Freedom and the law

My friend Jenny has been asking some good questions of the Lord regarding the Law and the Spirit and recently in her blog she put some of them out there:

What exactly does Paul mean when he talks about sin "seizing an opportunity through the commandment" yet "the law is holy and the commandment is holy and righteous and good?" And isn't it possible to serve God with both the mind and body, rather than, as Paul states, "I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin?" Does the law refer to teh Old Testament or to legalism? Or both? And if Jesus is the fulfillment not the abolishment of the law, then what does that mean for me in regards to being free from the law?

I took some time today to think through these questions and here are my answers (and boy did they refresh my soul!)
When you said "isn't it possible to serve God with my mind and my body" I think you were referring to Paul saying "with my flesh I serve the law of sin" - flesh here does not mean literal flesh or body. Instead, flesh is our way of making life work independent of God. The flesh is any way of meeting our needs for love, acceptance, righteousness, peace apart from Jesus. So this can look like being the "good Christian" who always does what is right or it can look like being the party person who "eats, drinks, and is merry for tomorrow we die." The NIV usually translates "flesh" as "sinful nature", but that is a poor translation because it implies that we have a good nature and a sin nature battling out. No, we have on nature, Christ's. The flesh is our old way of making life work.

When Paul says the law (lowercase), he is referring to the Old Testament Law, both the Ten Commandments and then all of the other regulations that God added, and then also the regulations that men added in order to help them keep the God regulations. Legalism is a system by which we try to earn, obtain, or maintain right standing before God by our own efforts and ability to "do the right thing." It is self-righteousness, which is opposed to God, because God calls us to live only in Christ's righteousness. There is no one righteous, not even one, except Christ.

When Paul talks about the law seizing the opportunity in Romans 7, he is saying that the law did what it was and is designed to do - to put us to death and reveal our bankruptcy of soul apart from God in Christ. The commandment is good - it is a good thing to not covet (ref: Romans 7:7). Coveting leads to all manner of sin. The problem is not the law - it is holy and righteous and good. But the law can never make us righteous. It can only reveal the sin in our heart, and what the law really is designed to do is to lead us to Christ. Paul calls the law a tutor, which guides and holds our hand to point us to Jesus. Galatians 3:19-25 speaks to this - in fact, Paul asks the very same question that you ask, "What then is the purpose of the law?" Paul is asking this rhetorical question because he has just established that righteousness is given freely, not through the law. The answer to "what is the purpose of the law" is that the law was given to lead us to Christ. In fact, in Galatians 2:19 he says that through the law I died to the law (also see Romans 7:4)! (The whole letter to the Galatians was written because people in that church were being tempted to keep the law instead of living by the Spirit. Galatians would be a great book for you to read in this discussion.)

1 Corinthians 15:56 reveals clearly that the law can never help us defeat sin. Our tendency in the flesh when we struggle with sin is to try and set up laws and boundaries to make sure we don't do that again. But this verse says that the law actually empowers sin! Sin in us rises up and says, "Oh yes I can; you're not the boss of me!" It's like when you tell a kid not to look in the closet because there is a present hidden there - it's all they can DO to not, because the law entices their desires.

Jesus fulfilled the law because you and I never could. He put an end to the law through his life, death and resurrection - He obeyed the law perfectly, not just by the letter but by the intent behind it. He paid the price for breaking the law, which is death. And He rose that we might have a new way of life and righteousness -the Holy Spirit of God.

You are completely free from the law, because you have died to it. You no longer have to tithe, to observe the Sabbath, feed the poor, worry about whether your clothes are a cotton-poly mix, wear a head-covering, avoid pork, fast, sell all your possessions and give them to the poor. Jesus obliterated the law and replaced it with the Spirit. Now if you give, it's when and as the Spirit leads. If you feed the poor, it's when and as Christ in you leads. If you rest/Sabbath it's as a response to God.

Free from the law means free from the law - radically, completely free. Free to do whatever you want, even if it is sinful, actually (I mean, does free mean free or not?). But Christ in you is not sinful, and living more and more dependent on Him will lead you to live freely in holiness and righteousness, living out of your true identity. Romans chapter 6:15-18 talks about how we are now dead to sin (and to the law), and how our response to this is not to go and sin all the more but to rejoice and walk with Christ, letting Him lead us in loving righteousness.

We don't like living by the Spirit because it takes us out of the driver seat. We can't be in control and we can't measure our success in keeping the rules. The law will always be attractive to our flesh. (Derek Webb has two great songs about this -" A New Law" and "The Spirit vs the Kickdrum." Check them out on iTunes.)

Thoughts anyone? I'm getting free just typing this!

What a Life

Last week when I woke up on my birthday, I lay in bed for a few minutes, thankful for another year of life. And as I thought back over all I have been given, all I have done, I couldn't help but be extremely grateful to the Lord. I've been to 9 countries on 3 continents; seen the Tar Heels in four Final Fours; traveled to many awesome cities in the US (San Francisco, Oakland, Chicago, St. Louis, Denver, San Antonion, New Orleans, Indianoplois, New York City); my three children are all healthy, loving, and beautiful; God has graced me with a wife who is kind, beautiful, and who has become my best friend over the course of our nine years together; I have friends near and far who genuinely care about me, asking me great questions about my journey with Christ and who help me to see myself in a less-critical light; I've been on a tremendous journey with Christ, learning more and more about His love and grace and how fully He has called me His own; wonderful parents and step-parents who have loved me from day one and who continue to encourage and support me; beautiful and kind sisters; an amazing in-law family; a wonderful ministry support team, some members who have given towards our IV support every month for 12 years; many trips to the Dean Dome and Kenan Stadium; a healthy body and strong mind; the chance to serve God as my vocation; transformation of sufferings, sin, and hardships into signs of God's goodness and faithfulness. It has been a wonderful life, and Lord willing, I'm just getting started. What a gift.

Celebrating the fruit of faithfulness

Six years ago we went from bus stop to bus stop, inviting kids to come to tutoring at Grace Community Church. I set up at the church and waited with two college students who were going to be our tutors, and no one came. Dejected, I went home, and as I was getting out of the car, three children came walking up the hill, an hour late but headed to tutoring all the same. We soon realized that our church was a bit too far for the kids to walk, and so tutoring moved to our living room, and we hosted a handful of children and a couple of college students each Monday to do homework.

Today, I will pull out of the Grace Community Church parking lot in a school bus bought for the tutoring program, and I will pick up 41 of the 52 children enrolled in our program, children who now come two days a week for homework helps and reading enrichment. Waiting on those 52 children each day will be 52 tutors, three Room Moms, several childcare workers (to watch the children of parents who tutor), and a full-time tutoring program director. They will spend half an hour playing on a donated basketball court, laughing and running and jumping, and an hour working with their very own tutor, and for some of them, it will be the second, third, or fourth year with the same tutor. We will have two high school seniors aiming for college, and over 20 middle schoolers. Over 30 young girls will stay after tutoring on Mondays for dance class, and it's possible that in the spring, we will offer our program on Wednesday with an arts enrichment focus, giving the young men something to do as well.

This is nothing short of the grace of God. God's grace to sustain Diane and Melissa and John and me during our first overwhelmed and clueless years. God's grace to provide Regin and her gift of infrastructure, and His grace to provide Suzanne and her gifts of creative education and passion for the kids. God's grace to provide salary for Suzanne, funds for the bus, snacks each week for each child. God's grace and love for these children to send hundreds of volunteers to them. God's grace to give us favor at UNCG, NC A&T, and Bennett College, connecting us with eager and gifted college students, including more and more African-American students. God's grace to provide adult tutors willing to take off of work early, to lug their young kids to Grace, to give of their free time. Amazing. And we have only begun to get good at what we do. Here's to a wonderful year this year.

Soul Weariness and Relearning Ministry, Part 3

When I was being introduced as the new Director of Outreach at our church, one of the pastors told the leaders of the church that he believed I was the person to take outreach ministry at our church to the next level. What he meant was that God was going to use me to do new things in outreach. What I heard was that I was going to produce lots of things for God in the area of outreach. And so I quickly relaunched one ministry and began pressuring myself to see transformation come at a more rapid rate in another. I thought that "next level" meant bigger and better. Now I am reevaluating, and I wonder if I even know what the next level looks like. I thought I had drawn a bead on the next level, that I knew what everyone needed. Now I'm waiting and seeing, unsure of myself.

I think what I really want is to not feel tired inside anymore. But I don't think getting rid of my weariness is best. Tiredness of soul is leading me to new places. It's forcing me to learn patience and to embrace the teaching of Christ when He compared the Kingdom of God to a seed. A seed is small. It's life begins beneath the surface. Nothing that the farmer does can make the seed grow. Often it seems like nothing is happening. But in time, life appears, pushing its way up through the soil. And then there is still more time before fruit appears, and still more time for the fruit to ripen, and how any of these things happen are really a wonderful mystery. And in order for a seed to bring life, it has to first fall to the ground. I think that something in me is dying, and in God's time, the seed that is falling is going to grow into something new.

I want to take Jesus as His word, rephrased so wonderfully in The Message: ^28-30"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." *Matthew 11:28-30

Living freely and lightly in the unforced rythms of grace sounds great to me.

Soul Weariness and Relearning Ministry, Part 2

I don't really know how I got to this place of soul weariness, but I don't think it is a bad place to be. I think that it is time for me to relearn and rethink what it means to be a minister, what it means to care for others. I think that it is time for me to listen more and speak less, to have more questions than I do answers.

But it feels like going 65 miles an hour and then throwing the car into reverse. It's opposite of my flesh, of how I have formed my identity in the Christian world. I want to be busy and important, and there is a perverse pride that comes with having too much on my plate. I relish being competent and avoid looking clueless at all costs. I look at some of my cohorts in ministry, at how packed their schedule is, full of events and people, and I find a desire to measure up to their standard welling up. But right now my soul can't put that desire into action. That's a good thing. I am in season of quiet and study, of waiting and relearning.

Last week I was at UNCG prayer-walking with two IV colleagues, and as we prayed, I kept thinking, "Maybe we should talk to this person or that person. Maybe we need to stop praying and start asking people what they think about the Lord. Maybe we need to stop praying and do something." But the Lord had led me to Psalm 40 before our walk began, and God began reminding me of the first verse - "I waited patiently for the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry." And as I began to feel the urge to do something God told me to wait. He told me that if I needed to walk and pray the campus for a year, that would be enough. He told me that when He wanted me to do something, He would make it clear and that He would be the one to lead, guide, and initiate. My job was to wait and seek His face.

As I talked about this with a friend recently, he asked me why I so often felt compelled to make things happen, and I told him that sometimes I felt like if I didn't do something, who would, that I felt as though the Lord was asleep at the wheel sometimes. Now I know that most of you would never think something like that, and I certainly would not say that aloud, but my "lived theology" reflects that I think the world is gone to pot and it's up to me to fix it, with or without God's help. I know - arrogant.

And so I am learning to listen. I am learning to say no and to trust that I am no one's last hope. Right now I say no mostly because I am tired, but I find that as I say no, the needs are still being met. The Lord is showing me that He is the one who provides and saves, and as I listen to Him, I may be lucky enough to be part of His means sometimes.

Soul Weariness and Relearning Ministry, Part 1

Ever since GUPY ended I have been keenly aware of a weariness of soul that is not going away quickly. I'm used to being tired after a full summer, but usually have bounced back by now, and I feel that I am in a strange season right now. My job description has me in positions to regularly work with and care for the poor, but my heart wants little to do with the poor right now. I find myself saying no to most every request that comes my way, and I find myself cringing when I see someone in need sitting at the church. In the past my first reaction would be to try and help them (maybe fix them is a better phrase), but now I want to avoid them. With my spiritual tank empty and my physical tank slowly refilling, I have no desire to fix anyone and right now I don't believe very strongly that I could. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, because there is no real power in me to fix anyone.

Part of me fears that my recent apathy towards the poor, even a disdain for the poor, has been lurking in my heart all along but I have simply been able to cover it up with conviction and energy and religion. When the tank is empty, when you can't fake it anymore, is what you find at the bottom of the barrel what was really there all along?

Another part of me feels like I am having to relearn what ministry is all about; not just ministry to the poor but ministry to anyone. For so long, I have equated ministry with fixing. How could I love someone if I didn't try to fix whatever it was that seemed to be wrong with them? It seemed unloving to simply listen, pray, and then leave them in the same state that I found them in. I think about one of our Wed night guests who is homeless. Each week they have the same prayer request for a job, shelter, good friends, President Obama, and world peace. There is only one part of that prayer request that I can affect right now - I could be his friend. But because I can't help with the job or shelter (or world peace), I shy away from this man.

Diane and I recently watched The Soloist, and near the end is a poignant scene where the reporter, who has been trying to fix the life of a homeless man for months, is told by his ex-wife to stop trying to fix the man and simply be his friend. I saw myself in that reporter, and I saw the great freedom that his ex-wife's advice offered. Freedom from fixing, freedom to simply love.

I wonder how firmly I really believe that God is the one who heals, fixes, brings growth? In my Stephen Ministry class, we have learned that we are the care-givers and that God alone is the cure-giver. My soul is so worn out from trying to cure that I am willing to let God take a crack at it.

Who's the Nerd?

Today I was talking with some friends and was sharing about how many of my friends were nerds (note: a nerd is someone who is smarter than me and can run theological circles around me). Then I proceeded to tell them a dream I had the other night.

I had just finished a book called North or Be Eaten by Andrew Peterson, which is a fantastic story about 3 young kids who have discovered that they are heirs to a long lost kingdom and are being chased by the evil leaders of their world. It is a non-stop adventure, and I highly recommend it (after you read the first story in the series, On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, which you can find at your local library). I read the book in two days, reading late into the night, and so it was fresh on my mind as I went to sleep. In my dream, I was talking with NASCAR driver Ricky Rudd, and we discovered a secret scroll. Suddenly, the powers of darkness discovered we had the scroll and came to get it back. So Ricky jumped into his stock car and sped off, chased by the minions of darkness.

Upon hearing THAT story, my friends looked at me and said, "Who's the nerd?" Touche. (Side note: I have NASCAR dreams every few months or so, usually either involving me driving in a race or hanging out with Dale Earnhardt, Jr).

A New Understanding of the Prodigal Story

I've heard many sermons on Luke 15, the story often called the parable of the Prodigal Son or even the Prodigal Father. Years ago I read Henri Nouwen's book, The Return of the Prodigal Son, which examines the story from several different perspectives. I've studied the parable many times on my own and in groups. But I had never seen Christ as the "renewed older brother" until this week.

I am reading The Prodigal God by Tim Keller, and late in the book, he writes that when Jesus told the parable of the Prodigal (wasteful) Son, He preceded it with two other parables. In the parable of the lost sheep and the lost coin, someone goes and looks for what was lost, searching desperately until they find it. But in the prodigal son's case, no one goes looking, and when the wasteful son returns to the father, his self-righteous brother is angry. His brother coming back and being restored as a son means less inheritance for him. Jesus was telling these parables in the presence of the Pharisees (religious elite) and "tax collectors and sinners" (religious outcasts), and clearly the role of the older brother in the story is meant for the Pharisees.

The end of Jesus' story, it's punchline, shows us how the older brother misses the true heart of God, the heart of compassion and mercy, as he refuses to celebrate the return of the lost brother. But his misunderstanding of the Father's heart was revealed much earlier in the story when the older brother does not go out and search for the younger. If the older brother truly knew the father's love for him and for his brother, that love would have compelled him to go and find his little brother. If the older brother had known the celebratory spirit of the father that rejoices when lost things are found, he would have tried to get the welcome-home party started much sooner.

Jesus is the older brother as he should have been, and we are all the younger. If any brother had the right to say to the Father, "I've done it all right, and I'm not going to share my inheritance with those losers who have already squandered what you gave them," it was Jesus. Yet Christ is the true Son, and He knows the Father's heart intimately. He knows that the Father's love and inheritance are things to be shared, and He knows the joy of celebratory love. And so Christ went to find us, right in the midst of our lostness, before we knew we needed to come home, and invited us back. He is an ambassador of the loving and merciful heart of the Father, who longs to restore us to our place as sons and daughters of the King.

As I read Luke 15 this morning, I wept. They weren't tears of guilt that said, "Man, I just don't seek out the lost younger brothers enough." They seemed to be tears of understanding. Somehow the older brother missing the heart of the Father revealed more clearly to me how Jesus embraces and emobodies it. We were sought, we were given life and sonship. And that gift didn't just cost the Father, it cost the Older Brother. To welcome us back as sons means that we now have an inheritance, an inheritance that should be Christ's alone, but that He joyfully shares with us. And to give us that inheritance cost Jesus unbroken fellowship with the Father. It cost Him heartache and rejection. and it cost His very life. I want to make my home in Christ and in the Father, that I might join in the search party. Not out guilt or shame, but compelled by love, a son who has been welcomed and wants to welcome others, even at cost to myself.

Odds and Ends

Does anyone watch Wipeout on ABC? Wednesday is my longest day of work (7 am until 8:30 pm) and when I come home, I am toast. Watching people bite the dust over and over again on an abusrd obstacle course, all the while being mocked by Sports Center anchors is just what the doctor ordered. I was crying last week watching it, barely able to breathe.

Not that I can watch NASCAR anymore since ESPN robbed it from the working man and put it on "Big Cable" (we only have "Big Cable", featuring ESPN, from December to March for Tar Heels Basketball; the rest of the year we have "Baby Cable with about 8 channels), but two top ten finishes in a row for Dale Junior has been nice to see.

On the sports note, watching the sagas unfold at Louisville and Memphis (and by extension UK) makes me thankful for Roy Williams.

Last year I had pictures of my mutant carrots. This year, may I present the eggplant that looks like a person.

My Life the Blob

In 2001, Diane and I moved to Glenwood to answer the call of incarnational ministry, because we believed strongly in living among the people that we wanted to love and reach out to. Then, a year and half ago, I began working for our church, which is 3 blocks away from our house - the commute is amazing! I was given the role of Director of Outreach, which seemed like such a good fit - I was already reaching out in the neighborhood and loved the poor, and so now I could just extend those into my work week. I would be working with our Wednesday dinners for the homeless, helping handle calls for financial assistance, and working with our outreaches to youth in Glenwood. Last week I realized how that sometimes is more than I bargained for, more than I really want. On the good days, I am glad to be seen as "the pastor" on Silver Avenue, and I welcome the opportunities to extend church ministry at the home and vice versa. I love the chances we have to hang out with the youth if they come to our home.

On other days, I wish there were more separation. It's hard for me each day when I pass one of the women who was asked to leave our winter shelter (along with her daughter), seeing them living in a rooming house infested with drugs. It's hard to see some of the men and women who come to the dinner, knowing that they are barely making rent or living in a home without water or lights. Our wonderful housemate and friend Suzanne, who hangs out with our kids, eats dinners with us from time to time, and is also our teammate on the Glenwood ministry team, also reports to me as her supervisor at church.

And so it hit me that my life sort of all runs together, and it sometimes is more wearying than satisfying. I wonder if it might help to have a different role at the church so that my work role was a little different than my neighbor role. Or perhaps I just need to be content to live in the tension. Stay tuned.

The tension of blessings

I realized recently that one of the blessings and trials of living where we do is that I am constantly reminded of my wealth and privilege. To know that we are the only family on our block who owns our home and two cars is humbling. To have kids come to our three-bedroom, one bath home and talk about how big and beautiful it is reminds me of the true blessing it is that my children have such wonderful rooms to call their own. In an uncertain economy, I know that if things go south for us financially, we have family who can help us out, a safety net that most of my neighbors don’t have. I know that as a white man, I have access to people and opportunities that many around me simply don’t have. When I see the family situations around us, when I see the havoc wrought by children born to single moms too young to care for them, when I see the brokenness of unmarried couples trying to live out a commitment that they have never fully made, I realize how blessed I was to have the parents and family that I have. When I see the lonely, I appreciate the gift of wonderful friends.

Seeing these things are hard on my heart because the temptation is to feel guilt for all that I have been given. They are a trial because I can’t drive around the corner without seeing a household that is broken and in need of healing and no hope in sight. They are a trial because some days I just don't want to see anymore, but there isn’t a day that I can miss it because I know so many of the people and situations going on around me.

But these realizations are a blessing because it keeps my heart grounded and thankful. It reminds me of all I have been given and leads me to places of contentment that I could not reach living elsewhere. I am reminded that all that I have is a gift from God, nothing that I earned, and that makes me more and more likely to part with what is “mine.”

Transformational community

I’ve recently been studying 1 Peter with some dear friends, and I have been greatly encouraged to press forward in ministry with our Glenwood Team here in Greensboro. Peter writes his letters to “exiles” and there are many times that those of us who live in Glenwood “on purpose” feel like exiles, strangers in a strange land. To feel like a stranger even when you are home can take a toll on your soul, and I take great encouragement from Peter’s exhortations to put my hope not in the seen but in Christ, my living hope who has won my salvation and my eternal place with the Father.

But I began to notice even more that this hope is to be shared in the context of community; that we are to express and experience this hope together, not in isolation. The gospel has transformed us from the inside out to love each other deeply, from the heart (1:22), and the evidence of our transformation doesn’t show up in our religious checklists but rather in how we treat one another.

Peter spends many of his opening lines reminding the church of all they have been given in Christ, and he exhorts them to live holy lives. But the way that this holiness plays out is not in the music that we listen to (or don’t listen to), the TV shows that they watch (or don’t watch). Instead, the standard of holiness isn’t found on a morality checklist but rather in whether or not we are loving God and loving one another. If love is our standard, what to watch/listen to/do will take care of itself., because we will want to obey God and honor our neighbor. Peter does give a checklist, but his list deals with relationships – how are we speaking to one another; are we sowing dissent by our words; are we guarding our hearts from anger and envy. Holiness is revealed in community.

And Peter reminds the church that their witness to the people around them is tied to Christ indwelling their community. Each believer in Christ is a living stone, he says, and everyone knows that you can’t build a building out of just one stone. But when you have many stones, you can put them together to make a dwelling, holy to God and displaying His power and love.

He tells them that they are a chosen people, not merely individuals, but a chosen community that belongs to God, and that the end result of our community should be glory to God, advancement of His mission on earth to seek and save the lost.

Too often I think of myself as a chosen person, an individual pressing forward on my own little path with my own little tasks to accomplish. But God has given me so much more than that. He has brought me into a community, a people, that can reveal the love and Christ in ways that my life on its own cannot. One of the greatest weapons and deceptions of satan is to make Christians believe that they are alone in their journey of faith. To isolate and divide, to cut us off from those who exhort us to run the race (Hebrews 12:1) is an excellent strategy, because the power of unity in community is transformational, both for God’s people and for the watching world. I think that God is moving our Glenwood Team towards this standard. There are days when we may feel like exiles, but we are not alone. We are part of a chosen people, a community raised up for the glory of God, and the blessing of living here is that it is so much easier for us to see our need of one another.

I Needed That

Tonight is the last night of GUPY, and we had quite the celebration. Our friends Gene and Lisa Brown had the entire team over for beer-soaked brats on the grill and an amazing dessert that combined chocolate chip cookies and cheesecake. Then we headed downtown to The Idiot Box, an improv comedy club, and were joined there by some good friends from Grace. The show was excellent, and it just felt good to laugh for an hour and half (it made me want to get back into improv, and, by the way, I love the look on people's faces when they hear that I used to perform - I guess I am just not funny anymore). And as the show was ending, bluegrass musician Sam Bush was cranking up a free concert right across the street, filling downtown with banjo, mandolin, and guitar. While I get really bored during their more progressive "jam" songs, the bluegrass flowed freely for the most part, and I was thankful to be treated to a free concert of my favorite music.

I'm not usually one to write "this is what I did" blog posts, because I don't think that it's particularly interesting for other people to read highlights of my Saturday night. But after a very tiring summer, this night with the GUPY's, with friends from church, and with co-laborers in Glenwood was very sweet and refreshing. Good food, laughter, and music do wonders to lighten the soul, and I am so thankful to have the memory of this night with the GUPY's. It was simply a good gift from God from start to finish, one that was right on time. I needed that.

That I Would Be Good

It's amazing how music can stir our souls, isn't it? Music can refresh and energize us; it can calm and relax us. Music is tied to memories (which I think is the main reason that I continue to listen to and enjoy Abba and Stryper), and it can help us connect to God when our hearts are hard.

Music often reminds me of the Gospel and of the love of God. One of the most surprising songs that does this is That I Would Be Good by Alanis Morrisette. It's a song that both lyrically and musically expresses the longing to be accepted, to be OK, even if everything that we think is wrong with us never really gets fixed. I think it's the cry of every heart apart from Christ, a cry that gets expressed in lots of different ways depending on the person. I think that it is funny that I hear the Gospel in this song, because it doesn't have a redemptive end where everything gets fixed and solved. The longing to be good seems like wishful thinking, something that would be nice if it could ever happen.

But for the person who is rooted and grounded in the forgiveness of God and the acceptance that is given through Christ's life in us, this song really is a signpost that points to the goodness of God. As the song reveals our brokenness, all the ways that we have tried to make life work and failed, the Spirit speaks into those places and reminds us that in Christ, we are good. In Christ, we are accepted just as we are. In Christ we are loved and we have access to the only life that will satisfy our souls.

It's been almost 10 years now since I first heard this song, and yet it still points me to the One who is good and who gives His goodness freely to us, no strings attached.

That I Would Be Good by Alanis Morissette

That I would be good even if I did nothing
That I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
That I would be good if I got and stayed sick
That I would be good even if I gained ten pounds

That I would be fine even even if I went bankrupt
That I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
That I would be great if I was no longer queen
That I would be grand if I was not all knowing

That I would be loved even when I numb myself
That I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
That I would be loved even when I was fuming
That I would be good even if I was clingy

That I would be good even if I lost sanity
That I would be goodWhether with or without you

My Only Victory

This summer has been very hard for me and my family to say the least. I could list all the reasons, but suffice it to say, it's been a season of struggle, and as a result, I have been wrestling to rest in Christ. I have recently realized that I've been believing two lies: 1) I don't do enough for people (my work never really solves problems and there is always someone that I don't help or someone I could help more) 2) I am a failure (when it comes to GUPY, when it comes to my work as outreach pastor, when it comes to being a dad, I always fall short of the mark that I have for myself). As you can imagine, living under this standard is not much fun, but I realize that the tired-er I get, the less likely I am to consistently connect with Jesus, living the abiding message that I preach.

So the other night I was sitting on my porch praying and listening to music, and I began to listen to a CD that I had downloaded but never taken time to play. And the song "My Only Victory" began to play, and as I heard it, I began to weep. It revealed so clearly how I had subtly shifted my hope from Jesus to: my ability to make a difference, my ability to live a holy life, and my own failings (and my ability to make things right). And it reminded me of the freedom that comes from trusting Christ. Life is not all about me or about my talents or ability to get things done. I cannot live for the applause of the poor or of the congregation, and I cannot hope to erase the lies of failure. Christ alone is good. Christ alone is who I serve. Christ alone enables me to love, to live a holy life, and to turn from sin. He is truly my only victory.

My Only Victory by Justin McRoberts

Should all the poor know my name
And all my gentle mercies every heart proclaim
Should by my own tow hands all the world be changed
The truth will yet remain:

My only victory is Jesus,
His life and death and resurrection.

Should my heart be pure and true
And my mind be bound to wisdom through and through
Should ever my spirit, Lord, cry out to you
This one things still is true:

My only victory is Jesus,
His life and death and resurrection.
I place my hope alone in Jesus and the coming of His Kingdom.

Should I fail in every deed
Should I confuse the things I've wanted with my needs
Should I return the curses of my enemies
The truth will ever be:

My only victory is Jesus,
His life and death and resurrection.
I place my hope alone in Jesus and the coming of His Kingdom.

The joy of Catch

I recently had a chance to play catch with one of our kids from tutoring - you know, the game where you throw a ball back and forth.... and back.... and forth. And as I was telling my friend Suzanne about it, she said, "I never really understood that game. Just throwing the ball."

I had never thought much about it, but as I explained to her what Catch really is, it helped me understand why two gloves and a baseball can be an awesome thing.

When I was a little boy, playing catch with my dad was my most favorite things to do. I could have spent hours in the backyard tossing the baseball with him, and I would wait eagerly in the evenings for him to come from work, gloves at the ready. For one thing, Catch was one-on-one time with my dad, just me and him. We didn't have to talk a lot - there was something great about just being together, outside, watching the evening fade. Catch involved a back and forth exchange - it's no fun playing by yourself. As I grew older, Catch allowed me to test my strength, to see how measured up, so I would try to throw harder and harder, making his glove pop louder and louder, seeing if I could make his hand sting through the leather. Eventually I tried my hand at pitching, seeing how accurate I could be in hitting his mitt (usually ending up with my dad making many trips down the hill in our backyard to recover my wild throws).

If we ever got bored with simple back and forth, there were always variations. Grounders and Pop Fly's became favorites, and I learned to not be afraid as the ball skipped randomly over the grass and sometimes popped up at my face, and I learned to shield my eyes from the sun and use two hands to secure the ball when it landed in my glove. In the winter, we would put a ball in the pocket of our gloves, having rubbed neatsfoot oil all over it, and the wrap it with raw-hide to get it ready for spring.

Playing catch with my young friend the other day was me passing on a gift that my dad had given to me, a gift of time and attention. I could tell Darrius was thrilled to have 20-30 minutes of my time, just me and him. He was excited to learn to throw harder and more accurately with just a couple pointers, and he grinned ear to ear as he showed his mom how he could pitch. When I first suggested Catch to him, he said he'd rather just get a bat and hit. But I think now he sees the simple joy of trowing a ball back and forth.... back and forth..... back.... and... forth.

Nine Years – amazing!

On July 8th, Diane and I celebrated nine years of marriage (albeit in different cities, as I was out of town with the Glenwood Camp). Over a belated anniversary dinner this weekend, we thought about how far we had come, how far the Lord has brought us, and it is simply amazing to see what God has done.

Some couples have hard first years of marriage and they realize that in the midst of those first years. Some don’t have hard times much at all. I think our first years were very hard, but we didn’t know any different – we just thought it was normal. But looking at where we are now, I can clearly see a mighty work of God, and I am so thankful for how good marriage can be when you work at it and when you have the grace of God at work.

Broken of much independence, I have come to trust and depend on Diane as my friend and partner in life. Broken of the illusions that we had about our ability to love one another well on our own, we have each grown in depending on Christ to be our love and our hope. Broken of fears of being known, we are growing in intimacy and communication.

I could not have imagined that marriage could have gotten so much better and that we would still have so much opportunity to grow.

And how about my smokin’ hot wife? Prettier than that hot July day that I married her, and growing more beautiful to me every year.

Fruit will come, hang in there!

Six weeks ago I preached on John 15, the parable of the vine and the branches (click here to listen/download). For my sermon I used a live tomato plant and an artificial Christmas tree, and I urged us to abide in Christ, in His life, and that if we did, fruit would come.

And then I took my tomato plant home and I waited and watched... and waited.... and watched.... as it bore flower after flower, but no fruit. I watered it. It was planted in good soil. But no fruit. Finally, in desperation, I went ahead and hung it upside down from our front porch, because I had planted it in a bucket for that very reason. More weeks went by, and still no fruit – flowers yes, but no tomatoes.

But this week ….. fruit! Small, barely able to be called tomatoes, but still, fruit! And I think that there is more to come.

Some of you may be struggling to see Spirit fruit in your life. You’ve been doing your best to rest in Christ, to trust Him as your life, but there’s nothing to show for it. Hang in there. Remain in Christ, and fruit will come.

You may feel like you have been doing everything in your power to remain, but life is just getting more and more away from you, that your world has been turned upside down. Hang in there, and remember - it took turning upside down for my tomato plant to bear fruit, too.

Remain in Christ, and you will bear fruit.

Psalms to the rescue!

In response to recent blog posts and prayer letters, many of my friends have written to encourage me, and I know that many have been praying or me. Interestingly, most of them have included encouragement from the Psalms, urging me to reorient my heart and my mind to the truth of God.

Psalm 27 has been prayed for me, that I would see the face of God in the land of the living and that the Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear. Psalms 137 and 138 have been given to me, urging me to look for how the Israelites moved from the despair of Babylon to becoming bold and stouthearted. I have been given Psalm 46, that God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.

Is it because my friends know that I love the Psalms? Maybe. But even more, the Psalms continue to offer real responses to real life, while always pointing us back to the truth of God. Reorientation, turning to a correct alignment and focus.

Hebrews 12:2 urges us to fix our eyes upon Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. A friend recently preached on that passage, and over and over he exhorted his listeners to look to God, not to our problems. When we focus on our lives, our issues, our sin, our fears, we lose balance and perspective. But to fix our eyes on Jesus, reoriented to the truth of who God is, brings correct understanding.

Hedging my bets

In thinking through my consistent  struggle with fear, I have discovered a nagging seed of doubt that consistently grows and bears the fruit of fear. It’s an age-old question, one that many have struggled with – basically, why do bad things happen to good people? I know that being a Christian does not exempt me from suffering or pain, though my life has been relatively free of both. I know that people who are deeply committed to Jesus fall dead of heart attacks, die in car wrecks, have homes knocked down by tornados. And so this knowledge often trumps what I read in God’s Word.

For example, Psalm 91 is full of assurances of the Lord’s presence. The Lord is described as a fortress and a refuge, a God that we can trust in all things, the God who will save us from things that will ensnare us. It says that we will not fear the terror of night or the arrow that flies by day, and that no harm will befall you. When I read that Psalm, I am emboldened. I have the courage to do things that I normally would shrink back from.

But then I remember the bad things that have happened to good people and I feel like it’s silly to trust the Bible at face value. So I read the Bible and in my heart of hearts, I believe, but in my flesh, I hedge my bets, not willing to entrust all of my life to God. At the root of this is my desire to be in control. If I can worry about what might happen, if I can foresee it and then prevent it, then even if God didn’t come through, I would still be OK. For me, fear and worry give the illusion of being in control, which is safer than walking by faith.

My prayer is that I would stop hedging my bets, acknowledging God’s love and His control over all things, and that His word would lead me to greater faith, an anchor in the midst of my ups and downs.

Tired of fear

We all have a default in our flesh, a mode of reacting that we turn to when life gets out of control. For me, that mode has been fear. I remember crying and crying in fear of any number of ailments when I was younger, from gum disease to my knee locking up. I feared dogs from a young age. I remember a period of weeks when I imagined that a boy from the next neighborhood over was patrolling our neighborhood on his dirtbike, looking to beat me up, and cringed in fear in my house. When we first moved to Glenwood, I was afraid to walk the dogs, and as we have had children, my anger in the morning when they wake up early is generated by my fear of being tired. I don’t know where that seed got planted and how its roots got so deep, but it seems as though fear is, if not a constant companion, a very familiar visitor.

I think that I indulge it because thinking about what I am afraid of, and what could happen to me, gives an illusion that I am in control. If I can imagine every unseen danger or possibility, I won’t be surprised (goes the thinking).

But it wears me out. I think of the hours and hours that I have spent walking in fear, worrying about things that never came to pass, and I know that I’ve wasted a lot of time. And I can see that I have passed this default of fear to my children, a negative inheritance for their soul. And I don’t know how to beat it.

Yesterday some dealers down the street rode by on a moped and yelled something at me as I set up the yard for a cookout. When my friend and I drove by their house a few minutes later, they yelled again. And now I don’t want to walk my neighborhood. I don’t want to go to the community garden because I am afraid. Did they yell at me because they saw a police officer stop and talk with me on Thursday? Did they know that he was telling me about their activities, giving me a heads up and asking me to let him know if I knew anything? Were they now looking at me as a threat, a snitch? And so home doesn’t feel safe, even though I don’t know what they said, but I have filled in the blank for them.

I’m tired of fear, and I just don’t know how to move forward and be free from it.

Becoming the answer

Each week at our dinner for the homeless and poor at Grace, we have slips of paper for guests to write out their prayer requests, which are then typed up and emailed out. As I read through two weeks worth of prayer requests, my heart was stirred by the simplicity of the prayers – a job, a place to stay, healing, deliverance from addiction to drugs and alcohol, restoration of family relationships, provision for family members. These are things that I take for granted, things that sometimes seem so “normal” that they feel like rights. I have always had a home, a stable family, provision for every need, a car. But I didn’t earn any of that – it was all gift.

I was also stirred by the depth of the prayer requests – wisdom with how to use time and money, wisdom in raising children, a deeper understanding of the Bible, greater faith, a deeper relationship with Christ and greater obedience to Him. And I long for our church to be a place where these prayers our answered – we offer classes for parents on raising children, solid Biblical preaching each week, and we have wise men and women who could teach young Christians what it means to live life centered on Christ. There are businessmen and businesswomen who have an ability to create jobs and businesses that could sustain some of our friends.

I think that this will only happen as more people from our church attend the dinners on Wednesdays and build bridges across racial and economic divides so that our Wednesday night guests feel like they have friends waiting for them on Sunday morning, someone to walk into church with and to sit with. This will only happen as people from our church begin to feel the pain and longing of those without jobs and are stirred with compassion to do something about it.

I think that there are people at Grace who could be used as God’s answer to these prayers, they just don’t know it. I pray that God would do a new work in us as a Body, stirring even more of us to this work that He has for us.

A prescription for rest

This is from an email I sent to a friend who is frazzled, burning the candle on both ends, and not seeing any time or space to restore their soul. It's advice that I try to heed, too:

What do you mean you don't have time to rest? Remember our convo about what is restful for you? Resting is something you have to MAKE time for or you will be useless in your work (well, not useless, but you will not enjoy it but will simply survive it). Margin never creates itself - something in life always fills the empty spaces if we are not vigilant.
1) Go to bed 1/2 hour earlier - this takes discipline and focus.
2) Make time to spend with God, reading the Bible and praying.
3) Make time to do things that are fun for you.
4) Be aware of counterfeit rest - for me this looks like ,"If I lay on the couch and watch TV for a couple of hours, that will restore my soul. " "If I surf the web for electronics deals, that will restore my soul." "If I balance our online banking on mvelopes, that will restore my soul." Those things are fine in small doses, but listening to music, reading a book, being still and quiet actually restore my soul in significant ways.
5) Exercise - unplug from your day and move your body!
I find that if I do these things, life is more balanced. Love, marsh

Walk with the wise

Today I had the chance to learn about being faithful to Christ, and faithful as a parent; I learned about the perseverance of love in the midst of heartache; and I learned about the power of Christ to do in us what we can never do on our own. All in a 30-minute conversation with a co-worker.

Wisdom seems to be one of those things that you can’t often get apart from life experience. You most often gain wisdom by going through life and paying attention to God and paying attention to patterns and themes in your heart and in life around you. Yet you can also gain wisdom by observing others’ faithfulness in the ordinary, peace in the midst of chaos. You can gain wisdom by listening to others, especially if they give you the gift of sharing what is real in their lives, the tragedies as well as the joys. That is what my friend gave me today. As she shared her story of loving one of her children, I feel like I was given tools to be a better parent. I was given pictures of the Gospel lived out in the here and now that I won’t forget. And I grew in wisdom.

Interestingly, she was not trying to sound wise or trying to teach me anything; she was just responding when I asked how her child was doing. Wise people don’t have to convince you of their wisdom because wisdom is a byproduct of faithfulness, not the goal. Wisdom is a fruit of abiding in Christ, and today I had the chance to receive the gift of God’s redeeming work in her family’s life.

Fullness

I often live my life from a position of lack. I find myself thinking about what I don’t have, what I haven’t done, what I should have done better.

But those of us who are in Christ have no business living in lack, because God is a God of fullness, a truth illuminated in the first two chapters of Colossians. First we learn that God had all His fullness dwell in Christ (1:19), and then Paul talks about presenting the Word of God to the Colossians in all its fullness (1:25). Paul says again in 2:9 that in Christ, all the fullness of  Deity lives in bodily form. Jesus has fullness. The Word of God has fullness. God Himself has fullness. All of that makes sense to me.

But then Paul says, “You have been given fullness in Christ.” (2:10) When I read it, it was one of those “guy says wrong thing in the bar and the record playing on the jukebox goes sccrrrriitch while everything stops” kind of moments. “I have been given fullness in Christ?” scccrrriiitch

I shouldn’t have been so surprised – Paul prays for the Ephesians to be filled to the measure of the fullness of God and says that maturity in Christ entails our attaining the full measure of the fullness of Christ. John 1:16 says that from the fullness of His grace, we have all received one blessing after another.

This truth of fullness has been quietly reshaping my outlook on what I need to be OK. When my kids are misbehaving, and I feel a lack of control, I have been given fullness. When the latest flashy gadget outpaces my spending budget, I have been given fullness. When my basement floods and the carpet has to go, I have been given fullness. When I feel forgotten or insignificant, I have been  given fullness. When I am at the end of my strength and one more need presents itself, I have been given fullness.

Fullness of life, of joy, of peace, of hope. Fullness is mine already.

Carpet? We don't need no stinking carpet!

Greensboro was hit by a torrential downpour this evening (flooding, cars stranded), and so I called home to check in with Diane and she said, “There’s water in the basement,” which was an understatement. Water had flooded several inches deep in our garage and come under the door, and all the carpet was soaked (over 700 square feet). My trusted advisor Nick Loflin didn’t think it was salvageable (I think he was right), and so we proceeded to rip out the carpet and padding, assisted by neighbors Randy Lewkowicz and Gene Brown, as Suzanne and Diane shop-vacced the cement beneath.

In the end, we are thinking of varnishing the cement floor and putting down some area rugs (it’s the hip thing to do now), and maybe this will be a blessing in disguise, Extreme Flood Makeover. The chance to see the love of our friends and neighbors in action (as Nick did not leave until 10:30 p.m.) was such a blessing for us, too.

It was also neat to uncover a cement patch in which Diane and I and the Lewkowic'z’s had put our initials back in 2003. Great memories of good friends helping us live the dream here in Glenwood, sharing our home with us for about 3 years. All in all, if you had to have flooding, this turned out as well as it could.

Frank Sinatra theology

Lately I have been wrestling with what I call Frank Sinatra theology (or maybe it’s Bing Crosby) – do-be-do-be-do. There is such a pull in me to “do” things for the Lord, to live a Kingdom-minded life. I see the brokenness of the world around me, from neighbors on Silver to families in my church, and feel the need to get busy fixing. And yet in my times with the Lord, I am learning the lessons of abiding, of waiting, of trusting the Lord to be the one doing the work.

While I know that resting in Christ does not equal inertia, I also know that sometimes my “kingdom work” can look and sound spiritual but be generated by my flesh. This morning I was reading in Colossians 3:1-3, and Paul tells us to set our hearts and our minds on heaven, on things above, not on earthly things. It was interesting to me that my mental distractions that immediately sprung up were not material items I wanted or sexual temptations or anger towards someone who had wronged me, but rather people and issues around me that I ought to help with. I see other churches who are doing more than my church, and I think I need to generate more programs for the poor. I remember how harried and exhausted I was when we were seeing tons of financial assistance cases last year and I shudder, but then I think, “At least I was doing something."

I’ve also been studying Mark, and I have been intrigued by how much time Jesus spends talking about God’s Kingdom and how little time He spends fixing people. It seems that if the Kingdom advances in the lives of people, many issues of the world begin to take care of themselves.

And so right now, I think that I am being called to listen to the voice that says abide and trust. To seek Christ and His Kingdom, but not seek to make the Kingdom come. To wait and listen, even if it feels unproductive, and believe that God will move me when it is time. Maybe I need to change my listening genre to blues for a while and hang out with “Be Be” King (sorry, that was a pretty bad pun, I know).

Remaining in Christ sermon

This is the “teaser” I sent out to our church last week in advance of Sunday’s sermon. If you want to hear the message, click the link for Life in the Vine (teaser 2: my main sermon props were an artificial Christmas tree and a tomato plant).

“As I listen to the rain pour down this evening, I am smiling. My gardens are getting exactly what they need, and soon, I'm going to see some veggies forming on the vine. I love watching as week by week, the plants do their thing, growing taller and greener. The fruit simply comes as a product of the plant staying rooted and bearing what it was created to bear.

“Do you believe that bearing fruit for Christ could possibly be as simple for us as bearing fruit is for my veggies? Join us this Sunday as we look at John 15:1-8 and talk about abiding in Christ and bearing fruit, maturing as His disciples.”

Click link for the podcast: Life in the Vine

Also, for further enjoyment and musical accompaniment to the sermon, download this awesome version of  Be Still My Soul, a hymn that speaks to God’s sufficiency (podcast is free, song costs 99 cents).

Who knew Marsh could rap?

To close out the year at tutoring, I did a free-style rap for the kids. Enjoy!

Running because of freedom

Students here at Rockbridge have been practicing how to share the good news (gospel) by taking their peers through “proxe stations” which are simply interactive ways for people to experience both their need for Christ and the hope that He offers.

One student took someone through a station called Extreme Heart Makeover, which basically gives the chance for people to identify areas in their heart that, if given the chance, they would like remade – things like anger, pride, selfishness, etc. As the participant marked several heart areas that they wished were different, my student told them, in a nutshell, that the answer is for them to ask forgiveness, repent, and try harder to not do those things.

On hearing this, my firsts reaction was frustration, because “trying harder to not do bad things” is not really the heart of the good news. The gospel tells us that we are unable to do good, unable to remake our hearts, apart from Christ, and that God has freely given us the forgiveness to begin again and the power to walk in new ways as we trust His life in us. I cringe when people reduce following Jesus to “trying harder” or “doing better.”

But as we prayed for this student and I thought about the anger and the heaviness that I sensed in her, I realized that she must believe that her righteousness is based on her performance and that her fear of moral failure must mute her experience of  the power and presence of God’s love for her.

And God brought to mind one of my favorite verses in the Bible, Psalm 199:32 – “I run in the paths of your commands, for you have set my heart free.” My prayer for her, and for myself, became a plea for God to lead us to an obedience that stems from an experience of His love and goodness. Running in His commands because of  freedom, not in hope of attaining it.

Learning to rest and receive

While it feels a little surreal to be here at Rockbridge, surrounded by college students and InterVarsity-focused ministry, my passion for college students and for the Gospel still burns, and I had the privilege of talking with one student for an hour or so today. He reminded me of myself when I was 22 – he longs to love Jesus above all things, is frustrated by recurring patterns of sin, and seems to believe that if he just tries hard enough, he can get the point of being good and acceptable to God. Worship is often not a joy for him but rather a tug of war between his wandering thoughts and his expectations of himself in that moment.

As I listened to him, I was thankful for his sincere desire to seek the Lord, but I was also tired for him, watching him work so hard to “get it right” for Jesus. Getting off of this treadmill of working hard is one of the joys of abiding in Christ. A strawberry plant doesn’t work and strain to make strawberries appear. You don’t hear peach trees screaming in the pains of childbirth as the fruit is formed on their limbs. Instead, the fruit simply comes as a course of nature as long as the branches stay connected to the vine. I can’t produce the fruit that I long for. I cannot make myself more patient or loving or peaceful. I cannot make people love Jesus. I can only abide in Christ, trusting Him to make good on His promise that if I abide in Him, I will bear much fruit – not produce much fruit but bear it - for the glory of the Gardener, the Father.

And so as I prayed for my new friend, I asked God to let him receive the life and love that Christ has for him and to rest in His finished, loving work. I believe in my heart that He will.

So, who am I?

I am a branch.

This simple concept has been the most influential spiritual principle in my life for the past 10 years. In 1998 I was introduced to a book by Andrew Murray called "Abide in Christ", which contains 31 reflections on the parable of the vine from John 15. I have read this book almost once a year, and I continue to be refreshed, encouraged, and convicted by the freedom that comes from re-learning my position as one dependent on the life of God given through Christ.

The premise of Jesus’ parable is very simple – just as a branch is dependent on the vine for life and sustenance, so all people are designed to be dependent on God as our life in all things. And yet, like most of Jesus’ teachings, the simple becomes very profound if you consider its deeper implications.

It’s not just that I need Jesus for forgiveness of my sins. It’s not just that I need Jesus to help me when things get too hard. It’s not just that I need Jesus to understand hard passages in the Bible or to love prickly people. I need the life of God in every moment, and the degree to which I remember that truth and rely on Him is tied to the degree that I experience the power, joy, and peace that come with His presence.

It would be easy for someone like me to make this principle into a law, measuring constantly how well I am abiding or have been abiding, chastising myself for failing to abide. But that quickly becomes trusting myself or my ability to abide instead of trusting Christ. The truth is, I abide not because I am faithful or because I read a book or pray a prayer. I abide in Christ because of His work on my behalf, His life, death, and resurrection. Whether I am aware of my position in Him at all times is irrelevant to whether or not I am secure in Christ. But when I do pause to remember, in any moment, that I am in Christ and that He has given Himself completely to me, there is an awareness of grace in every moment and of a life that is deeper than my feelings or circumstances, and that brings great freedom.

Being me

Most of the time I am OK with who I am. I mean, I feel like I’m a good dad, learning to be a good pastor, and I have some  good ideas about life and ministry. But sometimes when I am around people who are not like me, who think deeper thoughts and have more organized visions for life and ministry, I begin to wonder again if I have what it takes.

For example, the other week a local church told me about their new tutoring program that they were launching, complete with a leadership team of 12, a partnership with their neighborhood school, and a way to track the academic progress of their kids. I laughed and thought about how we started our program by handing out flyers at bust stops in my neighborhood, but behind that laugh was a sense of feeling like I didn’t do the program “right” or as well from the start. And even though our program currently has 50 kids and over 100 volunteers, a part of me still describes it internally as “rinky dink.”

Or riding up to an IV event recently, I was in the car with two extroverts, and I made a comment about needing time and pace to myself, and I realized, “I don’t want to be like that. I want to be the person who likes to be around people all the time.” Or sitting in a discussion with three friends who love to think deeply about theology, and thinking, “Man, the things I think about spiritually seem so simple.”

But my point in this post is not to whine about what I’m not or for people to tell me how great I am. It’s to address the lie that says who I am is not OK. The Lord has made me and gifted me to bring something to the table that others don’t and vice versa. Learning to abide in Christ, to trust Him as my life and my source frees me from having to be anything but who I am. Preoccupation with myself takes me away from preoccupation with Jesus, and for me, that is a quick road to a life that becomes all about me, which I have found to be no life at all.

Psalm 22 - life emerges

But just like the Psalmist, we don't stop with suffering, but instead we move forward, remembering who God is. God is holy, and we worship. God is enthroned, and we worship. God has moved in the past and been faithful, and we trust.

We move on, praying on behalf of those who feel less than human, those who feel rejected and mocked, those who equate God's presence and favor with their performance, and we ask God to remind them of His presence, to reveal to them His constant love for them, even since birth.

We pray against fear, against enemies, against the lies of the evil one that attack and gore our faith. We pray against the things that feel to strong for us and those we know, and we ask that God reveal His goodness, that He bring us to a place of seeing that He has answered our cry in the cross of Christ and His resurrection.

And then we move to worship, instructing our soul in who God is: the God who listens and does not despise us in our suffering; the God who leads us into worship; the God whose name is sure; the God who satisfies the poor; the God who commands the worship of rich and poor alike; the God who will be worshipped by all the nations; the God who has done all that is needed to answer the suffering and brokenness of our world.

God doesn't always fix our suffering in the way that we want Him to. He doesn't always heal this side of heaven. He didn't spare His own son from suffering and death, and He doesn't always spare us. But the promise is that on the other side is life, life, and more life. Christ's suffering won life for the nations, for generations to come, and somehow in the midst of pain and struggle, the life of God continues to emerge, leading others to worship.

Rewrite of "Walking Away"

I've been re-reading On Writing Well by William Zinsser, one of my favorite books on writing from journalism school, and that has led me to try and rewrite this recent post. I was able to cut over 50 words, and I think that it reads a little more crisply.


She was a pitiful sight, sitting in her wheelchair just outside the hotel room – hair askew, left eye blackened from a punch three nights previous, wearing pajamas and no shoes. She’d been attacked in the camp where she lives, down by the railroad tracks, and now she was facing her last night at the hotel. I’d stopped by to bring her some clothes and food, trying to show her that I did care about her, even though I had no plan for how to help her. She had quickly left the transitional housing where we had placed her in March, and our church could not continue to pay for her hotel room. When I mentioned the possibility of going to a domestic violence shelter in a nearby city, she exploded. “I can’t go to another shelter situation! I’ve been out here in this chair for 10 years, getting murdered, and you want me to go to another shelter?!?”

She continued to yell at me. “What if I was your sister or your mom or your daughter? What would you do then!?”
“I’d bring them home to live with my family,” I thought, but I kept that to myself.

It seemed that what she really wanted me to do was find her an apartment and pay for it each month indefinitely, and I told her that I could not do that.

“It’s all about the money, isn’t it?” she continued. “Jesus didn’t care about money! Jesus cared about people! You can’t look at me in this situation and say you can’t do anything. You can’t be a Christian and leave me like this!” I told her goodbye and walked away, not sure what else I could say or why I should stay further.

My thoughts have been haunted by her in the days since. Should I have brought her home with me, moving my son into my daughters’ room to create a space for her? Didn’t the early Church grow because Christians would take in those that no one else loved or wanted? If anyone is the “least of these”, she is. The Lord has seemed strangely silent as I wrestled and worried, wondered and prayed. And sometimes I wonder if I’m cut out to follow Jesus in the hardest places of the world, because when I get there, I feel like I lack either the insight or the courage to act for transformation.

Psalm 22 - praying it into our soul

We can use this Psalm the same way that God's people have used it for centuries, praying its truths into our hearts and lives here and now. You might not be experiencing suffering right now in your life, but if you look at our world, I think you will agree that there are many people who, given their circumstances could very well wonder if God had abandoned them. We can pray the opening verses on their behalf, on behalf of the broken world. Those verses have been coursing through my heart and mind these past two weeks as I have looked around our city, watching the suffering of the homeless and of people in our church who have lost loved ones and who have lost jobs. Cancer continues to attack, death seems to be winning, and friends of mine are struggling to have hope and peace, struggling to engage God in the midst of pain.

Thursday of this week was a day that just pounded on my soul. Not for what was happening to me directly but for what was happening to people around me, near me, in my life. The day seemed marked by desperate situations, brokenness, confusion. It was cold and rainy, and the problems that kept coming in on my cell phone and to the door of the church were larger than I could fix and more painful than I could bear. And the question, "where are you, Lord?" seemed to repeat over and over in my head.

Whether you are going through the suffering or praying for someone else, we can cry out to God, asking where He is. As I studied this passage with some InterVarsity colleagues recently, one of my co-staff began to weep as she read the Psalm aloud, remembering the sufferings in her life and in the lives of those she loves.

A coffee sign

I thought that this coffee stain on my coworker's cup was pretty neat. Not sure what the sign is telling me.

Epiphany in the Panera bathroom

This morning I was washing my hands at Panera before my Monday morning accountability group, and a light bulb went on. (Don't laugh – many of the men who read this blog would say that some of their best thinking comes in the bathroom.)

What had made me resistant to bringing the woman in the wheelchair into my home was that relationally, emotionally, and physically, Diane and I feel maxed out. The demands of work, ministry, and three small children add up quickly, and adding another person to that mix, a person that could quickly become consuming, felt like death to my soul. But what if Diane and I weren't the only adults in our home available to this woman? What if there were one or two others, in different life stages with different demands, who could help us shoulder the load, to really care for her well and weave her into the fabric of community? That doesn't seem so bad. That actually seems doable.

I'm not saying anything that Shane Claiborne and others in the New Monastic movement haven't been saying for the past few years, but it's one thing to hear it said and another thing to envision for how community might embolden and enliven my own ministry here and now.

Community is more than proximity; it is also intentionality and mutual service and sacrifice, and right now, that seems to be lacking for Diane and me. We have a housemate, but since she has a separate entrance and separate kitchen, our lives also seem separate, even though we do have some overlap in ministry. I think that to re-structure our life around community would take more than a simple, "Let's do this;" I think it would entail remodeling our home to connect the upstairs and downstairs and to add a room or two somehow or it would entail buying a new, larger home altogether. It would take a physical restructuring to complement our new commitment. Both of those home-building ideas require money without promise of a return that helps us recoup that investment. But could it be worth it?

Walking away

She was a pitiful sight – hair askew, eye blackened from a punch three nights previous, sitting just outside her hotel room in her wheelchair. She had been attacked in the camp by the railroad tracks where she lives, and now she was faced with having one more night at the hotel followed by an uncertain tomorrow. I had stopped by to bring her some clothes and food and to try and tell her that I did care about her, even though I had no clue how to fix her situation. She recounted the attack over and over to me, as she had in the days previous, and she began to yell and cry, as I asked her what she wanted me to do for her. I knew that our church could not keep her at the hotel indefinitely. We had already tried to place her in a group home, and she'd left after only two days. There was a chance she could go to a domestic violence shelter in a nearby city, but she didn't want to do that. "I can't go to another shelter situation!" she yelled. "I've been out here in this chair for 10 years, getting murdered, and you want me to go to another shelter?!?"

I was at a loss. It seemed that what she really wanted me to do was find her an apartment and pay for it each month indefinitely, something our church did not have the finances to do. She continued to yell at me. "What if I was your sister or your mom or your daughter? What would you do then?" I told her I didn't know. Inside I thought that I would most likely bring my family into my home to live, but I kept that to myself. "It's all about the money, isn't it? Jesus didn't care about money! Jesus cared about people! You can't look at me in this situation and say you can't do anything. You can't be a Christian and leave me like this!" I told her goodbye and walked away, not sure what else I could say or why I should stay further.

My thoughts in the days since have been haunted by her. Should I have brought her home with me, moving my son into my daughters' room and creating a space for her? Am I just not a radical enough Christian? Isn't that how the early church grew, that Christians would take in those in society that no one else loved or wanted? If anyone is the "least of these", she is. The Lord seemed strangely silent as I wrestled and worried, wondered and prayed. It's times like these that I wonder if I'm cut out to follow Jesus in the hardest places of the world, because when I get there, I feel like I lack either the insight or the courage to act for transformation.

Psalm 22 - He has done it.

As the psalm closes, we find ourselves a long way emotionally from where we started, but we are echoing the truth of verses 3 and 4. Remember?

PS 22:3 Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One;

you are the praise of Israel.

PS 22:4 In you our fathers put their trust;

they trusted and you delivered them.

PS 22:5 They cried to you and were saved;

in you they trusted and were not disappointed.

The truth of God has not changed – He has always been the God who is holy, the God who rules the nations, the God who can be trusted. But the psalmist is now experiencing that truth and is inviting others to get in on it. All of the earth, rich and poor, all nations and peoples, from now and forever will be told about the Lord. God is not the God who forsakes, but is the God who acts. He is not the God who acts only in the past, but the God who has been good in the present and the God who will be worshipped in the future. The God of "He has done it."

Psalm 22 - transformed into a worship leader

And so the entire psalm turns after verse 21, moving from cries of desperation into a celebration of the goodness of God. The psalmist is now the worship leader.

PS 22:22 I will declare your name to my brothers;

in the congregation I will praise you.

PS 22:23 You who fear the LORD, praise him!

All you descendants of Jacob, honor him!

Revere him, all you descendants of Israel!

PS 22:24 For he has not despised or disdained

the suffering of the afflicted one;

he has not hidden his face from him

but has listened to his cry for help.

PS 22:25 From you comes the theme of my praise in the great assembly;

before those who fear you will I fulfill my vows.

PS 22:26 The poor will eat and be satisfied;

they who seek the LORD will praise him--

may your hearts live forever!

Declaring God's name, calling people to praise, honor, and revere the Lord, the God who listens and answers. These are outward expressions of the fear of the Lord. And not only does he call people to praise with their mouths, he praises God with his actions and his life.

When he says that he will fulfill his vows in verse 25, he is operating in fulfillment of Deuteronomy 16:10-12. His worship of God invites others to celebrate by giving a peace offering and feast that the poor are invited to. Shouldn't our worship be accompanied by action, by an acting out of what we celebrate. If we praise God that He has blessed us and supplied our needs, doesn't it make sense that we live actively in that and extend those blessings to others, believing that it is God who provided them in the first place? Our deliverance gives us the freedom to look outward.

Coolest Room in Town

During the kids' spring break, our friend Terrance Parson came to the house and built an amazing loft in the girls' room. Our girls love having a play area on the ground, and of course they have turned the bed area up top into a play area as well. One of the benefits of having high ceilings in an old house!

Psalm 22 - the God who answers in the midst of it all

Psalm 22:12-18 find us in dire straits. The enemies are too strong, too numerous, too fierce. Death seems imminent, inevitable. If ever it was time to give up, now is that time. But the psalmist rallies one last time, musters the strength for one last cry.

PS 22:19 But you, O LORD, be not far off;

O my Strength, come quickly to help me.

PS 22:20 Deliver my life from the sword,

my precious life from the power of the dogs.

PS 22:21 Rescue me from the mouth of the lions;

save me from the horns of the wild oxen.

He remembers that God is his strength and his savior, and he asks the Lord to fight off the dogs, the lions, and the bulls, to deliver his life. And in the midst of this last gasp of hope, his prayer is answered. The NIV translates verse 21 as "rescue me from the mouth of lions; save me from the horns of the wild oxen." But in the Hebrew, the word "saved" or "rescued" can also be translated "answered", and some commentators and translators believe that this is a more faithful rendering. So the ESV translates it, "You have rescued me from the horns of the wild oxen!" Somehow in the midst of suffering, God answers, deliverance comes.

As I headed back to college in 1996, I was the chapter president of my InterVarsity group. I was thinking about going on staff with IV, and I was set to lead our outreach to new students. But my soul was stuck in grief and fear, and so I asked for a meeting with one of our IV campus ministers. I poured out my heart and struggles to him, and then I waited to see what he would think, wondering if he would think it would time for me to step down from leadership. He looked at me and smiled and said, "Marshall, I want you to know that I don't see you any differently right now than I did ten minutes ago, and neither does the Lord. His grace and mercy are totally able to handle your struggles." And just like that the clouds parted and the light of grace and forgiveness and the love of Christ flooded in. And that launched me on a journey of learning the freedom of living in the grace of God.

Psalm 22 - remembering God's personal presence

And so the work of remembering begins again.

PS 22:9 Yet you brought me out of the womb;

you made me trust in you

even at my mother's breast.

PS 22:10 From birth I was cast upon you;

from my mother's womb you have been my God.

PS 22:11 Do not be far from me, for trouble is near

and there is no one to help.

The psalmist reminds himself that he is not a worm, but a precious human being, and someone who has been known by God since birth. God is not a God of the past who acted once upon a time for the Israelites, but God is a personal, up close God, the psalmist's God. God is the God who knows us in every moment of our lives and who cares for us tenderly.

There is great comfort in knowing that God doesn't just care for His people, but that He knows and cares for you and me. That there has not been a moment of our lives that He has not been at work to draw us to a life lived in relationship with Him as "My God." Remembering that relationship reminds us to not simply cry out "where are you" but to cry again, "Help."

It also frames our sufferings not as something happening outside of the care and purview of God, but rather events that are happening within His embrace and care; though He may not end them immediately, He is not far from us.

Psalm 22- performance-based theology

PS 22:6 But I am a worm and not a man,

scorned by men and despised by the people.

PS 22:7 All who see me mock me;

they hurl insults, shaking their heads:

PS 22:8 "He trusts in the LORD;

let the LORD rescue him.

There is a theology that says our circumstances are directly tied to how well we play the religion game. If something bad happened it was because we earned or deserved it, and likewise, if something good happened, it was because we earned or deserved it.

That theology is very popular even today, and while most of us here would not believe the overt promise of health and wealth, that if we prayed a particular verse or gave a certain amount of money that God would bless us or heal us, we are still tempted to believe that way on a smaller scale. We're tempted to believe that our favor with God is based on our performance for Him. We think, "Maybe if I'd had a quiet time, I wouldn't have had such a bad day."

"Maybe if I had gone to that FCA prayer meeting at school, I would have done better on my test."

"I deserve to have financial security because I tithe regularly."

It's a subtle way of us putting ourselves back on the throne, think that we somehow can have control of our lives and of God.

The Psalmist is being confronted with this as the religious people are kicking while he is down, mocking his situation, equating his suffering with God's displeasure with Him.

In Jesus' day it was expressed when a man born blind was brought to Him and His disciples asked, "Master, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind." But Jesus' answer was, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life."

When we feel overwhelmed by suffering, we are to persist in prayer, anchored in truth, trusting God to answer and bring glory to His name.

Psalm 22 - the work of remembering

But in Psalm 22, David does not stay focused on his brokenness. In verse 3, we begin to train our souls to see correctly, to look through pain to see God.

PS 22:3 Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One;

you are the praise of Israel.

PS 22:4 In you our fathers put their trust;

they trusted and you delivered them.

PS 22:5 They cried to you and were saved;

in you they trusted and were not disappointed.

Out of disorientation, we are called to reorient ourselves to Who God is. Not what God is or isn't doing, but who He is. God is the King, never to be unseated. God is Holy, never to be tarnished. God has shown Himself faithful to His people. Israel has a rich history of God delivering His people from the hand of slavery, from Babylonian exile, from their own stubborn refusal to follow Him. Over and over the Old Testament recounts God's faithfulness to His people, and the people are called to do the work of remembering, the renewing of their mind to the work of God in the world and on their behalf.

This is the work of remembering, and over and over, the Scriptures call God's people to this work. The work of remembering in the face of suffering is key to the life of the Christ-follower. We are to persist in prayer, anchored in truth, trusting God to answer and bring glory to His name.

And so in the midst of a soul full of anguish, the Psalmist struggles to reorient Himself to what is truer than true. God is the Holy One, always enthroned. God is a good King who has been faithful to His people and who delivered His people when they cried to Him. Everything in the psalmist's experience says God is absent, but history says that God has always been present to His people, worthy of trust.

Psalm 22 - opening lament

Psalm 22 begins with a lament:

PS 22:1 My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Why are you so far from saving me,

so far from the words of my groaning?

PS 22:2 O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer,

by night, and am not silent

While we don't know what is going on in David's life, the intensity of His cry is unmistakable. Forsaken, groaning, crying. God is far, forsaking, silent. This is a picture of suffering and aloneness. But this cry is not a lack of faith, but instead a disoriented plea for God to show His face. My God, My God. The relationship is still there. But it feels broken.

The summer of 1996, before my senior year of college, felt like a God-forsaken time. I had spent the spring semester over-busy, spending very little time caring for my soul, and when I went home to work at a local newspaper, I had little in reserve to fight off the lies that began to attack me. Reminders of past sin and struggles began to bombard me, and a lie that God was going to abandon me to my struggle began to grow. I prayed and prayed, but it felt as though my cries hit the ceiling and fell to the floor. I had no real Christian friends around me, and I began to take on shame and fear. I felt like I was crying by day and God did not answer, by night and He was silent. Perhaps you have had times like that as well, wondering when God was going to answer, whether He even heard.

Psalm 22 - Introduction

Note: I preached this sermon on April 5^th at our church, and so I have broken it up and edited it for the blog

It seems that Easter sneaks up on me year after year. Not much hype, not much pomp. Sure, there's Lent, which I have not done for years, which can be helpful if done well. But even if we give up chocolate or soft drinks for 40 days, what more do we do to begin to prepare the way for the work of the cross and the miracle of the resurrection?

Well, God has given us one tool in a surprising place, the Psalms. The Psalms were the prayer book for the people of God, leading the people of Israel in regular rhythms of hymns, prayers and praise. As the people traveled to Jerusalem to worship, they would sing the songs of God, and these songs would lead them in the work of remembering. Remembering the faithfulness of God to His people, delivering them from Egypt; remembering the work of God in creating the world; remembering the richness of God's word and the fruit that comes from obedience; remembering who God is, the true King worthy of all worship.

As a good Jewish boy, Jesus Christ would have learned to pray using the Psalms. As a rabbinical student, he would have memorized the entire Psalter (as well as the Pentateuch), and as He prayed the Psalms, they would have worked their way into His heart and soul as more than just rote verses, but as a way to worship. The Psalms would have served as a Scriptural anchor for His soul.

And so when we read the account of Christ's crucifixion in Matthew, we hear Jesus praying by that soul anchor, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me," Psalm 22:1, and in John, Jesus prays, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit," Psalm 31:5. The Psalms had prepared Jesus for how to continue to seek God in the midst of brutal and lonely suffering, had made a way for Him to pray when everything in Him was struggling to see God and trust the plan of His Father. Like Christ, when we feel overwhelmed by suffering, we are to persist in prayer, anchored in truth, trusting God to answer and bring glory to His name.

Image or abiding?

I meet weekly with two friends who are also pastors, and recently one if them mentioned that he struggled with whether he was "worthy" to be called a pastor. He still struggles with how to best love his daughter (a high school senior), wrestling between trying to give good direction in her life and feeling like he is being controlling. He knows that he still has sin in his life. And aren't we pastors called to something greater than the "average" Christian, since we are professionals and all?

My first response was yes, by all means we are called to a different standard. James 3:1 came to mind, which says that Christians should not presume to be teachers (desire to be teachers), because those of us who teach will be judged more strictly. I also remembered the qualifications for elders and deacons in Titus. But I stopped in mid-sentence. I was beginning to encourage my friends (and myself) to aim at a standard, rather than to depend on Christ. In a sense I was saying that we needed to be seen as being above reproach. We had to do all the right things because people were watching and we have a responsibility to them to be impeccable. And in doing so, the goal becomes our appearance, how we are seen and perceived. We begin to overwork because a "good pastor" always helps all people all the time. We begin to treat people kindly not because we love them but because it is what we are supposed to do. And slowly we begin to live by a list of do's and don'ts, and then we begin to call others to live the same way in their walk with Christ.

But we pastors, like all Christians, are called to live by the Spirit, to abide in Christ. Even though our "list" may say to help, the Spirit may say, "Don't bail this person out now, even if they think it's your Christian duty." The Spirit may say, "Take this hour to pray with me, and don't let the urgent need at the door interrupt." If I am abiding in Christ, I will love my wife and family as Titus 1:6-9 instructs. I will be self-controlled, upright, holy, and disciplined because Christ in me is all of these things. And I will not be able to take the credit, because it is Christ in me who is and does these things.

It's tempting for my friends and I to make a list and then meet each week and hold each other accountable to how we're doing in keeping it; in fact that would be easier in some ways. But Christ has freed us from that way of living. As we live by His Spirit, we will lead those under our care not to ourselves or our own example, but to the life that is truly Life, Jesus Christ.