So far I’ve worked an hour and a half this week making it the best workweek ever.
Conservative evangelicals can be reticent to read those on the outside like Buechner. But there is no one on the inside to compare him to. C.S. Lewis, though accepted by evangelicals, is no evangelical. No one writes like them on the inside. That I know of.
One of my favorite foods is lunch.
Cormac McCarthy’s genius lies not only in his able prose but in his ability to draw out the image of God…the humanity of the most dark characters, keeping them from being caricatures of their sins.
Less than two weeks till pitchers and catchers report. In other news I’m alluvasudden craving overpriced hot dogs and watered down orange drink.
When you’re snowed in, it’s best to already be living with your personal chef.
For every insult hurled our way by a Northerner because of our difficulty with snow, there was a wonderful act of kindness in the midst of the chaos. That’s a lot of kindness.
How did we get to the point where believers are comfortable retweeting ridicule by anonymous parody accounts?
A pipe without tobacco is like a skillet without sizzling pork.
A warm home is an echo of heaven and all it’s graces.
It is no secret I don’t like my job. For almost two years I have done almost everything I can to escape it. No matter how hard I try, I cannot. There are days the work is tolerable and there are days when I am not sure I can get through. I cannot sleep like I used to. A full night of sleep is like treasure. Debilitating anxiety seems to always be at my elbow. And just when I feel like I’m getting the hang of what is expected of me, change like a tidal wave.
But I’ve learned something while I’m here. I suppose I could have learned it elsewhere just as well as here. But God in his Providence taught me through my work at the bank a lesson I may not have listened to otherwise.
Back when I felt God’s call to ministry, it was born of my love for the gospel. I had discovered something. Something like gold for the poor. Fresh bread for the hungry. And it changed me and the trajectory of my life. And then as I trained for ministry, every taste of ministry in the church made me hunger for it more. I longed to teach and lead and counsel and all that comes with being a pastor.
I loved the gospel of grace. I loved it because of what it meant for me. And consistently I was seeing all it meant for others. The hurting and the failures. The Pharisees and the libertines. And I loved most of what it meant to be a pastor. I was motivated by these things, motivated to serve and sacrifice so much. But there was one thing not motivating me.
There is a saying among pastors with a kind of dark humor. It goes like this —”Ministry would be great if it wasn’t for the people.” It’s funny because ministry exists for the sake of the people. It’s dark and sad because ministry exists for the people.
I can honestly say I loved people while I was a pastor. But I look back, and if I’m honest, I admit I did not minister to them because I loved them. Concern for them was not a motivation, just a by-product of liking them and them liking me.
My love for the gospel motivated me. My love for my work motivated me. The need or desire to love people did not motivate me. I did not write lessons and curriculum and sermons out of love for the people I ministered to. I did not teach and preach and plan and counsel because of love for them. Love was present but not the driving force.
I’m not saying I didn’t love the great majority of the people I served. I’m not saying love was not present in my ministry. I don’t think anyone could call it a cold ministry. There was too much laughter and tears to say that. Love was just more filigree than fuel.
Over the last month, I’ve sat across the desk of a woman whose husband cheated on her and then left a couple months after she gave birth to their daughter. I’ve talked with a man not long out of prison after 20 years and he kept saying over and over “I just wanna get back on my feet.” A man whose wife took all the money and left and all he wanted was her back. The elderly losing their memories and memory and independence. A wealthy son not happy about holding $300,000 check from his father’s life insurance policy and holding a visible sadness I’ve also carried since my own father went on ahead. Not to mention all the divorces and financial difficulty and lost jobs and wayward children.
A few days ago I opened an account for a registered sex offender who probably could not imagine real kindness after I saw the scarlet letter on his ID. Someone asked me if I wanted to punch him and if it made my blood boil. No and yes. I did not want to punch him. Rather, I wanted to show him kindness, him knowing I know.
This has been a hard lesson. And often it has felt like a cruel one. But I suppose all children think the discipline they are getting is cruel. The pain must be seen in the past to be appreciated. And then owned. And then carried like the presence of God itself, in the midst of his people, going before them in all their endeavors. Because in the midst of his people is exactly where I found myself.
Not long ago I preached at my church and I realized something. Maybe for the first time I wanted to preach because of my affection for the people in front of me…knowing their hurts and pains and assuming they are dealing with much that my customers deal with daily. I preached for them because of love for them and not just a love for preaching.
That was new and different.
I was so used to thinking of preaching as an act of worship, I never saw the need to preach as an act of love. Of course, love for God and all he has done for us in Jesus is in play. But also love for our neighbor, the people I usually share a pew with. And a meal, sometimes. And a whole host of doubts and fears and failures and hopes and dreams about the tomorrows following Sunday worship.
This is probably par for the course for so many of you. Admittedly, I’m slow on the uptake.
However, I get the feeling there is no arrival in this learning. No graduation. No moving on to harder things. The temptation in the Christian life is to check a particular discipleship characteristic off the list and then work on something else. But loving others is the primary ethic of the follower of Jesus. It cannot be learned in Seminary. This must be learned in the crucible of the world as it is, where “beautiful and terrible things will happen.” A world marred and marring. A world where quite possibly in the thick of your own misery, you will look up and see someone else’s, and then have to decide if you will respond in love or not.
Back when I learned Greek Mythology in High School, I did not understand. I could not grasp the importance, the value of such knowledge. But some of the stories were entertaining. And I can very well remember the enjoyment when one of the gods fell into ruin and misery. These gods, so full of themselves, so self-important, deserved to fall and there was a feeling of justice when they did.
I have often written on the problem of celebrity in our culture and specifically in evangelical culture. The celebrity often gets in the way of the gospel – his or her image crowds out the image of God in the face of Jesus. And they end up wielding a power that puts them beyond effectual reproof or correction. We share a lot of the blame when this happens. We create them. Our hearts are idol factories.
There is another celebrity issue I cannot get my head around that makes even less sense. A celebrity, such as Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus, falls hard into addiction and sinful destructive behavior and we take to the internet and make jokes at the their expense. We retweet and share others who are making fun of them. Why? I assume because they deserve it.
Their sins are so great, they deserve to be publicly mocked. Their mugshot…their image as a criminal, hangs in cyberspace for us to laugh at. And why shouldn’t we? We might as well cast lots on ebay for their gear while we’re at it.
Because we should be the last ones to do so. We should be the ones silent if we cannot love them. Why are we so slow to show them mercy in the public sphere instead of heaping up ridicule? Because our love will not get a laugh. It will not make us feel better in the insecurity of our ordinary lives.
Our knee-jerk reaction to the downfall of the rich and famous should be an echo of the grace we ourselves received. We should be quick to look on them with the same love we enjoy from God. The evangelical church so desirous to evangelize the world has so much trouble with “Love is kind,” when it’s a celebrity we didn’t really like in the first place. We want to change the world in the name of Jesus all the while ridiculing those who most need the very grace we have received.
Look I’m no marketing guru but I think coupling The God of the Mundane with bacon would’ve been genius.
I can remember the first time I stepped into Toys-R-Us and walking those aisles, my mouth agape in wonder…an echo of what those first few moments are like for those who have gone on ahead.
Braggadocio and insults are now a fundamental part of the football experience.
Some people fear terrorist attacks. I fear writing a cover letter for a résumé.
Celebrities get away with behavior we would never condone in our children.
I’m not doing much writing because you have not bought me a computer yet, internets.
What’s that thing called when in the middle of the night you are attacked by a sensation of panic that overwhelms all attempts at reasonable thought? It’s on the tip of my tongue…
When we get audited at work, it is easy to hope someone else makes the mistakes. It is hard to prefer it is you because you care for the others.
My wife is a living breathing sermon of grace for my soul.
The words of Jesus are like food for my soul. And I really, really like food.
A Progressive is a person who doesn’t like the violence of God in the Old Testament but never misses an episode of The Walking Dead.
A quiet evening sitting in the den with my wife is pretty exciting.
The landscape art of Alfred Sisley.
I’m glad we measure our weight in pounds and not wings because that would make losing weight that much harder.
When I get a new job, I’m gonna relish being able to look up into the starry night without having to fight the dread of the following day.
The Scriptures are an unrelenting reminder of our lack and God’s day-in and day-out provision.
While you’re watching reruns of Law & Order: Toledo, my 10 yr old daughter is reading graphic novels of Shakespeare in her spare time.
If you can be thankful for what you have learned from those with whom you have deep disagreement, then grace is certainly working itself through your whole being.
If the only ones who care about pastor Mark Driscoll’s plagiarism/ghostwriting are Progressives, then we can be certain that the neo-Evangelical/Reformed movement has spiraled downward into a cultural Christianity that worships celebrity and offers it no accountability. It has a standard of integrity below that which is expected of 18 year olds by professors, pagan or no.
The Church in the west has lost the idea that Christ’s power is made manifest in weakness. Though the celebrity pastors will tell you different in HD.
In the past few weeks I have sat across the desk from a lot of hurting people. From a new mom whose husband is leaving her for a younger woman to a criminal sex offender with a scarlet letter on his Driver’s License. It’s made me want to be a pastor even more.
I love art, especially paintings. I read books about artists and art-theft and art history. I have a desk calendar from the Met. I watch documentaries on painters as much as I can. But I disagree that we need to be having more conversations about art and faith. What we need is more conversations about plumbing and faith.
What if the Christian publishing industry said they would just do away with Ghostwriting in the name of integrity before a watching world?
In a few weeks I’ll help teach a Sunday School class on the attributes of God using Knowing God by Packer. I could not be more happy.
When you are dieting everything tastes like pizza. Except pizza, it tastes like the banquet at the world’s end.
My wife is an indescribable gift.
I never knew the entitlement I felt towards luxuries like vacations and working cars and so much else, until those were taken away. I wouldn’t trade the luxury of seeing that for anything.
If you compare your life to what people post on their Facebook page, you will despair or you will slip into envy.
Money is the root of all evil because the chief temptation is to think more of it will solve the problems we — as individuals, families, and churches — are facing at any given point in our lives.
“…yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.” – James 4:14
Yesterday I saw someone post on Twitter something to the effect of –
“I cannot wait for 2014! It’s going to be a great year!”
My first thought was, depends on what you mean by ‘great’ really.
2013 was a rough year for us. There has been a lot of loss and regret. My father died back in April, we were financially wrecked by car repairs, and health issues abounded. And to be honest, I expected the year to open new opportunities for a job for which I am better suited. It never happened. We wanted the year to be different than it was and that seemed possible because we have had years in which we could look back and say it was great. But this was not one of those years.
Maybe your 2014 will be a great year and all your dreams or at least some of them will be realized.
But it is possible the coming year will not be a good one for you.
It is possible you will experience severe emotional and lasting pain because of a tremendous loss. It is possible physical pain will be a large part of your year to come. It is possible you will sin in ways that you never thought possible. And relationships will break like the crisp scorched grass in the heat of August. It is possible you will lose your job and financial ruin will rise like a specter in the dark of every night. It is possible death will visit your door or the home of a loved one.
You may wonder at the species of fish whose belly you inhabit. You may find yourself in sackcloth and ashes guessing the rating of the storm that has taken so much from you.
And Osteen’s books be damned, you may have the worst year of days you have ever seen.
And yet Christ will still be faithful. He will still hold though your grip loosens on him. He will not abandon his people. He will not forsake you. The good news of the King who has conquered our greatest foe is still true in the ruins of this life. His love will still be greater than all our imaginings. He will still reign. The promises of our Sovereign God will remain unspoiled in the heat of our longest days. And even when our palette cannot detect the goodness of our Lord, his mercy will not be moved.
It is arrogance to say “these are the best books” for a particular year. I do not say this as a writer but as a reader. Better to say, “These are really good books I enjoyed.” Or, “These are the books I enjoyed the most.”
I continue to love Pope Francis despite my Calvinism.
I can hear college students now, “Look professor, the problem here is not plagiarism, it is the pressure you and the University put on people like me to preform to high standard.”
The Christmas story never gets old to me, it always speaks as though alive.
I continue to love sausage despite my baconism.
Just sitting and waiting till pitchers and catchers report.
Hang on loosely to everything but your books.
Humility and mercy are beautiful wherever you see them.
My two favorite novels are Pride and Prejudice and The Road. I can’t explain this either.
My story of serving in an Acts 29 church cannot be told without instances of ghostwriting and plagiarism. One day it will be told.
I read a lot of books in a year. Half of them I’ve never read before. It’s easy to read a lot of books when so many of them you are reading again and again. But of all the books I read for the first time this year, these are the ones I think I would recommend the most. That may change.
The last one listed is the one I recommend the most. Outside of that, they are really in no particular order. I may love one and appreciate one more this week that one I appreciated like no other the week before. All of them are worth your time, though.
Enjoy.
A Prayer Journal by Flannery O’Connor – I waited all year for this one and though it is short, I love it. I love because I’m a writer and a believer. And those two things are hard to work through. And in this short journal, we pull back the curtain and hear a young Flannery O’Connor talking to God.
The Pastor As Minor Poet by M. Craig Barnes – Some books come at just the right time. And you feel like they were given to you personally. It doesn’t happen much. But when it does, it’s a powerful thing. This is one of those books.
The Road by Cormac McCarthy – When I finished this book, I wiped away the tears, got up and walked into my boy’s room and kissed them both and just watched them sleep for a few minutes. I feel about this book the way many feel about books like Catcher in the Rye.
All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy – I’d been listening to Townes Van Zandt for a month nonstop. And I wanted some reading that had the feel and strength of his lyrics and singing. I tried Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour. But they were not what i was looking for at the time. And I ran into this one and was able to check it out from the library to read on my iPad. That was late on a friday night. By Saturday I had bought a used copy and was hooked. I finished on Monday.
Secrets in the Dark: A Life In Sermons by Frederick Buechner – This book changed me. One sermon in particular. I read that sermon at least once a week and pray that God will honor the longing that is still there from hearing “Whom shall I send into the pain of this world where people die?” This book above all others is why I want to be a pastor again.
In Search of Deep Faith by Jim Belcher – This is the book I think about all the time. And that to me is the mark of the best books. Well-written, yes. But it has the aroma of being well-lived. I love the stories in this book. Because I love C.S. Lewis and Van Gogh and the stories of martyrs and those who have tasted grief and loss and come out on the other side with a faith that is something to aspire to. There is no book I have read this year that I would recommend higher than this one. And I’ve read some astounding books this year. My review is here.
Four years ago I wrote this little article. It’s my favorite of anything I’ve written. One reason is I hear from people throughout the year about how helpful it has been. Usually it’s around Christmas, but I also hear from folks in July. But really I love it the most because there is so much of me in it – so much of my own hopes. I need what’s in this little piece as much as anyone. This year more than any.
It’s been a hard year culminating in a lot of lessons learned. Christmas will be difficult for a few different reasons. I’ve never not looked forward to Christmas, but this year I’m tempted. So I need to hear this as much as anyone.
——————–
We are now accustomed to hearing how Christmas is difficult for many people. The story of Scrooge and his problems with the season is no longer anecdotal. It is now par for the course. Maybe this has always been the case. Maybe the joy of the season has always been a thorn in the side of those who can scarcely imagine joy.
Not too long ago, I heard from one of these people about how difficult Christmas would be because of some heartbreak in their family. There was utter hopelessness and devastation. Christmas would be impossible to enjoy because of the freshness of the pain. It’s been a story hard to forget.
I get it. I mean, it makes sense. Christmas is a time in which there is a lot of heavily concentrated family time. The holidays can be tense in even the best of circumstances. Maneuvering through the landmines of various personalities can be hard even if there is no cancer, divorce or empty seat at the table. What makes it the most wonderful time of the year for one is also what makes it the most brutal time of the year for another. My own family has not been immune to this phenomenon.
I’d like to push back against this idea a little. Gently. I think we have it all backwards. We have it sunk deep into our collective cultural consciousness that Christmas is for the happy people. You know, those with idyllic family situations enjoyed around stocking-strewn hearth dreams. Christmas is for healthy people who laugh easily and at all the right times, right? The successful and the beautiful, who live in suburban bliss, can easily enjoy the holidays. They are beaming after watching a Christmas classic curled up on the couch as a family in front of their ginormous flat-screen drinking perfectly mixed hot cocoa. We live and act as if this is who should be enjoying Christmas.
But this is so damnably backwards. Christmas – the great story of the incarnation of the Rescuer – is for everyone, especially those who need a rescue. Jesus was born as a baby to know the pain and sympathize with our weaknesses. Jesus was made to be like us so that in his resurrection we can be made like him; free from the fear of death and the pain of loss. Jesus’ first recorded worshippers were not of the beautiful class. They were poor, most-likely ugly shepherds; beat down by life and labor. They had been looked down on over many a nose.
Jesus came for those who look in the mirror and see ugliness. Jesus came for daughters whose fathers never told them they were beautiful. Christmas is for those who go to “wing night” alone. Christmas is for those whose lives have been wrecked by cancer and the thought of another Christmas seems like an impossible dream. Christmas is for those who would be nothing but lonely if not for social media. Christmas is for those whose marriages have careened against the retaining wall and are threatening to flip over the edge. Christmas is for the son, whose father keeps giving him hunting gear when the son wants art materials. Christmas is for smokers who cannot quit even in the face of a death sentence. Christmas is for whores, adulterers and porn stars who long for love in every wrong place. Christmas is for college students who are sitting in the midst of family and already cannot wait to get out for another drink. Christmas is for those who traffic in failed dreams. Christmas is for those who have squandered the family name and fortune – they want ‘home’ but cannot imagine a gracious reception. Christmas is for parents watching their children’s marriage fall into disarray.
Christmas is really about the gospel of grace for those who need it. Because of all that Christ has done on the cross, the manger becomes the most hopeful place in a Universe darkened with hopelessness. In the irony of all ironies, Christmas is for those who will find it the hardest to enjoy. It really is for those who hate it the most.
Echoes and Stars 