Tag Archives: spirituality

This Is Where – a Pentecost Post

Welcome to a blog post for Pentecost Sunday – the “birthday” of the Christian church, and the day in this tradition where we celebrate the outpouring of the Spirit on all believers, recounted in Acts 2.

We sang a song I wrote at our chapel today, which I thought went along with the theme of God’s power at work in us, and I wanted to share it here.

One of the joys and challenges of serving in a military chapel is that every couple years, the lead chaplain for any service is almost guaranteed to change.

Unlike a traditional church where a senior pastor stays around and sets the vision for as long as they choose (or as long as the board will have them), this frequent turnover means that military chapels can sometimes experience big shifts from one chaplain to the next.

It would be like changing CEOs or office leadership every two years, hoping that what was important last week under the old boss is still going to be important next week once the new boss communicates a game plan for the future.

While a lot of aspects of the service and ministry will likely remain the same, each individual is going to have their own areas for greater focus, their own aspects of spirituality which they feel have the most importance for effective ministry.

I’ve been fortunate to be a part of the Kadena Contemporary Worship Service for a few years as a contracted musician and now as the worship director, working under three chaplains so far to fulfill their vision for the praise music during the service.

What energizes or refreshes you?

Our previous chaplain was focused on John 15:5 as a key verse for the congregation. Jesus tells His disciples:

I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing. John 15:5 NASB

Chaplain shared how he hates raisins. When you bite into a juicy grape, there’s a gush of liquid that’s satisfying and refreshing. There’s some flesh to that fruit. It’s energizing and fresh.

But when you get raisins, they’ve been left out to dry; all the life has been sucked out of them. You get this shriveled, nasty thing that makes you more thirsty when you eat it.

He equated that to the Christian life. If Jesus is the vine, we need to stay connected so that we keep receiving that life from Him. We want to be fruitful; we want to offer a love and a grace to the world that quenches spiritual thirst and satisfies hunger for God.

Elsewhere Jesus challenges religious leaders who are so focused on and proud of knowing the scriptures. Christ declares that those verses testify of Him. If they wanted real life based on what they learned from the holy scriptures they cherish, then they would come to Him to find it.

You search the Scriptures because you think that in them, you have eternal life; it is these that testify about Me; and you are unwilling to come to Me so that you may have life. John 5:39-40 NASB

From that chaplain’s perspective, we needed as a church to be focused on God’s Word – on the Bible and understanding it, for sure, but even more importantly on understanding the message that God gave us in sending us His Son, Jesus Christ, the Word become flesh.

It wouldn’t be enough to become “Bible-thumpers” searching the Scriptures for ways to believe we are better than everyone around us, thinking we’ve got the secret or the best treasure and clutching it close to our chests.

We would need to put our beliefs to work, turn our professions of love into expressions of love, with actions and not just words. That’s what we see in Jesus, and if we were really going to abide in Him, that’s what should start happening in us.

Those verses meant a lot to me before he shared them with the church, but under his leadership, they bounced around my head for almost two years as he kept coming back to that vision, that focus:

“Abide in Christ. Let Christ abide in you. Minister to others and bring life. Be fruitful. Don’t be a raisin.”

I guess this used to be a meme? Thanks, imgflip!

How many people are really called to ministry?

Our new chaplain arrived almost the same time that our worship director was moving back to the States. I stepped into the worship director role and met with the new chaplain to find out what he wanted.

From the start, he has emphasized a desire to see the Spirit move freely in and through the congregation. Getting more people involved means less of a burdensome workload for each individual, but it also means that it’s not a one-man show up front.

His words and his passion reminded me of a term I learned about years ago in a church with a similar mindset: the priesthood of all believers.

In the Old Testament of the Bible, you’d often see the Spirit fall on one man or woman, who was called during their lifetime to do great and mighty deeds as God’s representative in a way. There was often a small number of prophets, if not one primary prophet for any given time in the life of the nation. Occasionally there were more – there is a school of prophets during the time of Elisha – but this seems like a rarity.

In our modern churches, it can often look the same. There is The Pastor, who everyone looks to for just about everything. If someone has to pray, ask The Pastor. If someone has a question about the Bible or Christian doctrine, ask The Pastor. If someone is struggling with anything, talk to The Pastor. If an elderly member of the congregation needs their lawn mowed, call The Pastor.

Maybe there are some other Special People in the church… like The Worship Leader, or the Elder, or the Senior Deacon, or the Sunday School Superintendent. Hopefully, a lot of the hard work of a large ministry is divided among a number of willing servants so that no one is bearing the load alone.

The downside is that this can lead the members in the congregation to act like spectators, showing up to a performance expecting to be entertained in a strictly one-way communication or ministry (from the people at the front to everyone in the pews).

“The priesthood of all believers” is meant to flip that ratio.

Paul frequently tells all the saints about what has changed since they came to faith in Christ, and one of those significant changes is that God’s Spirit dwells in each of us. To one church, he asks the question pointedly:

Do you not know that you are a temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? 1 Cor 3:16 NASB

Every believer has the Spirit of God in them, with gifts and abilities that are meant to be shared in the church for the benefit of all present (see Romans 12, 1 Corinthians 12-14, Ephesians 4:11-16). There’s no reason to have a one-man or few-person show up front. There are, or should be, a whole bunch of Spirit-empowered potential ministers of God’s goodness and grace filling the pews.

Have you ever seen a church full of temples?

The church is full of temples of God–you and me.

This is what Paul described as the mystery of the good news he was called to preach to the world. God wasn’t staying far off, some angry judge in the sky hammering a gavel calling us all guilty and pronouncing the sentence of death. Nor was He aloof and disinterested with our struggles and circumstances as if we were a forgotten cosmic ant colony.

Christ is in you, and working through you. God drew near in the person of Jesus, and nearer still in the indwelling presence of the Spirit.

… the word of God, that is, the mystery which has been hidden from the past ages and generations, but has now been manifested to His saints … which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. Col 1:25-27 NASB

When we get our minds and hearts fixed on God… when we remind ourselves of His constant presence… when we consider all that He has called us to and the wonderful power at work in us because of His grace and mercy… when we get into that place–not just physically in a church building but spiritually in our passionate devotion toward Him…

That’s where we find our source of life–true, fruitful life that lasts. Remember: don’t be a raisin!

Here’s a video from our service a few months ago. (Today’s video had technical difficulties.) Jump to 11:45 to hear “This is Where (Source of Life)” played by the Kadena CWS band.

This is Where (Source of Life)

This is where my need meets Your sufficiency
This is where my past gives way to Your mercy
This is where I kneel in humility
You whisper, “Follow Me. Come follow Me.”
This is where my sin, You take and wash me clean
The mess that I’m in, You say You will redeem
I’ve been so blinded, but now I start to see
You come alive in me, the life inside of me

And it’s a mystery and a wonder
It’s my only hope
You’re living in me as I wander
All along life’s winding road
Yeah, You blessed me beyond measure
More than I could try to hold inside
You became my Source of life

This is where we see a little more of You
This is where belief turns into work to do
This is where meaning and purpose start anew
We’re called to follow You, to come and follow You
This is where vision becomes reality
This is where grace flows to the very least
Your Holy Spirit supplies the power we need
We come alive and see Your glory bursting free

And it’s a mystery and a wonder
It’s our only hope
You’re changing history as You sunder
Every chain upon our souls
Yeah You bless us beyond measure
More than we could try to hold inside
Jesus, You’re our Source of life

You are life
You’re the One in Whom I will abide
You’re the One of Whom the Scriptures testify
We will come and find that You satisfy our souls

Salvation and Saving Throws

“Dungeons and Dragons,” my friend gasped, then whispered to my son out of concern, “You know that’s demonic, right?”

I had an interesting conversation with a loved one recently. We were chatting about all manner of small-talk topics. “How’s the weather there? What have you been doing lately? I heard this new song I like…”

Then they paused, got serious, and said, “I don’t know how to say this other than to ask directly, but… David, you call yourself a Christian…”

I call myself a Christian? Oh my, where is this going, if my very salvation and my devotion to the faith I’ve held almost 40 years is in doubt?

“… But you also play Dungeons and Dragons. So, how do you reconcile these two things that are so diametrically opposed?” (I admit, ‘diametrically opposed’ may not be the exact phrasing, but I think it was.)

When my friends or family (generally older and generally religious) ask these kind of questions or make these kinds of statements, part of me really wants to ask them to describe D&D for me as they understand it. I guarantee that 95% of the time, it’s not going to line up with what I’ve experienced in fourteen years of running D&D games.

But I don’t want to come from a position of attack or put people on the defensive, so instead, I hope to share my own experiences and trust that those who know me can breathe a little easier when they understand where I’m coming from.

You call yourself a Christian.

So, first things first, I love this person dearly and I am not offended. They asked a direct and honest question from a place of concern and care. They’re going off of what they’ve heard over the years from people they trust, and if that’s all you know on a given subject, that’s the opinion you’re going to hold.

Back in the 80s, there was a period for D&D called the Satanic Panic.

Some pastors and religious figures had heard stories of kids developing an unhealthy investment into this strange game, and they delivered strong warnings to the faithful. Comics and movies were made to warn of the danger of this dark game where you pretend to be all these weird characters and you act out what they do in their fantasy worlds. Stories circulated of kids believing they WERE their made-up character, and some reports circulated of these kids committing suicide if their in-game persona died.

On top of those concerns, toss in game rules for heroes using magic powers, and a book of monsters to fight that includes demons and devils… which translated into worries that this game was a springboard into actual satanic indoctrination, a gateway to genuine witchcraft, an excuse to perform real rituals and even sacrifices, or an open door for summoning demonic spirits.

Well, who wants their kids to be exposed to all that? Point being, I understand the concern even though I believe it’s (mostly) unfounded.

Playing Pretend, But With Dice

When my brother and I were young, we would line up our toys like opposing armies on the field of battle that was his room. He was always the history buff and strategist, arranging his troops in formations and marching them against my army in organized waves – cannon fodder first, then good but expendable forces, then those he still cared about, followed by his strongest and most favorite toys. We never got that far unless he felt like having his best guys beat the mess out of mine for story’s sake.

I would get caught up in the stories between characters – the rivalries and friendships, the alliances and betrayals, the romances and battle-forged bonds of brotherhood. “My guy is upset,” I would explain, “because this other guy is in love with this lady, and—“

“Sure, whatever,” my brother would respond, “but my first wave is running into your camp carrying bombs and they just blew up all these idiots along with themselves.”

Occasionally we would argue:

“My guy beat your guy for sure, because he knows jiu jitsu and taekwondo.”

“Yeah but my guy is genetically enhanced and he’s wearing special armor that gives him faster reflexes.”

“But he can’t dodge a laser—it’s too fast.”

“Nah, he dodged it.”

“No way!”

“Way!”

Back to my phone conversation. “It’s like that,” I explained, “except there are some dice and rules to determine who actually beats up who, or how good someone does when they try something heroic. That’s really all D&D is… playing pretend with friends, and some dice, and some rules.”

“If anything,” I added, “I think that’s a bigger concern and a better argument from a Christian perspective for why D&D might be bad. Like any hobby or luxury, it can be an incredible waste of time.”

What is D&D?

“I was watching these groups play D&D on YouTube, and I’ve never played before, but I think it would be cool to try… but I don’t know how it works and I’ve never played anything like this.”

I’ve had the pleasure of running a few introductory sessions for coworkers and friends, usually as a result of a statement like the above. Where D&D was once the province of social outcasts and nerds, tabletop roleplaying games are enjoying a massive surge in popularity.

D&D and most tabletop RPGs are about collaborative storytelling. Most games have a “master” of some sort, who functions as the rules referee and final authority on what actually happens in the story everyone’s telling. (e.g. did my guy beat up my brother’s? or did he dodge lasers with his genetic enhancements, which is obvious cheating trash? Let the game master decide.)

1. Storyteller describes what’s happening.

2. Players choose an action.

3. Roll dice.

4. Storyteller determines results and goes back to Step 1.

That’s the short version of the whole game.

The storyteller or gamemaster sets the scene, describing what’s going on and where everyone is. What’s available in the room that the heroes can use? What monsters are trying to stop them? What dangers do they face, or who must they persuade in order to accomplish their goals?

“You’re in a dank cave that stinks like mildew and rotting flesh. You peer into the darkness, but without any sources of light, everything is pitch black. All you hear is the low rumble of a sleeping beast deeper inside, its billowing snores creating an uncomfortable breeze of hot moist air that smells like decay.”

The players declare what they want to do.

“I want to light a torch.” (Are you sure? You might wake the beast.)

“I want to feel around for some of the treasure we’re sure is in here.” (You might make some noise.)

“I want to whisper to the mercenary we brought from town – does she know anything about what’s lurking in this cave?” (Ah, but do you trust her? What if she lies?)

“I want to sneak toward the beast, maybe see if I can look for some weakness.”

“I think we should leave. Who’s with me?”

The storyteller asks them to roll a die and add the result to some number on their character sheet that reflects how good (or bad) their character is at the given task:

Tyrion Lannister is going to have a harder time jumping across a broken castle rampart than Jon Snow.

Frodo Baggins will struggle to lift heavy rocks to find his buried friends, but Boromir and Strider can toss stones with ease. (But not a dwarf; no one tosses a dwarf!)

Tony Stark can come up with the secret of time travel over a cup of hot cocoa, but Groot is never going to succeed no matter how well the player rolls.

Then the process repeats, and hopefully, a thrilling story develops.

No one has to show up dressed like their character, though some gamers find that fun. Depending on your group, some people will talk “in character,” maybe affecting an accent or memorable speech pattern. For some players, it’s fun to come up with an extensive backstory – all the details of their character’s life and previous relationships which might come into play during the course of the group’s game.

Some players contribute to the story and the heat of the moment by going in-depth with their descriptions of the fighting style of their hero or the way divine might radiates through their holy symbol as they call upon higher powers. My son (who was warned about the demonic nature of D&D) made his character a Christian and quoted scripture in-game, as part of his character’s story and his personal preference.

For others, simple is fun. “I am Barg. Barg is strong. Barg smash everyone bad.”

You Write the Script Together

Think of Game of Thrones. A lot of fans were upset with the final season. It wasn’t even just complaints that this or that character didn’t win and take over as King or Queen. Many fans complained about plot threads that got left out, or plot twists they felt hadn’t been built up in a way that made sense.

Wouldn’t it be great if you could put your own spin on the story?

If you’ve ever really gotten into a TV series or movie to the point that you care about the characters and what happens to them, imagine helping tell the story of what happens next and deciding how your heroes should respond to the challenges that come their way.

That’s what a good game of D&D is: collaborative storytelling. The players and the storyteller all have input into what happens and how the story progresses. It’s like a group reading of an old Choose Your Own Adventure book, where everyone takes turns making decisions and every page has a thousand options.

Admittedly, some groups will put objectionable content into their games, just like some movies are too dark or disturbing for certain viewers. Game of Thrones certainly wasn’t for everybody, either.

Like any hobby, some things can be taken too far. As Christians (and I think as people in general), we should be careful about what we dwell on and how much we get invested into our interests.

Reconciliation

As I said, I have no ill will over being asked “As a Christian, how can you justify playing D&D?” I think there are valid concerns that should be taken into account, as with all the ways in which we spend our time, our resources, and our energy.

I can take a step back and consider, “Am I just making excuses? Am I lying to myself about this? Am I ignoring conviction?”

I’d like to think that people with no experience with the game can also take a step back and consider whether what I’ve described from firsthand experience is the dangerous deception they’ve been led to believe it is.

Like D&D, life works best when we can hear each other out, find common ground, and collaborate to make it better.

Evidence All Around

There’s a line from the song, “Here As In Heaven,” by Elevation Worship, which gets me excited about the Body of Christ coming together to praise Him.

The evidence is all around … that the Spirit of the Lord is here.

We’re in the midst of planning a night of worship for the Protestant chapels on Kadena, and part of what’s on my mind for that is the reminder of what Scripture teaches us about the presence of God.

“Don’t you know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?” – 1 Corinthians 3:16

Over the years, I’ve heard many lead worshippers and passionate seekers talk about how we approach God through music and corporate praise in terms of a process of “entering into His presence,” or a hopeful desire that “maybe God will show up in our time of worship.”

“Will You come and fill this place? Can we feel Your presence today?”

They’ll quote verses from Psalms and the Old Testament talking about entering His courts and they’ll refer to the three sections of the Tabernacle as if it’s a picture of gradual stages of worship.

“First we’re in the outer courts, kind of like the congregation meeting up in the sanctuary … then some of us will press in to seek God, and we’ll go deeper, further, into the holy place or the inner courts … but then a few might really pursue God and go into the Most Holy place, where His presence is.”

There’s even a song about it that I recall from the ’80s or ’90s. Take me past the outer courts, into the holy place… take me in to the Holy of Holies.

But we’re not living in the old covenant, where only the select ones can enter the presence of God. Those songs and ideas at least recognized that all of us are welcomed into God’s presence because of Christ, but I feel like they’re still lacking a key understanding of what has changed since we are now in Christ.

You are the Temple of God.

About two decades ago, I decided that this faith in Christ had to be the real thing in my life – not “I grew up in church,” not “I’ve always been a Christian,” not “I’m an American so of course Jesus loves me,” and so on. I rededicated my life to Christ about two decades ago and have stumbled and faltered my way toward Him ever since. One of the sermons I remember from early on in that time was framed around 1 Cor 3:16 and 1 Cor 6:19 which say very similar things.

The Spirit of God is in you.

Why would we be seeking to enter the presence of God, when He became Emmanuel – God With Us – to dwell among us forever? Why would we be striving to work up an emotional moment that we can call “entering the presence of God” when He is already here with us, wherever we go, whatever we’re doing, any time, all the time?

The pastor focused on Paul’s question, “Don’t you know?” It almost seems like a challenge: Hey, don’t you understand? Don’t you get it? Are you not aware of this?

Not a hateful or condescending put-down, but a caring re-emphasis on what matters. Don’t you know about this? This is important. This is crucial. You have to know this.

The Spirit of God dwells in you.

If that’s true, that changes things in worship. (It changes a lot of other things too.)

I don’t have to work up a passionate moment or a goosebumps feeling to know that God is already “here” in the room and in the moment with me. I don’t have to strive to make it through some stages or jump through some religious hoops to where now I somehow earned or deserve to access His presence – He already did all the work in redeeming me and putting His Spirit in me.

We know this is true of the Gospel – we don’t do good to earn Jesus points or secure some kind of hopeful “maybe” for salvation. God saved us through Christ, all our sin forgiven, all our debt paid, all the work done by Him so that “by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not as a result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Eph 2:8-9)

My pastor years ago reminded us of the truth of what Scripture says (what’s true even when we don’t feel like it or don’t remember it). You are the temple of God. When you wake up in the morning, remember that you’re not asking God to show up sometimes during your day or hoping that maybe He’ll look your way now and then. He is right there, right then, with you always, wherever you go.

The problem isn’t that we need God to show up or that we need to enter His presence. The problem is that we often need to be reminded of what God has said and what He has already done.

He isn’t withholding Himself or limiting Himself, playing keep away or hide and seek with us. Sometimes, we get distracted or caught up in everything else going on, and we’re not staying aware of God’s presence.

We can choose to remind ourselves of this truth, though… just as we must often be reminded of the promises and the goodness of God.

A pastor I heard once preached a basic sermon, but pointed out, “The problem isn’t that we need to hear some new thing, some magic trick that will energize us spiritually or make us always successful. The problem is how easily we forget the basics, and how often we need to remind ourselves of what God says is true… which is nothing new, but something very necessary.”

When we look around our church sanctuary – or the living room of someone’s house where believers are gathered in His Name – then the evidence is right there all around you, hinted at in the myriad faces of the faithful, testifying:

The Spirit of the Lord is here.

Tomatoes and Cretins

I hate tomatoes.

I always have. I don’t know why.

They’re disgusting. They’re wet, nasty chunks of blegh. They pollute everything with their slimy seeds, so that even if you pluck them off your burger or salad, you still end up tasting them.

Farmer’s Market I, by Karl Thomas Moore, shared under Creative Commons license

Actually, tasting the flavor isn’t the problem. I love ketchup and
pizza sauce; I even like tomato soup so long as it’s smooth liquid
instead of being filled with pieces.

I used to hate peppers the same way I hate tomatoes—for as long as I
can remember. I would find diced green peppers in an omelet or larger slices in some oriental dish then set them to the side of the plate in revulsion. Tabasco sauce? How about Tabasc-NO. Peppers, I felt certain, were the worst… almost as bad as tomatoes.

Salsa was pure hell, chunky style.

Then one day I tried some Tabasco sauce on a bit of meat cooked on a campfire, and it was amazing. A few years later, I had no option but
to eat a meal with diced green peppers mixed all throughout. They
added a great flavor to one of my favorite dishes, and I had to
reconsider my ridiculous food aversions.

Sometimes the things we “know” with absolute certainty from a young age are actually false. Sometimes, we’re just reinforcing mistakes we’ve made or bad beliefs we’ve accepted as fact–to the extent that we’ll actually argue with people about them.

It’s pretty stupid, but it feels so sensible at the time.

I found myself in that position (yet again) last week when a friend
used the word, “cretin” in a way I thought didn’t quite fit. “That’s
not what that word means,” I proclaimed.

(As a writer, of course I know all manner of important things about
words and their meanings, both subjective and literal.)

Maybe from context clues, kid’s cartoons, or childhood assumptions, I took “cretin” to mean something along the lines of “villain” or
“troublemaker.”

“Is that what it means?” my friend asked. “I thought it meant ‘idiot.’”

To the Google-machines!

He was right. The answer flashed onto the screen.

Cretin. Noun. 1. (informal, offensive) a stupid person (used as a
general term of abuse).

Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary defines our modern use of ‘cretin’ as:
“(informal) a stupid, vulgar, or insensitive person: clod, lout”

Google also showed us the Urban Dictionary definition: “A person that is: brainless, stupid, child-like, and full of pointless information
that makes no sense and appeals only to other cretins.”

Now, I won’t recommend Urban Dictionary as the go-to for defining
words—especially while at work, where your network usage might be monitored or scrutinized. That said, their definition struck home for me in an unexpected way.

How often does my faith get wrapped up in child-like arguments and
pointless information? How much do I get wrapped up in nit-pick
debates about politics and living out the Christian faith? How many
discussions quibbling over theological details have I dived into on
Facebook? How many tweets have I fired back in response to a
disagreement over something that doesn’t matter?

In the Church, we find so many reasons to disagree and dispute, to
decide and deride and divide. We split into denominations as often as we split hairs. We say nice things about how “those believers are
pretty good and all,” but we know deep down that they’re missing out on so much (which, thankfully, God has revealed to none other than us).

I wonder at the division over politics and other issues in our
country, and then I realize how often we have the same mentality and spirit operating within the Church. At worst, we demonize the other denominations, highlighting all their faults and flaws while hiding our own. At best, we engage in lengthy dialogues about minor details – which method is best, what style is ideal, what personal subjective preference should everyone take as objectively superior, and so on.

As I considered how wrong I was—while feeling absolutely convinced I was correct–about the meaning of ‘cretin,’ I wrote the following in my journal:

Am I a cretin about the things of God? Do I focus my attention on the little details that matter nothing in the grand scheme of eternity? Do I focus on whether tongues is this or that, whether one can say or sing “Reckless Love” and be theologically sound, whether the Trinity is best described in this or that complex explanation instead of a simple albeit imperfect analogy? Do I get wrapped around these silly details while missing the point of the much greater matters?

I think of the Pharisees and their tithing of mint, cumin, rosemary, and whatever else… And Jesus looks at them like, “Yeah, ok, you do those things, and that’s great. But how about justice, mercy, compassion? Have you thought about doing THOSE things?”

Are we a bunch of religious cretins today?

Are we missing out on something God has provided for us to enjoy or called us to do?

Are we standing around debating which is the proper oil to use in our lanterns, while the Bridegroom passes by?

He sets a table for us, a wonderful feast to which we’ve been invited.
Am I in a tizzy over how the silverware is placed or the quality and
color of the tablecloth?

Am I pushing away the plate like a child, scrunching up my face
because I just KNOW that I hate tomatoes?

Dear Me by Nichole Nordeman

I bought Nichole Nordeman’s recent album, Every Mile Mattered, as a gift for my wife. We both love her depth and probing questions implied or directly stated in her lyrics from previous albums, so it was an easy decision.

I bought it, but I didn’t actually listen to it. The songs sat on my iPhone and iPad, untouched, although I occasionally placed them in to playlists for Christian music or perhaps nice background music for writing.

I had the latter on shuffle when “Dear Me” came up. It caught my attention–demanded it, really. I stopped what I was doing, googled the lyrics, and felt the message resonate with my being. Her mixture of idealism and sorrow stirred up some old things in the kettle of my heart.

The song captures what I want my faith to look like, and hits me hard because of how often I know I haven’t measured up, how often I believed the convenient party line about God’s blessings for me, instead of the messy and difficult stuff involving loving others sacrificially.

Growing up in church, how many times have I seen the “magic words” of Christian marketing pass like a wave through American middle-class suburban church culture? Whether it’s a WWJD bracelet, or a Prayer of Jabez keychain, or a Purpose-Driven Life merchandise blitz, or some new study or some new worship album or some new website that is the cutting edge of everything God is doing…

How often has the mystery and the transcendent sacred been distilled into the merchandise and the catchy slogan? How often have I gone right along?

When has my faith looked beyond what Christ is and does for me? Do I believe He came so I could live my best life now, or do I believe He called me to live His life in the here and now?

Time and again in Scripture, we see a God who is concerned about the orphan and the widow, the homeless and the prisoner. We see His people judged, not simply because they broke some religious law or strict code, but more often because of how they treated–or ignored–the plight of those less fortunate.

The prophets tell the people of Israel that God is sick of the rituals, the displays of so-called worship, the sacrifices and the religious checklist they maintain. Isaiah 58 is a prime example. “Is this not the fast I have chosen?” God declares, then lists off what He considers real worship: fighting injustice, breaking oppression, feeding the hungry, sheltering the poor, clothing the naked, reaching out to others.

I don’t want to get political here, but maybe if we hear those things and think, “Now we’re getting political,” then it says something about our politics and how they line up with Scripture.

Dear me:

Maybe what you’ve been told to believe about Jesus and what He would or wouldn’t do isn’t the same as what your book says He did.
Maybe there are no magic words in there, but there are life-giving words instead…
Ones that aren’t just meant to bless you, but to extend the blessing to the ones God says He cares about the most.

It Is Well

I had the privilege of filling in on keys for the base Chapel service last Sunday (and for the next few weeks). The gentleman choosing music picked a song I hadn’t heard before, and it has a bit of a timing shift that makes it non-standard… so I needed to practice more than usual.

This past week, my daughter married her fiancé, and this coming week, she moves back to the States with him in preparation for his enlistment in the Air Force. She’s our oldest child, so this is a huge transition for Mom and me.

The message of this song really ministered to me in the midst of the struggles of accepting drastic changes, and all the bittersweet mixture of celebration for their love and separation from someone we love.

The waves, the wind, and all the storm of emotion within me–all of these still know His name, and know to fall silent when He commands “Peace, be still.”

Through it all, because of Him, it is well with my soul.

Whatever your storm, I hope this ministers to you as it did to me.

#NewyearmoreHim

My wife and I posted a LiveStream video of some instrumental worship songs today.

We played an old favorite of ours, Grace Like Rain (Todd Agnew). Then, we played You Are My All in All (Dennis Jernigan), which was the first church worship song I played and sang once I rededicated my life to Christ shortly after coming to Japan as a young servicemember. Wonderful, Merciful Savior (Selah) is a family favorite of my wife and my mother-in-law, and also a beautiful song that focuses on each Person of the Trinity in turn. Finally, we added in Mary Did You Know (Mark Lowry) mixed with Greensleeves a.k.a. What Child is This, as a final touch of Christmas.

You can find it on our Facebook page, FreeWorship Music.

On top of that, while out for a spontaneous walk today, I remembered a song I’d written years ago that captured how I felt about my spirituality of late. I started singing that softly as I meandered around the neighborhood, and realized it could flow right into Set a Fire (Will Reagan). The wifey and I put together some harmonies and a bit of a round in Set a Fire, while she figured out some violin parts to play in my song.


I’m not one for New Year’s Resolutions, nor do I look at January 1st as the magic time to start a gym habit or creative pursuit. If something’s worth doing, it’s worth starting at once, not at some socially-accepted date known and ridiculed as a train wreck of ridiculous but futile effort towards failed self-improvements.

But I did end up starting a couple things near the New Year… Probably because I saw articles about them that were written to suggest or encourage “here’s a neat habit for a resolution.”

I’ve been trying out a Bullet Journal – especially useful since I work in a facility where I can’t bring personal electronics into my office. And I’ve been practicing a version of the Miracle Morning, with a more Christian bent than the vague and flexible option I first found. As part of that, I’ve spent more time in the Bible and in prayer, and it’s both a step in the right direction and toward some personal aspects and characteristics I’ve allowed to languish.

Yesterday, my wife and I caught some of the songs and sermons from Passion 2017. Today, we watched one with our kids, then tried to have a discussion about the message and how to apply it. On top of that, we took time for Communion–something we meant to do but missed at Christmas or New Year’s Eve/Day.

The music, the worship, the message, the ritual–all this we did in remembrance of Him. It felt like reconnecting to what matters in some small ways. It felt good, and right.

Even with cracked matzos on a paper plate and grape juice in tiny Dixie cups.

Lyrics:

I Need More

Only You can meet my deepest needs

Only You fulfill my heart’s desire

I’ve pushed away by doing what I please

But now, O Lord, I welcome Your fire
I want more, more of You in my life

Nothing compares to the joy I find in You

I need more, more of You in my life

And I’ll lay it all down to be closer to You

Nothing I desire, nothing satisfies

It’s You that I require, Your love gives me life

I need more, more of You.
Your love, Lord, is sweeter than wine

A day with You much better than a lifetime all my own

The glory of Your presence so sublime

I find in You much greater joy than I have ever known

 

My life cannot go on without You Lord

Your love sustains me and I desire more

Under Illusion

I saw this political image making the rounds on my Facebook feed this week, and it got me thinking. Or rather some of the responses did.


One pastor seemed quite incensed that “under God” wasn’t in this version. To that individual, this image shouldn’t be shared as a result… despite the image caption making clear the intent of showing the Pledge as originally written.

In fact, the original Pledge by Francis Bellamy is even more different: I pledge allegiance to my Flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. 

I thought about the power of those two words, “under God.”

In Supreme Court decisions on the subject, the Chief Justice argued that “under God” is an acknowledgement of the religious heritage of the nation but is at this point essentially a secular declaration.  

The ‘God’ referred to is generic and devoid of any religious context. You can say it’s a monotheistic God, so it’s probably tied to an Abrahamic religion. But I don’t think that’s the Court’s intent or point.

I think they recognize, like we should, that two words in a pledge do absolutely nothing to impose any religious standard of behavior or belief upon anyone. No one draws nearer to God in a spiritual experience by reciting the Pledge. It’s not a hymn or worship song, it’s not a prayer to say by rote like Our Father Who art in Heaven or Hail Mary.

Yet the Righr, ever fearing that War on Christianity, focuses attention on those two words in the pledge, as though they constitute some magic cute to social ills that concern us.

Maybe if kids say “under God” then it’ll show what a good, Christian nation we are–regardless of the immorality we approve, condone, or even actively participate in.

I don’t think it works that way. Not on a national level, where we claim some divine favored status–spiritual immunity perhaps?

I’m positive it doesn’t work this way on an individual level, where so long as I say the right words now and then, all my faults and failures get a wink and an understanding grin before being brushed aside. 

After all, I’m part of the good Christian club, right? I ‘liked’ that image that 93% wouldn’t, and shared that poem about footprints in the sand. I voted for the guy who quoted the Bible in his speeches. And I totally got behind defending “under God” from those atheist social justice warriors. 

To paraphrase Jesus, perhaps today He’d tell us, “On that day, many will say, ‘Lord, did we not post in Your Name? And did we not block the atheists on social media, and fight against the growth of Islam in Your favorite nation? Did we not defend the Christ in Christmas, and stand up for the massive cross monuments on public property?’ 

And I will say to them, ‘Depart from Me. I never knew you.'”

It’s easy for me to sit and criticize. So I’ll be honest and admit that I’m just as in danger of missing the whole point as those whose opinions I decry here. I just don’t want to be content flailing about in a cloud of religious / cultural chaff and controversy. 

If I really believe what I claim, then it’s too important to get hung up quibbling and griping over minor details, caught under some illusion that I’m fighting the good fight for the faith.

Tumblr Theology and Facebook Faith

I love the Internet. Practically the sum of human knowledge is available to me at any given time, delivered to my iPhone in seconds. 

…Which makes the general ignorance and indifference in our culture all the more inexcusable.

Whether it’s a ridiculous conspiracy “news” post from the Right or a ridiculous slam on a mistaken interpretation of Christianity from someone on the Left, I have no stomach for it.

Here’s a gem that crossed my feed:

 

Something is very wrong… the simplistic interpretation of Christianity. But whatevs, it sounds funny, right?

Off the top of my head, I think of the verses where Paul deals with predestination. “Jacob I have loved, and Esau I have hated” is an Old Testament quote Paul used to discuss people that God apparently created knowing their undesirable end. If we’re honest (and knowledgeable) about our Christian theology, this puts a little asterisk on the modern Evangelical “God loves everyone” sales pitch.
But we have to get on those homophobic Christians and make them realize what misguided sheeple they are. Plus it’s comedy gold. It doesn’t need to be true; it just needs to get laughs.

I am not saying God hates homosexuals. And I am saying we  (Christians) have NO right or freedom to do so. 

Or consider this one:

 

Sick burn! Clearly not what the verse is addressing in context, but hey–that burn’s so hot the Devil recoiled.

The latter portion of Galatians 3 is about belonging to the family of God based on faith. “You are all sons of God through Christ” is the verse that immediately precedes this. So Paul elaborates that in Christ we are all on equal footing, regardless of race, social status, or gender. 
If Paul really meant this verse to do away with gender and bring in some kind of enlightened spiritual gender identity, then this same Paul would not have written in several other places about the different roles of women and men in the church.

We could discuss what those passages mean, and plenty of varied interpretations exist. But it’s clear from multiple verses that Paul did not think once you become a Christian, you no longer belong to one of the two traditional concepts of gender.

Whatever. It’s making fun of transphobic Christians and their outdated, oppressive beliefs. So who cares if it’s accurate? 

Again, I’m not saying we (Christians) should hate on transgender people. In fact quite the opposite is clear. We’re not called to hate or harm, but to love and disciple others. 

Instead of defending Christians hating (which I believe is indefensible based on Scripture), the point I’m trying to make is that a theology that survived and grew over the past 1900+ years isn’t likely to be properly captured or lampooned in the few words you can put on an image on social media.

And my frustration is directed at Christians too. We love to post things about how President Obama is doing this, or some atheist is doing that. But people don’t always bother to fact check before posting. 

I saw a headline claiming President Obama said the Statue of Liberty is offensive to Muslims, so he wants to remove it. 

My rule of thumb is, “If it sounds exactly like what your political extremists want to hear, it’s probably not true.” So I looked closer.

The so-called news site didn’t have any facts or proof. And the two-line “story” was about an impending government shutdown. The President supposedly said that if the GOP doesn’t send him a funding budget that covers Obamacare, he’ll veto it. 

Which would likely lead to shutdown. 

Which would mean potentially closing national monuments like Lady Liberty temporarily, until the government is funded again.

Nothing to do with Muslims, nothing to do with removing the statue. And this is on the very website making the claims in the headline.

Why would anyone trust this? Why would anyone share it?

It’s what they want to hear. Who cares if it’s wrong?

For nonChristians and Christians alike, there’s a danger in heaping up voices that tell us exactly what we want to hear (2 Timothy 4:3).

Ignorance can be fixed with information. But moving past apathy depends on the individual. 

And I’m not convinced enough of us care to be bothered with all that effort. 

Contributor if not Author

There’s a saying, “Writers write, authors publish.” I’m not sure if it’s meant to chastise those of us who claim the “author” title improperly (by whose standard?) or to encourage us to move past a never-finished manuscript and into the final scary stages of publication.

Maybe contributors to published works fall in the middle somewhere. And despite the growing acceptance of self-publishing, I can’t help but imagine there’s a diminutive attached to that method of publishing… an unsaid and insincere “well, isn’t that cute.”

Despite all that, I’m proud to announce my work has been included in a compilation of stories about God’s leading and guidance in our lives today. The book of about 40 different stories includes five of my short personal accounts for where I believe God worked in my life to give me some direction at key times. Think Chicken Soup for the Soul but amped up in overtly Christian content.

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I mentioned this once on Facebook when I found out about it (around the time I deployed at the end of last year). In looking over blog posts, it seems I never actually posted about this, however.

Here’s the link to the book on Amazon: God Still Leads and Guides