Being Chuck

That title is slightly [read: extraordinarily] contradictory to the content of this post. And you will figure that out as you read on.

I’m reading Tribes by Seth Godin. It’s amazing. And he just presented an idea that related (somewhat) to a post I wrote (“My Rights”) referencing The Shack.

In a minute you will note the irony of the references/credits I’m dropping.

Please read:

I’m frequently asked about getting credit. People want to know how to be sure they get credit for an idea, especially when they have a boss who wants to steal it. Or they want to know how to be sure to give me credit for an idea in a book or blog post of their own.

Real leaders don’t care.

If it’s about your mission, about spreading the faith, about seeing something happen, not only do you not care about credit, you actually want [emphasis added] other people to take credit [to use it].

If you want to program your Web site with the cutting-edge tool called Ruby on Rails, feel free. The software is freely available. And you don’t have to credit the guys at 37 Signals who developed it. You can just use it.

That’s fine with them, because they’re not trying to get credit or earn a living from the programming language. Enough people know it was their work; enough people seek them out and respect them for the work they’ve done. The more the language spreads, the farther the movement they started goes. And that’s the real goal.

There’s no record of Martin Luther King, Jr. or Ghandi whining about credit. Credit isn’t the point. Change is.

This struck a chord with me. Obviously. Hence the post…

Now you probably grab the irony of me referencing Seth Godin and The Shack.

What a marvelous idea!

I have heard countless people whine about getting credit for an idea. I’m probably one of them. And I’m beginning to work (albeit part-time) in an industry where people can sue for infringing upon the rights of “intellectual property.”

Why? Can I really own an idea?

Let’s say I come up with a new way to communicate. Or maybe I figure out a way to treat a disease that is radical and effective. Do I own that?

In one sense it “originated” with me, but at the same time, I am only able to stand and build and create upon the shoulders of those who have gone there before me. I use inspiration and ideas from people who have been there, and done that.

This may not sit well with musicians, artists, and inventors, and it probably won’t be a favorite idea of book writers and innovators. But guess what? I’m not the first one to say it.

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.

-Ecclesiastes 1:9

Oops! I let the cat out of the bag.

I think this idea suddenly struck with me because I am in classes at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh Online, and one of the subjects broached most often is how to keep people from “stealing” ideas.

“How do I keep a hold on my intellectual property?”

“How do I stop somebody from stealing my stuff?”

But what’s funny is that if you ask the people in my classes (or any other creative professional for that matter) why they got started in design/art/music, what would their answer be?

“I liked it. I wanted to do that. I wanted to contribute. I wanted to further the art. I wanted to express myself.”

I doubt many musicians/artists/inventors/innovators got into their respective field to make money. Their ultimate goal wasn’t to make money. Because if your ultimate goal is to make money, those fields aren’t the best way to do that.

If my goal is to express myself or further the craft or bring a new perspective or a new idea, then bringing that idea is all I need to do. And if it’s worth keeping or using, if people really appreciate it, they’ll find out who made it.

The only reason I feel a need to get credit is when I want to be able to hold on to something.

It’s mine.

But wasn’t the original goal to share?

Well yeah, but…

That’s not where we started. Don’t tell me your goal is furthering the craft if your goal is to make money. Don’t tell me you want people to appreciate art through what you do if you’ll only allow people to appreciate what you’ve done after they pay some arbitrary amount of money.

I’m not saying people who are creative shouldn’t get paid for what they do. I get paid for graphic design and web design and consulting on both. But I also offer those services for much cheaper than most (if not all) of my colleagues, if it’s not for free.

And if someone steals my stuff, if they use a picture I created, if they steal code from a site I designed, or an idea of how to use something, then I know they liked what I did. They thought enough of something I made to use it again.

AWESOME!

I have furthered the art.

Now, that doesn’t mean a small part of me won’t scream for credit, but if my goal (through Relevant Design & Consulting [my "new" part-time/side business, website coming soon, shameless plug]) is to help people connect who they are with who needs their message, service, or product, and someone else uses that stuff I made, “my stuff,” to do that (whether they pay me, reference me, or not), then I have succeeded, and the world is becoming a better visualized place.

I am going to have to keep working on that small part of me. When it screams, it does so loudly. That selfish part of my psyche that wants attention and credit (and money) will always have a part of me, but I am the one who chooses which part of me gets to use my mouth.

I have this tendency to oversimplify things. Usually it stems from a need to grasp the big picture of what’s going on, a need to eliminate what I deem to be peripheral details, and a need to create something humorous (although it usually ends up being lame) out of something that normally wouldn’t be.

My current equation looks something like this:

Church + No Giving = Chuck looking for work

There are a lot of variables (why people aren’t giving, current turmoil, etc.) that should be involved in that equation, but I’m not really sure where they fit, and they could be considered peripheral. Add in my tendency to oversimplify, you get the equation above.

This past Sunday (October 12) the announcement was made, in both services, that as of January 1, First Christian would no longer employ a “Communications Pastor” (along with another couple of positions).

I’ve seen this coming for a few months (both through my own amazing foresight [please note the sarcasm] and a minimal grasp of the situation here at church, both financial and otherwise), so I was kind of prepared when I was told two weeks ago. But it still stings a little [read: "owy"].

I don’t know what to do with it all. One minute I’m frustrated, even angry at the situation we’ve put ourselves in as a church, and the next, I’m sad and disappointed. Then I’m excited about the “new adventure” God has in store for Tara, Riley, Lincoln, and me. And then I go through the whole enjoyable [read: ridiculous] cycle again.

Have I ever mentioned on here that I despise the fickleness of emotion? Ugh! But I digress…

Back to this past Sunday (as well as a few interactions prior): I’m not a super touchy-feely kind of person (I’m sure that comes as a terrible shock to most who know me), so the day was a little unnerving for me. Most people dole out comfort with hugs and kisses and awkward words of encouragement, and I was showered with them. And while I appreciate the sentiment (I truly do, and have shed tears several times since at the generous outpouring of love), one repeated comment keeps coming back to me:

“It seems like you’re really handling this well.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that. Thanks? I mean, it’s not really me handling it. God has always (and I do mean ALWAYS) taken exceptional care of me and the people around me.

He has yet to let me down, or even come close to doing so.

Don’t get me wrong, there have been plenty of times when God didn’t meet my expectations, but that’s because they were MY expectations. He has always had something much greater in mind for me than anything I could imagine.

He has never let me down. And so I’m not sure how to respond to the above comment.

Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? If when I become a Christian I say, “I accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and my Savior,” and I place my trust and burdens in Him, then doesn’t it make sense that all this will work itself out? [Romans 8:28]

Emotions are always difficult to control (if we’re supposed to control them at all, I haven’t decided yet), but one thing has never changed for me.

I know it’s scary, and I’d be lying if I said I’ve not worried about what’s next (I am human), but ultimately all I have to do is look at God and say, “I’m don’t have any clue what the crap You’re going to do… but I know You love me.”

I don’t mean to sound frustrated or detached, but the peace that Tara and I are experiencing right now doesn’t come from a personal strength. If it relied on us we’d be blubbering like babies and running all over town like headless chickens. Personal strength has nothing to do with it.

As a pastor/minister/guy who works/volunteers at church for the last 10 years, part of my responsibility is to help people learn to trust God. If I can’t do that [trust God], I’m not much of a teacher (and I’d like to think that I do okay in that arena), so I have to take my own advice and lean on the only arm that has never let me down.

One friend (when I told him last week) said, “You sound like a guy who has cancer and has been told he’s about to die. You’ve just accepted the reality and are moving forward with life.”

I think it was a compliment. I took it that way.

Although, I’m pretty sure my situation isn’t anywhere near comparable.

But those are always the people I admire. The people who look into the face of a dire situation and smile because they know that from this point on (if not before said point as well) that God is in control.

He is.

As always, I covet your prayers (apparently we’re allowed to covet when it’s prayers) for Tara, Riley, and Lincoln, as well as for God’s continued leading. We’re trying to be open to everything, and I may already have an opportunity locally as an IT guy. We shall soon see.

It’s a funny thing, forgiveness. Most of us (most of the time) don’t really have a real grasp of what it is.

We all want to be forgiven when we do wrong. “Forgive and forget… Jesus forgave everyone…” And He did. He forgave me for all the things I have done and will do. He forgave you too, for all of it. He forgave us for lying to our parents, taking drugs, murdering, gossiping, stealing a candy bar or a pencil, embezzeling funds, and everything else under the sun that we do when we think no one is looking.

But forgiveness isn’t quite that easy for me. Or for you. We forgive some people much more easily than others. We forgive some sins much more easily than others. Why?

I think I know.

It’s not because some sins are “worse” than others (although there are levels to sin, but that’s another discussion entirely). It’s a result of our perspective.

Example One:

The things I struggle with are easier for me to forgive in other people. If I struggle with lying, I obviously don’t value honesty as much as someone who doesn’t. Which means I’m more likely to forgive someone who lies to me.

But I don’t struggle with lying. I place an exceptionally high value on honesty. Lie to me and you will be pushed away. It’s difficult for me to forgive someone who lies to me. But forget to do something… I do that all the time. That’s easy for me to forgive.

Example Two:

Everyone looks at the world through their own eyes, and that’s the only way they can ever really see it. We (can) make an effort to see someone else’s perspective, but it’s still tainted by ours. So when someone wrongs me, from my perspective it was an obvious and intentional offense. Why would anyone ever act like that or do something like that? But perhaps from their perspective it’s a personality quirk or something they don’t even pay attention to.

If I walk by you on a Sunday morning and don’t stop and say, “Hi,” if I don’t stop and ask you how you’re doing when you’ve had the crappiest week of your life), are you offended? You might think I don’t really care about you. Or maybe I’m mad at you.

Most likely though, I’m on a mission or I’m in my oblivious place thinking about something else entirely. I work here. Sundays are busy. It’s not intentional, but I’m working on it. It is a part of my personality (and gender) to be involved in the task at hand. Not an excuse, just a reality. And I need to continue to work to correct that.

In my eyes, I didn’t see you, or maybe I did but I feel like our relationship is strong enough that I can walk by and catch you later (without worrying that I’m going to have to have a “Come to Jesus” meeting because you don’t know me as well as you think).

But I need to get off of that soapbox…

I say all the above to say the following. It’s time to stop holding on to what someone else has done to you. Whether it was intentional or not (most likely not, there aren’t that many truly devious people around you, seriously…) it’s time for you to let it go. Forgive.

Our church (the one I work at) is suffering through some of this right now. People have been hurt. But it’s time for us to forgive, time to begin the process of healing and moving on.

And this is where the water gets a little [read: a lot] muddy. The problem is that too many people think the following:

Forgiveness = Relief from Consequences

[Buzzer Sound] WRONG!

Forgiveness means releasing the wrong they did. It means accepting the apology they have offered and beginning to move on with your life.

But what if they didn’t apologize? What if they never do?

Pretend they did. God never once says in the Bible that you have permission to hold on to a wrong until someone asks for forgiveness. He simply tell us to forgive.

But forgiveness doesn’t mean pretending everything is okay either. It most certainly is not okay. Restoration of trust and relationship takes time. If you lie to me, I’ll forgive you (eventually, sorry…). But that doesn’t mean I automatically trust you now. You’d better believe I’ll check up on everything you tell me until you have rebuilt that trust.

Jesus didn’t hang on the cross with the condition that we wouldn’t sin anymore. He just hung there and died. You are forgiven. I am forgiven. That does not mean we don’t have to suffer for our stupidity and sin (consequences still abound here on earth), it just means that we are forgiven, and we have an opportunity for relationship with Him in spite of ourselves.

You and I are human. And this is a bit tough for us to swallow. But the people I know that I would label as “forgiving people” are always the ones that seem the happiest to me. Holding on to a wrong [see: not forgiving] only hurts you.

From Matthew 18:21-35:

21Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?”

22Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.^[f]

23“Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. 24As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand talents^[g] was brought to him. 25Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt.

26“The servant fell on his knees before him. ‘Be patient with me,’ he begged, ‘and I will pay back everything.’ 27The servant’s master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go.

28“But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii.^[h] He grabbed him and began to choke him. ‘Pay back what you owe me!’ he demanded.

29“His fellow servant fell to his knees and begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.’

30“But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt. 31When the other servants saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and went and told their master everything that had happened.

32“Then the master called the servant in. ‘You wicked servant,’ he said, ‘I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. 33Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?’ 34In anger his master turned him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.

35″This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart.”

Seems pretty simple to me. (Please note the difference between the word simple and the word easy.)

There’s something I’ve been mulling over. It’s this one small section from the book “The Shack.” This one section of the book sparked a chain of thoughts for me. I’ve had several different conversations about it.

If you have the same paperback I do, turn to page 136. Here Mack (the main character, or at least one of them depending on how you view the book) is having a conversation with Sarayu (The Holy Spirit/God) that culminates in a wonderful debate (however one-sided it may be) about rights.

-Quoted from “The Shack”-

“Mackenzie, evil is a word we use to describe the absence of Good, just as we use the word darkness to describe the absecnce of Light or death to describe the absence of Life. Both evil and darkness can only be understood in relation to Light and Good; they do not have an actual existence. I am Light and I am Good. I am Love and there is no darkness in me. Light and Good actually exist. So, removing yourself from me will plunge you into darkness. Declaring independence from me will result in evil because apart from me, you can only draw upon yourself. That is death because you have separated yourself from Me: Life.”

“Wow,” Mack exclaimed, sitting back for a moment. “That really helps. But, I can also see that my independent right is not going to be an easy process. It could mean that…”

Sarayu interrupted his sentence, “… that in one instance the good may be the presence of cancer or loss of income–or even a life.”

Yeah, but tell that to the person with cancer or the father whose daughter is dead,” Mack postured, a little more sarcastically than he had intended.

“Oh, Mackenzie,” reassured Sarayu. “Don’t you think we have them in mind as well? Each of them was the center of another story that is untold.”

“But,”Mack could feel his control getting away as he drove his shovel in hard, “didn’t Missy have a right to be protected?”

“No, Mack. A child is protected because she is loved, not because she has a right to be protected.”

That stopped him. Somehow what Sarayu had just been saying seemed to turn the whole world upside down, and he was struggling to find some footing. Surely there were some rights he could legitimately hold on to.

“But what about…”

“Rights are where survivors go, so that they won’t have to work out relationships,” she cut in.

“But if I gave up…”

“Then you would begin to know the wonder and adventure of living in me,” she interrupted him again.

Mack was getting frustrated. He spoke louder, “But don’t I have the right to…”

“To complete a sentence without being interrupted? No, you don’t. Not in reality. But as long as you think you do, you will surely get ticked off when someone cuts you off, even if it is God.”

He was stunned and stood up, staring at her, not knowing whether to rage or laugh. Sarayu smiled at him. “Mackenzie, Jesus didn’t hold on to any rights; He willingly became a servant and lives out of His relationship with Papa. He gave up everything, so that by His dependent life he opened a door that would allow you to live freely enough to give up your rights.”

-End quote-

And this is what I started thinking about:

Do I really have any rights? My immediate response to this small part of the book was irritation. Of course I have rights. Everybody has rights. I’m a human. All humans have rights. I’m an American. All Americans are guaranteed rights. It’s what the country was founded on.

And while these are all very normal, very rational, very American thoughts to have, I’m not sure they’re Biblical.

I realize that this is going to draw the ire of a few patriots, but I request that you keep reading. This is something I’ve been mulling over since I read the book. Like I said above, I’ve had several conversations with guys I consider much wiser than myself, and I’m still pretty confident in my deduction to this point, but I want to process through this on a larger scale.

Where does the phrase “my rights” come from? What makes me want/need rights? Why do I feel like I deserve them?

The answer is: PRIDE.

Pride (and perhaps misplaced trust) is what motivates a desire for “rights.” The idea that I deserve to be treated a certain way (OR that I deserve to be able to say what I want OR do what I want OR even defend myself) because I was born in a certain country (or even because I exist as a human) isn’t Biblical.

We are called to treat others with respect. We are called to speak with love. We are called to defend the weak. But we are never told we have “rights.”

And this is exceptionally counter-cultural.

It’s hard as an American to swallow this completely. But if I take a look at my standing, my place in the cosmos, I don’t deserve anything good. I don’t deserve rights. And any thoughts [see: confusion] I have to the contrary come from pride.

And here comes another statement sure to draw a few barbs:

Pride is always a bad thing. Pride comes from one place and one place only. [See: Isaiah 14:12-15]

I don’t really have any rights.

But if I don’t have rights won’t people take advantage of me?

I think this is where the misplaced trust comes in. Rights are man-made. Therefore, they are fallible. This system of rights didn’t come from God. It came from men (who had good intentions, but…) who didn’t really trust in God to take care of them.

Putting trust in man-made things = bad idea.

However, if I really trust God when He says He’ll care for me, when He says He’ll give me everything I need, then what need do I have of rights? I have none. They’re nice. I appreciate them. But if I truly place my hope and trust in God and God alone, rights are unnecessary. Rights aren’t Biblical. God didn’t give us rights.

And I believe that when Jesus said things like he did below:

-Matthew 5: 38-48

38“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’^[g] 39But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. 40And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. 41If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. 42Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

43“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor^[h] and hate your enemy.’ 44But I tell you: Love your enemies^[i] and pray for those who persecute you, 45that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. 46If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? 47And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? 48Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

-End Matthew 5-

When He said things like that, He is clearly asking us to let go of “our rights” and show love where it seems ludicrous to do so.

I’ll leave this open for discussion. I’m interested to hear some other opinions on this.

But I want to drop one more passage in here:

-Philippians 2-

5Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
6Who, being in very nature^[a] God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,
7but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature^[b] of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
8And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
9Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,
10that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
11and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

-End Philippians 2-

Jesus [see: Creator of the universe, God] was willing to give up His actual rights to become a man, show us the way to live, and cover our sin with his gruesome death.

When it comes to “my rights,” who do I think I am? If I truly rest in His grace, if I really trust Him as my Lord and Savior, then I have no need for rights.

Props to Ashley Puckett (and to Katie Welker before that) for showing me this awesomely fun page. I used this blog (as of August 30, 2008) to make this…

Really cool.

Disclaimer: I really like the book The Shack. This is not an advertisement for or against it. This is simply a rant against people who think they’re being smart, but end up looking foolish. They end up looking foolish because in their zeal to knock down everything that doesn’t fit into their narrow paradigm they overlook the obvious.

I read this book.

It was really good.

Do you know why it was really good?

It’s a good story. And that’s all.

If you’re not following me yet, sorry. Let me clue you in.

I finished “The Shack” a couple of days ago. Really good story. I told some people about it, talked to others, I even posted my facebook status as, “Chuck wishes everyone were required to read ‘The Shack.’” Then someone wrote me and asked, “How do you feel about the fact that critics are saying the book isn’t scripturally correct?”

My first response was, “To which parts are you referring?” So, I began to look. Then, I googled it (sorry, Ben), and found several blogs and reviews. Then I got angry.

So many people are writing about how this book is scripturally inaccurate, and theologically incorrect. I take issue with this on two levels.

First, show me where and how. I read the book. I don’t consider myself a Biblical scholar by any means, but I graduated from Bible College. I didn’t find a lot terribly wrong with the book. In fact, most of it, in my opinion, was the simplest (from an imperfect human perspective) explanation of the relationship God experiences with Himself(ves), and how we experience relationship with Him, that I have ever seen.

But these guys (and possibly girls) where verbally assaulting the book and the author for scriptural inaccuracies. None of them cited any specific part of the book or The Bible to support their claims (this a problem for me), and most of them didn’t even have the fortitude to sign their own name to these ridiculous rants (another grevious pet peeve of mine… if you are going to say it at least have the courage to back it up with your name… anonymous comments are cowardly). Offer proof for your accusations, or don’t make them.

And second, (and this is the more egregious of the two errors) “The Shack” is a STORY! It is fiction. The writer and the book’s back cover state this quite profusely. The book was written as a novel. FICTION! It isn’t a theological treatise.

(Now, I understand [and agree with] the idea that anytime any person speaks or writes of God we are espousing our personal thoughts on God’s nature. In effect we are writing theological treatises everyday. However that isn’t what I’m referring to.)

It is a story.

And the people tearing this book apart are a problem for me for this reason. They were trying to sound smart, and may have had the best intentions, but now they look dumb (and by association the rest of us look dumb). They’re critiquing a story as if it were a thesis paper.

That’s like me going to a basketball game, watching the players, and then commenting on how poorly they played the game of football. The purpose of their activity was entirely different than the standards I am measuring them by. It’s ridiculous.

There are so many things in life that need to be corrected. So many things that can stand to be critiqued. “The Shack” is no different. But don’t review the book and tell me it’s scripturally and theologically incorrect. That’s not why it was written. that wasn’t its purpose. Tell me you think he could have done a better job with the characters. Tell me his descriptions left something to be desired.

But you can’t critique a piece of work with standards it was never meant to meet.

I would love to talk/debate with anyone about the book. About its relevancy, and the character depictions within, even the scriptural correctness, but don’t tear this guys first book (which in my humble/not-worth-much opinion is pretty impressive as a story) apart with standards it was never meant to meet.

I’m done with my rant now… I think.

There are so many things in life I want. Most of them are selfish and materialistic in nature. I want an iPhone. I want a newer, bigger car. I want a newer, bigger house. I want a newer, nicer computer.

I have a difficult time being even remotely content. And I think there are levels of contentedness (I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a word until now). There’s “almost content” (I’m not really content, but I pretend to be so people won’t think I’m totally selfish), “content” (happy enough with what I’ve been blessed with), and “delightfully content.” This last one is the one we should all strive toward. This is the one that says, “My life isn’t perfect, but God has given me so much, and I recognize that. I am overwhelmed with joy at the amazing life God had given me.”

Don’t misunderstand me. I never want to be complacent, simply to be content with the life God has blessed me with.

I’m not really sure we can attain “delightfully content,” but it’s what we should strive for.

Which brings us to the reason for this post.

I was watching my wife and kids playing on the floor with toys as they laughed at our goofy little dog running circles around the room. And suddenly, like a sledgehammer, I was hit with the realization of (or simply remembered) what God has given me.

1. An amazing wife who more than cares for all of us. She cleans, does laundry, cares for our kids (with my minimal help), and has a full-time (except for the summer) teaching job. Don’t even get me started on the fact that she should probably have a cooking show on the Food Network (yes, she’s that good). She loves us all unconditionally and gives me more grace than I deserve.

2. A three year old daughter who, despite Down Syndrome (with absolutely no heart or hearing defects), teaches me something about love, patience, perseverance, and affection everyday. She is happy and loving, and every day, when I come home from work, is always excited at the moment I walk in the door. Sloppy, wet kisses and awkward hugs adorn me every afternoon. And I can’t get enough.

3. An eight month old son who is growing like a weed. He is getting so big and is healthy. He smiles and laughs and with little to no effort can light up a room.

And these three things, if they were all I possessed in life, should be enough. And though I forget it at times, they are.

All those things I “want” are far surpassed by my desire to see my wife and kids happy, growing, and successful. When I stop to think about it, nothing could ever trump that. But too often I don’t stop. I don’t recognize these amazing moments until it’s too late.

God, please grant me the wisdom, patience, and awareness to notice and enjoy these plentiful moments in my life. It never that they’re not happening; it’s just up to me to pay attention.

So apparently 27 is not old enough to possess any amount of patience whatsoever.

I am heart broken and hurt, and as a self-pronounced “fixer” (especially in the case of providing over-simplified, quick fixes), I am impatiently waiting for God’s light (see: Ephesians 5 below) to illuminate everything so we can move on. I want hope and life to be restored to our staff. It is my deepest cry.

Ephesians 5.8-14:

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness, and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for it is light that makes everything visible. This is why it is said:
“Wake up, O sleeper,
rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”

These last few weeks at church (on staff and otherwise) have been exhilarating and exhausting. They’ve been trying and confusing, but at the same time illuminating and refreshing. I’m such a mix of emotions, and I’m not really sure how I feel about it or what to do.

So I wait. Impatiently.

My deepest prayer is for God to finish the work in me and on staff and in leadership and in His church. Because it hurts me; it tires me.

I feel like Eustace (see: Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Chronicles of Narnia). The claws are digging in deep, and I feel like God is ripping my heart out. It hurts, and I want Him to stop.

But I know that if He does I’ll (we’ll) never be clean. I’ll (We’ll) never be ready for the truly amazing things He wants to do in me (us) and through me (us).

So I wait. Impatiently.

God, please let me be. Maybe it would be better to be someone else, be somewhere else.

But I’m not. I’m me, and I’m here.

God, don’t let me be. Change me, use me, fill me with your light. Expose every dark part of my heart.

I am yours and yours alone. And I will wait impatiently (read: with expectancy and hope) until you are satisfied.

This is going to be a shock to most of you out there (please read sarcasm), but I tend to be pretty cynical about people as whole. Unless you prove to me otherwise, or are really loyal, I tend not to expect much.

But today, someone at church sent us (staff & leadership) a letter that went a little something like this:

An Open Letter to the Members of First Christian Church

The Holy Spirit has been doing an incredible work at First Christian Church as He brings about restoration and healing. Starting with our leaders, we are discovering the blessings of repentance, confession and forgiveness. But it has been an uneasy process – even shocking for some in our congregation.

The truth is, we don’t want to hear about the sins of our leaders for at least two reasons:
1) We want to believe they are better than they are. We like our leaders clean, good-looking and firmly standing on a pedestal. They represent us. We count on their shadow to fall on us. When they fall, we are exposed.  2) We want to believe they are better than we are. Part of the job description for leaders is to inspire others by their example. But the truth is, we cannot rely on other humans for perfection. Our hope of perfection lies solely in the example of Jesus Christ, whose record is forever intact.

Another truth is that we are not comfortable with the idea of public confession. Our society values reputation (what others see and believe about us) over character (who we are when no one but God sees). Our leaders risk their reputations when they confess publicly, but in doing so they restore and protect their character and the integrity of the Church.

We must remember that God is the author of both humility and grace. Humility requires us to not think more of ourselves than God thinks of us; grace requires us not to think less of ourselves than God thinks of us. It takes spiritual maturity to confess publicly, accept God’s grace, get up and allow God to use us again. It also takes maturity to hate sin, but love the sinner; we must not confuse the two, or we risk creating an environment where none of us will be free to repent and seek forgiveness. Without humility and grace, we are not just useless; we are not The Church.

Our leaders have shown us that, when they fall, they land on their knees. We must thank God for such men and women! They are the targets of a powerful enemy who knows that, if he can destroy them, he can destroy us. We must hold them close in prayer, and never forget that they need us as much as we need them. Together in Christ, we will stand.

Fellow members of First Christian Church

Wow. An amazing couple just summed up everything we all needed to hear/remember.

It’s always easier to criticize than encourage, and that’s just part of life, but it’s good to know that there are people willing to stand in the gap for us, even when we fall.

Deep down you know those people are there somewhere, but hearing it every now and again doesn’t hurt.

It always amazes me (you’d think I would become more comfortable with this) when God speaks to me through His Word. Here I am, a pastor, and still amazed at the way God places Himself right in front of me.

This morning I was reading in Jeremiah 33 (this is from “The Message” version, I was reading from the NCV):

Jeremiah 33

Things You Could Never Figure Out on Your Own

While Jeremiah was still locked up in jail, a second Message from God was given to him: “This is God’s Message, the God who made earth, made it livable and lasting, known everywhere as God: ‘Call to me and I will answer you. I’ll tell you marvelous and wondrous things that you could never figure out on your own.’ “This is what God, the God of Israel, has to say about what’s going on in this city, about the homes of both people and kings that have been demolished, about all the ravages of war and the killing by the Chaldeans, and about the streets littered with the dead bodies of those killed because of my raging anger—about all that’s happened because the evil actions in this city have turned my stomach in disgust.

“But now take another look. I’m going to give this city a thorough renovation, working a true healing inside and out. I’m going to show them life whole, life brimming with blessings. I’ll restore everything that was lost to Judah and Jerusalem. I’ll build everything back as good as new. I’ll scrub them clean from the dirt they’ve done against me. I’ll forgive everything they’ve done wrong, forgive all their rebellions. And Jerusalem will be a center of joy and praise and glory for all the countries on earth. They’ll get reports on all the good I’m doing for her. They’ll be in awe of the blessings I am pouring on her.

“Yes, God’s Message: ‘You’re going to look at this place, these empty and desolate towns of Judah and streets of Jerusalem, and say, “A wasteland. Unlivable. Not even a dog could live here.” But the time is coming when you’re going to hear laughter and celebration, marriage festivities, people exclaiming, “Thank God. He’s so good! His love never quits,” as they bring thank offerings into God’s Temple. I’ll restore everything that was lost in this land. I’ll make everything as good as new.’ I, God, say so.

There is so much to unpack in there. But this gave new light to the hope I’ve been feeling lately.

I feel like a dark cloud has been lifted from our church. Sin was a part of what was going on here, and we didn’t root it out. So God did. And we’re feeling the effects that. The pain, frustration, and disappointment are heavy. But God is faithful, and He loves us.

He tells us plainly He (and He alone) will restore us. And that is the reason for the hope and excitement that I feel.

I can’t wait…

Turmoil: There have been a lot of different things going on at church lately. Everyone on staff (in the last three years) has felt vulnerable without being able to be vulnerable. We’ve been afraid who to trust, who to confront, who to voice our pain to. There have been job changes, lay-offs, resignations, and moves. Basically on our staff there has been general unrest for the last couple years.

Frustration: In my time at FCC (three years), I have had five or six different job descriptions, and six or seven office moves. Some by my choice, some not. What I’m doing now (Graphic Design + Publications) is so much fun, and I really enjoy it, but I feel like I’m missing something. I miss ministering to people. I get some of that on Wednesdays when I help out as a volunteer with the students, but it’s not the same. I don’t know if I miss ministry or student ministry. But I miss something.

Disappointment: And then, to top it all off, in the last two weeks three men who I admire, consider close friends, and work with, have confessed serious sin in their lives. Two of them had grown to dislike each other and sinned in their negativity toward each other, and the other had some personal integrity issues (not sex). They are all in the process of restoring their relationships with each other, with the church at large, and with God, and one of them has resigned.

And with all this negativity, you would think I’d be depressed or angry or at least melancholy. But I’m none of those things. It would seem a natural move to head into sadness and perhaps think about working in ministry somewhere else. Maybe it would even seem like a good thing to withdraw from ministry all together.

But I’m not depressed. I’m not angry. I’m not melancholy. (I feel sad for these friends and the situation, but sadness is not the overarching sentiment.)

Hope is.

Even though men I admired have fallen from their pedestals, even though one of them will no longer work with me, even though my job has changed from what I had once thought I was created to do, I have this overwhelming, unending sense of hope.

Hope for our church. Hope that once the dust settles, once the hemorrhaging has stopped, once the dragon skin has been removed from the bride of Christ (see Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Chronicles of Narnia) that there is a church beneath it all that will bring more glory to God than anyone at FCC has ever seen.

It doesn’t make any sense. And I think that’s why I’m so emotionally drained. If you read this and are interested in praying for me, my family, and/or our church pray that God will work through our leadership and give them the strength and perseverance necessary to carry this through. Pray that this pervasive feeling of hope that I (and a few others on staff feel) would bleed into the rest of the staff, leadership, and church.

God is going to do more amazing things at FCC, and I can’t wait.

I spent this morning reading Jeremiah 1-3. Wow. It’s amazing to me how easily I forget how holy God really is and how deeply my sin affects Him. In Jeremiah (when he speaks for God), he talks of Israel’s flippancy (that may not be a word, but I think you know what I mean, i.e. fickleness, lack of passion/persistence) in regard to their relationship to Him and His commands.

Jeremiah chapter 3:

1 “If a man divorces his wife
and she leaves him and marries another man,
should he return to her again?
Would not the land be completely defiled?
But you have lived as a prostitute with many lovers—
would you now return to me?”
declares the LORD.

2 “Look up to the barren heights and see.
Is there any place where you have not been ravished?
By the roadside you sat waiting for lovers,
sat like a nomad in the desert.
You have defiled the land
with your prostitution and wickedness.

3 Therefore the showers have been withheld,
and no spring rains have fallen.
Yet you have the brazen look of a prostitute;
you refuse to blush with shame.

4 Have you not just called to me:
‘My Father, my friend from my youth,

5 will you always be angry?
Will your wrath continue forever?’
This is how you talk,
but you do all the evil you can.”

When I think about how I’ve treated the sin in my life (at least some of it anyway), it’s pretty unbelievable. God uses the picture of an unfaithful woman returning to a husband as if nothing is wrong. Each and every time I sin, I’m choosing something else (usually me) over God. And (metaphorically) I walk away from my spouse. Then I come back, “I love you. It was just a small affair (see: sin). We only had sex once. It was just a little bit.”

And when I think about it that way, it changes my perspective a little bit (see: total paradigm shift). Every sin is like an affair. I’ve chosen something else over the one to whom I made a commitment. It’s not just a little sin.

There’s no such thing as a little affair. I either abandoned my wife, or I didn’t. There is no in between. There is no, “If I only went this far it doesn’t count.” I chose another. I walked away from the one who gave up everything for me, shared an intimate relationship with another, and came back, expecting everything that was there before.

And I don’t know if it’s because I rationalize or if I just don’t want to be “that bad” or both, but I tend to trivialize the “smaller” sins in my life. “It’s just this one small thing. God will forgive me this one vice. I mean, it’s not one of the ‘big’ sins.”

But I’m pretty sure there’s no trivializing an affair. That’s a big deal. And I’m sure that’s the reason God used that picture for us. The relationship He longs for with me (and anyone else) is that intimate. (I know we don’t really like that word because it makes us uncomfortable, but every descriptive picture in the Bible of the relationship between God/Jesus and man is that of marriage.)

I hope I can begin to grasp the amazing picture God has laid out for me in Jeremiah so I can begin to honor the marriage, the commitment I made to Him.