I started writing a blog post this morning and then decided to scrap it and just see what people thought instead. Several questions have been occurring to me lately:
1. Provided the Gospel is rightly presented, do we have to “do church” the way it’s always been done?
2. If we do church the way it’s always been done has that placed more emphasis on liturgy and less on the prompting of the holy spirit?
3. Can we do church differently and still represent God properly?
4. Can we shift our emphasis from trying to please people to trying to reach people?
5. Can we go places we haven’t gone and do things we haven’t done in the interest of bringing the Good News to people that haven’t heard it?
6. Is our corporate “packaging” of the Gospel turning people away from it?
7. If it is, can we change the packaging but not the gift?
8. Can we worship (musically) with different instruments than we normally do?
9. Can we play non-traditional music and still worship?
10. What does proper worship look like?
11. What would happen if we stopped doing church and started being church?
12. What if everything Jesus said was true?
13. What if we loved people as they were and stopped trying to change them and instead let God do it?
14. What if we let go of our inhibitions about how we worship and just started worshipping?
15. What if we taught our kids how to live by teaching them how to love?
I could keep going forever, but I think John is ready to be awake, which means I’m going to need both my hands to start cleaning up messes and putting out fires.
What are the answers to all my questions? I think that would be different for everyone. Personally, I have better questions than I have answers, but I’d welcome hearing yours. Dialogue is a good thing. I’ll leave you with a picture of John doing what he does best: little boy mischief.
This morning I had what an alcoholic might call a moment of clarity. It’s so interesting how God chooses to speak to us sometimes, and how our minds, and hearts and souls are awakened to his truth.
This is what happened today.
I was nearly out of gas, so I stopped at the Circle K on 24th Street and Avenue B to gas up and get my daily dose of caffeine (in the form of a 44-ounce Coke Zero). While I was walking from the gas pumps to the door, a beat up little Toyota hatchback pulled up right in front of the doors and two men got out.m
They were wearing some kind of coveralls, but looked like they came straight out of the exercise yard at Chino. Both men were extremely muscular and had braids halfway down their backs. They had tattoos peeking out of their sleeves and collars, and definitely had the intimidating look down perfectly.
One of the men went directly inside, and the other just sort of stood out front. He gave me a barely perceptible nod as I walked past him to go in. I immediately thought they were going to rob the place.
I went over to the soda machine and there was convict number one. He was filling a 44 ounce cup to the very brim with Blue Raspberry Icee.
He paid his .88 cents right before I did, then the two men got in the beat up Toyota and went on their way.
On my way to work I heard this song:
A line from the chorus stuck in my head: there could never be a more beautiful you.
What occurred to me was those
men at the Circle K were beautiful to God. With their tattoos and muscles and braids, they were beautiful to God.
Then these things occurred to me:
1. If they were beautiful to God, that meant I was beautiful to him, too. Even with my scars, and messed up skin, and pelt of hair I am beautiful to God.
2. I was made in his image, according to Genesis. So were the guys at Circle K.
3. Just because I do not always see beauty in things does not mean it isn’t there.
What does it mean to be made in the image of Christ? As usual, I went online and I found this definition:
“…The term Imago Dei (Latin for Image of God) refers most fundamentally to two things: first, God’s own self-actualization through humankind; and second, God’s care for humankind. To say that humans are in the image of God is to recognize the special qualities of human nature which allow God to be made manifest in humans…”
To me that suggests that our outer image really doesn’t matter that much, at least not to the extent we think it does. Certainly not to the extent by which we judge others, and judge beauty.
With that in mind, I think how we treat others–least of these or otherwise–is how we reflect either our image of God or our image of ourselves.
Put another way, If we treat people like crap it’s often because we feel that we ourselves are worthy of the same. Consequently we judge people based on our image of ourselves whether it be negative or positive, and we treat them according to our self-based perception.
I thought the men at Circle K were thugs because they fit into a thug-shaped box in my tiny little brain. Maybe some people see me and feel I fit into a box, too?
I was wrong, and they’re wrong, too.
I can’t say that I’ve ever felt like a standard bearer for Christ. It doesn’t matter. If I bear his name then I bear his image, too.
I need to pray for clearer vision, and truth in my perception of others. I need to act with imago Dei in mind, not imago Tom.
John woke up at 530 today, and like so many other times we ended up on the couch with him snoozing and breathing gently on my shoulder-those little puffs of baby breath more precious than gold. I do some of my best thinking and praying while holding babies or maybe just watching the kids play sometimes.
This is what occurred to me today. As a believer, I may not have the understanding of my San Diego family, at least as far as them believing what I believe, or not sometimes thinking I may have imbibed a little too much of “the Kool-Aid.” I may not have the support of much of the country, because it certainly seems to be trending toward Godlessness. For my own part–because I am not perfect–I may even have doubts sometimes about the goodness of God, especially when I see some of the jacked up stuff going on out there in the big, wide, ugly world.
But the young man I am holding needs me, and trusts me, and looks to me to know how to live. The one sleeping down the hall does, too, even if we struggle sometimes.
The woman sleeping in our bed, in our home, in the life we’ve made for ourselves loves me, too. She needs me to be capable, and Godly, and strong. On my own, I am none of those things.
I am weak, and callow, and filled with all manner of vile things.
But I am not on my own, not since March of 2000.
That’s when I decided I needed a savior.
For my family, for my home, for my future, for myself, I had to (and have to) make a decision for myself, even if it means a lot of things in my life will suffer because of it:
The President is not the anti-christ. He’s not the savior, either. He’s just a man. He gets up in the morning, and he goes to bed at night. By all accounts he loves his family in the same way you love yours. He eats, drinks, and goes to the bathroom.
He’s a man.
I think that’s part of the problem. The President is so beloved by the largely liberally slanted media and the Hollywood “lobby” that he’s been almost deified, in a sense. He was elected because his promises appealed to more people than the other guy. Twice. This is the way of elections. President Obama won fair and square both times. Move on.
When I saw this clip on YouTube:
of Jamie Foxx calling the President “our Lord and savior,” I wasn’t particularly offended as a believer because I recognized the statement for what it was: a clearly misspoken and probably taken out of context remark that was likely meant with at least some irony by mssr Foxx. At least I hope so. It’s difficult to imagine anyone actually believing President Obama is anyone’s savior. Yet I do think Foxx’s words, spoken casually, are symptomatic of a larger problem.
This morning I saw a representation of this painting online, called “The Truth.”
The artist, Michael D’Antuono, has said his intent with the painting was to provoke political dialogue and that he meant to display the painting in a mock voting booth.
I can only speak for myself, of course, but to me this isn’t so much about the artist having the constitutional right to say whatever he wants: he has that right. I think he knew exactly the kind of reaction a painting of this nature would provoke in the “religious right,” and painted it with that in mind. He got the reaction he wanted, along with a large bowl of controversy. I’d imagine he probably sold a few tickets to art exhibits as well.
Back to my original point: President Obama is a man. He’s not the savior. He’d certainly acknowledge that himself. He’s not a hero, either. Most people aren’t. His election (both times) was certainly ground-breaking and showed how far our country has come.
Yet as I mentioned earlier, The President was elected based on what he said he would do. He was also elected based on who he was and what he represented.
The media and Hollywood has created this…cult of personality around him. We allowed that to happen. We encouraged it. We still do.
He’s a man, people. A smart and gifted one, but he can’t fly or lift cars over his head. He can’t save anyone, maybe not even the country. Salvation (and deliverance) lies elsewhere, and we as a people have to be careful of the burdens and expectations we place on our public servants.
Still, I look at the crown of thorns in D’Antuono’s painting and what I feel is not so much outrage as sorrow. He clearly does not understand what it represents. I wonder if he truly understands what his painting represents?
It’s not just oil and pigment. If there are actually people out there who believe the President to be something he is not (such as a savior), they are worshipping at an altar they want no real part of.
Just because the constitution gives people the right to say (and paint) stupid things does not mean they should. Casual blasphemy is still blasphemy, and whether or not you believe it does not matter. Think of the outrage if Muhammed had been mocked depicted instead of Jesus.
Then again, no one really thinks twice about offending Christians.
John 15:18 says, “remember if the world hates you that it hated me first.”
I read this commentary about the above verse, and I thought it was interesting:
If the world hates you – As the followers of Christ were to be exposed to the hatred of the world, it was no small consolation to them to know that that hatred would be only in proportion to their faith and holiness; and that, consequently, instead of being troubled at the prospect of persecution, they should rejoice, because that should always be a proof to them that they were in the very path in which Jesus himself had trod. Dr. Lardner thinks that πρωτον is a substantive, or at least an adjective used substantively, and this clause of the text should be translated thus: If the world hate you, know that it hated me, your Chief. It is no wonder that the world should hate you, when it hated me, your Lord and Master, whose lips were without guile, and whose conduct was irreproachable….
I think we need to expect mockery, and much worse. I think the world is changing, and quite obviously turning away from God.
It makes me sad, but also resolved. There is much work to do, and we as believers have much responsibility.
Politics and the rhetoric that comes with them really don’t matter in the end.
The guy I voted for didn’t win the Presidency. That’s ok. I survived the previous 4 years, and I’ll survive the next 4 as well. I may not approve of (or like) much of what President Obama proposes for the country in the coming years, but he is still the President, and like it or not will remain so until 2016.
As President, we have to hope that as a collective whole, Obama has our best interests at heart. That may actually be so, but in my opinion only if they line up with his proposed agenda. In January, the LA Times featured an article saying:
The president has been blunt in arguing that the nation’s fiscal problems can’t be solved unless military spending is reduced. To that end, he has imposed a cut of $487 billion in the core defense budget over the next 10 years, and threatened to cut more if needed.
That’s the thing that worries me, a little. I imagine R & D will be one of the deeper cuts to be made, and that’s where I work. Certainly, I would want peace for the world. I think any good person does.
I also want my country to remain strong; the strongest country in the world. Hopefully neither beholden nor indebted to any foreign countries. With that in mind, I fear that we as a country have made the wrong choice in this election.
Those two young men are my priority. Taking care of them is what I care about. The President may not deliberately be trying to undermine that, but it may yet happen. In trying to locate funding for his many promises, cuts do have to be made.
I wonder if the President has considered that the sweeping cuts he proposes will come at a cost? Cutting the defense budget by his proposed amount will mean many, many losses in jobs in defense manufacturing, defense engineering, soldiering, and in my case, defense testing.
It’s unavoidable. It’s a great and unfortunate irony that in finding money to create jobs and balance the budget the President will end many jobs and cause more people to resort to unemployment. It’s a tough and unenviable position.
But so is coming to work every day and hoping you get to keep doing it. Everyone who works out here is constantly wondering and speculating when it will be their heads on the chopping block. Morale is low and I wonder if the President thinks of that?
I guess it’s good I’m finishing my degree. I will probably need to update my resume in the not-so-distant future.
I will have to depend on God more and my country and President less, I suppose. That’s probably a good thing.
Last week, someone I’m friends with thanks to my wife and social networking had a posting I thought was really interesting. They were quoting an extremely popular atheist apologist who said something to the effect that it was a form of “mental child abuse” to tell a child they were going to hell for “not being good.”
My friend went on to say if anyone told her kids they were going to hell because of some “sky bully,” she would more or less go all “mama bear” on them. I get that instinct, I do.
The thing is, I don’t know a single Christian that would tell someone they’ll go to hell for not being good. I am of the opinion that not a single person would come to Christ from the scared straight approach. I do not believe telling people what will eventually happen if they don’t come to faith in Christ is an effective way to witness.
Clobbering someone with words does. Not. Show. Them. Jesus.
Rather, we should tell them what can happen if they do choose Jesus. We do this by telling them what his presence has done in our lives, and the changes the Holy Spirit has wrought in us.
It’s very true that people can argue all the livelong day about whether or not Jesus is real, or about doctrinal issues. But your story is your story. It happened to you, and if you’re honest with people about what your faith has done in your life, I believe people are more likely to respond to it than if they’re threatened with hell.
It just seems like a better way to spread the Good News.
Earlier today, John really wanted a cookie (he calls them cakies). I informed him he needed to eat his food first, and then he could have dessert when we came home. He proceeded to have a pretty good meltdown, complete with a healthy portion of tears and carrying on.
He wanted that cookie right then and was pissed when he didn’t get it.
Around the same time, my older son wanted to go for a bike ride with his grandpa (we were hanging out over there). That didn’t work out, either, and he went into a class III pout/sulk. This is an 8 year-old version of throwing a fit, and not much different from what his little brother was doing.
He wanted to go for that ride, and he was pissed when he didn’t get to.
I was thinking about the whole thing tonight when we got home and it occurred to me how much like that we are with God. We go to him with entreaties for what we think we need to have or want to do and we throw fits if it doesn’t happen on our timetables.
We want our cookies now, and sometimes there are other things we need to do first, or go through first.
I’m as guilty of this as anyone. There was a time a few years before I met my wife when I was convinced I’d met the person I was “supposed” to be with. I remember praying that God would help that situation work out in my favor. I was convinced that if it happened with us, every other messed up thing about my life and myself would suddenly make sense.
It did work out, for a time, and I was happy enough. But not really. I knew she was pulling me away from God, but I didn’t care. I told myself I had things under control.
I don’t think it surprised anyone when things imploded in a spectacular fashion that messed me up for years, until a beautiful young woman from Yuma sent me a message on MySpace.
After things ended, I was furious with God. I resolved not to ever share that part of myself with anyone again, even though I desperately wanted to. With that resolution, I was also withholding part of me from God. It wasn’t just the matter of denying my company to the ladies, but also rejecting the part of me God created to know him best.
I was throwing a fit, because I wanted to be with this woman and God knew better than I what I actually needed.
Maybe it’s like that with you, or has been. You want something from God or someone else, and you want it now.
Maybe you won’t get it. I don’t know how you respond to that, but for me it made me want to turn away from God rather than toward him. It made me take my toys and leave the sandbox for a while, metaphorically speaking.
It didn’t help at all.
So how do you handle it when God doesn’t give you what you want? Do you throw a fit? Do you sulk? Do you run toward God or away from him?
Jen is out of town this week, so I’m flying solo with the boys. I’ve done it before, so there are certain things I should be fully aware of by now. You can’t turn your head for even a second. I should have already known that, but I allowed a few minutes of peace to lull me into complacency.
David was watching some Lego show and John was playing quietly. He was riding his “bike” (a Razor Jr scooter) back and forth behind the couch and it seemed like a good time to check email and social networking.
Suddenly, it got quiet and I could no longer see John riding his bike. My blood ran cold.
“John Ryan!”
I heard something crunch from behind the couch.
Crap.
John came around the corner of the couch with a broken egg shell clutched in his slimy little fist.
$&&&!!@&332!!!$!!!!! “Sit in the chair, John Ryan!!”
I took the broken shell out of his hand and put his toddler butt in our current timeout chair. With a sigh and a muttered curse I headed over to assess the damage:
I got the Spic N Span and a handful of paper towels and got to work. After John served his two minutes, he came over to supervise.
“Daddy, hi.”
“You’re in trouble, Mr.”
“Hi!”
“Hi, John.”
John gave a little parade wave. “Daddy. Hi.”
“Daddy is busy right now. Cleaning. Up. Egg. Slime.”
“Sorry, Daddy. Sorry.”
“It’s ok, buddy.”
“Daddy, toast (he calls it TOE).”
“In a minute.”
I finished cleaning up the egg mess and sat down for a minute to catch my breath and pray for a little patience.
“Daddy, book!”
“OK.”
Just then, the corner of this:
Slammed me right in the beanbag.
“Get in the chair, John.”
“I’ll make you some toe, but first you have to tell Daddy sorry for hitting him in the nuts.”
A full minute of silence.
“Sorry.”
“You have to eat your yogurt before you get toe.”
“Yoyurt.”
“Yes.”
Several minutes and many tears later, a carton of Yoyurt was consumed.
That all happened between 6 and 7. Time to make some toe.
I wrote a little bit about the first theater I worked for, and some of the hilarity that ensued when we got bored, or had new people to…break in.
I’m not sure why, but today I thought of something some of the guys used to do at the other theater I worked for.
As you can see, it was a much larger theater. 18 theaters in all, on two levels. I was mainly a projectionist, but would occasionally go down on the floor to help out. One time I saw a few of the floor managers and employees standing around in a circle talking.
I walked over and hung out for a little. They were just talking trash like young people do when one of the floor staff leaned down and punched another guy right in the basket. Hard. Then he ran off into a theater. All the other guys just stood around laughing while the unfortunate victim kind of bent over with his hands on his knees, contemplating his shoelaces.
“What the hell was that?” I asked.
“They’re playing this game,” one of the managers explained. “They call it ‘assassination.’ You basically wait until a guy isn’t paying attention and then you hit him in the junk.”
“And this is fun.”
“Dude, it’s hilarious. Matt put a red solo cup over his stuff.”
“You need to make a little more constructive use of their time.”
“What? Like…clean something?”
“Sometimes I worry about the future of mankind.”
“What…?”
“Nothing. But the first guy that hits me in the sack is getting thrown over the wall into the lobby. I’m too old for that crap.”
No one ever tried to assassinate me. I had a bit of a reputation for being a little cranky with the youngsters. I could tell you some stories about the things that went on in that building…
*******
That was a fun place to work, and I met a great many life changing people there as well. Some for the better, and some not so much. I wouldn’t change any of it. It got me here.
I’ve been trying to organize a bunch of my thoughts over the past year or so into something a little more cohesive. I wanted to share with people a bit more about where I was, and how I got here from there. My final result ended up looking like this. For better or worse, it’s done. Check it out if you have a chance. You can post your comments here if you want to let me know what you think.
A Work in Progress 