My Seat – Our Boat

There is a story that Abraham Heschel wrote about a group of people who were traveling on a boat. In the night one man wakes up to find that the person across from him was drilling a hole under his seat into and through the hull of the boat. The man was startled, for good reason, by what he saw and asked the other man what he was doing.

The man who was drilling responded, “It’s my seat, what’s it matter to you?”

The man went back to sleep only to be woken up again by the other man who was about to drill through the boat. Again he asked what he was doing?

The man responded with the same answer, “It’s my seat, I’ll do what I want”

The man responded back, “it may be your seat, but you’re sinking our boat!”

This story shows itself in the sin of Achan Joshua 7, because he did the one thing God told the Israelites not to do. His sin didn’t just affect him, its ripples were felt throughout the entire camp.

This still happens today.

Look at the group that protests military funerals. Their actions and their signs, paint a picture of Christianity colored in with hate.

Or the man who has an affair, his action has the potential to ruin people’s faith.

Or the woman who gossips in the form of ‘prayer request’, her sharing too much can chip away at the character of another woman.

We live in this culture that tells us that we are our own person, that our choices don’t have any baring on the person next to us. That our faith is our personal faith. Mine doesn’t effect you, and yours doesn’t effect me. However, this thinking couldn’t be any more foreign to Scripture.

Paul addresses his letters to the church (gathering of Christ followers) in specific cities, he didn’t sent them to individuals. They letters were read aloud, in one sitting to the entire group. The community then processed the letter and did what was instructed. Contrast that with today where we read alone, and if you’re like me, you’re lucky to get 2 chapters in before it’s time to get ready.

I am not saying that private study or private prayers are bad, what I am saying is that there is a richness that we are missing if all we do with our faith is in private. We need both because, we’re in this together, not alone. I can’t grow in faith alone because I need you to challenge me. Sure there are certain practices I can do by myself, but I need a community of people around me to keep me grounded, sane, and to encourage me to keep going. You need me to do the same to you.

It’s my seat, but this is our boat.

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

There is nothing easy about waiting. Nothing.

I don’t think waiting ever gets easier either. Ever.

Growing up the worst time to learn about waiting was Christmas time. My dad would walk through the house and warn us that our eyes were going to pop out because were going to be SO surprised on Christmas morning. Then he would quarantine the garage and prohibited us from going in there, because that’s where the surprise was and we didn’t want to ruin it.

This only made the waiting more difficult, because not only was the anticipation built up but now we knew where our eye popping material was located. And the closer we got to December 25th, the harder the waiting became. On Christmas Eve, he’d spend all night in that garage tinkering, hammering, rearranging, shouting “WOW” every so often, all the while knowing that we’d hear every word and every movement.

The image that sticks out in my mind is me staring at the garage door from the dark hallway, and all I can see is the light squeaking in from both sides of the door. Every my dad’s shadow would cross, and there would be movement, but I was still waiting. Like all kids I’d try and stay awake to get a sneak peak at the surprise, only to fall asleep waiting, and carried off into bed by one of my parents.

But the waiting then never got easy. And the waiting now, still isn’t easy.

It’s easy to say, “wait on the Lord” with a smile on your face and a skip in your step when you’ve just started waiting. It’s another thing entirely to say “wait on the Lord” when you’ve been waiting for months, years, or decades. When you’re exhausted and beaten down, waiting another day seems like waiting another 5 years.

Those who’ve waited a long time can recite the passages in their sleep about ‘rising up on the wings of Eagles’, or ‘finding renewed strength’, in their sleep because that’s what their dreaming about, but somewhere along the way the waiting game has taken the hopeful aspirations and jaded them.

For me, one of the hard parts about waiting is knowing that God is up to something, and I have to wait for it. Like my dad in the garage, I know something is happening but I can’t see it yet.

Like Abraham, who was promised a child when he was 75. Only to have waited for 24 years before Isaac was born. That’s 24 years of waiting, and now he’s 99. There isn’t anything easy about that.

Or Moses, who was wandering the desert for 40 years before seeing the burning bush. Only to wander it for 40 more years with a nation following him. The whole while waiting for the promise land for 80 years.

Saul offered the sacrifice before Samuel had come. He was told to wait for Samuel, but the Philistines were coming, his army was scattering, Samuel was late, and a sacrifice needed to be offered before Israel could begin their defense. So he acted.

I don’t know many who wouldn’t have done the same.

The disciples saw Jesus’ risen body, they were ready to begin working on what they thought the kingdom would look like, only to be told to wait, and not do anything until the Spirit came.

Did they? Yes and No. Did they return to Jerusalem, yes. Did they gather and pray, yes. But they did other things before the Spirit came…

I don’t think that waiting was easy for these people, so why should it be easy for us? The question we need to be asking is how do we wait well? What lessons do we learn while we wait? And what are we learning about God through these times of waiting?

I’ve found that the other hard part about waiting, is not knowing how long you’ll be waiting for. It may be years, days, hours, or mere moments, but waiting no matter how long or short, it isn’t easy.

It’s ironic that the word wait can also be translated hope in some Old Testament passages. Because waiting for a long period of time seems to erase any trace of hope. Yet our waiting needs to be pregnant with the hope that God will not have us waiting for something in vain.

I can only hope that what God has me waiting for will be great. So great that my eyes are gonna pop out of my head.

Expecting Resistance

Standing at the starting line of a marathon, a million things go through your mind. You begin to run the course through your mind. You mentally go through the flat parts, up and down the hills. You begin to picture the water stations, the crowds, where the medical tents are stationed. You visualize that monster of a hill at mile 17. You picture the lonely stretch of roads that eventually lead you to the finish line. Decorated with balloons, cold water being sprayed everywhere, your friends cheering you on… oh, and donʼt forget the medal.

This is, after all, why youʼve been training.

But every runner out there knows that the course is only 25% of the fight, and the other 75% of the fight, is you.

Itʼs mental.

Itʼs knowing your body, knowing your limit. Knowing what it takes to stop you. Knowing how to motivate yourself. You know from your training when you need to drink or eat. You know from practice that you cramp up at mile 10, and at mile 23 your feet feel as though youʼre running barefoot. You know where youʼll need encouragement, where youʼll want a friend to run along side you. You know that you canʼt stop before you finish.

You have to keep moving. You have to keep running. You canʼt stop.

You know all of this because youʼve been training, no one runs a marathon well without training.

Youʼve come to expect difficulty.

Youʼre expecting resistance.

But you run it anyway.

In running, careers, marriages, weʼve come to expect difficulties. In some cases we prepare for them and some even look forward to the challenges. However when it
comes to our faith, are we expecting it to be easy? Are we expecting to cruise through our lives with no resistance, no trials, only blessing after blessing? Easy road after easy road.

When you look at Nehemiah you learn how he expected resistance and how he prepared for it to come. You observe that he went to work with a sword and the trowel. Knowing the enemy would come at any time he had his builders ready to fight off the invaders at a moments notice. But until the attack came they would work. Because any great movement of God is never without itʼs trials.

But our trials canʼt stop us from moving forward. Like the marathon, like our careers, our marriages and like the rebuilding of the wall, or like our faith, we have to keep moving.

We canʼt stop. If we stop, so does our cause. Nehemiah understood this and took the necessary steps to prepare.

Paul understood this in Philippians 3 where he tells his readers that: He presses…

…on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.
Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of
it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward
what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God
has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus (13-14).

Paul has one thing in mind and nothing in his past (persecuting Christians), his present (being imprisoned), or his future (certain death), was going to stop him.

So in our faith when trouble comes our way, are we going to give up or will we rally on to the goal that has been set in front of us?

Will we continue pushing towards our calling?

Will we keep building the walls like Nehemiah did against every kind of pressure to stop
building?

Or will we keep pushing towards the finish line, aware of the trials that are coming towards us? Aware of the obstacles that lie ahead, knowing that we arenʼt alone, and that God wonʼt give up either.

… being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to
completion until the day of Christ Jesus (Phil 1:6).

If God has called you to something we can trust that he will not abandon us. He is going to see it through. You just have to keep going.

Remember your training.

And push forward.

 

Red Tape

“Have to go through all the red tape”

… we’ve all heard that phrase at some point, many of us have probably even used. It has roots in the 16th century with Pope Clement VII, when Vatican documents were bound with a red binding. The phrase was later used in the 17th century in the writings of Dickens, the British government used red bind official their official papers. Lastly, red tape wasused to bind the documents of Civil War veterans, when the soldiers came to get their benefits, they had to go through, “all the red tape” (if there are any West Wing fans please stand up).

The words ‘Red Tape’ convey some sort of long, painful, bureaucratic process. It gives us the idea of a lot of effort to get what we need, when we need it.

Red tape means an exhausting process.
Red tape means too much work.
Red tape means an endless loop of waiting.

What is sad is when red tape creeps into the Church, and we end up setting hoops and obstacles for people to go through before they can be ‘accepted’ into our community. This things that we think it brings unity, in reality it causes more division and keeps people on the outside.

Sometimes our personal opinions turn into pet ‘theologies’ and get in the way and begin to hinder people. Things like a dress code for church or certain types of music. We have to be a certain way, act a particular part, believe a specific doctrine in order to be considered a Christ Follower.

We put limitations on how or sometimes even who can come to know Jesus. We tell people of a limited way of getting to know Jesus, and that Jesus is only found in OUR church, through OUR teaching, and through OUR practices. And that drives people away. When we get away from the essentials and start adding to them, we begin binding our churches with Red Tape.

I don’t see any sort of red tape, obstacles or hoops in Jesus’ ministry. In fact I see the exact opposite. I see verses like this one -

“Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”
- Matthew 11:28-30 NLT

- He calls the weary, and weary people don’t have the energy to sift through the red tape.
- He says his yoke is easy to carry, and when you hands are full with other burdens you don’t have an extra hand for one more.
- He offers us rest, not another process.

When we apply the red tape to Jesus it goes against the whole point of him coming, because when we look at the essentials of following Jesus, there is no red tape. Just an open invitation to come.

You’ll never find red tape in Scriptures, but you will find red letters. And those red letters should never be misconstrued to keep people from coming to know Jesus.

From Hypothetical to Concrete.

What if there were no more ‘what if’ questions?

‘What would it look like’ statements can be thrown in that lump too.

Let’s get rid of them both. While we’re at it, find any other statements that are similar to these and never ever use them again for casting vision.

These statements are no better than hypothetical questions that carry 0% responsibility on the person or organization saying them.  We can sit around all day and ask ‘what if’ and never leave our seats. I can ask myself,  ‘what if I ran another marathon?’ and never lace up my shoes. A person can say, ‘what would it look like if I lost 40 pounds?’ and then continue to eat cake.

What if? doesn’t run 26 miles and what would it look like? can’t diet.

Perhaps we say things like this because we’re afraid of that accountability and we don’t want to actually do what we’re know we should do?

We talk a lot about risk, but perhaps we are afraid of failure to the point of never willing to, risk?

Or maybe we are afraid to ask the deeper questions to the ‘what if’ and ‘what would it look like’ questions.

The ‘Why not?‘  or ‘What’s stopping you?’

It seems that we’ve created a culture that likes to imagine but doesn’t like to do.

I’m not saying that these statements don’t have their place. These are effective questions to get people to think past their current circumstances and into the realm of what could be. But I’m seeing that the change stops there. So what I am saying is that I believe it’s time for us to move past the hypothetical and into the reality. I believe it’s time for us to put legs to our dreams, get our hands in the mud, get off the couch and get to work.

I’m talking to myself here too.  I’m prone to wonder about distant possibilities.  I’m guilty of asking myself, ‘what if I followed Christ in a deeper way?” or “what if I extended grace before judgment” or “what would it look like if I lived what I’m learning and what I’m talking about?”  I’m needing to move past these hypotheticals into the deeper questions and find out why I’m not doing these things,  and ‘what is actually stopping me?‘

That is where the work begins.

I need to talk less and do more,  let my actions fill in the blanks of what my ideas are. I need to live out the lofty ‘what if’ and the vague ‘what would it look like’ to the point that I can say, ‘this is what it looks like in me…’, and ‘this is what happened when I…’ demonstrating rather than talking. Living the reality instead of dreaming about it.

 

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The Mountains

I never really understood why the psalmist always pointed to the mountain for his help.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from? Psalm 121:1

But today as I drove south on HWY 395 something struck me.

On one side of the road I see towering mountains scraping the sky. Snow melting into streams that eventually turn into roaring rivers. Lakes stuffed with fish. A cool refreshing breeze and air so crisp and clear it can sting your lungs

On the other side of me is a desert. Hot and dry, barren of any resources. Water is rare and life is sparse. It’s valley is named after death and it’s sits below sea level. Its air is dusty and thick. Few living beings thrive in this desert.

On one side life and on the other death. So when the psalmist declares that he looks to the mountains, I don’t blame him. That’s where I’d want my help to come from too.

My help is fresh. Nourished. Hydrated. Strong. Not withered, sun beaten, dry…

Never really understood that passage. I think I’m getting it.

Love Wins – My Approach – I Haven’t Read It Yet.

It’s here. At last I finally got my copy of Love Wins (no thanks to Amazon – don’t bother pre-ordering) and I’m beyond excited to crack it open.

I’m fully aware of the uproar about this book. I’ve read blogs by authors who haven’t even held a copy of this book (they pre-ordered too) and yet they are already making huge judgments regarding the fate of Rob’s soul. They are literally judging the book and author by its cover.

But my copy is here (kindle version) and here is how I’m going to approach it. In case you were wondering.

1. I don’t expect any of my questions to be answered completely. And the more I think about it, I don’t think that having all the answers is the point.

Authors like Piper, Driscoll, MacAurthur, and whoever else rushed to judgement all take pride in having all the answers to every imaginable question. This effectively ends any sort of conversation that might come. Bell doesn’t do that, as we all saw with the MSNBC interview. Instead he asks more questions, he keeps the conversation going and makes the reader actually think about what they think. That frustrates a lot of people who rely on pat answers, but invites many more in to the conversation.

2. I’m expecting a great critique on Election and Limited Atonement, two foundational pillars of the Calvinistic viewpoint. People don’t react well when there paradigm is being questioned. Another reason for the harsh reaction.

3. I don’t have to agree with everything Bell writes. It’s a crazy thought for some people to read something that you don’t agree with, as if your bookshelf is a picture of your theology. There might be some things in here that I won’t like. But I’ll still read it.

4. I don’t think this book is for everyone. Some people shouldn’t read this. Bell’s style is one that asks a lot of questions and muddy’s up water, and for some people’s faith journey this isn’t the time for that.

So I’ll let you know what I think. AFTER I read the book of course.

4:30am

Sometimes, at 4:30 in the morning everything sucks.

At 4:30 in the morning every bill imaginable comes to your mind and they’re all due today.  Even when they’re not due for weeks.

At 4:30 in the morning the slightest bump in the night becomes the worlds most wanted criminal breaking into your home.

At 4:30 in the morning if you cough you most certainly have emphysema even if you don’t smoke.

At 4:30 in the morning a leg cramp is a very sure sign that you have a cancerous tumor.

At 4:30 in the morning bad dreams are real.

At 4:30 in the morning when you’re out of coffee it’s a sign that you’re also failing to provide as a husband should.

At 4:30 in the morning the most peaceful sleep can be ruined by the smallest of thoughts.  Everything is magnified 10,000 times until life spiraling out of control and your mind can’t stop thinking of every nightmarish situation life might throw at you.

When I was younger I had 4:30 moments all of the time,  but back then the solutions were easy:

Step 1. Run to my parents room.

Step 2. Wake mom up. (we only woke dad up if it was serious)

Step 3. Tell them the world was going to end.

Step 4. Be told that “everything was going to be okay.”

Step 5. Go back to bed.

Step 6. Sleep until I smelled pancakes.

But now it’s different, because  I’m 31 and running to my parents’ room isn’t appropriate. Waking up my wife isn’t a good idea either. And I’m certain that my friends don’t want to hear from me right then.

However, today at 4:30 in the morning I remembered something I saw very often as I was growing up.  Sometimes  at 4:30 in the morning while making my mad dash to my mom’s side of the bed, I noticed a light on downstairs. So I’d go look and I’d see my dad sitting under the lamp with his bible. Sometimes i’d go down there and I’d ask him what he was doing and he’d always say,  “Just reading, you should go back to bed, everything is going to be okay.”

I was reminded of that today in the middle of my 4:30 moment and it hit me like a truck. The reason my dad was up reading was because he was probably having his own version of a 4:30 moment too. Although he probably wanted to, he couldn’t run to his mom’s side of the bed either.  But there was one place he could go.

To his chair.

With his bible.

Surrounded by the quiet.

Running into the arms of Jesus.

Where he’d be reminded that everything was going to be okay.

He’d go back to bed.

And wait for pancakes.

So this morning. When the waves of life woke me up. I walked to my chair. Surrounded by quiet. I picked up my bible and found myself running to the arms of Jesus. I was reminded that everything is going to be okay. And now, all I want is more sleep and the smell of some pancakes.

I praise God for the example I grew up with.  I’m just a little sad that it took me 31 years to remember it.

I must be hard of hearing.

I think I’m hard of hearing, or maybe I’m just listening for the wrong things, or maybe it’s like Jr. High all over again and I’m being purposefully left out of what is going on. Whatever it is, it just seems that whenever people are “hearing from God” I’m left without hearing anything. It happened the other night when a group of us were praying someone said that they heard God saying this… it was followed my groans of agreement throughout the room, but I was standing right next to him, and I didn’t hear a thing! But I still groaned because it seemed like the thing to do at the moment.

It’s extremely frustrating, very disappointing and it borders on heart breaking. After all it seems that God is talking to everyone else in the room but he’s ignoring me. Even when I take specific time to pray and listen all I can hear is God saying to me is,

“_________________________________________________”

Nothing.

It’s like we’re sitting at a restaurant table eating our meal and not saying a word, and to be honest I don’t know what to do with it. I’ve read the books, listened to the podcasts, confessed all sorts of sin, and still nothing.

I’m beginning to wonder if I need to sacrifice a first born perfect lamb in the efforts to have a break through. I wonder what my neighbors would say.

But really, what do I, or you, do about this? I’m sure I’m not the only one, and I’m quite positive that some of the people saying they “hear from God” are probably making it up to fit in.

But I want the real deal.

I want to know what God’s voice sounds like. I want to hear how God shapes his words, maybe God has a lisp or can’t pronounce His ‘R’s’? Or just maybe He does sound like Morgan Freeman.

Scripture tells us to draw near to God and God will draw near to us (James 4.8). One of my favorite speakers, Mike Pilavachi says that, “God whispers to His friends and shouts to His enemies.” and some might disagree, but I’m confident I’m not an enemy of God. Yet I still have a hard time hearing what God is saying.

And each time I don’t hear anything is like ripping off a scab on a deep wound, and I can feel my cynical calluses start to build.

And I hate that.

I desire God’s presence. I long for God’s touch. I am certain that God loves me more than I can imagine. I just wish I heard Him more.

Leadership…

This has been a rough few months in the life of Brad. However, recently,  I have been able to step back and find some highlights that I haven’t seen before.  I’m finding that I’m learning, which is weird because this whole time  I’ve felt that I have just been sitting here waiting for the next thing to come along and I was so locked in on the wait that I didn’t see that in that waiting I was being formed by some things that were happening around me.

I’ve found that I’m learning a lot about leadership right now by looking at both good and bad examples being displayed around me.  I’m beginning to see a some leadership traits from ‘leaders’ that are around me that are pretty disturbing. I’m observing leaders that lead from a distance, from their offices, that are hiding behind their fancy name plates, distinguished titles,  and walls and walls of books. Leaders that keep their followers at an arms distance instead of allowing them into their whole life. Leaders who are more willing to stand and command rather than to jump in and develop. Leaders who have more inclination to attempt to impress you what they’ve learned instead of genuinely asking what you’re learning.

This all seems opposite as to what a leader in my mind should be.  To me leaders shouldn’t be leading from a desk chair, to me leaders are to be in the trenches with the people they’re leading.  Leaders should be working along side of the people they’re leading, walking with them, getting to know what they’re experiencing or what they’re learning and pushing their development forward, and encouraging them to become more than they think they’re capable of being.

I’ve also heard leadership explained in a story about a man that fell into a hole and had a hard time getting out of it until another man jumped in that same hole with him. When the first guy asked what he was doing, the second man said, “I’ve been in this hole before, I know the way out.” To me, that’s the definition of leadership. Someone who is willing to jump in holes and show people the way out, not leading from a distance. Instead I keep running into so called “leaders” who have no clue as to what is going on in the lives of the people they are supposedly, ‘leading’.

I don’t know of any part of Jesus’ ministry where he wasn’t sharing his life with his disciples. I don’t know if Jesus built boundaries in which his disciples weren’t allowed to ask certain questions. I don’t see Jesus leading from his office chair comfortably hiding behind degrees and titles (though he could have).  I don’t see Jesus using his disciples to get a personal gain. However,  I do see Jesus giving himself away to his followers.  I do see Jesus in the bow of the boat in the middle of the storm, with his followers in the times of their greatest needs.  I do see Jesus getting his hands dirty in the lives of the disciples, not leading from an office. I see Jesus grappling with the questions of his followers and answering them with grace, love, and humility and not pontificating about a theological argument.

So in this season of ‘learning’ I’m thankful for the leaders who model what it means to be a real leader.  I’m thankful for their example, and I’m earnestly praying that I can in some ways be like them.