the heart

One of the weird things about life is that we must sometimes view it simultaneously from different perspectives. For instance, as Christians we should all want to be faithful and humble and loving. At some level, we want to be known for these and similar traits, and we want to honestly believe that our character is so shaped. In other words, I want you to say/think that I am faithful, humble, and loving, and I hope to actually be these things.

At another level, however, we are all prone to wander. After all, Scripture teaches us, does it not, that “the heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.” (Jeremiah 17:9). In other words we are all quite capable of foolish and rebellious attitudes and actions. Indeed, so perverse can the human heart be that Jeremiah asks, “Who can understand it?” The implied answer is no one, that is, none of us can know every nuance of our own motives and intentions. We can, quite frankly, deceive ourselves into thinking we are okay when we are the opposite of okay.

Here, then, is the situation in which we find ourselves. In one sense, it is important for us to know who and what we are, to portray ourselves, as best we can, in authentic ways, and to live our lives with some measure of self-comprehension and confidence. It’s good, in other words, to know a little bit about our own tendencies and motivations, what makes us tick. To the degree that we know something about our own hearts and lives, we will be able to guard ourselves from that which might damage or destroy us. Indeed, to know that our hearts are deceitful is, in some sense, a piece of this self-knowledge.

In another sense, however, in the sense that Jeremiah intends, we are never in a place where we can rest on our own achievements or be cocky in the way we approach life. In another passage of Scripture, these humbling words are found: “Let him who thinks he stands take heed that he does not fall” (1 Corinthians 10:12). One of the surest ways to delude ourselves is to assume that we are invincible, taking for granted that we are “above reproach” or some such thing. If we think we are safe and unbeatable, if we rest on past accomplishments, we have already taken the first step to defeat.

You see, the key to avoiding self-deception is an awareness that we can indeed be deceived. The way to protect ourselves from faithlessness and other transgressions is by remaining cognizant that we are capable of such foolishness.

The path to take, in other words, is one of humility. While we can know some (limited) things about ourselves, and though we ought to do our best to give expression to important spiritual qualities, we are never in a place where we can, how shall I say it, live independently of God.

God has made us in such a way that we operate efficiently only when we do our operating within the sphere of our connection with him. This does not mean, of course, that we are always aware of this connection or that we walk around in some trance-like state, repeating words that we hope will protect us from ourselves. Rather, it entails that we develop a mind-set in which we are consistently leaning on God, looking to him, asking for his assistance, trusting that he can protect us and shape us into faithful followers.

What we all require is a walk of faith, a sense of our dependence on our Savior. As we seek to guard our hearts and live productive lives, our spiritual soundness is bolstered not so much by self-confidence as by confidence in him. Humility is the avenue of growth and stability, trusting that–weak as we are by nature–he is able to keep us from falling and continue to make us into what he wants us to be. “Lord, protect me (us), and continue to renew and strengthen me (us) so that I (we) can be all that you intend me (us) to be.”

tolerance

tolerance

a. sympathy or indulgence for beliefs or practices differing from or conflicting with one’s own b: the act of allowing something.

Tolerance is a popular slogan and a fascinating concept. We here it all of the time: “We’ve got to learn to tolerate one another.” “If we’re ever going to get along, we must be tolerant.” “The key to living in a pluralistic world is tolerance.”

On the other hand, we also hear a different slant on tolerance. For instance: “When it comes to child abuse, we allow zero tolerance.” “At work, we have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to drug use.”

So, on the one hand, we are told to tolerate most everything and everyone. On the other hand, we are to uphold a stance of zero tolerance. So, which is it?

Well, obviously, one of the keys to a proper stance on tolerance is to understand what it is, exactly, that we are to tolerate or not tolerate. That is, you cannot make a blanket statement about tolerance without first knowing what subject, behavior, or idea is in view. Only then can you begin to decide if such-and-such or so-and-so ought to be tolerated.

This all said, I do think there are some basic attitudes that should govern our approach to tolerance. Among other things, I’d like to suggest the following:

✓ At some level we obviously must tolerate and accept all people. We are all created in the image of God. We are all called to love our neighbors and even our enemies. To ignore these realities is to run contrary to a Christian worldview.

✓ Any realistic assessment of life in the real world compels us to tolerate other human beings. Whatever legitimate disagreements we have with others, we cannot expect to be a blessing to them unless we decide, as best as we can, to tolerate others. Even if we can’t like another individual, we can and must love him/her.

✓ Our views of tolerance can be informed by societal trends, but they must never be enslaved to these trends. By this I mean that it is certainly fine for believers to take up secular causes, efforts to promote “getting along.” But, we are not to mindlessly follow the crowds, simply because it’s the “in” thing to do. Political correctness is not a strong enough motive or a reliable enough guide for matters as important as these.

✓ We must not tolerate that which offends God or harms others. Evil must be opposed for everyone’s sake. When you take a stand against clearly inappropriate practices or behaviors, many will oppose you. But, as followers of a higher (and, hopefully, humble) way, we must sometimes confront that which is the antithesis of truth and morality. This is called conviction.

✓ This said, it is also essential, in our opposition to that which is wrong, to live in a right way. Too often, or so it seems to me, the moral standard bearers come across as condescending and arrogant. To be sure, there are times when truly humble people are unfairly portrayed as arrogant by those who simply want to defend their inappropriate practices. But, sometimes, when we oppose misbehavior, we do come across as a bit too confident in our assertions.

✓ On a related point. Just because we are opposed to something that is wrong does not mean that we must always scream our views from the rooftop. Of course there is certainly a time and place for such loud opposition to evil. However, not every thing that is wrong demands a constant barrage of verbal arrows.

✓ It is possible, I think, to be both tolerant and intolerant, at least in some situations. For instance we can tolerate individuals, even caring for them and relating to them in meaningful ways, while also being intolerant of their choices or lifestyles. This might lead us to confront certain behaviors; love must sometimes do just that. On other occasions, we might apply our intolerance in more subtle ways. Genuine tolerance does not have to degenerate into a mind-set in which we are fearful about intervening in the lives of people who need our help. And intolerance does not have to degenerate into belligerence. Tolerance and intolerance, properly understood and applied, can coexist.

✓ Clearly, we need wisdom in these matters. We must tolerate some things and remain intolerant of others. Above all, we must love (and tolerate) others as God has loved (and tolerated) us, and we must stand against (remain intolerant) of those things in our own lives that hinder this stance of truth combined with love.

This is complicated stuff, stuff we learn (but never perfectly) over the course of a lifetime. Undoubtedly, we need others to walk with us as we attempt to balance these important characteristics. Unquestionably, we need a transcendent resource if ever we are going to (at least occasionally) get this right.

a steady humility

Jesus said it long ago: “Without Me, you can do nothing.”

To be honest, I’m not entirely clear how this works in the real world. Obviously, Jesus is not saying that we are to sit around and wait to be zapped before we do anything. He's not saying that we are to walk through our lives chanting some type of “help me, Jesus” mantra; there is no magic in repeated words, even if the words themselves are accurate and true. I also don’t think that Jesus is saying that we are truly incapable of doing anything unless we are 100 % conscious of our own need of him; if that were the case, nothing would ever get done.

But, one thing is clear: We do need him. And if we need him, we also need humility, that is, a cognizance that we need him. But, what is humility?

Well, I really don’t think it’s false modesty or feigned meekness. It’s not pretending that we have no abilities or gifts. It’s not about mouthing prescribed formulas, nice-sounding (to some) words about how dependent we are; talk about humility is cheap. It’s not a matter of working ourselves into some make-believe state of faulty piety.

Humility, rather, is a settled recognition, acquired and developed prayerfully over time with the help of like-minded individuals, that God is the one who gets the ultimate credit. He is the one who made us, sustains us, empowers us, walks with us, picks us up when we fall, and provides for us.

When we work hard, we certainly deserve a measure of credit for our efforts. But what factors influenced us in such a way that we became hard workers? If we are academically inclined and attain a measure of success, we can and should feel good about our accomplishments. But who gave us such mental capacities, and where did we learn to use our minds in helpful ways? Who created our brains, our bodies, and all that makes us who we are? Where do the intellectual gifts, the social competencies, and the physical talents come from?

Let’s be clear. Humility is not ignoring the obvious. It’s not pretending that we have no talents. It’s not acting (to the point of self-deception?) like we are bankrupt fools. It’s not walking around with a constant “woe is me” attitude. Indeed, I would argue that humble people can and should celebrate their achievements, that it's okay to say, “Wow, look what I have done.” But humble people also add this important element: They recognize that it is all traceable to a benevolent God, a God who deserves our honor and allegiance, a Lord who, amid our personal celebrations, is thanked, who is always recognized as the ultimate gift and opportunity provider.

In the end, believers will receive crowns. Whatever the particulars, and whether these are real or symbolic, we will be “patted on the back” for (hopefully) living godly lives. But humility recognizes, as did the author of the book of Revelation who records this scene, that the crowns must be thrown down at the feet of the One who is the true giver of all good things.

I suppose we all need to develop a sense of God consciousness, a simple realization that he is the divine supplier, the supernatural resource who fortifies and guides all our positive efforts . . . whether or not we realize it at the time. As we soak in such thoughts, perhaps we’ll begin to understand what Jesus meant when he said we need him for everything. Maybe we’ll even learn to embrace and embody a measure of humility, a steady humility.

being faithful

Faithful

- Strict or thorough in the performance of duty. True to one’s word, promises, vows, etc.

There are many things that might be mentioned as admirable qualities, but few can rival faithfulness. To be faithful is to demonstrate an allegiance to a cause, remaining devoted to that which is truly important.

Of course the validity of one’s faithfulness can only be determined by how closely it is associated with that which is actually good, true, and right. And nothing is as good, true, and right as God and his ways. Genuine faithfulness, therefore, involves living in a manner that reflects and is consistent with God and his ways.

With these things in view, I want to be faithful . . .

to the truth . . . wherever it is found.
to God.
to my family.
to others.
to those, especially, who are closest to me.

I want to be faithful . . .

in displaying compassion.
in actually caring.
in seeking and sharing wisdom.
in spreading joy.
in consistently leaning on God.

I want to be faithful . . .

with my words.
with my life.
with my gifts.
with my opportunities.
with my relationships.

I want to be steady in my allegiance to the truth.
I want to be loyal in my determination to love God and others.
I want to exude a reliable faithfulness.

And I want God, one day, to say to me something like, “Hey, you’ve made some blunders, and sometimes you’re a goof, but on the whole (and by My grace) you’ve been a good and faithful believer.”

Be faithful! “Lord, enable me (us) to be faithful.”

a hopeful hue

The world would never be the same again. One Sunday morning transformed everything and enabled us to be transformed as well.

When Jesus rose from the grave, a number of important things occurred. But one of the things that stands out to me is that the otherworldly, the transcendent, suddenly intersected the here-and-now.

As a result of the resurrection . . .

Truth has invaded the universe. It was here from the beginning (though marred), but now it is (How shall we put it?) really real.

Love is shown to be not only a sentiment but a force, a personal force that cannot be denied by the worst that humanity is able to throw at it.

Human existence, which is temporary and always succumbs to death, is promised eventual permanence through death’s conqueror.

Darkness, real and devastating as it can be, is driven out by the one true light.

When you are down and out, it is good to remember that there is One who is with us still. When life doesn’t make sense, it is helpful to recall that there was one Sunday morning when it did make sense, and so there is incentive to go on. When you stand at a grave site and the end seems so final, it is necessary to embrace the reality that someone has defeated the grave, and so will we. When confusion reigns and joy appears to be sapped out of existence, remember that there is indeed purpose to it all, for love became one of us and secured our standing before God. When life feels too typical, too natural, keep in mind that a supernatural element has been released into the world.

Because of what Jesus has accomplished, life has taken on a hopeful hue. Through Jesus, a different kind of existence is in our midst. When Jesus rose from the dead, joy rose with him, and that joy is available to all those who believe. Happy Easter!

good sunday

Early on the first day of the week, something spectacular happened. The large stone which blocked the entrance to Jesus’ tomb had been rolled out of the way. The sepulcher in which the deceased Jesus had been placed was suddenly unoccupied. There were reports that Jesus had been seen alive, and then he actually appeared to a number of reliable observers.

Jesus had overcome the grave. Somehow, death had been conquered. In some unimaginable fashion, our worst enemy had been defeated. Jesus was alive.

Of course one of the things that strikes me about the whole scene is the oddness of it all. The first eyewitnesses must have thought something like, “This is great! He’s with us again!” But then, after a little reflection, they would have had to come to grips with the entire ordeal, wondering why someone with the capacity to conquer death would have had to die in the first place. I mean, if the grave can’t hold him, why did he succumb to it at all? The answer, once again, is quite simple. He died on purpose for us.

But the death alone was not enough, for who would have known that Jesus’ death actually accomplished anything? You can claim that someone’s crucifixion has universal significance, but talk is cheap. What you need is a demonstrate. What you need is a resurrection.

Jesus’ resurrection confirms that his death had saving value. What he did at Golgotha (the Place of the Skull) was established at the empty tomb. Indeed, it is right to say that the events of Sunday make clear that the events of Friday were indeed good (for us). We learn of the goodness of Good Friday through the occurrence of a miraculous Sunday. Peering through the lens of the resurrection, we learn (among other things) that the previous Friday really was good, the cross actually accomplished something amazing.

The death of Jesus was not only necessary but incredible. In Jesus’ death our wrongs, our imperfections, our stupidity, our rebellion was once for all absorbed. As a result, we can now connect with God and with our created purpose. The resurrection of Jesus put into the effect the death of Jesus. Because he is alive, we can know him.

bad . . . uh, I mean, good friday

Good Friday–it’s the Friday before Easter, the day that is a regular part of many a person’s religious calendar. But why, I’d like to ask, is it good? What is good about Good Friday?

From the vantage of Jesus, Friday was anything but good. He, you may recall, was taken by force in the middle of the night, was paraded in front of a number of religious and secular authorities, mistreated, beaten, mocked, flogged, and eventually pinned to beams of wood. This was hardly a good day for Jesus of Nazareth.

It is awful to consider how any human being could be so mistreated. But, and this is the real eye-opener, Jesus was more than a typical human being. On the one hand, Jesus was like us in just about every way. He ate, drank, laughed, cried, developed relationships, and experienced the full range of human emotions. But, and this is what set him apart, Jesus never violated God’s will. He never expressed himself in improper ways. He never operated out of an impure heart or with mixed motives. If Jesus got angry, it was always a righteous indignation. If he loved, it was with perfect love. Jesus, in other words, lived his life as it was originally designed, as God intended it to be. He was what we should all be, fully human.

Yet, this fully human individual, this paradigm of love and compassion, this truth-telling, God-honoring man was mistreated to the extreme. What gives? And if, as we are told, he was God’s unique emissary, the One capable of performing miraculous wonders, why would he endure such hostility? Why would he, the Son of God, allow himself to encounter the worst in human cruelty? Answer: for us.

Good Friday was Bad Friday for the Son of God. Ironically, the only truly good one, Jesus, experienced a bad Friday so that those who, at various levels, are bad would be set free to know and serve their maker. Friday was bad for Jesus. He absorbed in his own person that which we had incurred through our foolish choices. The true light of the world was surrounded by human darkness (ours, not his). Incarnate goodness was treated badly. The penalty for breaking God’s laws and rejecting God’s heart fell on the only person who ever truly kept those laws and reflected God’s heart.

Friday was bad for Jesus so that it would be good for us. While the full implications of Jesus’ rescuing activity would not be enacted and made clear until Easter morning, already by Friday the goodness of God’s love was beginning to swell. Because of Bad Friday, we can celebrate Good Friday. Pretty good deal, huh? Have a great Easter!

God is present

God is present.

Yeah, I know this is an assumption that we often make. It is, after all, a part of our Christian heritage, an aspect of our shared theology. At Christmas, we proclaim the incarnation, that God has become one of us. At Easter, we celebrate the fact that he is not only with us but with us in ways that provide spiritual rescue and freedom.

But all too often, I think we fail to come to grips with the implications of these profound truths. God is as near as the air we breath. He is actually here with you, with me, with us . . . right now. What an amazing concept, that the creator of the universe is actually among us.

But there is more. This creator, this “with us” deity, actually cares. He is not here reluctantly. No, he really wants to be here. He delights in us through his Son, and he loves us with an indestructible love.

While I must admit that I’ve often been oblivious to God’s presence, I can also honestly say that–at least occasionally–I’ve noticed it. That is, I’ve experienced times when I am compelled to say, “God was here or there . . . and he’s present now.”

This year, I have encountered some things that demonstrate God’s nearness. This week, I’ve experienced the same. In fact just today, I feel like I’ve had contact with “higher things,” that the living Lord has actually shown his compassion and love for me . . . and I am so grateful.

“Thanks, Lord, for blessing me in so many ways. Thank you for the immensity of your goodness and the limitlessness of your power. Thank you for the people you have placed in my life and the opportunities to connect with those things that truly matter. Thank you!”

anyway

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I love the basic mind-set represented in Kent Keith’s Paradoxical Commandments, what is sometimes referred to as Anyway.

Here is a sampling:

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.

The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.
Think big anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.
Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you’ll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you have anyway.

© copyright Kent M. Keith, renewed 2001

This obviously parallels a number of Jesus’ words. If you lose your life, you’ll gain it again. If you choose to be last, you’ll actually be first. If you deny yourself, you'll become your true self. The idea takes on a number of nuances, each paradoxical. Those committed to truth and love will experience opposition. Men and women who are determined to live a life of kindness and integrity will meet up with unkindness and dishonesty. The soft voice of sincerity will sometimes appear to be drowned out by the loud noise of frivolity.

But, as Jesus says and Keith confirms, this ought not stop us from pursuing the things that matter most. In the end, the truth will win, and even now, we can experience the camaraderie of others who seek these same things. Yeah, it can be difficult living the right way in a world that often chooses the wrong way. But–and this is key–we should do it anyway.

Do the right thing anyway because it’s the best thing you can do. Do what’s honorable anyway in order to combat the dishonor that so often dominates. Love anyway because someone out there needs that love. In a cynical world, a world that often doesn’t get it, a world that will sometimes dismiss you or attack you, follow the way, embrace the truth, share your heart and life anyway. In so many ways, it’s all about the anyway.

optimism

How do we balance the good and bad that occurs every day in the world and in each of our lives? On the one hand, there are many reasons to rejoice. We live in a country of great freedom and where countless positive things take place. Philanthropy and acts of compassion, good intentions and helpful ideas, nice people and wonderful relationships–these and many other examples show that God is indeed still active in this world.

On the other hand, it is all too obvious that many things are not what they might be. Racism, agendas driven by political correctness instead of truth, misrepresentations, lying, cheating, unfaithfulness, and unkindness–there are countless demonstrations of these things all around us.

So, how should we react to such a world? Should we become activists against whatever is around us? Cynics who decry all things unfair? Those who spend all of our time opposing inequity? Well, at some level, I think such stances are appropriate, for there is much darkness to overcome. Injustice must be highlighted and stood against. Evil has to be pointed out and rejected.

But I do not think that we can afford to be only or primarily negative. Indeed, to merely oppose that which is bad does not provide us with an alternative to the bad. We can’t merely say, “Don’t mislead others.” We must also stand for something. We must stand up for truth telling. “Tell the truth, and lead others in a helpful direction.” The negative must be balanced with the positive. In fact the best way to drive out darkness is by shining a light. And isn’t this, above everything else, what we must represent?

Jesus said it this way:

“You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.”

Somehow, we must seek a proper balance. On the one hand, there are plenty of things to decry, and there is much to overcome. Because we live in a fallen world, there will always be corruption, and we will all inevitably experience pain and unfairness. Within such an environment, we will sometimes cry, as will others.

Still, the future is bright. That future often extends through many a tomorrow and always leads into forever. This is why, despite the consistent negativity, I think it is right to favor a type of settled (but realistic) optimism. The optimistic is more central or more foundational than the negative, for it is real and will last into eternity. Though it is often hard to imagine, the bad will ultimately be defeated and good will reign. Even our own human ineptitude will be wiped away and we will become renewed humans, functioning as originally designed.

Many things ought to anger us. There are individuals and ideas and agendas that demand our opposition. We simply must express our frustration with unfairness and do what we can to overcome it. But we do all these things, I hope, with, well, with a sense of hope. This world will never be perfect, but individuals do change for the better every day. Relationships can be healed and sustained. And in time (or was that eternity?), we will become what we were meant to be. So there is optimism–a reasoned, intelligent, sensible, yet sometimes tearful optimism.

But what is the basis for this perspective? Well, there are inspiring stories from our own history, and there is a kind of patriotic commitment that, at least for many Americans, helps us to live in this optimistic fashion. But even our patriotism requires undergirding. How, then, can we work our way through the sadness and the heartache? How can we, with tears too often flowing from our eyes, look at the world optimistically? The answer, I think, is faith.

What allows joy to transcend sadness? Faith. What protects and shields us through times of difficulty? Faith. What enables us to approach life with joy and passion? Faith. Jesus’ words are our guide: “Be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.” Genuine (not make-believe) optimism flows from faith. “Increase ours, Lord.”

closer

There is no shortage of formula’s for getting close to God. If you do this or say that or go here or there, you’ll develop a relationship with your Maker.

Within many traditional churches, a number of predictable strategies are available. The recipe is usually something like “read your bible, pray, and go to church.” Such instruction is sometimes touted as a near guarantee of deeper spirituality.

The problem, however, is that these strategies often fall short in providing a pathway to God. It’s not that they are bad things; indeed, they are actually very good things . . . depending on what you mean by them and how you apply them. For instance the bible is a special book. We certainly need to pray. And being with like-minded people is a great thing.

Still, simply stating that we ought to follow some agenda does not ensure that actual growth will occur. Simply laying out some nice-sounding plan does not automatically produce growth. In fact, in my experience at least, it has often been true that the constant repetition of such formulas can actually deaden your soul and inhibit your growth. I’m not entirely sure why this is the case, but it’s something I’ve noticed.

Now, all of this got me to thinking about what I’ve observed in my own life. When have I sensed God’s presence? Where has God met me? In what places does God seem to show up? Obviously, I have no flawless formula, and I certainly don’t want to be guilty of simply exchanging the traditional list with my own list. Indeed, it’s not really about lists, per se, but about simply noticing some of the ways that God works . . . at least how he’s sometimes operated in my own life. Here are some things–in no particular order–that stand out to me.

✓ realize he’s already close to you

So many people are out “searching” for God around every corner. Maybe he’s at this church. Perhaps I can find him in a sunrise. Of course God can and does meet people at church and in sunrises. That’s not the point. What matters is that we come to the realization that he’s already here . . . wherever “here” happens to be. It’s not that searching is bad, of course, and it’s not that his presence is always immediately evident. All I’m saying is that, in a very real sense, he’s already with us. Theologians speak of God’s omniscience, his “everywhereness,” but too often we fail to recognize that a God who is near is just that, near.

✓ live like he’s near/with you

If God is actually near, a number of implications come to mind. Typically, when this subject is raised, the talk is about our accountability before God as we come to grips with the fact that he sees everything we say and do. Of course this is a useful and humbling truth and should not be neglected. What I’m getting at, though, is that God’s nearness means that he is actually involved in the nitty gritty of our lives. God isn’t trapped in any church, and he’s certainly not limited to our official gatherings. No, the near God is involved in every facet of our lives. He’s with us at work and as we travel in the car. He’s present in our families and through all of our relationships. If he’s near, we probably ought to allow his nearness to seep into the way we approach all of life.

✓ see him as a person you follow

God is not a concept, though we use concepts to describe him. He’s not a doctrine, though we seek to understand what we can about him. Helpful as these things can be, God is a personal being.

You know people. How do they interact? In what ways do they engage you? In some ways God is obviously different than any other person; he is an invisible, non-corporeal being, after all. But, at the same time, he is still a person (persons). As such, what should we expect of someone who is personal? How do people communicate? What matters to sentient beings? How is it that we relate to any person? I don’t have all of the answers to these questions, but I do think it’s worth asking them. Whatever else is true, God is here, and he is a personal being. Do you relate? Are your expectations shaped by what one would expect from a personal God?

All of this parallels what we find of Jesus and his ministry. Jesus didn’t teach Sunday School lessons or give dissertations on esoteric truth. Though he did many things, the primary responsibility of his followers was simple: Follow. We are to follow. Again, I’m not entirely clear what this means when we’re talking about a spirit being, but I know it means something.

✓ be relational and real

One of the things that has become increasingly evident to me is how we are created for community. That is, we are made to relate to others. This shouldn’t surprise us, of course, for God himself is a person, actually a plurality of three persons. From eternity God existed as a singular-plural (if we can use such terms), as a one-in-three and three-in-one God. If we are made in this God’s image, it makes sense that we would reflect this relational component. Indeed, it just might be–and I’ve personally found this to be the case–that the very process of relating properly to others provides a means of access to this same personal God. In other words–and I’m not sure how to describe this, exactly–as we relate to other human beings in God-honoring ways, God shows up. Perhaps, this is part of the reason why the two greatest commandments, according to Jesus, are to love God and our neighbor. There is this relationship component that best flows when we get closer to others.

✓ serve and sacrifice

On a related note, there is something to be said for the sheer act of serving others. When we reach out to others, when we give of ourselves to assist those who cross our paths, a by-product of this effort is a connection with a serving deity. Jesus was known as a servant, and he was obviously willing to sacrifice everything on our behalf. So, too, when we serve others, I think he draws near to us.

These are some (but not nearly all) of the things that I’ve noticed. Maybe, I’m right. Maybe, I’m wrong. All I know is that these things make sense to me. What about you?

joy

Joy–in my experience, it is a fairly uncommon commodity. In the hustle and bustle of our everyday lives, we too often lose track of this important spiritual priority.

Of course joy is not to be confused with giddiness, silliness, or a puerile spirit, you know, the type of attitude that can’t take anything seriously. Neither does it entail a make-believe existence, an unwillingness to face up to the many harsh realities that abound. Indeed, one might even argue that joy–being, first of all, an invisible, inner trait–can sometimes coexist with heartache and sadness.

But, what is joy? Some define it as inward happiness or a sense of heartfelt gladness. We might add that it is a kind of inner delight, flowing ultimately from God, residing in our hearts, and expressed in and through our lives.

Joy, I think, involves the realization, the sense, that we are a part of something big and wonderful. We are connected, somehow, to God and his world, and this–properly absorbed–produces childlike excitement and puts a youthful skip in one’s step. When we tap into important realities–things like truth, goodness, love, and hope–joy results.

In one place, we are even told that strength is derived from joy (Nehemiah 8:10), which is quite a thought. I’ve often found this to be true. Joy, in other words, can actually energize us! I suppose we could all use a dose of such spiritual enthusiasm. “Lord, let joy be my (our) strength.”

logs and specks

Scandals, illicit affairs, sexually deviant behavior–these things are as common as the morning newspaper or the evening news. All around us, we are confronted with lies, acts of deception, and rampant hypocrisy.

In such a world, what is the appropriate reaction? How should a Christian respond to such demonstrations of impropriety? Well, to be honest, sometimes my initial tendency is to go on the attack, pointing out disgraceful conduct. But, in my better moments at least, I try to evaluate these situations with a bit more balance and humility.

Jesus had some interesting words to say about these matters. In one place he says, “Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ and behold, the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye” (Matthew 7:3-5).

Here, as in many human endeavors, there is a warning against the all-too-common practice of hypocrisy. Someone has a speck in his eye; he’s involved in something that is wrong. But the person who notices this wrong neglects to see that he too has engaged in faulty behavior. In fact, in this particular case at least, the one who is all too ready to point out someone else’s faults is actually guilty of much worse. The critic is trying to remove the equivalent of a hair from someone’s eye while failing to notice the piano in his own eye. Only after we first examine ourselves are we qualified to examine another.

What, then, are the lessons to be learned? How ought we respond to matters of sexual misbehavior and public (or private) scandal? The following appears to be the way ahead:

First, take a look at yourself. That is, make sure that you aren’t involved in similar or different misbehavior of your own. While conviction should mark the Christian, arrogance is never an option. Are you more concerned about your neighbors adultery than your own pride? Does the perversion of some public official bother you more than your own lack of kindness? Even if someone else’s behavior is technically worse than yours (though these things are difficult to measure, it is true that some acts are worse than others), your concern to maintain personal integrity should take precedence over the misbehavior of others. Another passage says it this way: “if anyone is caught in any trespass, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; each one looking to yourself, so that you too will not be tempted” (Galatians 6:1). This, of course, is a difficult task, for it is always easier to criticize others than to critique ourselves. I’m not saying that in the hustle and bustle of fast-paced living that we have to take an inordinate amount of time examining ourselves. What I am saying, though, is that it is always good to maintain a humble stance, an attitude of “get the log out first” before we get overly critical of others.

Second, notice that there is plenty of room here for actually removing another person’s “speck” (whatever that entails). While we are not allowed to make heart judgments (and the immediate context–“Do not judge”–prohibits such behavior), though we cannot read the motives of other human beings, we must make certain reasonable judgments (there’s no contradiction between not judging the heart and judging the actions of another–John 7:24). There is a place, in other words, for pointing out and attempting to remove the speck from another’s eye. Indeed, I don’t think we should downplay the speck because of it’s small size. Not only is speck itself a noteworthy cause of concern, but some people, frankly, have objects much larger to extract. (In fact the text itself may be intentionally downplaying the other brother’s wrongs in order to highlight the critic’s hypocrisy.)

The point, then, is that it’s okay to oppose that which is wrong. Indeed, it is necessary to stand against evil and uphold spiritual and moral integrity. It’s just that we must do so with humility and a kind of careful spirituality. We must be outraged by stories of impropriety and the like, but our outrage should be tempered by a sense of our own ineptitude and a recognition that we too require a Savior and his gracious interventions on our behalf. Remove the log first. Then, go after the speck.

the templates through which we see the world

We all look at the world a certain way. Whether we’ve actually analyzed it or not, we see the world through the “glasses” that are a part of who and what we currently are. In other words we all approach everything–from parenting to philosophy, from education to relationships–with presuppositions. These presuppositions serve as a template of sorts, an interpretive grid through which we perceive most everything.

That being the case, it is important, I think, that we–How shall I put it?–presuppose properly. While I have no full-proof formula, and though I am as prone to error as anyone, a number of ideas come to mind, including the following:

be aware that you have presuppositions

It’s amazing how two people can look at the same information, the same facts, and interpret them differently. One person interprets an argument as a purely negative event, while another sees it as an opportunity to clear the air and make things right. One person views strong competition as that which breeds failure and lowers self-esteem, while another views the same level of competition as an opportunity to improve. Of course we all tend to be fickle about a good many things, and so it’s not always easy to discern what our assumptions are. The point, though, is that we always assume something whenever we interpret reality. Our eyes are just that, ours. The “lenses” through which we see the world are our lenses.

One immensely helpful idea, therefore, is to simply realize that you, that we, that we all, assume various things when we look at life. Realizing this fact frees us from having to prove everything, for not everything can be demonstrated, at least not easily. Furthermore, it enables us to recognize that we, like everyone else, make assumptions along the way. If these prove valid, we can retain them. If, on the other hand, we recognize some flaw in our own assumptions, we can tweak or even reject our current viewpoint. None of this can happen, however, unless we at least realize that–for better or worse–we presuppose many things.

some presuppositions are better than others

How, though, do we determine whose presuppositions are right and whose are invalid? Sometimes, we can simply look at the facts and, to the best of our ability, determine that certain things are correct and others incorrect. A part of this relates to our historical context and the experiences we’ve had. If someone says that 2 + 2 = 5, we can show that such a view runs contrary to human experience with numbers and contradicts certain points of logic. In some areas, though, it will be difficult to prove with absolute certainty that “this” is a better option than “that.” At times, it is probably helpful, at least with certain individuals, to point out the usefulness of a given option. Certain ideas (liberty, freedom, fairness) have a history of success that, many would argue, is superior to other ideas (e.g., slavery, injustice). Not all will be convinced, of course, but some will, which is a good thing. Depending on the issue at hand, the validity of certain views (e.g., certain areas of science) might be shown through research and a sifting through the current data. But, at the end of the day, I think we need to truly embrace the idea that there is a type of reason, sensibleness, and logic, a kind of correctness, embedded into the universe. Thus, in the long run, the truth will eventually surface because there is a truth-maker. This, too, is a presupposition, and, I think, a helpful one.

life is designed to be a faith venture

This relates to the previous point. It seems that all of life demands faith. If we make claims of logic, we automatically assume such things as the reality of the universe and the ability of our cognitive equipment to detect facets of the universe. If we make a moral judgment, we assume a moral code and, possibly, a morality making deity. Faith, then, is embedded into the fabric of our lives. Though we can, of course, demonstrate many things, we are never afforded a faith-free access to the world. Whether or not our faith is in the right object, faith itself, even if it’s faith that there is no god, is inevitable. Of course believing that the moon is made of green cheese is not as convincing to most as, say, the effects of gravity. In any case, however, there is indeed the need for faith.

If this is the way the world has been constructed, one wonders whether this faith principle has been placed here on purpose. On a Christian reading of history, the necessity of faith is a reminder that the living God yearns for our attention, calling us to trust in and follow him.

Thus, if this faith venture is something that is part and parcel of the world we inhabit, there might be a corresponding reality to this impulse. While we obviously cannot create gods out of whole cloth, it could be that a true God, the God who placed this faith principle within each of us, would actually be “out there” to respond to our acts of faith, to hear our prayers, to interact with those who call on his name. Indeed, this is the Christian response to life, looking to the true God, the only God there is, and allowing our lives to connect with his.

we can know some things, but perfect or complete knowledge will always evade us

Truth is available. At least on a Christian understanding of the world, there is true stuff in the world, stuff we can access. Whatever our official views on many things, we all assume this principle each day. Though we may call ourselves relativists or agnostics, we all intuitively react to life as if it contains elements of truth, things on which we basically “hang our hats.”

That said, it is also painfully clear that we have nothing close to prefect or complete knowledge. Much evades our grasp and probably always will. And even the things we know with a measure of confidence are known in part.

Only God possesses complete knowledge, and this, I think, tells something about what we should presuppose (from a Christian angle) about ourselves. If we are created in God’s image, the image of a knowing deity, it makes sense that we would be able to know, as well. On the other hand, given that we are creatures (and not the creator) it also makes sense that there would be severe limitations on all of our efforts to know.

The way ahead, therefore, seems to involve the intersection of these two ideas. We can know, which is what makes knowledge a legitimate (indeed, necessary) venture. But we can never know fully, which ought to make us humble, propelling us forward in our quest to better know, and compelling us to look outside of ourselves to the one who alone can guide our efforts.

Okay, enough said for now. My point, simply, is that we all place our various templates on the world as we attempt to make sense of it. This, in my view, is not a bad thing, however, for it forces us to acknowledge our need of God, and this, I would argue, is ultimately good. After all, isn’t he the One who said that he honors the humble in heart? I suppose–here comes another presupposition–that our job, therefore, is to presuppose humbly yet confidently, knowing that as we walk by faith we do not walk alone.

the mentor

“He inspires and encourages. Though he is ever the teacher, he is also much more, for his instruction is an education in life. He is an individual of character and authenticity. Wisdom is his nature, as are humility and a sense of humor. He is one of those rare souls who truly and unashamedly cares. Not only does he guide for a time, but he is available for a lifetime. Truth flows from him, and he is trustworthy and real. Though he makes mistakes, even these are well intentioned, and he is always looking out for the welfare of those whose lives he touches. While he is like others in certain ways, he is often unorthodox in his approach and in the depth of his emotional connection to his students; indeed, it is his unconventional ways that set him apart. His instincts are to share and to listen, and he embodies virtue. Commitment is a way of life, and when he says he’ll be there for you, you can count on it. This is a man who exudes compassion and displays discernment, a person who knows the meaning of genuine love. He is a mentor.”

–Anonymous

This is certainly something worth shooting for, what I'd like to become. CCD

teachers are (kind of, sort of, in one sense) like vampires

Okay, this one will be kind of (very?) weird. Here goes . . .

Every once in a while you’ll see a movie or television show in which some type of being is pictured as unable to die and so resigned to seeing everyone around him or her grow old. Usually, this person is some type of repentant vampire (e.g. Blade, Highlander) or perhaps, as in a recent television series (New Amsterdam), some sort of immortal who is simply incapable of remaining dead.

Then, so the story goes, the immortal is forced to live a life in which he/she remains the same while those he/she loves continue to grow old and eventually experience death. When seen from this perspective vampires, at least the noble ones, really do experience a lonely existence. Imagine how difficult it would be to see other people constantly leaving your presence, consistently “passing through” your life while you, the immortal one, remain basically the same.

Of course, on one hand, it is easy to desire such a predicament. After all, isn’t eternal life something that we all, especially Christians, long for? Isn’t this what Jesus came to offer us? Well, yes, there is a sense in which eternal life is what life is all about. This eternal life, I would argue, is both a quality of life, that is, a life that is full and free and energized by higher things, and also a quantity of life, a life that endures. But what makes the Christian version of eternal life such an attraction is the very fact that it is indeed laced with joy and power, a joy and power that are destined to last forever. The vampire’s eternal life, on the other hand, is something less than that envisioned by believers, for it is a life limited to a few (i.e., the vampires) and withheld from others (i.e., non-vampires). When a “good” vampire or immortal is in view, this vampire is forced to endure an endless existence in which loved ones appear only for a time. It is in this sense that the life of a teacher parallels that of a (good) vampire. How so? Let me attempt to explain.

As a teacher, I constantly experience the influx of new students. They come to me, in my case, when they are freshmen and leave when they complete their senior years. This process continues over and over again, year after year after year.

Now, if you can allow me to stretch the truth just slightly, teachers are like vampires in that, at least for a time, they remain basically the same every year. Obviously, we are all susceptible to age and the ravages of time. But, with God’s enablement, we are able, at some level, to remain unchanged. For instance I am an avid runner, but this is something that I’ve been doing for many years. Thus, generally speaking, I act and think and (somewhat?) look the same today as I did 5 or 10 years ago. I’m pretty much (for now) the same, but the kids I encounter keep getting older and moving on to the next phase of their lives. So, I remain “unchanged” (same position, same attitude, same way of life, same habits, etc.), while the kids I encounter go from young adolescents to young adults to just plain adults. From a certain perspective, then, they are getting older as they mature, but I am staying the “same.” In this way teachers resemble vampires.

It’s not that good teachers suck the life out of people (though, unfortunately, some bad ones do). It’s not that good teachers prey upon the innocent (though, again, some terrible ones do just that). It’s not that teachers have inordinately pointed teeth or only teach night school, though some undoubtedly do. No, we are the same in that we have to endure the passage of time and, more important, the passage of terrific young people. I, for one, want my kids to stay around. I want them to remain with me, in my classroom, within the sphere of my influence. I want to connect with them always, never losing touch. Sadly, this is not the way it is, at least not for now. For now, we have to allow them to age, to grow away from us, while we–in some ways–stay where we are, unchanged by the passage of time . . . except, perhaps, by the sadness of it all.

I write these things because I am a teacher, and because I truly care about certain young people who come my way. I write these things because each year I am forced to endure vivid illustrations of the aging process (i.e., graduation) while I remain here, ready to do it again and again and again. From this vantage point, I can truly empathize with the repentant vampire. When will constancy arrive? Will those I cherish ever remain? Is it possible that the one’s I so much respect and care for will one day come back to stay?

Actually, in a certain sense, I think there is indeed hope. But this hope is not located in the vampire’s version of frustrating eternal life but in the Christian’s version of fulfilling eternal life. You see, the reason I endure the heartache of the temporary is because I know that the temporary will one day be swallowed by the true eternal. While I have no certain idea how this will work out in eternity, I am confident that the price we pay today will be worth it, for the genuine relationships we only experience for a time now will one day be absorbed by a completeness that vanquishes any sense of the temporary. The short lived, in other words, is only short lived, and the currently impermanent will become changeless. So, we teachers live like “vampires” for a time, but–thankfully–even vampires have hope and a future.

P.S. I told you that this would be a strange one! ☺

teaching and eternity

I am a teacher, and I truly love what I do. To interact with young people, sharing information, attempting to be a helpful guide, seeking to provide both empathy and wisdom–these things are precious to me. In fact I think I was born for this.

Along the way, I get to know many fine young men and women, and–being the type of person I am–I tend to get close to them. Sometimes they come back to visit me, and some of them have stayed in contact over the years.

But there is a down side to all of this, a reality that strikes me each year. These young people whom I know are only here for a short time, and as close as I get to them now, I realize that they will soon leave my immediate presence. As a result, I always go through a “blue” period at least a couple of times each year. That is, I feel the loss of young people about whom I care. This is especially the case when I meet those special ones whom God has placed in my life, those students that I am connected to at a more personal and emotional level. These are young people who have shared their lives with me–their joys and frustrations, their hurts and their goals. And, so, it’s natural, I suppose, to feel the way I do, to almost dread the day when those who mean so much to me are no longer a direct part of my life.

At times like these, I feel a mix of emotions. In one sense, I so much appreciate the opportunity I have been given to participate in the education and the lives of young men and women. In another sense, I feel the sting of their loss, knowing that I will rarely, if ever, see some of them again. To be honest, it hurts, it pains me, it, well, it stinks. But it is certainly worth it all, for I believe that one day the seeds we plant will produce fruit. One day, the love we’ve shown will be realized. One day, the sacrifices we’ve made will be rewarded.

As a Christian, this is a large part of my hope. It’s not that I envision harps and clouds (though I do anticipate music and comfort) but that I believe the things that are today temporary will one day be permanent. The relationships that today are constantly interrupted will at that time become what they were meant to be. What a reunion it will be when those young adults I’ve grown so fond of, those men and women I’ve been privileged to know, finally “return home,” when we all return home and experience our unhindered created purpose.

I am not so naive as to think every student’s momentary visit is somehow the end-all of their young lives. Obviously, there is still much more to encounter. Still, I am also not so faithless as to assume that what we do now has no meaning, that it is to be forgotten and lost to time. No, I think God keeps track; I think some students remember; I think we will all one day recollect (by God’s enlivening and renewing grace) what things truly mattered in this life. Among those things, my hope is that at least some of what took place in the classrooms and the corridors will survive and endure to eternity. That's my hope, anyway. :-)