One Word

I have another website I write on. It isn’t always explicitly spiritual. Of course, it is spiritual; It’s me, and everything is spiritual, but I don’t always use specific verses and I sometimes just write about songs or movies or books. Anyway, the platform that hosts both sites (WordPress/Jetpack) gives a prompt every day, in case you don’t have anything to write about and want to write anyway. This is not usually a problem for me, but it does sometimes set me down an interesting path I didn’t know I wanted to walk. Today I was going to write about a familiar subject, the painful freedom of boundaries, how hard they are to keep, especially as we are all such soft-hearted loving souls. We don’t want to set them, and we second guess, sometimes being terribly rough on ourselves, and go back on them frequently. You see, I have a very good friend… (this is the conception of so many posts – my filthy pens and the beautiful people that are in them with me.)

The site prompt today is “What is one word to describe you?” Or we can modify it into “What one word would you want to describe you?” because I don’t want us even thinking of going down some self-loathing path the enemy has paved for us.

So, who are you, in one word?

It’s a coincidence (if you believe in that kind of thing – another very good friend calls them God-incidences) that I have been thinking about this, in a slightly different way. I want to be the kind of man who is taken for granted (I know that’s 3, but it’s my exercise, so I can use a phrase if I want). I want everyone to know I will always show up, give them my heart, my best, that I will love them, that they are safe and cared for. I want everyone to know I’ll make lots of mistakes, and say sorry & mean it afterwards, and then I’ll grow. I want my boys to forget to thank me when they have a game and I am in the stands, because I am just always in the stands. I want that to describe me. I want everyone to know I believe them, believe in them. That I don’t care who they think they were, but that I care a great deal about who they are, who they will become, Whose they are. I want everyone to take for granted that I am a Genesis 1 (and not Genesis 3) man.

But what started me down this path lately, is that when I am hurting and breaking, I begin to resent that I am taken for granted. It’s the big warning light on my dashboard. I consider closing the pen door, and opening it only for people who say “please,” and “thank you.” This is only for a second, maybe, or a day, but it magnifies who I am created to be, Whose story I am in, and quickly opens my eyes to who I want to become. Painful moments looking into a mirror are terrific teachers. There doesn’t have to be judgment, just conviction and a gentle invitation into this new creation I am. (That is a fairly new understanding.)

Who I want to be doesn’t change. The Gospel doesn’t change. I just turn a little, and I no longer like those sometimes smooth clean wide paths of the enemy. They are not for me, not even close. And I repent. (That is an example of a word I don’t use too much on the other site – I’d say “turn around,” but you know that’s what Jesus meant then, and what I mean now.)

So, what’s your word (or phrase)? Tell me what it is. I’ll show up, I’m safe, a terrific listener, and will be awfully careful with you. And you can take that for granted, please.

Colors

The youth group is going through some changes. (Sometimes, God answers prayers before you even know you have a need for the prayer.) A few weeks ago, the new leader asked a deeply profound question, and I’ll ask it here. We’ve asked variations of it a million times, but maybe that’s the point. Keep asking, seeking, knocking, until our perspective changes, until we change.

So, he says look around this room at all of the blue things. Then, after a few moments, he has them close their eyes, and he asks them, “Ok, what did you see that’s red?” Right?!!? Of course, nobody knows. There are plenty of red things, but none of them were looking for red things.

This is so important, because we find what we’re looking for. How many times have you been looking for that specific lost sock, and then, days later, look for a different sock, and remember that you’ve seen it, but can’t remember where? We find what we’re looking for.

Once, I went to a lecture/sermon given by a famous author named Shane Claiborne with some friends. He blew our minds with his talk of kindness, grace, simplicity, loving like Jesus in real life. His was one of those talks that left you different. You might not yet be sure how, but the you that walked out was very different from the you that entered. The 4 of us went out to eat afterwards and talk about what just happened, and ask important questions of ourselves: What did this mean, for each of us, how would we react tomorrow/next week/next year, what would our dreams look like now, and on and on.

One of us, though, stated, with more than a little offense, “I just wish he wouldn’t have slammed the Catholic Church like that.” None of us remembered anything like that, and when pressed, she referenced 1 line in the middle of a long story about something else entirely. We often find exactly what we’re looking for. We were going to be inspired, and she was going to be offended. We each got what we paid for, that night.

When you leave your house today or tomorrow or Sunday morning, what are you going to be looking for? Will the world be a dangerous place where people are selfish and untrustworthy? You will find that, to be sure, because some of us are dangerous, selfish, and untrustworthy. But what if your eyes were open for the opposite? What if you are searching for beauty and generosity and love? That, too, is there. I would suggest in far greater supply. But I would, wouldn’t I? Because, for me, that is always the “blue” of the exercise.

The question is, what are our blue’s and what are our red’s? Are they what we want them to be? Are they authentic, or are they simply reflections of someone/something else? Are they serving us well? Do they inspire us to love more and more, or limit us? Are our world’s bigger or smaller because of our blue’s? Do we need a shift in our perception?

Sure, it’s scary to reflect and question our tightly held ideas (that have become like our childhood security blankets, soft and comfortable), but we only grow when we choose to have the courage to turn the lights on and discover/re-discover the people we’re called to be. And things are much less scary with hands to hold.

Is It Worthy?

Last week, I wrote about dancing, romancing, and “killing grooves.” Today, it is occurring to me that there are some fundamentalist religious communities that seemingly exist to “kill the groove,” who don’t want us dancing and certainly would not encourage romancing. I don’t know why.

We make tons of rules and laws for living proper Christian lives, a simple remake of the Torah, based on our modern societal and moral characteristics. Am I allowed to dance? How close? How fast? How long? And with whom? My instinct is, obviously, to say, “YES!!! Dance!!! Dance now, today, and forever, for as long as we can!” But maybe that’s also pretty simplistic. Maybe none of this is that easy. Or maybe it’s even simpler.

We really like complex, and that’s probably so we have plenty of excuses and exit ramps. And we also love the idea that we are the ones who understand the complex, like a 2024 Gnosticism. “I have the special knowledge required to be a “good” Christian.”

[Here’s something I just noticed: I have never used the word “Christian” before without much consideration. It’s a loaded word with baggage in many of our lives. And we’ve somehow shoehorned it into a completely different part of speech, making it an adjective. It’s not, it’s a noun. It is a follower of Jesus Christ. And, like many other words – like church, sin, etc – to leave it behind because it’s been misunderstood as problematic is foolish and in desperate need of reclamation. We follow Christ, we are Christians. Nice.]

Ephesians 4:1 says, “live a life worthy of the calling you have received.” It is, at the same time, simpler and heavier, clearer and more open to interpretation. The question we all are invited to ask, through this verse, is, “is this (action, thought, word, post, meal, practice) worthy of my call?” And maybe it is, and maybe it’s not. Maybe you can have a drink with dinner and I can’t, based on a host of different factors. Maybe I can dance in a hot sweaty small room with flashing strobe lights, and maybe that’s a horrible idea for you. Maybe you can have an Oreo and I can’t. And timing is important, too. Maybe it’s time for you to add and maybe it’s time for you to subtract, and maybe the thing to be added or subtracted is the same thing.

I can’t tell you if you can dance or how close or for how long. I can’t say if those things hurt your soul and heart and take you farther from Your Creator. Maybe they do. And maybe they do today.

Of course, some things are always beneath us. Addiction, abuse, objectification, oppression, deceit, infidelity, and on and on, are unworthy of our status as children of The King. There is no circumstance where they are not, and that’s why we feel so gross when we participate in them.

This maybe business, this “live a life worthy” of your call, is not easy. It’s not a handbook that tells us in black and white. That might be frustrating, but that’s purposeful, too.

We can never forget that the point of all of this is relationship, a life lived WITH Him. We can’t do it on our own, weren’t supposed to, so we hold His (and each other’s) hand and say, “is this worthy?” We rely on Him to guide us, to show us where we’ve compromised, to tell us again and again who we are.

Then, we just have to believe Him. And dance. Or not. But probably dance.

Design For Life

This morning, I was listening to a playlist (the modern ‘mixtape’), and the song “Internet Killed The Video Star,” by the Limousines came on. It’s a perfect title and a terrific song, and it has this peach of a lyric:

“Well, I’m a horrible dancer; I ain’t gonna lie, but I’ll be da**ed if that means that I ain’t gonna try. Yeah, I’m a [expletive] romancer, baby; I ain’t gonna lie, but I’ll be da**ed if that means that I ain’t gonna try. Get up, get up, get up, and dance.”

So, I texted this song and lyric to my brother and sister, and she shared with me the message from her yoga class (written by yoga master Becky Hemsley):

“I know there may have been times in your life when you’ve stopped dancing, stopped singing, stopped being yourself, because someone was watching you. Judging you….We’ve been taught that we must only be ourselves if it suits other people…The birds sing – not because we might listen – but simply with the joy of being alive….So sing as loud as you wish, and dance as much as you like. You do not exist for the enjoyment of others. You exist to be alive. Properly, fully, beautifully alive.”

I’d only change one thing about her message: “You do not exist for the enjoyment of others. You exist to be alive. You exist for the enjoyment of your Creator, to feel His love, and to engage with the life He’s given you.” He is so pleased when we express our joy, our delight in Him and the gifts He’s so abundantly given. As followers of the Risen Christ, we should be the most joyful. We should throw the best parties, laugh the loudest, and dance the easiest.

Sometimes the world sends you messages so obvious, so clear, so coincidental that coincidence is impossible. It’s a specific message from the Creator of the Universe to us – in this case, a message to dance and/or romance, or share the message to dance and/or romance, or witness to the importance and imperative that we all dance and/or romance. I’m choosing to do all 3 today.

We have been conditioned into self-consciousness, even when that means we miss out on all sorts of beauty and wonder. When did that happen? When did we stop dancing (even if we’re bad at it)? Who told us we’re bad at it? For that matter, who are they to decide? When did we stop romancing (even if we don’t know how to do it yet)? When did we stop singing, stop living, and when did we replace it with just quietly getting by?

Well, I don’t think we should do that anymore. I think we should dance whenever and however we want. It’s super fun to be so free.

And as far as romancing, the characteristic that makes each of us so sexy is confidence, passion, interest, joy. We are good dancers when we dance…when we love to turn the music up and move. We are great romancers when we lean in and give our authentic selves to each other, with vulnerability, honesty, trust, and open-ness. We are great lovers when we love. And the more we practice, the better we are.

You don’t have to apologize for dancing or singing. If anything, you can apologize for not dancing and singing earlier. Have a good time. This life is a gift, and it can be very hard and hurt a lot, so we are well served to enjoy it when we can, to move our hips when whenever we feel like it.

The next song in the playlist was “Murder On The Dance Floor,” where Sophie Ellis-Bextor sings, “you better not kill this groove,” which is more solid advice as we design our lives. The point is to not kill any more grooves, to not squash anyone else’s dancing, and to sing and romance, to love, as loud as we can.

Thankful Again

My last post was on the 8th, which is too long between conversations. That post was about a high school basketball game (sort of), and you may be interested to know that in the meantime, the local high school boys basketball team made the district playoffs. That was a pleasant surprise. What was not quite as pleasant was the result. They were soundly beaten by the higher seed, and as I sat watching the wheels fall off, I began thinking about gratitude.

This morning, our local mechanic called me with some terrible news about my car. I had a very reliable Ford Focus for roughly 15 years that I loved more than a reasonable person should love an inanimate object. So, when it reached the end of it’s life, of course I’d replace it with another, newer Focus. What I could not have known is that the first Focus was the wild exception. Ford Focuses (Foci) are rolling trash cans – at least the later year models, before they were put out to pasture. A basic Google search (which I did not do…) returns a long history of recalls and transmission defects. The terrible news is a price tag that is much too high. In retrospect, this isn’t a surprise, it’s just the latest in a long line of too-high price tags for repairs.

I’m fairly certain it’ll be the last, though. Before I pay another one, I’ll set it on fire and roll it into Memorial Lake. Incidentally, if you happen to be looking for an as-is money pit, I have a Ford Focus that I’d part with for only the remaining payments. Message me if you’re interested.

Now. I’m angry at my poor decision to purchase such an albatross. I’m angrier at Ford for the sick joke they’ve played on me, a loyal customer. (I’ve had only Fords since I was 16; an Escort, Probe, the Greatest Focus, and this current wreck. The Greatest Focus was the only wholly positive experience.) I’m not angry at my mechanic, they’re trustworthy and seemingly sorry for my plight.

Immediately after the terrible news, as I was screaming, alone in my wife’s car, my mind turned to Tuesday’s playoff game and gratitude. The team was lucky to get into the playoffs, the boys are healthy and some of them are quite extraordinary at the sport. Do you know how rare exceptional athleticism is, how this gift is something most people in the world would love to have? Can you imagine what so many would give for the privilege of getting trounced in a playoff game? We are so lucky to go to a school with sports like this, safe travel, parents & fans that can attend. Of course, it’s disappointing to lose, but the real loss for me was my perspective (even if only for a few minutes).

And we have 3 cars. Only 18% of people in the world have 1, 10% of Americans don’t have a car at all. And we have 3. I can pay the too-high bill. I work from home, and got the terrible news as I was driving home from the gym. I took a hot shower, put on clean clothes, and ate breakfast. Samuel is home today putting together a massive LEGO set. I really like him – which is not something to be taken for granted. I have to love him, but he’s really wonderful to be around. I would want him to be my friend, if he wasn’t my son. I’m able to drive the Angel’s car while mine is in the shop, which means I take her to work and pick her up, which is no problem at all. She’s the best, so far out of my league and ridiculously more than I could ever deserve. And I get to kiss her at drop off and pick up.

This is the trouble with gratitude, for me. When the terrible news comes, my vision narrows until I can only see the terrible news. The challenge is to notice this myopia and adjust my perspective, until that period where I am lost is shorter and shorter. I’m not convinced that we can eliminate it altogether, but we probably can reduce the time we check out of our real lives full of blessing. We can compress the disappointment of losing into a few minutes, and then regain our perspective. The Bible says to always be thankful, and maybe that’s a bit much. How about if we are thankful now, whenever now is, so that when we inevitably lose the plot and aren’t too thankful for our rolling Ford Refuse, we can always start again, here, now? And maybe our verse can be “always be thankful, again.”

Those People, pt 2: Sports & Sandals

Last night was a big high school basketball game. Our local high school hosted a hated (as hated as high school rivalry is, which is to say, manufactured and superficial) rival school, the winner would go to the playoffs, the loser would not. The teams are very well matched, the schools are mirror images. The officiating was abysmal, again, and had more of a role in the outcome than any of us would like. The good guys lost, in overtime, in a too-stressful, exciting, if not overly well played, game.

There is no reason to write about that, nothing unusual or noteworthy – in sports, people & teams win, and others lose. Lessons are learned, we develop (or not) through both results.

However, what happened after the game is what I want to tell you.

High school kids are mostly the same, loud, and loudly obnoxious. We don’t think they’re all that similar, but that’s because these are ours and those aren’t. We think their student section is worse, absolutely horrible, their players and coaches are unsportsmanlike, and they think the same about our student section, players and coaches. It’s situational blindness, and it’s common in all -isms.

Our student section was boisterous and aggressive, their players played to that increased energy. When their player hit a 3-pointer, he’d turn and glare at them with 3 fingers raised, which threw our kids into a frenzy. It was hot and noisy and passionate and looked like we were heading for a bench clearing melee.

The game ended, emotions soared, our players cried at a missed opportunity where a game was won/lost in 1,000 different ways and could have easily gone our way. They may look like adults, but they are 16 years old. They are kids, and we can say it’s just a game, but at 16, everything is of the highest importance. Do you remember having your heart broken, thinking you’d never recover? That you would never love again? That she was your soul mate, your person, and there would never be another like her? And now we don’t remember her name or what color her eyes were. We held strong opinions on trivialities, fought over pro football teams, and made list after list of best albums (and whoever didn’t agree was wrong, and was only embarrassing themselves.) A basketball game does matter, A LOT, to a 16 year old who had sweat for months, or in the case of my boy, the last several years, thinking, dreaming of this moment, and to come up short is absolutely devastating.

They would be forgiven for an angry outburst or moment of regret.

After moving through the line, shaking hands, their players moved quickly in the direction of our bleachers… We held our breath and waited.

We’ve been talking about divisions, right? And how we build our walls so high and thick to emphasize the difference between US and THEM. We are right, obviously, and they are wrong. And this week’s quote/question was about if our relationship with Jesus, His sacrifice, His Kingdom was more important than any and every difference we have with others.

What would these pretend distinctions lead to, in a high school gym in Pennsylvania? We already know, have read countless news stories and watched too many new stories, where it has already led, so many times before. We already know we’ve too often chosen our walls over Jesus.

So, what happened? They shook hands, smiled, appreciated the terrific environment for high school sports, affirming the discipline, effort, and skill of the contest. They celebrated the experience they were privileged enough to share.

Then, afterwards, they all met up again to talk, as friends might, with more that united them than could ever divide, in the hallway on their way to the bus.

I watched, with tears in my own eyes. Sure, from the loss and my boy’s crushed spirit, but also from this gorgeous picture of the Sandals of Peace. If we can just keep our eyes open to the divine all around us, I think we’re probably treated to beauty like this, to the sight of God’s Kingdom breaking through into this hurting world, more than we can possibly imagine. We just get so cynical sometimes, believing the darkness will never lift, believing that we’re mean, nasty, untrustworthy and irredeemable in our broken-ness. We can close our eyes and lose hope, but sometimes, in an unlikely place, we see that our faith has not been misplaced, that Jesus, and love, wins.

Those People

Sunday, we discussed a gigantic question that sprang forth from a quotation by David Guzik in his Bible commentary.

Guzik wrote, “If the Lordship of Jesus Christ is not greater than any difference you have with others – be it political, racial, economic, language, geography, or whatever, then you have not fully understood what it means to be under the Lordship of Jesus.” And the question was, “is it?” Or “Has it?” Or something like that. Have we decided that our wholly arbitrary love of the Dallas Cowboys and hate of the New York Giants is bigger and more important than a cross and empty tomb? Or where we live, or what we do, or what we think about the tax code? Are there places in our lives where we use the phrase that can so easily expose the innermost parts of our own perspective, “those people?”

Then, as so often happens, I was immediately faced with a situation that confronted me with the implications of living a life without walls, and free of “those people.” It’s a bit of an occupational hazard, but more than that, it’s a human phenomenon. When we decide to consider our own patience, for instance, we immediately receive opportunities to practice that patience, where we can easily see where we are deficient.

A boy on the basketball team is academically ineligible for the rest of the season and playoffs. He is very likable and a nice basketball player, and he is also lots of other things we might infer from his situation that takes him out of the game. And probably those inferences are the gate to a path we don’t belong. Maybe those inferences are right, too. But does their rightness matter?

Inferences invite us to look at their motivation from across the room, empathy asks us to imagine from inside their skin. Jesus asks neither. Jesus asks us to love them, without thought of motivation.

Now, as a side note, it can be important teaching & learning to explore the behavior of others. In addition, it’s vital to practice empathy (whether we are gifted with it or not) to make connections and allow us to better agape someone else. We can use another person as case study to look inside our own motivations. They become, in effect, mirrors. It’s not gossip (unless it is), it is curiosity and accelerates growth.

But back to this boy. When I heard, I was disappointed and frustrated at the impact upon the team. I inferred, and began the foundation on a wall that separated us. In my initial reaction, I was one thing and he was another, both of which are completely irrelevant, “under the Lordship of Jesus.” In this Kingdom, we are not different in the least, we are both children of the Living God, created in love, by love, and for love. He’s ineligible, I wasn’t (but could have been as a high school junior), but neither matters in the way Our God sees us, and the way we are called to see each other and bring peace.

Now, is it ineligibility, or is it the party designation on our licenses, how we maintain our yards, cars, and garages, or our habits and/or personality quirks? There is no us & them, only we.

To be honest with you, it’s uncomfortable and a real nuisance when this happens. It’s just eligibility on a high school basketball team, I’d like to leave it there, just once. Offhand thoughts and comments might not be windows into our souls. Not everything is a matter of divine significance. Except, of course, that it is. And that is kind of a pain in the neck.

The choice we’re asked to make, that plays out in a bazillion different ways, several bazillion times per day, is simple (yet never easy), “He is either the Lord of our lives, or we are.” Now what?

What If We’re Wrong?

We have to make decisions in, and about, our faith, right? Big decisions. Like, is the point to get out of here, escape this place, His creation, and go somewhere else? And if it is, what does that say about how we treat our neighbors, our pets, our environment, and everything else that we can see and touch? But what if that’s not the point, and we’ve neglected our home for this long? When God says “reconciling all things,” what does that mean? Is it like a reset, or a mulligan (like in Endgame when the Avengers go back in time and take a re-do)?

What if we’re wrong about each other? What if we are actually very trustworthy? Or what if we’re not? What if we should not have treated each other so awfully? Or what if we were too easy, and love is closer to what those people in the documentary I watched who ran teen camps in the deserts called “tough love?” What if we should’ve said “I love you” and “I’m proud of you” more often? Or is it possible that we said them too much and they lost all significance?

And I guess that’s my point.

Some decisions on how we live our lives don’t matter too much. Like the brand of toothpaste we use or how we fold our pants or what our favorite football team is. (Obviously, the right answer is the Dallas Cowboys, but everybody already knows that.) If we buy strawberry jelly and don’t like it too much, we can get another one next time. If our detergent gives us a rash, it’s uncomfortable, but it’ll go away and we can make a note to stay away from that particular kind.

But other decisions have much wider consequences. Some have eternal consequence.

If we choose the wrong person with whom to spend our lives, nothing is easy, we don’t want to go home, it’s tense and we’re full of anxiety, walking on eggshells. If we don’t tell them “I love you,” we might regret it forever. If we never hear “I’m proud of you,” we might spend our whole lives searching for it in all sorts of destructive ways.

Are we really thinking about our choices, are we intentional, consciously evaluating the things we value? Or are we sleepwalking, being swept along by what our parents or friends or celebrities believe & live, or are we just too busy and distracted to pay attention?

We’re going to be talking about community a lot. Are we spending time with our friends and family, with our tribe, taking the steps through this life together? Or do we find that most of our time is spent alone, isolated, behind screens, windshields, and walls? If that’s the case, is that really the choice we made, or did it just happen? Did we just wake up one day with no one to call with the celebrations or in our suffering?

Did we decide we weren’t worthy of beauty and peace? Or is that simply how we’ve always thought? And, really? Always???

Some of these questions absolutely need to be asked, because we didn’t choose them, it feels like they chose us. If we hear a lie often enough, it can sound like the truth, but it’s still the same filthy lie.

This morning, driving to the grocery store, I was thinking about the Gospel of Jesus Christ. If we continue to allow the heresy of a salvation by works to subtly creep in, what exactly does that mean? And what if we’re wrong?

So, if the right theology is Grace+… If our salvation is lots of grace, but we have to do our part (no matter how large our part is)… If the True Gospel is closer to the gospel of Jesus and Chad (or Sally or Kevin or whatever your name is), and we partner with God to clean ourselves off to become acceptable, then what?

What if the Gospel you hear every Sunday, of Christ ALONE, is wrong?

Well, 2 things about that. First, the works: Ideally, our response is to live lives of love and peace and kindness and beauty, so maybe that might count. But does it really matter?

Is that one answered with a far more important question, why does “Christ Alone” matter so much? If the Gospel of Jesus ALONE is wrong, we would be guilty of shrinking ourselves and our egos, making Jesus the center of this wonderful Story, making it His Story. Our mistake would be to elevate the sacrifice of Jesus to cover all of us, everywhere, for all time. His life, death, and resurrection would be Everything. His love would be deep, wide, thick enough to hold every one of us as His children. We would define ourselves by/through Him, He would have the final (and only) word on our identity. We would, essentially, make Him bigger than He is.

But, on the other hand, if Grace+ is wrong… Then we elevate us, we make our actions, our behavior, our rule-following, necessary. The story would be ours. And we would minimize the cross, we would de-value the blood of Christ. We would say, “thanks, but it’s not quite enough.” Are we prepared to say that?

But what if we say that in a million ways, just because we never asked the questions, never thought to consider what we believe and what it all means? We started this post asking questions about some specific scenarios, but what if the way we answer the last one – if it’s a Grace OR Grace+ New Creation – is the answer for all of the other ones?

The Practice of Doing Nothing

Sunday morning, I commented on how the American Christian Church has often espoused, sometimes subtly, sometimes not, a salvation by works instead of by grace. Of course, it might not be explicit, but it’s there. There are things we have to do so that we can ‘go to Heaven,’ ‘get His reward,’ or ‘get saved.’ Things we have to do to earn our “free” gift. Things like going to church on Sundays, confessing our trespasses, knowing the right theology, praying the right prayer, reading our Bibles every day, and on and on. We’re a prideful culture, with an historically strong work ethic, a mean streak of independence, and boot straps crafted solely to be pulled. These characteristics are fine at the workplace or on the basketball court or, well, literally, everywhere else. We give our best effort, everything we have to give, with courage, resilience, and perseverance. How can that possibly be a negative? It is only in the context of grace. The only requirement for rescue is to be rescued. Anything and everything else, to deserve this rescue (or worse, to rescue our own selves) is noise and only moves us further away from actual rescue. The American Dream is not the Gospel, as much as we might like it to be. The salvation story is one of Christ Alone, and we must no longer perpetuate this false teaching. And I’m very indignant about it, right?

But earlier, in the same sermon, I said a practice, any practice, takes practice. We turn our heads to Truth, to Him, we focus on God as our “Strength and Shield,” we do the things. So there it was, I also may have given a contradicting, competing, message that illustrated how easily this inadvertent false teaching happens.

I’d like to think I had very clearly contrasted salvation with sanctification (of which practice IS most certainly necessary), and not been within miles and miles of a theology of works. I am a naive, optimistic person, but I’m not blind or crazy. I know that not everyone is hanging on every word of a 45 minute talk on a Sunday morning, in lock step with every word and thought. I know not everyone is giving 100% attention. (I look in your faces while I’m up there, I know;) I also know that I’m probably not as clear as I mean to be, or believe I am, either, no matter how many hours I spend in preparation and how hard I try.

It’s a simple concept, but quite difficult, too. We don’t do anything, except the things we do. Ha! Order matters in this. We don’t do anything FIRST, we do the things AFTER. We are rescued, SO THAT we can do the things, SO THAT we can live these beautifully faithful lives we are called into. We have practices, we must have practices, but they’re not to earn anything, they’re only to experience the thing is already ours.

This is a whole lifetime of learning, and it is a lesson that runs in a totally different direction of everything we’ve ever been taught. It might be the most important truth we will every understand, and we’ll miss the mark over and over. The Good News is that He is graceful. The bad news is that we are not. We will expect others to be exactly where we are, understand exactly what, and how, we understand. We’ll judge with planks in our eyes. We’ll hit each other with our theologies, often viciously, and often with this false teaching that has crept into our solid, true theology.

The point is that we continue to soak in the truth that we are already loved, wildly, without limit or end, and also without our participation. It’s not about us, it’s not our story. There is so much peace there. We’ll continue to root out the me in the Gospel, and when we’re done, and think we have it all together, we’ll understand that thinking we’re done, and that we have it all together IS me in the Gospel, and start all over again. We’ll continue to call it false teaching, because that’s what it is, and we’ll love each other in all of it.

Nothing But Helmets For Everybody

Even though we were beginning a study on the Shield of Faith, moving on from the Helmet of Salvation, I realize now there is no moving on from the Helmet of Salvation. Of course, this reference is to the beautiful passage in Ephesians 6:13-17, “Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”

I have struggled with weight for almost my entire life. I would decide to give up hot dogs or soda or ice cream or packaged foods or whatever, all modifications based in various levels of fact and/or current trends, and probably all fairly intelligent. It’s not great to drink soda, or to eat foods made in a lab rather than made in the ground. And hot dogs…while unbelievably delicious…well, there’s a reason we try so hard to not know how they’re made.

Anyway, I am able to give up donuts for a time, sometimes a long time, but eventually, they find their way back into my life, a bite at a time. I can lose a few pounds, and keep them off for seasons, but they surprise me and end up back on the cold, hard scale, my nemesis.

What does the weight yo-yo have to do with the Armor of God? My focus in the kitchen is usually based in a negative, what I must “give up,” in order to be a healthy person, to find a healthy weight. And our focus in the spiritual life is often driven by the same motor; what we have to stop, or what we can’t do, the thou shalt not’s. Right? I can’t lie or gossip or envy. So, we stop spreading the latest news at the water cooler, until we can’t. We stop telling any untruths, until we don’t. We stop eating bread, until we eat bread again.

This kind of negative posture is based on me, on my superior will power or self-control, but I think I’ve been very clear that when things are based on me being awesome and supremely capable, it doesn’t ever lead to lasting success. Maybe I can be awesome enough today, but on a long enough time line (depending on how motivated or shamed I am), I will always let everybody down.

Instead of all of the ways we have to be different, all of the behaviors and habits we have to stop, the Helmet of Salvation tells a different story. Instead of detailed lists of who we are not (and how we can improve), the Helmet simply states the truth of who are. We don’t get better, we get new.

My dysfunctional dance with weight mostly ended when the focus became health & fitness. I began saying Yes rather than No. I liked me, thought I deserved better than hot dogs and cookies with cheap unnatural ingredients from a factory. This is not to say I don’t eat those cookies, it just means my value isn’t tied to whether I’m perfect or not. And the behaviors that make me feel like garbage (the behaviors that “miss the mark”) because they’re beneath me, I don’t have to stop, per se, I just have to do the things that are in line with the honor and dignity with which I have been bestowed.

But I have to understand the “honor & dignity with which I have been bestowed.” I have to know who I am, to live up to that identity. Then, my worth isn’t based on my perfection – on my totally abstaining from hot dogs forever – it’s rooted somewhere else, in SomeOne else. And that is exactly what the Helmet of Salvation is all about, that’s why it’s the only thing I’m talking about for the rest of my life.