He took it, and within a month from that time He had cleared out that little cupboard of things which had been there for months. I knew He would.
May I add one word more? Three years ago I met the thing I gave up that night, and as I met it I could not imagine myself being such a fool as nearly to have sold my birthright for that mess of pottage.
I looked up into the face of Christ and said: "Now I am thine." It seemed as if that was the beginning of a new ministry. The Lord got me on His wheel again, and He made me again, and He has been making me again ever since.

Too Dumb to Pray

I just had the privilege of being treated to lunch by Kurt Dillinger, President of Life International, a global ministry fighting for the unborn around the world. He invited me to contact him after finding out that I was a young Executive Director who may appreciate a little mentoring. I took him up on that offer, meeting at One Trick Pony in G.R. to chat about ministry and life.

It didn't take long for the discussion to turn to my unique situation of having three jobs (plus grad school plus a family). I shared with Kurt my situation, and the impending decision of choosing among the three careers, something I have yet to be convinced is a necessity. His first comment to me was "to be effective, you need to be focused." He's not the first person I've heard that from. I agree, but what is it that we are focusing on? Just the organization? The programs? It's true that these structures and ministries will grow more slowly without full-time focus. But what if we lift the transparency stenciled with our man-made ministry demarcations and just take a look at the raw terrain, the Kingdom of God? What if my focus is on people, growing them in the name of Jesus into everything they can be, wherever I find them? Could the focus be on that, something more nebulous and oozy than a single 501(c)3? Or by being split, am I not really serving anyone that well?

I didn't articulate this to Kurt and though he encouraged me to move towards focus, he refrained from telling which I should choose. Rather, he asked if I'd been praying about it. "How much time have you and your wife spent on your knees about this?" Um... Okay, how can I make it sound as spiritual as possible? "Several times a week," I said, hoping "several" sounded like more than "a couple" or "none". Nikki and I are growing in our prayer life. I can say that honestly, but I had to admit to him that for as big of a decision as this is, we haven't been praying like we should. What ensued was a very convicting and uplifting discussion about the need for prayer, especially for leaders, and a personal realization that I'm sometimes too dumb to pray.

"The greatest contribution a leader can make to an organization is to be disciplined in prayer, " Kurt said. His own life and ministry reflects this as the basement of his synagogue turned church turned abortion clinic turned office is set up as a place for people to gather and pray. "Prayer is totally underutilized in leadership today. It should be your first priority with anyone. It brings unity, peace, and clarity of vision," he said. He went on to share with me something his mentor had passed on to him, that all human problems can be traced to a lack of understanding God, which leads to a failure to understand self ending in a failure to understand each other. And the only remedy is to abide in Christ through the Word and prayer. The leader must devote consistent, intentional time to communicating with God.

As we chatted, thoughts of every significant follower of God in scripture (e.g. Abraham, Moses, Elijah, Elisha, David, the prophets, the disciples, Paul) and especially Jesus Himself ran through my mind. All prayers. The recent greats like Luther, Calvin, Moody, Wesley, et. al. prayed, prayed, prayed. I know intellectually this needs to happen in my life. I need to learn to pray and pray hard. If I'm wise, I'll start; if I'm dumb, I won't. Being dumb means that I fail to recognize the reality of the spiritual nature of existence; that I'm lazy; that I allow the feeling that praying is talking to the air dissuade me; that I think there's no need to pray since God will do what He wants anyway; that I mistake my own efforts as the key to success–all of this in direct disobedience to God's commands that we petition Him.

Prayer invites God into what I'm doing and if I'm trying to do God-size things, that's the only way they'll get done. It also takes the glory away from me and puts it on God. How can I take credit for something I asked God to do and He did? Do we write thank you notes to ourselves for our birthday presents? Prayer is a willing subjugation of one's ability and power to that of God's, and that humble state is where God moves.

I need to seek God in prayer for more than just this decision in my life right now. This is about more than figuring out which job I should take. It's about letting God focus my life, in whatever form that takes and then supplying the power needed to live it out. Pray that I will listen to Kurt and that I'm not too dumb to pray.

Ugly Treasure

I was reading Acts 17 today where Paul gets separated from his buddies and decides to take a stroll around town while he waits for them in Athens. It says "his spirit was being provoked within him as he was observing the city full of idols." (vs. 16) He just can't help himself (in spite of flying solo without anyone to tell him if a rock is about to be thrown at the back of his head) and he starts preaching about Jesus, which is all cool until he gets to the crazy part—the resurrection. "Now when they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some began to sneer, but others said, 'We shall hear you again concerning this.'" (vs. 32) Believing that someone came back to life after being dead is nuts. Believing that those who believe in a guy who came back to life will also come back to life is nuts. The Christian faith rests on a pretty outrageous claim and Paul just lets it fly.

Some people today are disenchanted with the Christian Faith, often describing their condition as a distaste for "organized religion." It's true, in many churches (in many people, rather) the Faith has become an ugly conglomeration of man-made rules and practices, which at best conceal and at worst assist the very evil the Gospel is meant to eradicate. Christianity is merely a screen these people use to dull the definition of their empty, average, unholy lives. It's all very unresurrection-esque. Have we forgotten that a Dude died and came back to life? It seems to have somehow lost its pop. We talk about it now two-thousand some years away but it's become all cloudy and cute and super nonfantastical by tradition and repetition and familiarity.

I have a picture in my head of me preaching in a church somewhere. I'm up front and I say something about Jesus rising from the dead. I stop. The good church folk are sitting, listening, some slightly smiling, legs crossed, heads tilted to the side warmly. As I wait, a few eye-brows raise good-naturedly in anticipation, as if to say "yes, continue with your pleasant talk." No reaction. "People," I think, "I just said someone came back from the dead! Sneer, laugh, believe, get mad, something!" Something as ludicrous as rising from the dead deserves a reaction, and yet for many of us in the church, it simply slips right on by as harmless religious jargon.

I wonder if we've become too comfortable with the resurrection. As I read, I had to stop at the part where Paul tells the Athenians, "He has fixed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness through a Man whom He has appointed, having furnished proof to all men by raising Him from the dead." (vs. 31). The eternal outcomes of the souls of men will hang on their reaction to Jesus' resurrection, in which He defeated death and made God's justice and His mercy one. Without the resurrection, we have a weak, stupid, unspectacular religion.

It reminds me of the parable Jesus tells about the Kingdom of God as a treasure buried in a field, so valuable that the man who finds it sells everything he has to buy the field and own the treasure. If I might modify this a bit, imagine that the treasure is the resurrection, an actual factual real-time event that makes righteousness and union with God possible, the place where true, sold out faith begins (if this is possible, what isn't?). Has the church lost the treasure among the weeds of programs, buildings, committee meetings and lame outreach events? Have we even dug it up yet or are we content to have the field and to know where the treasure is if we need it? Do we consider it an ugly treasure, the scary claim of our religion that will repulse as many as it attracts? If we did go through the dirty, messy process of digging it up, would we hold it high in joyous celebration for all to see or be ashamed and try to sneak away with it under our shirt?

I think part of the success of the early church was its focus on and embracing of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It may be that the intellectual and emotional turmoil that arises in one's soul after considering the actuality of the resurrection gives the Holy Spirit something to sink His teeth into. It is a rubber-meets-the-road proposition, one that if understood fully demands a response. Paul obviously knows this because he never hides it. To him it is a glorious, life-changing truth. He holds the treasure up high for all to see, knowing that if someone is to have true faith and if the church is to be all that it can be, they must know, share and participate in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Paul pays for all this resurrection talk, and we will, too, maybe even with our lives (some sneerers can get pretty nasty), but do what they may, they can't take away our treasure.

Psychic Paychecks

Here are a couple of my responses to discussion posts concerning non profit compensation policies from my Strategic Human Resources Management class I'm taking at WMU right now. Would love some feedback on feelings surrounding the pay of preachers.

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Post 1

Sarah, I’m also involved in church ministry and a have actually just taken the lead pastor position in a church plant. This idea of compensation in the church is of great interest to me and ties into one of the core values I’m working on articulating for our particular gathering—generosity and an “others-centric” focus in our finances. I want our people to be good stewards, as you mentioned. As leaders in the church, the staff should model this attitude. Paul reminds Timothy that elders or deacons need to be “free from the love of money” and not addicted to “sordid gain” (1 Timothy 3:3, 8 New American Standard Bible). In my opinion, there are few things more unsettling to me than preachers getting rich off the church. So I will be experimenting with a volunteer staff and will be unpaid myself, working bi-vocationally. Paul set this example with his tent-making gig; he had the right to be paid but didn’t want to put any obstacle in Corinthians’ way. As you mentioned, my compensation is the joy and honor of working in the church, pursuing the mission and loving others.

But the reality is, my family and I need to eat, too. Paul, also in 1 Timothy, says that “elders who rule well are to be considered worthy of double honor [good pay?], especially those who work hard at preaching and teaching” followed by the reference to Deuteronomy 25:4 that “You shall not muzzle the ox while he is threshing” (1 Timothy 5:17, 18). Sounds a bit like a merit-based system according to Pynes, where “individuals should be paid according to their contributions” (2009, pg. 266), though I don’t see an emphasis on results but more on effort in these references. My situation allows me to keep the church position voluntary at this point in time, but that may not be feasible in the future.

Here’s another way to approach the idea of compensation in the church: should the organization be the one to limit the greediness of the staff by instituting a lag system, which forces the staff to be focused on more intrinsic rewards or should the church “bless” its workers for their efforts and allow them the freedom to choose between being greedy or being generous?

Post 2

Patrick, I liked the "psychic income" term from Manzo. As someone immersed in the non profit lifestyle, I admit I feel this way even about my own pay, that I need to focus less on cash and more on cognitive compensation. Why do I feel this way? Times when I've made better money (usually in brief jaunts into the secular business world), I've felt like I was stealing. I also identify with the community members who write in and challenge the pay of nonprofit workers. It's especially hard when donors see NPO executives making more than they do. Why should they give their hard earned money, even to a good cause, if the workers of the organization make more than they do?, their thinking goes. Admittedly, I think there are cases of abuse that support their fears. Not that this is one of them, but as I was researching Executive Director salaries for assignment 8, I looked up Richard Stearn's pay (ED of World Vision). He operates a global organization with a budget of hundreds of millions and I still thought, "Really? 400k? That seems a little high."

I think I need to be okay with my salary making its way out of my head and into my pocket.

Do four jobs make a living (sacrifice)?

In accordance with my theme of walking with God, I sit here tonight wondering if God is into heading down multiple paths, an act easily handled by an omnipresent diety but rough on a regular flesh and bone guy like me; I feel I'm being quartered. Picture God running down my job trail, which suddenly splits into a four-pronged fork. He does His God thing and divides while I try and hold on (or is He grabbing me?). I don't break but I stretch like one of those cartoons where the character gets pulled like taffy into a paper thin line. I have yet to break but I'm wondering if I'll snap back.

I can say confidently that I feel I'm trying to follow where God leads. I leave room to be corrected on selfishness, pride, work addiction, etc., but I think my intentions are honorable in taking on each. My current jobs/responsibilities are Sales & Marketing Director at Miracle Camp (20 hours), Executive Director of Orphan Justice Mission (20 hours), Lead Pastor of Life Point Community Church (10 hours) and grad school (10 hours). Don't forget family, friends and an hour or two to chill out. Each tends to run over a bit, with some give and take between categories, so I usually end up with a 70 - 80 hour work week, which could be worse, I know. Yet, as I think back on how I ended up at each, I think, "yeah, God was going there." I just said "yes" to going for the walk. Each is a good cause, each fits my personality and giftings and I think I'm seeing fruit from each not to mention that this strange career combination is paying the bills (though barely). Taking any one component out (maybe with the exception of grad school) creates financial difficulty.

So am I dumb or is this what being a living sacrifice is all about? Am I killing myself to fulfill some twisted need to succeed, to do the impossible, to show my family and friends (ahem, BC) that, yes, I can keep all the balls in the air? Or is the act of giving myself fully to God, to be used up, consumed and totally spent in someway similar (though much, much less grand) to what the Lamb of God went through?

Larry Osbourne in his book The Contrarian's Guide to Spirituality says we should live up to our calling and not our potential. I'm still digging that bullet out from between my eyes, but I'm curious to know if Larry would allow God to call us down diverging paths simultaneously? If so, then maybe getting stretched (be it even cartoon thin) is how we really grow and the only realistic way for me to fulfill my calling. If not, then I pray I figure out which path I'm supposed to be on because I'm not very good at doing the splits.

Developing My Selfopolis

I had a thought while attending one of the workshops at the Exponential 09 National New Church Conference in Orlando, FL, back in April. It was the realization of the similarity between community development and personal development. The speaker, Efram Smith, was talking about burnout in church planting. He shared his personal experience with burnout as a pastor of a blossoming inner city church plant. The church was growing, people were coming to Christ, but he was emotionally drained and frustrated. He noticed he was becoming bitter at people, short-tempered and consumed with quitting. Everything culminated in a tearful breakdown after a service. Upon reflection, he realized there were some areas of spiritual and emotional immaturity (poverty?) in his life, areas that he had allowed to atrophy through inattention. His solution was to create a personal development plan—a set of weekly, monthly, and yearly goals that he asked several other key people in his life to hold him accountable for accomplishing.

What struck me was his use of "development plan." My work with Orphan Justice Mission and my current graduate studies (I'm pursuing my Masters in International Development Administration and just finished a paper on partnership and paternalism between non-governmental organizations) have re-connotated the word "development plan" for me. I have recently been thinking of it in terms of a community developing a vision for itself, then strategically laying out the immediate, middle, and long-term steps needed to attain that vision, often with assistance. For example, my organization Orphan Justice Mission has assisted a Ugandan NGO in developing a vision for a community that is healthy enough to care for the orphans in its midst. Health for the community is identified as being able to meet certain minimum standards of care in five different areas (Business, Education, Family, Health and Spirituality). This is a holistic approach based on the observation that each of those areas is interrelated; each supports the others and they grow in relative balance. For example, in order for a school to provide a quality education, it may need financial support from the community, mainly in terms of tuition. Yet, without an education, the ability of workers and entrepreneurs to earn an paycheck and pay for their kids to go to school is significantly hindered. Getting a few key business people educated increases their chance of success, which may bring jobs to the community and eventually uniforms and school supplies to the children. Balance across the development areas and prioritization are key; the prime concern is determining what elements should be implemented first to open up possibilities for further growth.

I'm thinking that personal development and community development could be approached in similar ways. If I imagine my self as a city (let's call it Selfopolis), I should have a strategic plan for my life and understand the steps for accomplishing it. The plan should fit the terrain and the demographic makeup of the area (my personality, giftings, interests). I should identify the foundational areas of growth that will open me up for future success and work to achieve those first. At times, I may have to make an investment in infrastructure (education?) so that Selfopolis might take on greater activities. Development should be balanced in order to be sustainable. I can't build factories or skyscrapers without gas stations and parks and grocery stores. And it would probably be a good idea to elect a High Commissioner who can manage the whole process.

I could belabor this metaphor, but I'll resist and make one last mildly related point: I think community development (the real one, not my metaphorical version) is really people development. What if city planners and development workers took their eyes off the buildings and put it on the people? Building Selfopolis's is a different gig than building Metropolis's (Metropoli?). I've come to realize this is what I'm attempting in my work in Africa–building people. My desire is not to develop people so they can develop their community, but to use community development (vision, cooperation, skill-building, philanthropy and volunteerism) to develop the hearts of people. It may be my pastor's perspective, but if we're not concerned with people first in our development work, we're not really concerned with development and we won't know when to stop building the buildings.

Revisiting Effectiveness

One of the joys of my Sales and Marketing Directorship at Miracle Camp & Retreat Center is the shared role of mentor to our group of interns. We, the full-time staff, want their year long foray into the world of Christian camping to be a growing one, both experientially and spiritually, and besides time spent rubbing shoulders in the office (and hopefully rubbing off character by example), we intentionally take time to work through topics like personal budgeting, leadership, spiritual maturity, and self-management. We generally meet every two weeks and for the months of December and January, I'm teaching the book "7 Habits of Highly Effective People" by Stephen R. Covey.

I was first introduced to this book in the year 2000, my first year in youth ministry. Taking on a new new ministry job, working through my undergrad at WMU and being newly married forced me to take personal management seriously and Franklin Covey's "What Matters Most" seminar was recommended to me by my pastor. I was thrilled by the course, initially by the free organizer, but secondly and mostly by the vision of a highly organized, not-stressed, principle-driven me that our presenter made sound totally achievable. It was an ideal I would drag with me through the next eight eventful years of my life. 

Each job change (there were three in these past eight years) brought another opportunity to identify my core values, define my existence and articulate a personal mission statement. My commitment to those statements ebbed and flowed, but even at my weakest, most scattered moments,  I knew I should be putting "first things first", and "working in Quadrant II", and "going for Win/Win". At times, it was just a calendaring system, but in the back of my mind was the theme of spending my time, intentionally, on what matters most, that not only should I be doing things well but that I should be doing the right things.

As we knock on the door of 2009, I'm still at Miracle Camp but have also taken on the Executive Director role of Orphan Justice Mission. Once again, I'm revisiting my mission, working through who I am, what I do (and what I don't do), and how I want to do it. My responsibilities are broader and my schedule is tighter than ever before. I need to be more intentional, more efficient, more focused on the important things in order to succeed in my roles (and avoid a nasty case of burnout). The timing couldn't have been better for my chance to teach the interns, because the act of teaching is one of the best opportunities to learn (or recommit). I've reread the book, I've rewritten my mission statement, and I'm feeling stronger than ever in my calling, in my purpose, and my ability to execute it.

 

It's just another ride around the circle of internalization, a further solidification of a system of self-management and maturity. I pray that it's something that God uses both in my life and the interns' lives to shape us into the people He desires us to be. 

Welcome to my walk.

Okay, I'm trying to stay un-sappy about this, but my natural urge is to wax eloquent. No, attempt to wax eloquent. Notice even my blog title: "Taking a walk." A little cheesy, a little romantic. Maybe an abused metaphor. But, here in this first ever blog, let me explain that title and establish my reason for writing this word-chain of my life.

In the Bible, in early Genesis, it is separately said of two men that they "walked with God." Genesis 5:24 - "Enoch walked with God; and he was not, for God took him." And in Genesis 6:9 - "Noah was a righteous man, blameless in his time; Noah walked with God." Every once in awhile, I come across something, some description of life or unique view of the world and I think, "Yep. That's it." That's what I thought when I heard of a man "walking with God." In my mind I saw two friends strolling together down a path, walking and talking. It was a time out from the hectic-ness; intentional fellowship. I heard understanding for the difficulty of life, congratulation for successes, questions of interest and questions of admonishment. I heard humor and I heard silence. I saw acceptance through proximity and the realization that these friends were not alone because they had each other. I thought, "That's what I want."

When we walk with God, we go where He goes. We do what He does. We get to participate in His activity in the world and we get to know His thoughts. We get to enjoy His company and benefit from His radiant love, grace, and holiness. He goes to strange lands, though. I'm afraid that I too often reply to His invitation to follow with "Hey, I'll catch up with you later." So, trust me, this is an ideal I have yet to maintain. In no way am I an Enoch or Noah, or a Moses who the Lord used to speak to "face to face, just as a man speaks to his friend." (Exodus 33:11) But I unapologetically confess that I want to be like those guys; I want to walk with God.

So this blog, I hope, will be a small glimpse into where I'm walking and if nothing else, might encourage others to join in (via my successes or failures), to take the invitation God is extending, and go for a stroll (or a crawl, as the case may be).