I recently decided to create images for the Topical Memory System published by the Navigators, using NASB as the Bible version. I’m posting these here so that hopefully someone else who finds them useful might also benefit.
I recently decided to create images for the Topical Memory System published by the Navigators, using NASB as the Bible version. I’m posting these here so that hopefully someone else who finds them useful might also benefit.
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.
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.”
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.
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
As I contemplate Good Friday, and the sacrifice of Christ for the sins of the world, I thought it would be a good day to post this hymn I wrote a few weeks back.
You saw my weak and helpless state
My suffering under heavy chains
For Your name’s sake You did not wait
But took my place and bore my shame
The King of Glory scorned of men
Whose every breath belongs to Him
Yet in my sin You loved me still
And took my place upon that hill
The spotless Lamb who knew no sin
Drew down the justice meant for me
And all my guilt was laid on Him
The burden of iniquity
To You the cup of wrath did come
And crying out, You drank its dregs
And in my place Your body hung
And there You died and bowed Your head
Blessing and honor and glory be
To the One who alone is worthy
The Lamb who was slain
Name above all names
Jesus Christ, the King of kings.
You saw my full depravity
Yet looked with mercy on my need
The King came in humility
And took my place upon the tree
You bore my curse, You took God’s wrath
Reserved for me, now I can stand
In wondrous praise upon the path
From Calvary to Promised Land
Now I will bow and sing the praise
Of You who died and rose again
God’s Only Son, High Priest who saves
I’ll stand amazed and fully cleansed
Worthy of more than words can say
Be glorified eternally
I come before the throne of grace
And take my place knelt at Your feet
Blessing and honor and glory be
To the One who alone is worthy
The Lamb who was slain
Name above all names
Jesus Christ, the King of kings.
Wishing you all a safe and meaningful Good Friday and Easter Sunday.
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.
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.
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.
Have you noticed that God has a way of bringing the unexpected message or song you need right at the time you need it?
I recall that when our oldest daughter got married and moved back to the States, that week at the chapel service was the first time I heard and played the Bethel version of “It Is Well.” Even though it felt like the seas of our family life were turbulent and shifting, I had to sing – and recognize – that those waves and wind still know His Name, and that through it all, with my eyes on Him, it would be well with me.
This week, my family sent our son Jon off to Thailand for LifeCompass, a four month missionary internship with Cadence International. It is both awesome and hard to see him go. As parents we worry for his safety; as Christians we praise God for working in and through him; as loved ones we will miss the joy and passion he brings to our home.
Last week at worship team practice, one of our magnificent singers, Rachel, introduced me to a song called “Another in the Fire” by Hillsong United. Jon is taking the words and the scriptures that inspired them with him, and I’m keeping them close to my heart.
We all have fires and seas in our path. Maybe it’s the difference between who we know we should be and who we are. Maybe it’s a deep grief or frustrating struggle where we never seem to make headway. Maybe the doubts and uncertainties about what’s to come. Maybe it’s all those and more.
Whatever our struggle or challenge, there is Another who was with us, who is with us now, and who will be through it all. We can know that we will never be alone.
I had the opportunity to share some thoughts at a couple of recent Chapel services, once in my capacity as the band director introducing the worship songs, and once as a lay-person chosen for the week to share for a few minutes in a “whatever God puts on your heart” style.
Maybe I have a problem with food, but I thought about potlucks–a familiar theme in church settings.
Our praise team has been arranging pot luck dinners before practice for the last two months or so, giving everyone the chance to enjoy a meal together before we work out the details of the songs for Sunday’s service.
One Sunday, we were going to start the service with the old praise chorus, “Trading My Sorrows.” Yes, the one with the most repetitive chorus of all time:
Yes, Lord! Yes, Lord! Yes, yes, Lo-ord!
Yes, Lord! Yes, Lord! Yes, yes, Lo-ord!
Yes, Lord! Yes, Lord! Yes, yes, Lord! Amen!
I thought about how we come to potlucks, and how we draw near to God. As with all potlucks, there’s a little sense of pressure or propriety that drives me to bring something. After all, that’s how it works. Everybody brings a little to share–something good or necessary–and everyone is satisfied with the variety of wonderful contributions. It feels wrong to fill up your plate if you didn’t bring anything.
That isn’t how we approach Christ.
When we come to church, or when we go to God, sometimes I feel like I’ve got to show up with my best offering, something I’ve worked hard on as a gift, something I can be proud of. After all, it would be wrong to show up empty-handed, nothing to offer, expecting only to receive.
Yet that is the invitation God has made to all of humanity.
If I’m honest with myself (and with what Scripture says about me), I know that all I’m bringing to Christ is a bunch of baggage–burdens, sins, failures, weakness, frustration, and all sorts of other problems.
There’s this wonderful theological concept called “the Glorious Exchange.” We bring all our junk to Christ, and we get all His best.
He who knew no sin became sin for us, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him (2 Cor 5:21).
He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities. The punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed (Isa 53:5).
For Christ also died for sins, once for all, the just for the unjust, so that he might bring us to God, having been put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the Spirit (1 Pet 3:18).
There’s a trade that takes place, and we get the better end of the deal.
We are coming to a feast, not a potluck.
Our part is to say, “Yes, Lord!” and show up.
The Kingdom of God isn’t a situation of obligation where each of us makes our finest dish and brings it as the cost of entry. It’s a feast laid out by the generosity of the Father, a lavish display of bounty available to all who respond to the invitation.
When I think about God, I get caught up sometimes thinking that I’ve got to earn His kindness by doing enough to deserve His provision… but that’s not the Gospel.
When we come to the feast of God, we come broken, empty, without merit, without right or demand. We come to behold that glorious exchange in action.
Where I bring all my weakness, He gives strength that is more than sufficient (Php 4:13, 2 Cor 12:9-10)
Where I have lack, He has abundance (Php 4:19, Rom 8:32).
When I am anxious, He gives peace (Isa 26:3, 1Pet 5:7).
For my ashes, He gives beauty. In my sorrow, He gives joy. (Isa 61:3)
He has put out a feast of blessings for those who simply respond to the call, and He is ready to dish out seconds, thirds, and then some to those who ask in faith.
Now we have received not the spirit that is in the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know the things freely given to us by God. -2nd Corinthians 2:12
When I shared these thoughts as a lay-person, we were about to sing a beautiful song called Spirit of the Living God.
We are meant to know all that God has given us through Christ. When I get this idea of God’s invitation and provision, it changes things for me. It’s not about working up some kind of fervor or working into some kind of favor. I’m not meant to work myself into the ground to show my dedication and prove I deserve some kindness from the angry God looking down at my pathetic plea.
When I think of God’s arms extended in welcome, and the Glorious Exchange, it changes what I’m looking for, what I think I need, what I want, what I even see as available to me. When His Spirit works in me to know what exactly He has done, what all He has taken off my shoulders and out of my hands, and what He has given to replace the trash and mess I didn’t even want anymore, then that makes anything seem possible.
In conjunction with the date of my retirement ceremony and my actual final day of active duty, I had the privilege of leading or organizing worship experiences at the hospitality house near our base called The Harbor.
If you’re looking for some meaningful worship songs for contemplation, may I suggest these four:
On the 28th, we had a three-song set of Way Maker (a favorite from the Gospel Service at the base chapel), Build My Life, and Set a Fire. On the 31st, we completed a collaborative worship set, and then I played Do It Again and Build My Life for my own added moment of encouragement and personal worship.
Way Maker is one of those super-simple songs that can pack an emotional punch. It’s a song of reliance on the God who changes us and carves a path through the obstacles in our lives.
Build My Life flows easily from the end of Way Maker (if anyone ever wants to end it) and speaks to the preeminence of Christ and the desire to let my life be shaped by His love and grace.
It’s another one that could go for a while (as I believe the 10 minute video attests).
I liked ending this song about His love by transitioning into an admission that there’s no place I’d rather be, and that I want more of His power at work in me. Hence, Set a Fire…
Finally, one of the most popular praise songs today is Do It Again, which is a fantastic reminder that God comes through even if it sometimes looks and feels like nothing is changing. It’s something I needed to hear when still piecing together all the stuff of our family’s transition to civilian life, a new job, a new home, new ministry opportunities, and so on.
My wife takes issue with the “haven’t failed me yet” because He will never leave us nor forsake us, so the “yet” gives an implication that maybe there’s a chance He might.
Me, I just love the song and what it means.
I hope these encourage you as much as they do me.
If you had to choose one or two songs that capture how you want to start the new year, what would they be? Let me know in a comment!
It’s another Sunday morning… with another service in a nice church building where sunlight streams in through the stained-glass or colored-plastic windows…
A crowd of people shuffles in, some awkwardly mingling, others choosing spots for solitude, while some popular praise song plays through the speakers.
The band has another set of songs we’re about to play, with a lot of familiar words like “amazing” and “unfailing” and references to the usual miracles, et cetera, and so on.
Another sermon is prepped, with another take on a well-known passage, with a few solid points, some clever anecdotes or cultural references, and maybe a decent invitation to respond. It’s the Good News or whatever… but more like the Good Olds, because we’ve heard it all before.
Oh, it’s Communion Sunday too, so there’s another stack of serving trays with another round of thumb-sized disposable plastic cups of grape juice and another batch of white fibrous wafers.
Another week in the house of God.
Not just any god… THAT God. You know the One… the “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life john three sixteen” God.
Yep.
The first song on the list is “This is Amazing Grace” by… well, I didn’t check, but no one’s going to care. It’s upbeat. It’s a perfect
“get the blood pumping” song. It’s familiar to the congregation. Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, and all that.
The second song is “Do It Again” from Elevation Worship. Some people probably don’t like it because Steven Furtick says some questionable things, and good on them, because you should test all things and throw out anything that isn’t one hundred percent of God. But it’s a song about how “Your promise still stands, great is Your faithfulness” and that sort of thing, and that’s pretty good. Reminds me of the old hymn and stuff.
The third song is “Broken Vessels (Amazing Grace)” with its pretentious two titles thing going on. Artsy songwriters know that two titles means the song has depth. As the second title implies, the John Newton refrain figures in, with only the 900th alteration to the melody, 890 of which are probably Chris Tomlin songs.
“Amazing grace how sweet the sound that I’m not going to bother typing because we both know you know the words and stopped reading already.”
Sermon is preached. Elements are distributed. Do this in remembrance of Me. Sing the closing song. The Lord bless you and keep you. You’re dismissed.
Church services as spiritual shampoo: lather, rinse, repeat a week later.
They say familiarity breeds contempt, but I think familiarity breeds complacency and presumption. It feels like we’re singing, “This is the same old grace… this is expected love…”
We might as well be, if we’re just going through the motions because ‘this is what Christians do.’
In preparing for this particular service, I thought about how ho-hum my heart can get about the Gospel. Growing up in church, being a part of worship teams for years, there’s a risk that I am so accustomed to the good news that it’s no longer good nor new. It’s just “what it is.”
In Luke 7, Jesus has dinner with some religious leaders as they’re trying to sort out who this upstart is and what is He really preaching. A woman with a bad reputation bursts into the scene, falls at His feet, weeps over her sinful state, washes His feet with her tears, and wipes His feet with her hair… and all the while, the
religious folk are like, “Dude, doesn’t He know what kind of nasty skank is touching Him?”
Jesus talks about two debtors, both of whom had their debts forgiven. One owed twenty bucks, the other five hundred. (Yeah, I’m paraphrasing. If you’re getting hung up on “well actually He said” then I implore you to stick with me and consider my point, not the particular unimportant details.)
“Which one do you think would be more grateful,” Jesus asks. Well duh, obviously the person who owed five hundred. Jesus agrees, and explains that “whoever has been forgiven much, loves much.” He also calls out the religious folk, as usual, and reaches out to the outcast, as usual.
(In fact, it strikes me that the forgiveness goes in reverse compared to what Jesus describes. He forgives the woman AFTER she expresses all this passionate brokenness and worship.)
I think on any given Sunday, I tend to come in feeling fat, dumb, and happy spiritually – if I’m feeling anything spiritual at all. Most often, I’m probably just distracted and ready to get on with the rest of the day. I’m so used to the fact that God loves us, and has a plan to prosper us, and works all things together for our good, and… yeah,
all those promises that still stand, according to the song. I don’t need to know what they are or think about them, I’ll just sing that they still stand, and that’s pretty good, right?
No.
Paul calls me out when he writes to the Ephesians (Eph 2:1-4) and says, “Hey, remember? You were DEAD in your trespasses and sins, walking or even being carried along with the current of the world,
under the power of darkness. We all lived according to the lusts of the flesh, fulfilling our desires, being in our very nature children of wrath, doomed to punishment.”
Remember?
“BUT GOD, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love…”
We’ve been bought out of slavery, saved from condemnation, given a new life and a new hope, all our garbage and filth and sin exchanged for the pure, clean, stainless, righteousness of Christ before God… and yet all those words sound like more of the same-old.
Without getting too political, I think of the concept of “white privilege” and discussions of race relations. I don’t come from a culture that has a strong, recent history of slavery or past prejudice
affecting my current situation. I’ve got it pretty good where I live… both culturally and spiritually.
How often do I show up to church and enjoy my “Right Privilege” as a
Christian? Am I so accustomed to the message of the Gospel that it’s no longer amazing? Just kind of accepted, just assumed? Is the grace of God expected? Is the love God shows deserved? If I’m honest with myself, is that where I’m at?
Is it even a thought in our minds that the God of the Universe made provision for us, coming down to intervene in our wayward path, redirecting us from the course of sin and death on which we walked? Is that something we consider, or something we’ve heard so many times that our reaction and reception becomes empty and hollow?
“I love you.” Yeah yeah I know.
“I love you.” Right.
“I love you.” Got it.
“I love you.” Haha, are you just going to keep saying that?
“But I love you.” I mean, as well you should.
“But I love you.” But we kind of knew that already. That’s who You
are, isn’t it? God IS love. It says so.
We act like our grace is earned and no response is required. That’s
woefully mistaken.
“I love you.” Ugh. Thanks, but I’m busy. I’ll get back to you.
How about same time next week?
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.
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?
