I Am Out of Control

Today is a big day (for me anyway). It's the culmination of a year and a half's worth of work. And waiting. And more work...and more waiting. Today, June 30th, is the official release date of my first book, Branded: Sharing Jesus with a Consumer Culture. And, while I'm extremely excited, I'm also wrestling with several sobering realizations:

1. Ideas spread not because the creator wants them to spread, but because consumers think that the creation is worth spreading.

As much as I want the concepts and principles in Branded to gain traction, the truth is that what I want doesn't matter. Not even a little bit. I can't force anyone to read the book. I can't force them to like it. And I certainly can't force them to pass the ideas on to their friends and family and co-workers.

My comfort, I suppose, comes in knowing that God understands this dilemma. In fact, I wrote about it in Branded.

"When God created humans, He could have made us robots. He could have forced His creation to follow the master plan. He could have demanded that Adam and Eve obey His every command. But He didn't. God knew that forced love isn't love at all - it's punishment. He understood that mandated allegiance isn't allegiance - it's slavery."

The decision to believe (and then share that belief with others) is up to you and me. God isn't going to force our hands. If Jesus has changed our lives, it's up to us to tell others about it. When it comes to Branded, I can only hope that the words inside it are worthy of sharing. That decision is up to the reader though...not me.

2. Success is measured by following God's plan, not by achieving worldly success. Honestly, I would love to sell a million copies of Branded. I would love to be a sought after conference speaker. I would love to create a DVD series based on the book. But, if those are the reasons that I answered God's call to write, then I've completely missed the point.

In the very beginning, God knew exactly how many people would reject Him. He knew it in advance...before His plan was ever set into motion. And despite the foreknowledge that millions upon millions of people would turn their backs on Him throughout history...despite knowing that, at one point, everyone on the entire planet (except Noah) would have to be wiped out because of their disobedience...God still moved forward. It's mind-boggling.

Would I have written Branded if I knew ahead of time that only four people would read it? What about 40? Or 400? Would I have done the hard work that God was calling me to do if I could have looked into the future and seen that the results wouldn't meet my own human standards of success? I hope so, but I don't know so.

As hard as it is to accept sometimes, I know this: The eventual sharing of Branded is determined by you, and the ultimate success of Branded is determined by God.

I am out of control. And I am okay with that.

Lying Makes You Fat (Sorta)

Several months ago Dr. Rita Hancock interviewed me about my new book Branded and, specifically, how the concepts in it relate to weight loss (her specialty). Honestly, I wasn't sure that any of them did. But the more I pored over her questions, the more I came to realize that certain sections of Branded really DO apply to the addict (of food or otherwise) in all of us.

Dr. Rita:  In your book Branded: Sharing Jesus With A Consumer Culture, you talk about "authenticity." Could you tell us more about how authenticity relates to weight control for Christians?


Tim: Many Christians seem to think that looking or acting perfect is the best way to make Christ look good too. But that's simply not true. No one is perfect - spiritually or physically - and any attempt to come across as such is an immediate indicator that something significant is being covered up...that a lie is being told.

In the real world, honesty is beautiful. Opening up about our flaws and our struggles draws more people to us than it pushes away...and it's a powerful way to share Jesus. While Branded isn't about weight per se...there are certainly parallels. It's critical that we understand that superficially changing our appearance isn't going to permanently change our soul. If we can be honest with ourselves (and others) about what's driving us to eat, we will have a much easier time achieving tangible, long-lasting results in the end. Polishing up the outside - without addressing the inside - will just leave us disappointed in the long run. It's a lie that isn't sustainable or believable.

Dr. Rita: Why do we try so hard to look and act perfect on the outside when we don't authentically feel that way on the inside? It's not like we're fooling God.

Tim: I'm a firm believer that we live on the outside what is truly on the inside. The Bible backs that up in Luke 6:45 when it says, "For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of." The problem is that heart work is hard work. Making transformative changes in our lives is difficult and painful. Frankly, it's easier to try and change public perception than change personal problems. We know we're not fooling God, but (at least temporarily) we get a benefit from making our friends and family thinkwe're on track.

Dr. Rita: So, trying to look and be perfect doesn't really fix what's wrong with us on the inside, does it?

Tim: Of course not. Unfortunately, whether physically or spiritually, there will always be someone more "perfect" than we are. Someone who has a better body. Someone who has a stronger faith. It's counterintuitive, but like I said earlier, honesty is beautiful. I've found that the more we're honest about who we are, the more people will resonate with us...flaws and all.

Taylor Swift has millions of fans around the world, and yet she doesn't hit every note in concert. In fact at the Grammy's a few years ago, her performance was downright bad. But Taylor's perfection isn't what people are drawn to. Her honestyand authenticity is.

God loves us in spite of our flaws too. Romans says that "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Meaning, no matter how perfect or imperfect we are,everybody needs grace.

Dr. Rita: So, we ought to confess our imperfection and accept God's love in spite of our imperfect selves. I love that. Can you tell us what steps we need to take to feel as authentic on the inside as we want to appear on the outside?

Tim: Someone once said, "People are like teabags. You find out what they're really like when you put them in hot water." It's true. We can fool people for awhile with a fake exterior, but life will eventually bring out who we truly are. I don't necessarily think that there is a 1-2-3 process for success here. Everybody is different. However, I think it's important to start by figuring out which internal longings are causing which external actions. We'll never change what we do until we know what we need.

Dr. Rita: What's your best advice for Eden Dieters who take the Apple Test and realize that they were tempted to eat because, deep-down, they feel unauthentic in Christ?

Tim: I'm pretty sure that Dr. Phil said this before I ever did, but changing a habit requires putting something else in place of it. At the risk of sounding hyper-spiritual, I would suggest filling these voids in our lives with the stuff that the Bible calls us to do. Feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, taking care of the widows, etc. Taking the focus off of ourselves for a little while often puts the rest of life in perspective. Plus, each is a tangible, relational way to impact others for Christ. Giving, ironically, is very fulfilling.

Storytelling 101

(The following is an excerpt from my new book BRANDED, which hits stores on June 30th.)

Whether it’s a book or a movie, a television show or a musical, every story has one defining characteristic: conflict. It’s inevitable. A cheating husband. An enemy combatant. An unrealized love. An underdog. Even children’s stories have conflict. Humpty Dumpty couldn’t be put back together again. London Bridge fell down. A baby and cradle are blown out of a tree.

Conflict adds excitement and suspense to a story. It keeps the audience wondering what will happen next and guessing how the characters will handle the situation. Without conflict, we wouldn’t know who to root for. Without conflict, there would be no distinction between good and evil. Without conflict, I wouldn’t cry like a baby every time I watch Bambi.

A story without conflict is two things. First, it’s boring. If you and I went to see a movie that had absolutely no conflict, we would either walk out or fall asleep. Human beings, by our very nature, identify with conflict. We’re able to see ourselves in those stories. What kind of power would The Ugly Duckling have if it were The Pretty Duckling? How intriguing would Rocky be if it were a movie about a CPA?

The second thing about a story with no conflict is that it’s not believable. Nothing is perfect. Nothing true anyway. We’re fallen beings in a fallen world, and the absence of conflict is an immediate indicator that the words we’re hearing and the pictures we’re seeing can’t possibly be legitimate. Getting wrapped up in a storyline requires that we believe what the author is telling us. And if there’s no conflict, there’s no belief.

So imagine how skeptical non-Christians are when we tell them a perfect story. When we leave our sins, setbacks, and struggles out of the equation. In an effort to make Christ seem more attractive, it’s tempting to highlight all the good stuff and none of the bad. To talk with non-Christians about love and joy and fellowship, but not about grace and repentance and fear. To smile and hug and raise our hands without ever crying and doubting and spending time on our knees. It may seem unnatural, but without conflict, our “perfect” lives are telling a tale that can’t be believed. And shouldn’t be believed.

Whether it feels right or not, there is tremendous power in your conflict. In your divorce. In your drug habit. In your bankruptcy. In your depression. In your grief. None of your friends wants to watch The Perfect Christian. It’s boring—and it’s not believable.

Our friends and neighbors are skeptical enough of Jesus as it is. There’s no reason to add to their skepticism by telling a story that couldn’t possibly be true.

No One Wants to be a Project

Several years ago a friend of a friend called and asked me if I was interested in getting together for lunch or dinner. While I knew this person, I certainly didn't know him very well, and (in my head) it seemed like perhaps a full-fledged meal wasn't exactly the logical next step in our relationship. Coffee would have made more sense.

Despite the potential awkwardness, I contemplated going anyway. That was until, near the end of our conversation, he casually said, "I also wanted to tell you about my family's involvement with a new college campus ministry."

Ugh.

Call me heartless or mean or cynical, but those few words made me want to throw my phone under a bus. What could have been a thoughtful (albeit forward) gesture from an acquaintance, turned quickly into a sales pitch. It was clear that this guy didn't care about me. He didn't want to "catch up." He wasn't reaching out to start a friendship. He was reaching out to start a financial relationship. He needed sponsors, and I was one of his "projects."

I could be wrong, but I don't think that anyone wants to be somebody else's project. Mainly because those relationships are solely based on the project initiator's needs rather than a mutual affinity for one another. It's like a car salesman. The only reason he smiles, laughs, and offers to go get you coffee is because his commission check depends on it. If you ran into him in the park, I hardly think you'd get the same response.

The same idea goes for sharing Jesus too. Though our hearts are good, the idea of turning specific people into evangelism projects seems counterproductive at best. Somehow we manage to make someone else's decision to follow Christ about us instead. Their salvation becomes our success.

The people in your life are perceptive enough to know when you've relegated them to a line on your to-do list. They can sniff out insincerity from a mile away. Building relationships with those around us requires that we care about more than just their eternal destiny. It requires caring about their "right now." The rest will naturally fall into place.

Faith Without RISK is Dead

My wife and I own a small, historic office building in the small town where we live. In years past, we have leased the space to several local businesses, but last week we were faced with a decision: lease the building for another year or pursue a potential buyer who had come forward.

Up until this point, our decision-making had been easy. We rented to the one and only person who wanted to rent. There weren't any other options. But when a second possibility entered the picture, there was suddenly risk involved. One decision was likely to be better than the other in the long run, and we wrestled for days over which one was which. Should we go for the guaranteed twelve month lease, or should we risk that money for the possibility of an almost immediate sale?

This dilemma got me thinking that faith and risk are directly proportional. The more risk something involves, the more faith one must have in order to pursue it. You've got to believe that the bungee cord is going to hold you before you jump off a bridge. You've got to trust that the bank is going to save your money and not lose it. You've got to have faith that the person you're marrying isn't going to run off with someone else ten years down the road. For my wife and me, we had to believe that the sale of our building was going to work out before walking away from a year's worth of rental income.

Following Jesus requires faith primarily because there is a sizable amount of risk associated with it. The risk is that we're completely wrong. The risk is that we're devoting our time, energy, and money to a made-up story akin to The Chronicles of Narnia or Hansel and Gretel. The risk is that we're missing out on the "fun" stuff that falls somewhere between legal and moral. The risk is possible rejection or ridicule. The risk is lost opportunity or advancement. The risk, in some parts of the world, is life itself.

Faith without risk isn't really faith - it's posturing. It's lip-service.

If you and I don't feel like we're risking anything...maybe our faith isn't what we claim it is. Maybe we're not doing what Jesus called us to do. Maybe we enjoy playing the part without believing the dialogue. Maybe we're simply looking for the security found in the Christian message without completely living out the story?

Risk is refusing to cheat on our unpaid taxes.
Risk is turning off the TV show that everyone at work is watching.
Risk is walking away from an unhealthy relationship.
Risk is continuing to give money away when you just lost your job.
Risk is telling your boss that your uncomfortable with what he just asked you to do.
Risk is sharing your story with a hurting friend.
Risk is trusting that waiting is better than settling.
Risk is sacrificing our comfort for the good of someone else.

James 2:17 says, "Faith by itself, if not accompanied by action, is dead." We can say that we have faith all we want to, but it's our willingness to risk that ultimately proves it.

Why Do We Try to Be So Perfect?

Today's blog was actually written for fellow author Mary DeMuth's website. It talks about my battle with perfectionism and how most all of us apply my "perfection principle" to our relationship with Christ. For whatever reason, we believe that looking perfect as Christians makes Christ look better in the process. But I don't believe that to be true. I encourage you to read the blog and then comment as you feel led.

While the words aren't directly from my book (Branded), they are indicative of much of it's content. If you're interested in ordering your own copy, they've  begun shipping from Amazon this week. You could have it at your door in just a couple days.