Purified Trust

David Plotz is a self-proclaimed Jewish agnostic and Harvard graduate who spent a year reading through the Old Testament and blogging about his experience. His blogs have become a new book called "Good Book." He was shocked by much of what he read in the Old Testament. So shocked, his religious views have changed as a result of reading the text. In a recent interview he said, "I guess I'm one of these agnostics who is becoming closer to atheism now because I am so upset by the picture of the God there. I am so disturbed by the God that I found there. The most disturbing part of this whole journey for me was, how do I as a Jew cling to a God who seems to be so unmerciful so much of the time and so cruel so much of the time? That's very troubling. Do I want such a God to exist? I don't know that I do."

I track with what Plotz is saying. He's honest about the horror often discovered in an authentic reading of the Old Testament. Even as a Christ follower, it is hard to connect the dots between a God who uses force and brutality to get done what He wants done, and a God who loves the whole world. We obviously have our well oiled responses to wiggle out of these dilemmas, but they rarely really satisfy. It is not easy to fit everything together in a nice, neat package. Being "disturbed by God" seems an unavoidable, if not necessary reaction to honest, serious interaction with the Bible.

I am quite confident, from an intellectual perspective, Plotz could grind me into a fine powder. But Plotz loses me when he asks, "Do I want such a God to exist? I don't know that I do." At the visceral, raw emotion level, I understand. He doesn't want a God like this in the same way I don't a President whose agenda differs from mine. It makes things more complicated. But Plotz' question is, at another level, utterly irrelevant. If God is real then whether I find Him disturbing or not is not all that important. My opinion in other words, on how God conducts Himself and accomplishes His work, is merely my opinion. I may not like it. I may think there is a better way. I may be confounded by what seems irreconcilable. But if God is real then my desire for such a God to exist or not is hardly material.

It seems to me trust in human relationships is purified and matured when the person I'm trusting does not act in a way I expected or desired. Obviously, initially, trust is broken. And in some cases in this crazy world, the severity of the broken trust is such that it will never be healed. But in my life, I have seen my trust and devotion toward people grow when they have been other than I would have wanted. It takes time. It doesn't happen overnight. There is a process to navigate and the process itself is murky. But it's pretty easy for me to trust someone who always comes through in the specific way I define "coming through." It's pretty easy for me to dismiss someone who betrays me or fails me or otherwise lets me down.

A deeper, refined kind of trust can be forged when I trust even though I don't like or understand. A deeper kind of trust can occur when I learn to trust again the one who has broken my trust. I'm no longer trusting an illusion. I'm trusting a real person who has real issues and who sometimes fails.

Obviously the metaphor does not hold throughout the analysis. But all too commonly people trust in a God who is little more than an illusion. So can I trust God even when He seems to be operating in a messy or disturbing way? Can I trust Him when the situation I am in does not unfold the way I would desire? When I see God ranting and raving in the Older Testament; wiping people out; acting in a manner seemingly unbecoming of a loving God; can I trust Him? Based on what I know about Him, can I trust Him with the things I can't figure out? Can I trust Him when God disappoints me? Can I trust God when He disturbs me? Maybe the answer to all this is "no, I can't." That's fine, not even God can get us to do what we don't want to do. But choosing to not trust God is vastly different than deciding to eliminate Him because He is not acting how we think He should.

The longer I live the more damage I think is done by voices who advocate "simple Christianity." Trusting God is not simple. It's simple if He always obeys my commands. It's simple if He always does what I want. It's simple if there is a formula that works in every situation. But it's complicated when God is allowed to be God and when He is not required to answer to me.

Beyond the Cul De Sac

Ive been reading Gary Haugen's book, "Just Courage" and it has been rattling my cage in many different ways. Mainly I think, because it keeps challenging me to live my life beyond the safe and comfortable borders of my suburban life. Now I like my life. I like where I live. I like the conveniences. I like the safety. I like the abundance. And having been someone who has carried guilt around with me for most of my years, I know guilt over the life I have, compared to the life "they" have, is not the answer. No one gets rescued because I feel guilty. In fact, I'm fairly confident the guilt I (we) feel is sometimes a tactic we use to make ourselves feel better without having to actually take any real action or do anything different. There is a false sense of vindication that comes from feeling guilty about stuff, even though the guilt does not produce a new and better way.

As a Christian, I am called to fight against injustice. To stand with God on the side of what is right and true and good, and battle the evil oppression of the weak. So the problems of those who suffer injustice, are my problems because I am a follower of Christ. Involvement with victims of injustice is one of the ways I participate in the sufferings of Christ (Philippians 3:10). And in the final days of the presidential race, I find myself fatigued by the non-stop debate about who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. I understand and agree politics plays an important role in our country and as Christ followers, we have to be engaged at some level. But I always get nervous when a Christian puts too much hope in their party of choice.

Anyway, Haugen's book is getting at something in me I need to continue to pay attention to. One section in particular held my attention long after I had finished reading it: HE WRITES --- “THERE COMES A TIME IN THE LIFE OF EVERY BELIEVER AND OF EVERY CHURCH WHERE A VOICE INSIDE US SIMPLY ASKS, “NOW WHAT?” --- AFTER WE HAVE BEEN INTRODUCED TO JESUS AND HAVE FOUND PEACE WITH GOD THROUGH HIM --- AFTER WE HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING CHRIST AND HAVE GRADUALLY BEEN SURRENDERING THE COMPARTMENTS OF OUR LIFE TO HIM --- AFTER WE HAVE ASKED HIM TO REDEEM OUR PAST --- TO HEAL OUR WOUNDS --- TO RECONCILE OUR MARRIAGES AND SAFEGUARD OUR CHILDREN --- AFTER WE HAVE ASKED HIM TO PURIFY OUR THOUGHT LIFE --- TO SANCTIFY OUR AMBITIONS --- TO SOFTEN OUR HEARTS --- TO COMFORT US IN TRAGEDY --- TO LEAD US IN WISDOM THROUGH CONFUSION AT WORK --- AT HOME --- AND IN OUR HEARTS --- AFTER HE HAS FILLED OUR MINDS WITH SCRIPTURES AND TAUGHT US HIS WORD --- HIS SONGS --- HIS WAYS AND HIS LOVE FOR US --- AFTER ALL OF THAT --- THERE IS A VOICE THAT REMAINS AND SIMPLY ASKS --- NOW WHAT? ...

THIS IS I BELIEVE A VOICE OF DIVINE RESTLESSNESS ... THIS IS THE MOMENT IN WHICH WE CAN SEE THAT ALL THE WORK THAT GOD HAS BEEN DOING IN OUR LIVES AND IN THE LIFE OF THE CHURCH IS NOT AN END IN ITSELF --- RATHER THE WORK HE HAS BEEN DOING IN US IS A POWERFUL MEANS TO A GRANDER PURPOSE BEYOND OURSELVES --- THIS IS A SUPERNATURAL MOMENT WHEN THE RESCUED ENTER INTO THEIR DIVINE DESTINY AS RESCUERS --- THIS IS THE CRITICAL TRANSITION --- WHEN WE WHO HAVE BEEN RESCUED BY CHRIST COME TO UNDERSTAND THAT OUR RESCUE HAS NOT BEEN SIMPLY FOR OURSELVES BUT FOR AN EVEN MORE EXALTED PURPOSE --- INDEED OUR OWN RESCUE IS GOD’S PLAN FOR RESCUING THE WORLD THAT HE LOVES ...”

I need to sit in this for a season because I believe God has something for me to learn.

Golf Lessons

Recently, I had the chance to play 18 holes of golf at a local course. As is often the case, when you go to play as a single, you are paired with other people, and on this particular day I was paired with two guys we'll call John and Tom. It didn't take long into the round for me to realize a couple of things. First, they were pretty good golfers so it was going to be a relaxed, fairly quick moving 18 holes. Second, Tom was a talker. In-between shots, he would chatter about a wide variety of topics. I noticed, as the round progressed, the theme of these topics was power and/or money. The third thing I noticed was how much I enjoyed both of these men. They were fountains of colorful language and stories. They had no governor on them whether they were telling a joke or a story or muttering a single word following an errant shot. Obviously, their ability to curse with the best of them was not what I found delightful. It was the apparent freedom with which they lived. I say apparent because obviously, they, like all of us, have their struggles and demons and battlegrounds and few things are as they appear to be from a distance. We weren't on the golf course to share out stories, become vulnerable with each other and cry together. But it seemed to me, they lived untethered. They lived freely. They were who they were without apology or restraint or timidity. Again, I realize that much of this could be a mask they were hiding behind. But setting that aside for a moment, I was intrigued by their unhindered ways. For much of the round, I dreaded what I thought was the inevitable question. "So Mike, what do you do?" I hate this question. I hate it, because if I answer it honestly, the freedom I so enjoy disappears. Suddenly, as though a Goody Fairy sprinkled them with dust, the freedom is replaced by apologies, "darn its" and "shoots." In a moment, the people I'm golfing with become hindered and restrained and resemble a mannequin instead of a real person. It's happened before and I assumed it would happen again. I had decided if Tom or John asked I was going to say, "You don't want to know what I do." Fortunately, they never asked and we shook hands on the 18th green after a fun day at the course.

Here is what bothers me about all this. As followers of Christ, we should be the most free, the least hindered and the most alive of anyone on the planet. "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Do we experience this? Do we live unhindered? My observation of myself, and of Christians in general, is that we can easily become bound by various yokes of slavery. We are good at making much about nothing. We are good at getting sidetracked by non-essentials. I wonder if some of the things we hold out as important indicators of true discipleship really have nothing to do with genuinely following Jesus.

I know this isn't a new phenomena. People did the same thing in Jesus' time. But it seems odd to me that a couple of fully devoted pagans would be free and unhindered one minute and upon discovering I am a Pastor or you are a Christian, clam up the next minute. Idealistically, I'd like to believe they would become more honest, and more authentic upon learning this information. It seems odd to me, perhaps even wrong, that Christians sometimes feel the need to pose in order to make themselves look better than they are, instead of simply being who and what they are. It seems wrong to me that Christians settle for following a few rules. I don't know all the reasons why, but there is something about Christianity as it is commonly practiced, and the Church, as it is commonly understood, that breeds fake. It seems to me, In Christ, we will gradually become more of who we were made to be and less the caricature we create to make ourselves look good. It seems to me in Christ, through the gradual work of the Spirit of God, the joy, love, peace, kindness, goodness, abundance, honesty, freedom, laughter, delight, passion and self control that He produces, will naturally and easily flow from our hearts and lives. Could it be that if we were to abandon the silly rules and follow Christ, people would begin to wonder and ask?

Politics

So everything is up front and on the table, I am not well read or completely up to speed on the political landscape of our nation. I do not have much to say about the various presidential candidate's views on the crucial issues facing us, because I don't know that much about it. For many reasons, I have never been very interested in the political scene, always preferring the sports page to any other section of the "news." I've often felt, in some ways, this is a neglect of my duties as a Pastor to keep up on what's happening in the world. But since there is so much happening in the world, and since my list of neglected pastoral duties is long, I've learned to accept my political ignorance and find sweet contentment in reading about Brett Favre's achievements in last week's game.

An interesting thing happened the other day on the way to Borders. My fourteen year old son asked me who I liked in the presidential race. Feeling obligated to say something, I stumbled through an answer while making sure to acknowledge I wasn't real sharp on such things. Sam followed up by asking if I was a Democrat or a Republican. Once more I was seized by the need to have an answer for him. So I waxed ineloquently and offered a qualified answer. The conversation continued and before I knew it, we were in the midst of a forty five minute discussion on the fascinating relationship between one's political views, and their Christian faith.

It was a great conversation. Sam showed wonderful insight and openness to struggle with the subject. He was tracking well with the various nuances surrounding any political position. He asked good questions. Because of his age and inexperience, he came at the discussion without an established position or opinion which positioned him to listen well, and think and learn. He seemed unwilling to accept easy answers but at the same time, pushed for some kind of answer or solution to the various problems we were facing as a nation.

At one point we were talking about fierce political loyalty. Meaning, the rigid and perhaps blind devotion some have to a particular party regardless of the issue under discussion. Whether Democrat or Republican, there are those who will rigorously defend their party's position instead of honestly struggling with the morality, ethics and spiritual ramifications of a given issue. In the midst of this, Sam asked, "Well how does a person's Christianity impact their politics?" It's a good question. A really good question. Perhaps the question for us to consider on the brink of an election year.

And it highlights one of the things I always find fascinating about politics. Christians on either side seem to routinely fall into the trap of cheering for their party to win; or defending their party to the end; without first and most importantly, carefully considering how a follower of Christ would approach the issue under discussion. To be clear, political issues, like many things, are usually complicated and nuanced matters that cannot be resolved with a "WWJD?". But it seems to me, far too often, our political loyalties shape our Christianity more than our Christianity shapes our political loyalties. We are a Democrat or Republican Christian, instead of a Christian Democrat or Christian Republican. It sounds like semantical gymnastics. It's not. What we are first and foremost, shapes everything else in our lives.

So for a moment, lay aside the labels and loyalties. And imagine Jesus is at the table, facilitating the discussion on immigration. Imagine Jesus is at the table, facilitating the discussion on abortion. Or the homeless and the poor. Or same sex marriage. Or the war. I'm repeating myself, but I've no illusion that Jesus as facilitator makes this cut and dry and easy. There are too many "what abouts" to wade through. But Jesus at the table, facilitating the discussion, keeps those of us who follow Him mindful of our "first love"; our first loyalty; our ultimate allegiance. And maybe, just maybe, this will serve us well as we continue to pick our way through the political maze.

Mother Teresa's Dry Soul

Perhaps you've read the article from Time magazine (I believe it is online only)about recent discoveries regarding Mother Teresa's dry and empty soul. That's right. Mother Teresa had a dry and empty soul. A book has recently been published which contains correspondence written by Mother Teresa to friends and superiors where she admits she can't find God. She describes herself as dry, dark, lonely and tormented. And she had this experience for almost 50 years. She realizes a sharp disconnect between the public Teresa known throughout the world, and the private Teresa who does not feel God's presence and at times, even wonders if He exists. At one point referring to the duality of her life writes, "The smile is a mask or cloak that covers everything." The history of the Church is full of deep Christ followers who endured seasons of spiritual drought. But Teresa's 50 year struggle is a unique revelation that has already stirred the pot in religious circles.

I am fascinated by the various reactions to this kind of revelation. There are some who suggest fifty years of dryness for a saint like Teresa would be spiritual ecstasy for the everyday Joe or Jane like us. Tiger Woods played poorly today means he shot 72 on an incredibly difficult golf course which we would take any day of the year. In other words some say, we have to take Teresa's "dryness" with a grain of salt and not think her definition is the same as ours.

Others react to discoveries like this with an "I told you so attitude." They will argue Teresa's emptiness is proof positive there is no God, or, He cannot be found in Catholicism, or, Teresa never really knew Him. Behind this line of thinking is the stubborn conviction that soul dryness is a foreign invader of the spiritual life and must be fought against and defeated. In other words, the true Christian experiences God in undeniable ways and to not do so is cause for concern.

For me, the whole issue stirs up all sorts of thoughts and emotions. Most of my formal and informal Christian training emphasized the notion of a "personal relationship with God." The implication of this, if not overtly stated was, "you can (and should) have an ongoing, dynamic life with God where there are regular times of encountering Him in indisputable ways." I often thought my quiet time held the key to my relationship with God. If I had it, God would show up and I would know it. If I didn't, He wouldn't. It's an interesting little formula that survived even the fiercest sermons on Grace ... both ones I listened to and delivered.

But when I look at the stories of the people in Scripture, folks like Abraham and Joseph and Noah and David to name a few, I see a different picture. I see people who longed for God, and at times heard from God, but at other times felt as though they were alone in the universe and their prayers and laments were merely swallowed whole by a big black sky.

So it seems God both speaks and remains silent; moves and stays still; reveals and hides; fills us with tinglies and leaves us alone. It seems to me, the worst mistake we make is trying to find the right formula so we can guarantee success 93% of the time. I'm not sure how it all works, but I'm quite certain any cause and effect formulaic approach misses the point.

The issue raises fascinating questions such as: How did this little woman devote her life to serving a God she did not feel and could not find? How are we to understand "dryness of soul?" Does this revelation drop Teresa's stock or raise it? Why didn't she go public with her soul dryness? Theologically, how does God reveal Himself to people and work in their lives? Is the lack of God experiences a sign of sin? Is it a sign we are missing something?

One thing is certain. We should not quickly dismiss this revelation about Teresa. We should not settle for a quick answer for her dryness. Perhaps it is even wise to not trust our instincts on how to interpret this. This story is not only about a Catholic Nun who served faithfully but lost touch with God along the way. Her biography might inform our own theology, if we will let it.

So, what do you think? How should we interpret Teresa's dryness of soul? What, if anything, does it teach us about God and the Christian life? I'd love to hear your responses.


Fondly,

Mike

Over Churched?

I was sitting in a Christian radio station earlier this week, awaiting my appointment, and in a conversation with an employee of the station, when it hit me. This person came to work everyday and was bombarded with and surrounded by Christianity. It came to him through the endless stream of songs and sermons the station played. And it came to him through the Christian talk radio. And through the various programs the stationed aired on money, family and relationship improvement. Every day he was tossed into a raging river of Christian songs, teaching and principles to live by and all I could think of was, ‘God help him; I hope he survives.’ I actually felt compassion for him because his situation was a risk to his heart and soul.

Perhaps this sounds strange to you so let me try and explain. And to minimize the offensive factor, let me point the finger at myself. As a follower of Jesus in suburban America, I’m am quite certain I do not need to listen to another Christian song by the hottest Christian artist in order to live well as an apprentice of Jesus. I’m also fairly certain I’m not in need of reading another book by a popular Christian author. I also do not need to hear another sermon or listen to a talk show host try and interpret national and world events from a Christian perspective. Certainly, these things can be good and helpful and they have their place.

But. In our day, the preponderance of Christian songs, sermons and books produces a spiritual overdose phenomena whereby I hear the song or sermon, or I read the book, and the message goes in one ear and out the other because I’ve heard it so many times, it no longer affects me. I’ve become numb to it. I don’t even hear it. The radical quality of Jesus’ life giving words have been over-sloganed, over-marketed, over-sermonized, over-trinketed and under-lived, slowly reducing them to a kind of Muzac that plays softly in the background of my life but produces very little, and ultimately, matters very little. Digging a bit deeper, and this is just one kuncklehead's opinion, but so many of the Christian songs, sermons and books say the same thing in the same boring and predictable way. I fear that I, and perhaps some of you can relate, am unknowingly sleep walking. I wonder, though I’m surrounded by the Christian message, have I, turned radical Jesus into a lolly pop I occasionally lick to satisfy an urge? I wonder if I’ve been over-Christianized.

This I know. Jesus reserved his toughest words for the religious leaders of his day. I have to attend to that. I have to think about that carefully. He reached out to whores, adulterers, thieves and cheats, but he unleashed His gracious fury against the pomposity of the religious leadership. I don’t need a song, a book or a sermon. I need to rediscover the wildly radical person of Jesus Christ and live in this culture singularly devoted to living out His life changing Good News regardless what it costs. And it will cost. It will cost me my life every day. I will die. Self will be crucified. Agenda’s will go unmet. Desires will be frustrated. My way will be ignored. And yet, this narrow path will ultimately lead to authentically real life.

I'd be curious to here from you on this. And please understand. Saying these things is easy for me to do. But actually reflecting on them carefully, and discerning God's path on these things, is challenging. Have any thoughts? Is this off base? Positive or negative, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Stories of Legalism

Next weekend at our services, we are talking about Jesus as a rule breaker. That is, Jesus as one who did not define devotion to God as adherence to a set of rules or do's and don'ts. In fact, Jesus assertively challenged the Pharisees reduction of religion to rule following. So we are going to talk about the damaging effects of a rule based religion on the human soul.

Many people have turned away from Church and God because they were bombarded with legalism or rules to follow early on in their religious experience. Part of our service next weekend is going to include sharing a few stories about people who have experienced legalism. This is where you come in. I'd like to ask you to consider writing a brief experience from your own life on this topic of legalism or rule following or a do's and don'ts approach to religion. How did it effect you? How did it shape your view of God? How does it continue to infect your relationship with Jesus?

At one point during the service I'm going to share a few of the stories that you post so others can see the prevalence of this issue. Obviously, I will not be saying your name during the service.

So if you have an experience, please consider posting a comment and telling me about it.

Thanks,

Mike