Wednesday, May 31, 2006



Praying Scripture

This is one of the ideas that came out of the book Kingdom Come by Bobby Valentine and John Mark Hicks.

I remember growing up having people make fun of people who quoted scripture in prayer. The standard response was a snicker and nudge in the whispered line, “Like God doesn’t know what he wrote,” followed by more snickers. This idea has heavily influenced my prayer life.

These past few weeks I have been praying around 9:00, 12:00, and 3:00 each day. It has been a powerful experience. I spend time in prayer followed by a time in meditation listening for God’s whisper. I then jump into the Bible and prayer scripture out loud. This morning I ended up in Jeremiah 17:7, 8.

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit."

I have discovered that it isn’t about formula. It is just about availability. There have been times when nothing of any note has happened. I am keeping it flexable. No need to make a formula out of something I say isn't about formula. What I have found is that it isn't about gimmicks or short cuts, just time. Isn’t it funny that I understand that quality time with my children means quantity time?

It is easy for me to think that because I preach and am in the word each week that I will be healthy. What I have come to see in my own life is that I have not been drinking enough from the stream of living water.

I posted earlier that I didn’t know if I could really offer that living water and that was hindering my ministry. Isn't it powerful that God has shown me that it doesn’t take some gimmick? That it isn’t about me getting our mix of contemporary and traditional music? That it isn’t about sprinkling enough a capella songs into the mix to make certain members happy? It isn’t something to be figured out. It isn’t some right way of thinking about it (I am so totally influenced by Modernism) that will carry me through.

No gimmick, just a commitment to 9:00, 12:00, and 3:00. God takes care of the rest. I pray that I make this a new habit because the passage tells me that only through this will I grow and produce fruit.

I know how to offer living water. That may be the greatest blessing of praying scripture.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Information is the answer?

Facts are what got us into this mess. Am I right or am I right? At some point, mankind decided that information was the answer, that we can know enough about enough to explain everything you ever needed to know.

Sounds good, but what happens when it doesn’t work? What happens when facts don’t make my life different or better or more importantly, more fulfilled? What happens when all the information and knowledge still doesn’t keep people from dieing of cancer? What happens when knowledge doesn’t stop another dictator from genocide? An AIDS epidemic? The more we find out as humans, the more we find out, there is more we don’t know.

What happens when information doesn’t make my life experience better? More rewarding? More alive?

In my youth the church emphasized facts. Do you know the right information? Did you have the right information when you were baptized? The problem is, it didn’t make it better.

Is it any surprise, when people see churches full of people with facts about Jesus, but little in the way of warmth, that doubt surfaces?

What happens when children, who lived in homes where mom and dad affirmed the right information while leaving them home alone, grow to be adults? Their church taught them a lot of facts but those facts didn’t help as they dealt with life. They didn’t change things when puberty arrived. Those facts didn’t help navigate their experience, and since they didn’t help, information has become suspect, especially from those viewed as authorities.

So what do you do when something like the Da Vinci Code comes up? If the facts that many were taught have been found lacking, will more information help clear the confusion?

These questions have been with us for years and have been answered but will that matter? If the information is suspect, if people have a distrust because people didn’t practice what they preached, how is adding more information going to help?

I am paid to add information, but how do I add information without seeming like I am adding information?

What excites me is the knowledge that Jesus came into a religious community in the exact same shape. The leaders had given their people plenty of information, and yet they didn’t live that information out.

Jesus says, “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat. So you must obey them and do everything they tell you. But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach. They tie up heavy loads and put them on men’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them.” Matthew 23:2-4

They were sharing good information, God’s law given to Moses, and yet they were creating quite the mess. It is important to notice that Jesus never said the information is bad, he just tells them that those presenting it don’t really get it. I wish we could understand this today.

I see too many wanting to jettison the entire idea of biblical inspiration just because they grew up finding the way the information was handled wanting. You don’t have to throw out the baby with the bathwater. We don’t have to rewrite the information just because religious people didn’t allow the information into their souls. The information is not the problem. The fact that people thought information was enough is.

This brings us to the main point. What do we do in a culture where information has been used so poorly? Where people have used it as a substitute for relationship? Again, in looking at Jesus, we find the answer. In John 4:4-26, Jesus meets a woman at a well. If you know the story then you know the woman has information. In fact, she attempts to make the conversation all about information; where are we suppose to worship? It reminds me so much of the information wars that different churches wage. You must know this, you have to worship like that, the Spirit comes when you do this. All a battle of information.

Clearly this woman had not been helped by the religion of the day. She has been through five marriages. That is a lot even in today’s standards. She is on her sixth relationship living with a man. Information has not helped her.

So what did Jesus do to reach this woman? Did he give her more information? You could say yes but I would disagree. He avoids the conversation about information, where should we worship, and takes a different tact. He offers her life. He offers her a drink that will truly satisfy.

How does he do this? What strikes me when I read this story is he tells her about her life, not his own. He engages her where she lives, not where he lives. He engages her with her dysfunction and in doing so shows that the offer stands for even someone like you.

I too often want to tell my story. How about you? I too often want to tell the story of the gospel, this is how it is, and yet because of experience I am just presenting more information. Not only am I presenting more information but I am probably presenting information that has already been discounted. I too often focus on what I know and I work to engage people into a discussion so I can share my facts. The information is good but if our culture suspects information I am destine to fail.

Jesus does the opposite. He comes to hear her story and engages it fully, with no punches pulled. No excuses given and no judgments made. I want something to be understood, he is not endorsing her behavior or lending acceptance, her response shows that. What I want to be certain to show is that he goes where her story lies, not his own. I too want to learn people’s stories.

I can work with this. In a world where information isn’t enough and stories matter, I can engage in this. I must start by asking their story. Tell me about your experience. What has your life been like? In engaging that story I can find a place to offer life.

That is the final thing I want to point out. Jesus promises her life. He offers God’s Spirit. He tells her that she can drink and be quenched. All the things she has searched for from these men have left her empty but she doesn’t have to be empty anymore.

Do you believe in the indwelling Spirit? Not as a fact? Not as a gimmick used to make worship more exciting, but as something that fills you and leaves you satisfied? I personally am afraid to offer this to people because I’m not sure I really believe it. How small of me.

We have a generation that is empty. It is seeking relationships and yet keeps finding dysfunction, just like this woman at the well. Do I have the guts to engage her on her terms? Find out her story and then instead of saying life is hard, will I reach out and say I believe in living water?

I will be honest, I am still working on that last part, too much information in my head I guess. How can I offer living water if I’m not convinced I have drank deeply of it myself?

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

My First Fist Fight

Well, I suppose calling it a fist fight might be a bit of an exaggeration. We mostly rolled around on the ground. I am certain this one never made it to ESPN Classic and It only took me a two of these “brawls” to show me I was a lover, well maybe a liker, not a fighter.

It was a right of passage in the community I lived in. It was the way you proved you were a man. Up until that point everyone questioned, and if you didn’t handle it right, the questions would only increase. I don’t know how it worked in other towns or with other boys, but in my small town the way you reached manhood was to pick a fight with someone else, let the word filter through the school, and then step off school grounds and commence to punching.

I can remember watching some epic brawls, don’t tell my parents, at different neighborhood spots. I remember seeing blood and broken hands. I watched some real big guys from the high school go after each other. My foray into boxing lore was a much smaller affair with no blood and few punches, but it had to be done.

What you did was you stocked your prey. You looked around the school and tried to find someone who you thought you could take out. Now in the seventh grade I wrestled the lowest weight class possible, so it was going to be a tough affair to find someone who I thought I could take, but a man, or soon to be man, has to do what a man has to do.

I began to stalk a few guys who I thought had potential. One was the local Church of Christ preacher’s son, but that ended up as the second and final fight of my boxing career, so we won’t go there. I narrowed my prey to two possible choices. One guy whose name I can’t even remember, and another who ended up being my quarry. His name was Mike Trujillo. Now that may not be how you spell it because I don’t remember the spelling, just the name. Funny how I can see his fact to this day, and could take you back to the spot where our battle took place.

One sad note I feel I must add before moving forward. The guy whose name I can’t remember was my first choice. I began to taunt him and belittle him. I continued to goad him hoping that we would fight. Tactically this was difficult because he was a bus kid. He lived in the country and so it limited after school availability, but I still felt I could make it happen.

Unfortunately, our adversarial dance came to an end much too soon. I got into it with him one lunch hour that fateful spring. It was in the spring that we young bucks made our move to prove our manhood. He was having a friendly wrestling match with another student. I insisted on tagging in. After tagging in I immediately escalated the match from friend to foe.

It seemed I had picked my mark accordingly. He was going to go down. It was only a matter of time before I had my victory and my entrance into manhood. Unfortunately, the teacher on watch that day had other things in mind. He charged and I flipped him over my back. All that was left was the final few blows, victory was within my grasp, and then I noticed the sea of kids parting. Mrs. McDaniels was headed our way.

It was off to the office where I spent a weeks worth of lunches. No recess but worse, no victory. Not only did I have no victory but my prey saw that I was stronger and tougher. He never again even came close to fighting me. He avoided me like the plague, keeping me from my victory and my cherished manhood.

That brings us back again to Mike Trujillo. In my mind I had to do battle with Mike. The day finally came. I had pushed enough. We found some witnesses, you had to have witnesses. Who was going to score the affair? Who was going to return to school to regal the student body with the tale of manhood won? It was after school and I had a knot in my stomach. Had I judged correctly? Was I as tough as I thought? As strong as I hoped? I was going to find out pretty soon.

To be honest the battle was pretty short. I don’t think I even really got a punch in. He ended up being stronger than I realized. He got on top of me and all I remember is going into a turtle like defensive position until he had had enough. I still remember getting up and trying to claim victory. I sounded like Bernard Hopkins after a Jermain Taylor fight. I won didn’t I? I got some good shots in you know. The court of public opinion had me as the loser. Everyone at school was talking about the fight I lost. One down and manhood still not achieved. An empty knot inside because I had yet to measure up to manhood’s call.


Has anything changed?

In many ways little has changed. Sure, the proof might be different, no one expects me to beat anyone up, but the lingering need exists. Whenever I enter a meeting of ministers the question is always the same. How big? How many members? If you attempt to define your church by spiritual impact it’s a no go. How is everything going always seems to mean, "How many people did you have last Sunday?"

When did that become the measure of success? The measure of a man? Even more importantly, a spiritual man? Just like fighting in the community of my youth. How did it develop? How did it become so much a part of the understanding of how one proved himself? I never once asked anyone in that small town if I was suppose to fight, it was just understood.

I often think of these words from the gospel of John when asked about numbers.

“From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. You do not want to leave too, do you?" Jesus asked the Twelve. Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God." John 6:66-69 NIV

I hear the passion in their voices. The commitment. The understanding that Jesus is it, period, end of story. They had such passion that Jesus was the only option. Others decided that the sayings of Jesus were just too hard. He was asking too much of them.

Don’t you think Jesus' action would have caused the leadership of his church, hear the irony of this statement, to call him in to discuss what He did wrong? "Jesus we lost over half the congregation with those remarks today, you either need to change your style or maybe look at getting back into carpentry work."

Think about the rich man who came wanting to follow Jesus in Mark 10:17-29. Can you imagine anyone who wouldn't be licking their chops at having a rich new member? I can almost see the elders doing the math as he approached. The man even says he is a good guy and Jesus never disagrees. The only problem Jesus finds is that the man puts money before God. Notice that Jesus only lists the commands that have to do with how you treat man, not God. How would people measure your success as a minister if it was you who said giving all your money away was what you must do to be a member of this church?

How about Paul? Why didn’t Paul start his correspondents with a head count? Why didn’t he start by asking numbers? Hey church in Corinth, have you outgrown your facilities? Could it be because Paul understood that, sure he planted but it was God who gave the increase? (1 Cor. 3:6) God gave the growth, not Paul.

I have often imagined Joshua, after the walls fell at Jericho, rushing to put out a book on warfare with some catchy title like, “The Marching Man’s Way to Siege” or “Trumpets and Screams for Modern War.” I can almost see the picture of endless copy cat marches. Would they have ended with the walls falling down?

Why do I still let people push me into a fist fight to prove myself? It didn’t make me a better man in the seventh grade, what makes me think it will make me a better minister twenty plus years later? I am going to stand my ground. No more fights. I am a wimpy puncher, George Forman I’m not. I will rejoice in the increase that God gives.

We had one person respond at the invitation with a need for prayer. She was worried about her cat. Praise God I was there to pray for her favorite pet’s safety. If Paul could measure success not by numbers, but by being in the will of God, it is good enough for me. I guess I will skip those boxing lessons.