Taking the Bait

Perhaps its just me, but I often feel the pull to do (and to be) more.  To fill my days and nights with meaningful and weighty activities that quench my own selfish need for significance. Frequently, these are good things like volunteer opportunities or church commitments or extra work responsibilities.  But, recently, I've begun to understand that the good has a not-so-subtle way of pulling me away from the great.  

This “less vs. more” battle actually began long ago.  In the beginning – the very beginning – with the dawning of time itself.

After setting the stars in the sky, washing the world in water, and covering creation’s continents with plants and animals, God made man.  On the sixth day, the Lord of the universe breathed Adam into being, and later Eve, and lovingly placed them in paradise. In utopia.

The Garden of Eden was perfect in every way, and (save one very important tree) the land, and everything on it, was theirs. Genesis 2 tells us that God’s masterpiece was Adam’s and Eve’s to tend, to work, and (presumably) to enjoy.  There were no other tasks to worry about – no other jobs to do.  Just tend, work, and enjoy.

It’s why they were created.

But Satan, the serpent, sensed a foothold. He placed a bet that, if he could create dissatisfaction on Earth – if he could divert humans from their true calling – he could gain the upper hand.  So, the snake tempted Adam and Eve.  And he tempted them with more.

More power. More knowledge. More control.

And Adam and Eve bit.

It was from that day forward that humans began covering up.  We began hiding.  From God. From our individual callings. From our unique purposes in life. While Adam and Eve layered themselves with leaves, today we bury ourselves with busyness. Mask ourselves with the mundane. Clothe ourselves with control.

You and I have each been created for a purpose – a purpose for which God asks us to devote our lives – and yet we’re somehow not satisfied with it. We want more. We have a snake (of sorts) whispering in our ear that we can do it all. We can have it all. We can be it all.  And "all" is always just a little bit more.

We've taken the bait...just like Adam and Eve did.

So, today, I'm encouraging you (and me) to ignore the whisper.  To dismiss the little voice that says you're not doing enough.  To walk away from the temptation to add just one more thing to your plate - even if it's a "good" thing.  And then, in turn, to consciously embrace the reasons that God has put you on this planet and leave the rest alone.

If history's first inhabitants had done as much, we would be living in a very different world.

Separating Art and Actions

I don't know about you, but I sometimes find it difficult to separate people from their problems.

It's easy to associate what someone does with who they are.  It's easy to assume that a person's outside permanently betrays their inside.  But it's hard to realize that each and every person on the planet was created by, and is loved by, God...regardless of his or her actions.  And it's even harder to figure out how we, as Christians, react to those people as they freely choose to live life independently of what the Bible teaches.

At what point, if ever, do we decide to distance ourselves (socially, educationally, etc.) from a person or group based on what they do or don't do?  At what point, if ever, is our attention more harmful than it is helpful.  At what point, if ever, does our time become the outright condoning of behavior that is contrary to a Christ-follower's beliefs. 

For example, when Ellen joined the cast of American Idol last year, there were plenty of people of faith questioning whether they would ever watch their favorite show again.  Anne Rice's comments about abandoning Christianity recently left many believers wondering whether they should read her novels anymore.  When Amy Grant went through a divorce there were hoards of people suddenly dismissing her music - past, present, and future.

Though I certainly don't have all the answers, I've forced myself to immediately question these gut-level responses.  To inherently second-guess whether or not I'm truly taking a stand for righteousness, or simply throwing stones because it's convenient.

Consciously or unconsciously, I think we often feel like we're somehow betraying Jesus if our money or time or energy goes to a person who has publicly ignored Him.  Watching Ellen somehow implies that we support the gay lifestyle.  Reading Anne Rice somehow implies that we've accepted her supposed rejection of Christianity.  Listening to El Shaddai somehow implies that we think divorce is the best decision for troubled marriages.

While it's not always the case, I think that most often we as Christians are carelessly separating ourselves from a world in which Christ is desperately needed.  We're so scared of accidentally stepping into spiritual quicksand, that we (instead) end up cowering in the corner...burying ourselves in our own kind.  Trapped forever in a useless pile of self-righteousness.

Obviously, every family is entitled to determine what television shows, movies, books, and music is appropriate for them.  We do that in our house all the time.  However, we've made a calculated decision to differentiate between a person's art and his or her actions.

I love John Mayer's music.  I think Ellen is hilarious.  Bing Crosby is a staple in our home at Christmas.  Yet, I would never endorse the lifestyles that each has (or had) chosen to lead.  Their art is fabulous and is appropriate for me and my family.  Their actions, not so much.

In the Bible (Matthew 7:1-2 NIV) it says, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."  Romans 3:23 says, "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God."  Meaning, if a person's sin is the determining factor for whether or not we associate with a person, none of us would ever be able to talk to, laugh with or enjoy one another's company.  Ever.


Yes, we have a moral obligation to govern the images and ideas that enter our minds...but we also have a moral obligation to not shun or disown or disregard people simply because they're not living up to a certain lifestyle.  If a person's art is offensive, that's one thing.  If their private, personal actions are sinful, to me, that's quite different.


Otherwise, in light of Romans 3:23, you probably shouldn't be reading my blog.

It's About the Heart, Not the Hair

I wanted to respond to a Wall Street Journal article that twenty-something Brett McCracken recently wrote about the state of the church.  In "The Perils of 'Wannabe Cool' Christianity", McCracken laments the trend of many pastors, authors, speakers, worship leaders, and others who have (in his words) tried to make Jesus "cool."

In his piece the author condemns using technology like Twitter and texting, writing books about sex and sensuality, and hosting shocking websites and posting viral videos as being both gimmicky and fake.  He laments skinny jeans and gelled hair and, I can only assume, "deep V" t-shirts.  In fact, McCracken writes, "If the evangelical Christian leadership thinks that "cool Christianity" is a sustainable path forward, they are severely mistaken. As a twentysomething, I can say with confidence that when it comes to church, we don't want cool as much as we want real."


Just barely out of my own twenty-somethings, I can tell you first-hand that he's right.  Partially.  Today's generation does want authenticity.  We do want transparency.  We do want honesty.  But I think it's more than unfair to use someone's "cool factor" or "cultural relevance" as a measuring stick for whether or not he or she is being genuine.


The Bible asks Christians to be in the world, but not of it.  And, admittedly, that's a fine line to walk.  But there is one man who did it pretty well.  Perfectly actually.  Jesus was the ultimate example of both cultural relevancy and spiritual authority.  Instead of Lost and American Idol, He referenced lost sheep and golden calves.  Instead of using 140 characters on a cell phone, He used lines in the sand.  Instead of YouTube videos and Facebook posts, Jesus told stories that were virally spread through word of mouth.


And He did it all without a shred of insincerity or phoniness.


It is possible to live out an honest, true faith and still be relevant to the people of the 21st century.  It is possible to completely be in love with Jesus and still effectively reach a culture that is drawn to the temporal.  It is possible to be real and still wear gel or skinny jeans or the "deep V."  Are these things always authentic?  No.  But can they be?  Absolutely.


I know that many have a strong distaste for all things modern or hip or cool, but as long as the main thing remains the main thing, I'm really not sure what all of the complaining is about?  As Jesus modeled for us in the Bible, true authenticity has nothing to do with hair and everything to do with heart.

The Magic Microwave

My three year old Jeremiah was "cooking" in his Little Tykes kitchen the other day.  Making pizza apparently.  When he pulled his creation from the oven, he sadly said, "Oh no, it's burned!"  With that, the little guy walked over to his pretend microwave and threw the charred pizza inside.  Several seconds later he opened the door and exclaimed, "Look!  It's not burned anymore!"

Of course, in reality, that's not possible.  On a purely elemental level, burned can't become unburned.  There's no undoing that action.  Once dinner is charred, it's ruined - permanently.  And, unless you have a magic microwave like Jeremiah, it's time to call Domino's.

I was burned once.  Maybe you have been too.  My "fire" happened almost six years ago.  September 27th, 2004.  I'm actually looking at the divorce degree right now.  Some of the problems were clearly my fault.  Some of them clearly weren't.  But burned is burned, regardless of where the flames originated.

As if saying goodbye to the woman I married at the tender age of twenty-one wasn't painful enough, for quite some time I was daily scorched by what I call "false flickers."  Each searing singe reminded me that, after a divorce, God couldn't (or wouldn't) use me anymore.  That my stupid mistakes and decisions and actions were, essentially, fatal.  That I was permanently ruined.

But, thankfully, nothing could be further from the truth.

God is in the business of turning burned bodies into beautiful beings.  He's a master at making miracles out of our messes.  He regularly redeems the rusty, the rotten, and the rundown.  Just ask David (the adulterer) or Moses (the murderer) or Jacob (the liar).  Even after their notorious falls from grace, God chose to use each of them mightily.  And He promises to do the same for you and me.

Philippians 1:6 says, "And I am sure that God who began the good work within you will keep right on helping you grow in His grace until His task within you is finally finished on that day when Jesus Christ returns."


Whether you're struggling with alcohol or affairs...habits or hangups...drugs or divorce...know that there is no such thing as "permanently ruined" with God.  No matter how much smoke is in the kitchen, some way, some how, He always manages to get dinner on the table.  And it's never from Domino's.

Living in Bulk

Recently a survey was released that gave seven surprising tips for saving money when you shop.  Honestly, some of them weren’t all that surprising (ie. don't shop when you're hungry).  But one tip definitely caught me off guard: don't buy in bulk.

Wasn’t picking up the sixty-four roll toilet paper value pack supposed to save me cash down the road?  Wasn’t the jumbo tub of mayonnaise supposed to be cheaper for me in the long run?

Apparently not.

Though the survey results didn't make sense at first, the more I've thought about them, the more I'm starting to understand.  In fact, I think the answer is pretty simple: when we have more, we use more.

With a gallon of ketchup in the fridge, there’s no reason not to squirt a little extra on your hamburger.  With twenty-four identical pairs of white socks in the drawer, there’s no need to hang on to one or two that get a small hole in the bottom.  With the life-size box of Cheerios in the pantry, there’s no purpose in not completely filling your bowl – even if you’re not all that hungry.

Conservation, I've found, is born out of need.  Until many of us have a bona fide reason to "go easy", we don't.  (No one ever thought of recycling before the dumps started filling up and forests started being depleted.)

Cans of soda may be more expensive per ounce than a two-liter, but I guarantee you’ll go through the exact same amount much faster when it’s in the bottle than when it's in the can.  There's more to be had...so we do.  When the gas light goes on in the car, it’s natural for most people to drive more conservatively.  To take fewer trips.  To consolidate their errands.  Not so with a full tank.

The point for you and me?  While it seems like doing or being everything to everybody (I'll call it "living in bulk") is a sign of effectiveness or competence, it's actually the just the opposite.  Instead of being everything to everyone, we eventually become nothing to everyone.  In fact, three things happen when we try to "live in bulk":

1.  We poorly maintain our relationships.

2.  We needlessly waste our abilities.

3.  We carelessly dilute our calling.

God's plan for your life (and mine) never involves ignoring our families for the sake of our job or our church.  It never involves doing everything sort of well and nothing very well.  It never involves watering our lives down to the point that we can't possibly make an impact.

If you read Romans 12:8 (NLT), you'll notice that it's full of "ifs" and not "ands":

"IF your gift is to encourage others, be encouraging. IF it is giving, give generously. IF God has given you leadership ability, take the responsibility seriously. And IF you have a gift for showing kindness to others, do it gladly."

You and I are on this planet to be an "if" not an "and."  We're charged with making a difference, not to everyone, but to someone.  We're called to be a small part of the Body of Christ, rather than have Christ be a small part of our body.

The temptation is to do it all, but "living in bulk" merely meets our own needs...not anyone else's.

I Golf, Therefore I Swear

I saw this quote several years ago and, unfortunately, I think it's pretty accurate.

How is it that a tiny white ball and a long stick can cause grown men and women so much stress?  How is it that a four inch hole cut into some grass can prove so elusive?  How is it that trying to hit my three-iron makes me want to throw it into a lake?

Ask most any instructor, and they'll tell you that the surefire way to improve your golf game is to simplify your swing.  When you're trying to exert every possible bit of force from your body (and the golf club) onto one very specific part of the ball, too many wiggles or waggles can be disastrous.  They can cause you to lose momentum and hit the shot short.  They can cause you to not hit the ball flush and send it careening into the woods.  They can cause you to hit over the top of the ball and skip it just barely past the kiddie tees.  Or, in my case, they can cause you to miss the ball completely...thereby forcing you to pretend like you were taking a very life-like practice swing.

As Christians (and as people) I think it's time to simplify our collective swings. If you're like me, you could probably use fewer wiggles and waggles.  You could handle removing several things from your plate that are pulling you off course and keeping you from doing the things in life that God is calling you to do.  From hitting the proverbial ball as far and as straight and as high as you could be.

Recently, I've come to adopt the following phrase into my decision-making routine: "Jesus was born to save the world.  I wasn't."  It's not my job to do everything or reach everybody.  It's my job to get rid of all the extraneous stuff in my life and put my time, money, and energy behind the relatively few things that Christ has called me to.

I've hit far too many of life's golf balls into the woods and the water to continue whacking away on my own.  I'm just getting frustrated anyway.  So, I've decided to simplify my swing.  Care to join me?

I Agree with Anne Rice (I Think)

Last week on her Facebook fan page, author Anne Rice posted the following comment...considered by some to be a renouncement of her faith:

"In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay.  I refuse to be anti-feminist.  I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control.  In the name of...Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian.  Amen."

On the one hand, I can't say that I blame her.  In fact, the very first sentence of my upcoming book (Branded) says, "It's weird.  I'm a Christian, and even I don't like us very much."

So, if by her statement Ms. Rice intends to say that she's sick of being lumped in with people who are for nothing and who are against everything, then count me in.  If she means that she's tired of Christians who hate not just the sin but the sinner too, then I'm right there with her.  If her post was meant to imply that the way we use the word 'Christian' today has more to do with labeling ourselves than with following Jesus, then I'll be the first to jump on her bandwagon.

On the other hand, I really don't think that "quitting" is an option.  Being a Christian, by definition, means being a "little Christ."  It means being a direct reflection of Jesus to those around us who may not know Him. It requires standing up for what we believe, yet at the same time loving those who disagree.  And it entails doing all of this regardless of what other "Christians" say and do.  Just because some are doing a terrible job doesn't give me permission to quit any more than playing for the Cubs gives Derrick Lee the right to walk out of the clubhouse.

Rice also recently posted:

"...following Christ does not mean following His followers. Christ is infinitely more important than Christianity and always will be, no matter what Christianity is, has been, or might become."

And I wholeheartedly agree.  But "quitting" still isn't the best way to go.  Quite the contrary.  The problem is that too many Christians have already quit being "little Christs." The last thing we need is to lose another one.