Something's Missing

I'm noticing a disturbing trend.

Not so much that it's new, but I guess that within my circles and influences, I've probably been a bit insulated from it.  In fact, I've heard lots of others cry out in their distress over it, but I haven't really experienced it on my own.  Until this week.

As a pastor and preacher, I listen to a lot of preaching.  I think one of the best ways to grow as a communicator is to listen to other communicators, so I try to do that somewhat broadly and somewhat regularly.  I'm encouraged by many great teachers who point me to back to Truth again and again, and I hope that their influence on me can be seen each week as I seek to communicate Truth.

But I've been missing something lately.  Not everywhere and with every message, but enough.  In fact, alarmingly enough.  Somewhat painfully enough.  What's missing?

Nothing less than the gospel.

I was listening to a well known preacher from a well known and very large church expound on Acts 2:42-47 this week, the very passage that I'll be covering on Sunday.  The passage reads like this:

"And they devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved."

The speaker had done some excellent exegetical work in unpacking the intricacies of culture and language, and since he was a very engaging speaker, I was right with him.  However, as he went on and on, I realized something.  He had listed a series of Old Testament texts that showed that this way of living was really an embodiment of the law as God first intended.  Then, he had listed a series of sociological proofs as to why this was really the best way to live.  Finally, he gave a personal example of why he and his family are blessed to live according to these principles.  He also noted that "being saved" was most likely related to being saved from hunger and poverty and brokenness, and warned us against defining salvation so narrowly that we only see it as spiritual.  And then, he said that we should go out and get to work doing all this, so that people will be saved... from their hunger, I presume.

Recap: the law says do it.  It makes sense to do it.  I'm doing it.  People's biggest problem is that they don't have as much as you have, so, give your stuff away.  And if you're struggling with that, try harder.

But what about if I try to do it but find that I can't?

But what if I try to do it, succeed, and then get so full of myself that no one ever wants to be around me?

But what if I feed the hungry people around me and find that their just as broken, but now they're full?

But what about the reason (that pesky "sin" thing) that has created so much inequity in the first place?

What about the fact that I actually want to have a bigger house, a better car, more comfort, and great luxury, and if I'm totally honest, despite the sociological facts, I do believe that these will make me happy?

Why, even when I succeed in doing everything that I'm supposed to do, do I still not have any joy?

I finished the sermon, and found myself stuck.  I don't like the fact that I want every ounce of what I have and still want more.  I'm not proud of the fact that the apostle's teaching and prayer are very rarely the first things on my mind when I get up in the morning.  I know that I should be thrilled with the breaking of bread together, not looking for the slicing of a fine steak with a few less brothers and sisters around to take my well-deserved pieces.  Of course the work of God that I'm privileged to witness should create awe... and I'm sorry that I'm sometimes more impressed with the NBA playoffs, but frankly, sometimes I am.  I feel badly that I don't want to have everything in common; unless, of course, that means that I get to own everything and you can come and use my stuff.  Once I have everything I could possibly need, I do tend to become more generous.

Sadly, the biggest problem that you and I and the people we rub shoulders with each day isn't that we're hungry or don't have enough money to get up to speed with technological devices.  Income disparity, poverty, oppression, and injustice are all incredibly real things--I don't want to downplay their reality.  However, if the greatest problem the world had was the disparity between the rich and the poor, it would be quite a bit easier to solve.  In fact, some good education and legal enforcement would solve most of it.

And it certainly wouldn't require the death of the Son of God.

However, here's the truth: We're not able to try harder and get better.  We don't have it in us to fix the world.  We don't even have it in us to fix our own lives.  We're messed up to the greatest extent--because it's not just our outsides that are messed up (our behaviors and actions), but our insides (our hearts and motivations) as well.

Therefore, any message that says we just need to try harder, work move effectively, take responsibility for our own problems, and be better people will never solve anything.  We simply don't have it in us.

Trying harder to produce apples will never work for an orange tree, no matter how well-intentioned.

We need a change at the essence.  We need Jesus to transform our values, our actions, and our hearts.  And as He does, only then will we find that the world around us is transformed as well.

And I'm not talking about being saved to a higher income bracket.  If my own heart is any indication, there are far bigger issues we have to deal with.

An Incredible Moment

OK, so writing with any consistency on a blog doesn't seem to be my strong point.  However, there are so many things that are happening within the local body of believers that I get the privilege of walking alongside that I felt like I needed to try to get some momentum going and write down at least some small part of it...

I'll start with an incredible moment in one of our Sunday morning gatherings.  One of the negatives that come with preaching through books of the Bible is that I'm forced to deal with passages from which I would otherwise stay far, far, far away.  So, as we made our way through the Gospel of Mark this spring, didn't we come upon a whole chapter devoted to the return of Christ.  A whole chapter!  There was no good way to circumvent that one.  Tough to loop an entire chapter into another sermon and, say, focus on the three obscure verses at the end of the previous chapter.  (Not that I spent a few hours trying to make that happen... I'm just saying...)  Anyway, the fateful Mark 13 Sunday was approaching, and we began to discuss the flow of the worship gathering for that morning.

Now, it's important to note that we are blessed to have an incredible team of worship leaders.  Seriously.  I'm not just saying that because a few of them might read this.  Really--they're incredible.  The level of gifting and passion and musical ability and creative energy that they bring to our worship gatherings is seriously impossible to overstate.  Any one of them could be a worship pastor and primary worship leader at some big  church somewhere, but God has graciously allowed us to be led by them for this season.  Granted, that's a slight digression from my point, but it's important.  Here's why...

This Sunday one of our incredibly gifted leaders, Abbie Horsman, was leading.  Now, Abbie has a killer voice.  Like - wow.  It's an instrument in and of itself.  But her voice might be secondary to her gifting with words.  She's a great writer and speaker, not only thinking deeply and poetically, but expressing it in a way that lets us all have a peek at the beauty that's in her mind.  It's a very cool thing.  So, as I was lamenting about how much detail to include in a controversial topic like the return of Jesus that has provided a soapbox for dozens of nut jobs over the years, she was captured by the important part of the text - that Jesus was actually, literally, gloriously coming back.  Like, for real.  And as she thought through that, she had this thought - what about writing a new verse to the Christmas hymn "Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus" that focuses on the return of Christ?  And... to add a little challenge... why not write it during the worship gathering?  And... just in case that was too simple... what it we invited the congregation to "write" the hymn by listing words and phrases which captured their feelings about Jesus' return - and then Abbie would write the new verse using those words?

So, that Sunday, we pulled a big whiteboard out with some markers, and invited people to write.

That leads us up to the moment.  It was in our 10:30 gathering, and as always, there were kids galore.  The bane of the existence of many of our young parents is the philosophical decision that we should worship along with our children before they go to age specific teaching - so worship at the 10:30 gathering is always a bit interesting.  At first, a few people came forward and wrote a few words.  Then, a few more.  Then, there was an older woman who came to the front - walking wasn't an easy process for her, but she made her way to the board anyway.  About that time, a five year old boy moved toward the front as well.  Now, five year old boys and whiteboards usually bring poorly drawn cartoons which ultimately become scribbling when the cartoon doesn't come out right.  I was fully anticipating making a move toward the eraser.  But as he approached, the look on his face was serious.  Intense even.  He was in the moment, and there would be no cartoon today.  As I watched from the other side of the room, there was this beautiful moment - an older woman on the right side of the board, a five year old boy on the left side of the board, both of them laying out their longing for the return of their Savior.  My eyes brimmed with tears as I watched.

In a world where children are babysat by video games, teenagers are released into the virtual reality of their virtual worlds, young adults are selfishly captured by their own issues and agendas, parents are competing with one another over the success of their children, empty-nesters are padding their retirement and playing with the big toys that they had to give up for a decade of soccer practices, and older folks are relegated to homes, the church must be the place where we bridge the gaps.  Because we are one in the Spirit and one in the Lord, as the old chorus says, we have the opportunity to value one another as a new society.  We can move past generational preferences and stereotypes, and truly connect to one another.

In that moment, I saw a picture of the possibility.

The verse was written.  It was incredible.  Abbie used the words she was given: the words of the senior saint and the words of the five year old boy.  And we sang them with joy.  A sermon was preached.  It was fine, but honestly, no one remembers it.  The message was already there for all to see - there's a Kingdom that's coming, but in some ways and in some places, that Kingdom is already here.

Several of you have asked for the lyrics that were written that day. Here they are:

Dying once and conquering evil
Dying on a blood-stained tree
Dying to redeem Your people
Risen now in victory
As we look for your returning
Stir in us our need for Thee
May our hearts in joyful longing
Find in You our hope and peace

Fearful wonder, joyful longing
Fill us as we wait for Thee
Face to face on that day dawning
Glorious Hope, we'll finally see
Every sorrow, every tear
Wiped away as we bow at Your throne
Fully free from sin and fear
Fully knowing, finally home

On the road again...

I'm sitting here in the Houston airport, halfway to El Salvador. It's been a year since I've travelled away from my wife and kids, and honestly, it still feels like it's way too soon. I love my friends in El Salvador, and am especially looking forward to seeing our "Salvadoran daughter" Marilene, but more and more I just don't like being away from home.

That said, this trip, while short, is an exciting one! We're looking at the potential of 2-3 trips from York Alliance in 2013 to partner with our friends from Iglesia Communidad de Fe y Adoracion in the ministry that they are doing among the broken neighborhoods on the outskirts of San Salvador. Along with each of these trips comes the opportunity to understand another part of the world, the reality of Jesus in a different culture, and the brotherhood that we share regardless of language and background. As much as I tire of travel, I never tire of seeing people's lives changed through the experience of partnering with our brothers and sisters in El Salvador. The potential of teams mixed together between adults, teens, and kids is incredibly exciting. Serving in another culture is something that I believe that every Christian in the North American church should try to do at least once...

So, it's on the road again. A few short days, a whirlwind of activity, and then another couple of flights back home. In between, a snapshot into another portion of the global church. OK, Lord... I think I'm ready. Or as ready as I'm going to get.

A Writer?

It doesn't take much looking at the inconsistency of this blog over the last several years to recognize that I'm far from being a writer. Now and then I can get some thoughts written down, but that's about as far as it goes. Inconsistent at best. So imagine how shocked I was to see THIS.

An actual book. Published by an actual publishing company. E-books, actual "hard copy" books. The works. And not just on Amazon.  Barnes & Noble.  Google Play. (Cheaper here!  What a deal!)  iBooks on the iTunes store.  Kobo, whatever that is. Craziness.

"Follow Me: Discipleship That Moves Us" is a project that I put together for York Alliance Church, the wonderful group of people that I get the privilege of serving alongside of, learning from, and now and then actually teaching.  We wrestled--as hopefully many churches do--with what it means for us to fulfill Jesus' call to make disciples.  I'm quite certain we haven't finished that wrestling, but this book is the first installment.  Here's what we found: Disciples aren't made through completing curriculum or engaging a program--rather, they emerge gradually based on a series of values which are consistently and progressively practiced in all of life.  Let me say that again, because if you're like me, it's so simple and obvious that I missed it for years: Disciples aren't made through completing curriculum or engaging a program--rather, they emerge gradually based on a series of values which are consistently and progressively practiced in all of life.  Not a "now it's time to do the church thing," but rather, how does the gospel change the way I live every part of my life?  Not a "finish this and you're a disciple" but rather an admission of the reality that the likeness of Jesus is never fully formed in us on this side of heaven.

Now, of course, I wrestle (like everyone who honestly engages discipleship) to actually live these values out. What does it mean to filter my life through the lens of mission, recognizing that everyone that I see (as C.S. Lewis said) is inching closer to eternity with or without Jesus?  How do I live a life that based firmly in the foundation of the Word of God?  That must be more than doing my devotions...  How do I live authentically in community, trusting the people around me with all of who I am?  How do I serve the body of Christ without expectation of receiving back?  These are hard questions--and they don't have one time, simple answers.

But we'd rather have it that way, wouldn't we?  The reality of our lives say that there aren't just simple answers to our brokenness.  In nearly two decades in active pursuit of Jesus, there haven't yet been any easy "one size fits all" solutions.  It's a journey.  It's a struggle.  It's a joy.  It's a pain.  It's the simplest, most complex, most worthwhile, easiest and most difficult thing in the universe.  It's supposed to be.

Tired

As we get toward the end of this week, I’m just shot.  Exhausted.  Worn out. 

Ever been there?

It’s not all bad stuff—in fact, some really good stuff!  And, of course, some really bad stuff.  But mostly just a lot of “stuff” stuff.  I see the brokenness of those around me.  I feel the reality that their brokenness is also my brokenness.  I start to work on crossing things off the to-do list.  More stuff gets added to the to-do list.  I realize more stuff is being added than is getting checked off the to-do list.  I find myself adding stuff to the to-do list that I’ve actually already done, just so I can check it off.  I find that those things are decreasing in their impressiveness—things like eating lunch don’t typically require a slot in Microsoft Outlook.  And I realize that I’m not only tired, but I can now add somewhat unproductive to that as well.

And normally, I just roll with all that.  You probably do too.  But today, I’m just wiped out.  Bodily tired?  Check.  Emotionally drained?  Check.  Spiritually zapped?  Double check.  At least I’ve completed one list for the day.

For years I’ve been fascinated with the ancient church in Ephesus.  It’s the first-century church that we have the most information on—a relatively detailed account in the last 1/3 of the book of Acts, a letter bearing their name that Paul wrote, two letters from Paul to their young pastor Timothy, and finally, the words of Jesus Himself as He addresses the church in Revelation 2.  When I imagine that church, I imagine a well-oiled machine.  They were rockin’ and rollin’ long before the Beatles ever broke onto the scene.  They had solid Elders, strong teachers, watched their doctrine carefully, and were “enduring patiently.”  (Revelation 2:3) The church was planted and set-up by Paul himself, who becomes a sort of consultant for them.  They had Timothy, the young all-star pastor hand-picked by Paul to lead this great church.  And guess what?  Within just a few generations, the church was completely gone.  Wiped out. 

That should make all of us nervous—it certainly does me!  There was far more going for them than we have going for our church… and most of the churches in the world, I might add!  And within a few short generations, it was all gone.  Poof.

What happened?  I think we get a clue in Revelation 2:4-5: “You abandoned the love you had at first.  Remember from where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first.”  They were chugging away at all the externals, but they had lost their first love.  They were getting the outside right, but missing the core.  And what is Jesus’ prescription?  Do the works you did at first…

Think back—if you’re a follower of Jesus, what did you do when you first fell in love with Him?  For me, I devoured the Word.  I mean, devoured.  Reading, memorizing, studying, cross-referencing.  Devouring.  I loved it.  And you know what?  When I find myself truly weary—not just tired from a long day, but truly weary—I almost always find myself having slowed in those things I did at first. 

I’m so thankful that Jesus acknowledged that we would get wiped out.  “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest…” (Matthew 11:28)  When we’re weary, He’s the only source of life. 

Sure, we can keep plugging away, just like the church in Ephesus did.  We can keep shaping the externals around what everyone expects of us while we fall apart on the inside.  And when we do that, I wonder if there will be a day where we’ll wake up and realize that our faith is going the route of the Ephesian church… slowly disappearing.  External righteousness doesn’t help us, but it does make us tired.  What does Jesus say when He calls?  “Come to me…”  Not check off the moral to-do list.  Not meet everyone else’s expectations.  Not rest inside the mold of cultural religiosity.  Come to me.

I think being weary might be a gift.  It’s in our weariness that we’re invited; and maybe it’s only in our weariness that we’ll truly come.

Rest well, my friends.  I’m planning on it.