Lord Have Mercy

I am a white man.  I have the privilege of sitting here in rural Washington living my life as if nothing has changed and nothing will change; as in, my life goes on just as peachy, prosperous, and promise filled as before.

I find myself watching Facebook and Twitter to get a pulse for where “my people” are at on the recent verdict.  My seminary friends – mostly pastors now – and especially my African American “friends” around the country are angry.  There is righteous anger.  There is serious reflection.  There is a sense that they are all asking, “Seriously, this happened in 2014?” 

And then there are my more conservative “friends.”  They too feel a sense of righteous indignation.  They too feel wronged in this moment; after all, this was a police officer, one of US, defending himself against a criminal.

I read.  I weep.  I get pissed off.  I wonder.  What will I do?  How will I respond?  Will I tweet something provocative?  Will I share links that agree with where I’m at?  Where am I at? 

And I realize.  We all need to shut up.  Especially those of us in the white, privileged community.  We need to shut up and listen, grieve, seek understanding, and forgiveness.  We need to shut up and realize that a young man’s life has been cut short.  A young man’s life has been ended.  Whatever he did; whoever he was; the truth is that he was unarmed.  He was alive one moment, dead the next.  His life was cut short, taken from him, ended. 

If this happened in my community – to someone I knew – I’d want answers.  I’d want justice.  I’d want things to change, or to at least know that this event, this terrible, tragic, insane event was taken seriously enough to incite change.

And then I see it.  I see what’s wrong with the paragraph I just wrote.  Did you catch it?  I “would” want this; I “would” want that.  Why don’t I want it now?  Sure, this happened thousands of miles away from me.  Sure, this doesn’t really impact me right now, right here in rural Washington.  But maybe it should.  Maybe it does.  No, strike that 'maybe,' it does.

If I’m serious about Jesus’ definition of neighbor.  If I’m serious about Jesus’ call to love neighbor as I love myself, then this should matter.  I shouldn’t see Michael as a MEMBER of some community somewhere, out there, over there, different, detached, separate, OTHER from me and my people.  Michael is my people.  Michael is a kid that could be on my football team; he could be in my youth group; he could be a friend of my kids’ one day.  Michael could be the son of a guy I coach with.  Michael is part of me.

But it’s easier to protect myself from going there.   It’s easier to ignore that truth.  It’s easier to go about my life because I’m allowed to go about my life; I’m privileged to go about my life.

Jesus says, “To those who much has been given, much is required.”  I hate that passage.  Why did he have to say that?  I ask because the truth is, I have a lot.  I know it, and therefore I have no excuse.

So what will I do?  Where am I at? 

Writing this is the beginning – a really lame first step.  Some who read it will question my motives.  Some will disagree while others will want to join their voices to mine.  But those who truly know me – know my heart for the Lord and desire to see the Good News be Good News for all people – will know that these words, these musings, are but a beginning.

Lord have mercy.


Be Holy. Be Fascinating.

Leviticus 20:26
You are to be holy to me because I, the Lord, am holy, and I have set you apart from the nations to be my own.

Ephesians 1:4
For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight.

Hebrews 12:14
Make every effort to live in peace with everyone and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord.

1 Peter 1:15-16
 But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: “Be holy, because I am holy.”

1 Thessalonians 4:3
 It is God’s will that you should be sanctified

“Be holy.”

We are called to be holy; to be sanctified; to be set apart; to be different.

In Jesus for President, Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw write, “God would save the world through fascination, by setting up an alternative society on the margins of the empire for the world to come and see what a society of love looks like.” 

An alternative society on the margins.  Saving the world through fascination.

I’m not sure if this is exactly appropriate, but what happens if we replace the word holy, with fascinating? 

“Be fascinating.” 

I wonder what this might do for the cause of Christ.  What if instead of being uptight, boring, uninteresting, blah, plain, against this and against that, the people of God were fascinating?

We love and are loved by a fascinating, extraordinary God.  Would that our lives would reflect this truth.


Be holy.  Be fascinating.


We All Die

We will all die.  We spend a lot of time, energy, and resources desperately trying to avoid this truth.  Through modern medicine, safety requirements, laws, and the like, we do everything we can to avoid the reality of death - the reality of our mortality.

I stood in line to receive ashes.  I watched as a mother went forward with her small children.  They all received the ashes:
"Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.  Repent, and believe the gospel."
I'm a parent.  As I watched these children receive the ashes, I immediately thought about the mortality of my own children.  We do so much to protect our kids.  We go to great lengths and are willing to spare no expense to shield our kids from harm, especially from death.  But on this night, the words for young and old are the same, "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

I was still in line.  An older couple wanted to get in line, so I stepped back to let them in.  He entered using a cane for support; she followed close behind.  They helped each other along to the ashes, receiving them one after another:
"Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.  Repent, and believe the gospel." 
There aren't different words for different ages, races, genders.  In this respect, Ash Wednesday reminds us of the greatest equalizer of all: the reality that we all die.  Yes, we will all die.  We all know it.  We throw around the cliches, "Make the most of your time."  "Life is short."  "You never know when it's your time to go."

But what do we do with this reality?  How do we live into this reality?  Lent invites us to consider these questions anew, with greater purpose and an intensified intentionality.

We live into Lent, and the reality of death, anticipating resurrection hope.

We live into Lent, and the reality of our sin and imperfection, anticipating forgiveness.

We live into Lent, and in so doing, we proclaim the message of the Gospel - the message Jesus' proclaimed when he began his ministry - "The Kingdom of God is at hand, repent and believe the Good News!"

But until the Day comes,
"Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.  Repent, and believe the gospel."


In Observance of A Holy Lent

“What is one thing you could do over the next forty days that could change your life forever?”

This question was asked in Mark Scandrette’s book, Practicing the Way of Jesus.  I can’t think of a more appropriate time for us to begin to ask ourselves this important question than in anticipating the observance of Lent.

I have to admit, the idea of giving something up or even adding something to one’s life in order to think about Jesus’ sacrifice has often, in my opinion, seemed trite or not quite far enough.  “Jesus died for my sins, so I’m not going to eat chocolate or be on Facebook this month.  And on top of this huge sacrifice, I’ll be sure to tell all my friends and complain whenever the opportunity arises.”

Somehow I don’t think that’s the idea of fasting.

So what if we considered making a change that could actually impact our lives – not just for 40 days – but forever?  What if we considered making a change that not only eradicated a negative habit, but that created space for God to inhabit the space that habit once held?  [Mmmmm.  I liked that last question]

Scandrette offers some helpful instructions:

1 - Examine Your Life
Spend some time in solitude asking God to reveal where transformation is most needed. In what area do you long for healing and greater wholeness?
2 - Explore Patterns and Root Causes Identified
On a piece of paper, briefly describe the issue or pattern. What are the daily choices you make that support this habit or pattern?
3 - Decide What New Practice(s) to Adopt
An effective experiment will include both elements of abstinence and engagement—something you will stop doing and something you will start doing as a healthy alternative.
4 - Commit to Your Plan
We show what we really believe and value by what we are committed to actually do.  Share your plan with a trusted friend who will hold you accountable.  Find a way to actually chart or show your progress and STICK TO IT!  If you miss a day, don't give up!

What if we committed to observing a holy Lent, and in the process changed our lives – creating space for the Creator to enter into and reshape our habits, passions, and way of seeing the world?  Will you choose to observe a holy Lent?



Isaiah 55:3a
"Come to me with your ears wide open.
          Listen, and you will find life." (NLT)

We listen ourselves to life.  In a world that is busy; that is frenetic; that is full; that encourages us to consume more, want more, get more, be more, and do more, we must stop to listen that we would find life.  Jesus offers an abundant life to those who might follow him.  He says that he is the Good Shepherd, and his sheep listen to his voice.


I cannot escape this word these days.  In reading Scripture, conversations with friends and colleagues, and other books that have called for my attention, the theme of listening seems to be everywhere.  Why is that?  What is it about this time in my life - this space in my vocational and familial life - that God is specifically reminding me of my need to listen?

Transition.  Excitement.  Possibility.  Opportunity.

Will I listen?  Will I let God lead?

Help us to listen, Lord, that we might find life.


Faith and Doubt

In conversations with students, I've been faced with the relationship between faith and doubt.  Somehow, somewhere, students seem to believe that faith and doubt cannot coexist; that the existence of doubt is the negation of faith.  Where do they get this notion?

This has caused me to wonder just how many young people, or anyone for that matter, have left faith because they were discouraged by doubt.  How many have we lost who believe faith and doubt were at odds?  Isn't it more true to suggest that doubt drives us to deeper faith; that is, when we are able to truly wrestle with and deal honestly with our doubts, we are able to arrive at a deeper, more robust faith?

In Rob Bell's most recent book, What We Talk About When We Talk About God, this quote grabbed my attention:
"For many people in our world, the opposite of faith is doubt. The goal, then, within this understanding, is to eliminate doubt. But faith and doubt aren’t opposites. Doubt is often a sign that your faith has a pulse, that it’s alive and well and exploring and searching. Faith and doubt aren’t opposites; they are, it turns out, excellent dance partners."

Doubt is a sign your faith has a pulse.
Doubt and Faith are excellent dance partners.

I find myself agreeing with these notions.  I think this will be helpful for students with whom I work.  I am reminded of the man who said to Jesus, "I do believe, help me overcome my unbelief."  Unbelief, doubt, uncertainty - this is where Jesus steps in and moves us, shapes us, changes our hearts and beliefs, our attitudes and understandings.

So why are we so uncomfortable with doubt?  Why does it seem so scary?


Make It Salty

After reading the Kierkegaard parables I shared in my last post and reading/listening to Peter Rollins over the last month or so, I've been thinking a lot about the role of story in our preaching/teaching.  Rollins uses parables A LOT, and they're effective.  It's crazy how I remember these stories he tells.

Rollins says, "Instead of religious discourse being a type of drink designed to satisfy our thirst for answers, Jesus made his teaching salty, evoking thirst."  He explains this further in a video from 2011:

The Power of Parable from Peter Rollins on Vimeo.

I wonder whether our Christian teaching/preaching, even our conversations with others, focus too much on giving answers or providing solutions to biblical/theological issues.

We use a lot of words in Christianity.  We have a language that we use, and many of us who grew up in church or who have been around church are quite comfortable with this language - whether we realize it or not.  But, how do we use these words, this language, in order to communicate with others - even fellow believers?  Do we give out answers?  Do we give easy to stomach definitions, black and white, that no one should dare have to think or wrestle with faith, doubt, the Bible?  Do we give self-help?  Do we peddle feel-goodism?

Rollins says,
"It is all too common for Christians to attempt to do justice to the scriptural narrative by listening to it, learning from it, and attempting to extract a way of viewing the world from it. But the narrative itself is asking us to approach it in a much more radical way. It is inviting us to wrestle with it, disagree with it, contend with it, and contest it—not as an end in itself, but as a means of approaching its life-transforming truth, a truth that dwells within and yet beyond the words." 
I like this idea of using parable, stories, that our words would be salty; thus, evoking thirst in our hearers.  I'd love to have some salty conversations where I walked away thirsty, literally seeking out the water, Jesus himself.  I'd love it if my preaching/teaching left people with questions, not of me, but of the text, of Jesus himself.  I'd love it if they walked away looking for water, searching for life-giving water.

Let's wrestle through this together.  Let's sharpen one another as we seek answers and contend with, contest, disagree with one another, SO THAT we can be transformed by Jesus.

May your words be salty.  May your words invoke thirst.