Sunday, November 15, 2015

Parked or Pilgrim?

For evangelicals, it's been a tough year.  5 justices re-engineered marriage.  In the flames of racial strife, officers and citizens have been killed.  In Colorado they puff weed, and we can't understand Common Core.  The future doesn't look exactly promising either: by all polls and interviews, the rising Millennial generation have even less traditional values and morals than their parents.  In this rapidly post-modernizing, post-Christian culture, what are we to do?  How are we to maintain a relevant and received voice to a world that is only looking for the latest Tweet or Facebook update, and not the 10 a.m. weekly service?  One answer is to stop only singing about it, and get into true pilgrim mode.

Parked or in pilgrim?  This is the question I ask when surveying the Evangelical church landscape in our land.  For three decades I have had opportunity to travel to all of our 50 states, multiple times, and observe churches all over the spectrum.  While the gospel is preached, and many friendly, warm Christians exist, the predominant images are disturbing.  Many of us make six figures and live in plush environs.  We park in and rush out after the service, exchanging maybe a hello and goodbye before speeding back home to catch the Patriots game over a bucket of KFC and Coke.  Our waistlines are big as a slurpee machine, and the sale of our second vehicle could feed an African village for a year.  And let’s not get into the 450 cable channels, i-pads, pods, and phones, and every kind of web connection known to man.  (Except for the ones that got drowned during the last pool party.)  This world is not my home?  Well, for visitors we sure have a lot of souvenirs.
 
Perhaps this is one of the reasons they don’t listen to us much, when we pop up our heads from the KFC bucket to rattle off a rant against gay marriage, or abortion.  Maybe this is why they don’t take us too seriously when we say the country is going to hell in a handbasket, and the cities are the end of the earth, in between car seat DVDs.  They don’t take us very seriously, because it seems like rather than really caring about change, what we really want to preserve is the mortgage and the plasma television.

And yet, it doesn’t have to be this way.  If, instead of pampering our houses, we moved back into our tents, if instead of treating this world as the final destination we saw it as a war marked with flowers and occasional pools, Christianity in America might get its mojo back.  Doing community instead of just talking about it.  Giving sacrificially rather than skimpily.  Living next to the gays and lesbians and single moms, instead of just yelling at them.  Selling a car so a kid can go to school.  Putting the faith into actions, not just words.  Will they listen again?

I believe they will, if we get out of park and back into pilgrim.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

This Fight is Personal

What if my son stares with a face like my own
And says he wants to be like me when he’s grown
#%&! But I ain’t finished growing – P. Diddy

 “Until you have a son of your own…you will never know the joy, the love beyond feeling that resonates in the heart of a father as he looks upon his son.  And you will never know the heartbreak of the fathers who are haunted by the personal demons that keep them from being the men they want their sons to be.”  Ken Nerburn

One of the ironies of fatherhood is that, as you look at yourself, you are not father material.  The things you want to see in your children you do not yet see in yourself, and the one you are the most disgusted with, is you.  As G.K. Chesterton put it, the problem with the world is “me.” 

And the even more frustrating thing is, you don’t seem to be able to do anything about it.  You were hurt by your father’s anger, but you feel the same anger welling up when your child interrupts you, or interferes with your relaxation, or has their fifth sibling fight in five minutes.  You have painful memories of being yelled at, but you find your veins popping out in livid relief as you thunder in your three-year-old’s face, “Stop running around while I try to talk!”  You wished your parent had fully accepted you, but you find yourself judging or lashing out when your child shows a part of themselves that you don’t like.  

The problem with the world is me – the same can be said for parent-child relationships, to paraphrase Jack Miller.  But even more of a problem is, what do I do about that? 

Let’s look at three things.

1.       Discard the “ifs”.  Are you disappointed with your child?  Discouraged?  Dismayed?  Angry?  Finding yourself unable to love them unconditionally with the love of Christ?  Then it’s possible you have attached a string to that love, and the child yanked the string.  In other words, your love came with an “If.”  Here are some examples:
-          If you don’t embarrass me in public, we will live at peace and I will accept you for who you are.
-          If you adhere to the rules of my religion, I will love you.
-          If you accept my particular understanding of the Bible, I will accept you.
-          If you get good grades in school, you will be accepted.
-          If you respect me and obey the rules of the house, you will be loved.

Now, all these things are fine in and of themselves.  But if we make our love for our child conditional upon their fulfillment, we are not loving with the stringless love of Christ. 

Recently my daughter reacted in a certain way to a biblical teaching that I presented.  Her reaction caused me a lot of turmoil, over a month of it in fact, before I finally realized that in my heart I had set up a condition.  If she accepted this particular belief of mine, I would accept and love her.  When I realized that and let it go, I felt once again peace and acceptance towards her in my heart.

Is your relationship with your child strained?  Have they violated any “ifs”?  If so, no pun intended, can you let these go?

2.       Exorcise the demons.  The Puritans told us our enemies were three: the world, flesh, and devil; this point focuses on the third.  What are our “demons”?  They are those behaviors that we literally can’t control, because they rise from strongholds in our hearts of the devil’s power. 
      
      Several years ago in church I listened to a man share his story.  He was a well-known Christian leader, church planter, and educator.  He had five children and a lovely wife.  But until his 50s, he, confessed, he had struggled with uncontrollable anger.  This did not happen all the time; only in certain situations did he feel this overwhelming rage rising within.  At such times, whoever was around felt the storm of his wrath.
      
      Then one day, he was watching a television program with his wife, and sirens began to wail on the TV.  As they did so, he began to cry.  Then he understood.  For years as a child, his family had been homeless.  They had moved around from shelter to shelter, in neighborhoods where at night sirens split the air.  When he heard the sirens on TV, they touched this deep hurt in his life, and the tears flowed.
      
      Once my friend was able to identify the source of his anger, which was hurt and bitterness over homelessness, he was able to forgive and accept his past, and move on.  The taproot was cut, and although his anger did not entirely cease, the mysterious and hard-to-control part did.  
      
      Do you have behaviors that seem out of control?  Maybe it’s anger, like my friend.  Maybe it’s a life-sucking habit, such as drinking, porn, or overeating.  Whatever, the case, if there is a behavior that you just feel like you are having an out of body experience while doing it, chances are that the devil has gained a foothold in your life through a past experience that was traumatic for you, and to which you reacted with anger, fear, or both. 
      
      Identification of the root and forgiveness of the perpetrator will help you move on to become the father you want to be.

3.       Don’t settle for less!  Some of us look at the mess we are and want to throw up our hands.  Not only are we up against the giant task of molding a child’s behavior, but standing smack in the way is our own twisted self.  And in the path of reforming that is generational sin, the devil, and our nature that is powerfully attracted to evil.  But think of this truth: the power that raised Jesus from the dead is at work in you.  Is any force too strong for God?  No!
      
      So don’t give up the fight.  Don’t give up the struggle against generational sin.  Don’t give up the fight against the flesh, the world, the devil.  Don’t look in the mirror of your heart, and the mirror of your biological family, and throw up your hands in despair.  You can change.  It is possible.  And even if you only make a small amount of progress in this life, this will be a treasured heritage to pass on to your children, that they in turn can build on and pass on to theirs. 

      Let’s fight for our families, children, neighborhoods, and world.  The power that raised Jesus from the dead is at work in you.

Sunday, January 11, 2015

40


Turning 40 caught me by surprise.  New thoughts and feelings came over my soul.  For what they're  worth, here are a few.
 1.     There was a hill, and you are over it.  You laugh and it sounds morbid, and sure, 40 is a ways from the morgue.  But you can sense the change.  You feel the decline.  Your body will not get much stronger, no matter how you work out.  Your skin has begun to sag.  You get tired more easily.  You can’t eat two helpings without regretting it.  You have to watch your snacking and drink more water.

But there are also the less-physical, harder to quantify changes.  Somehow, at 40 I sensed that my days of being a learner, as a defining role in life, had reached an end.  This is not to say that we should not always seek to learn – we should.  But, like Forrest Gump who abruptly turned around and said, “I think I’m going home now” after running for three years, at 40 you just feel, “This is it.  I've learned a lot.  It’s now time for me to give back.” 

By 40, you have become a repository.  The 16 years + of schooling, the dating and relationships, the problems and difficulties on the job, good and bad choices made, marriage, children – all have accumulated into a mass of feeling, understanding, and information whose overwhelming need is no longer to take in, but to give out, give back, and pass on to someone, the regrets and failures and joys that have come at such cost.  You have an almost physical need to get these things out, that you have learned, in 40 years.  And this is a part of dying: to no longer take life from others, but to give it back, so that they will be able to live.

2.       You’re less relevant.  At 40, you begin to sink into the background.  No-one really congratulates you on your birthday, or remarks how young you are.  If they do, it’s half-hearted, a polite lie to make you feel better.  No-one comes to your party.  Your Facebook friends start to look old.  And to the younger generation, you are old.  Sure, you can cinch your belt and tighten the years like nothing has happened and hey, what’s the difference between 41 and 35, right?  But there is.  There is.  And instead of being the one who is believed in, whose future is a bright shining star that people encourage and work to see arise, you find yourself in the part of the seating area that cheers the risings. This background role is not a bad thing.  But it’s a shift.  It’s a part of gracefully letting go of our hold on the world.
  
 3.     Life gains momentum.  At 20, I thought I was 40.  I had a few years of college under my belt, and the world was my oyster.  At 30, reality set in.  I hadn't accomplished as much as I had wanted to in my 20s, and felt disillusioned and disappointed.  But physically at least I was stronger than ever, and still had many dreams that awaited fulfillment.
      
      A decade later, I have a wife and five children, am a year into my life career, and survived a tough 10 years of low income, mental illness, and lack of steady employment.  Having endured two difficult decades, this next one does not seem so long.  And after that it’s 50, and then…

4.       So, and this is the last point, I think that at 40, you start to live with a sense of urgency.  You have seen life and how it goes by, and how once it’s gone, no-one knows or cares about those moments so laden with significance and meaning for you.  You realize that things like using your talents, giving back to others, finding meaningful work and doing it well, and good relationships with friends and family, matter so much more than accumulation of money and societal respect.  This leads you to live more intentionally, hoping to maximize what time you have left.  You do things like post on blogs again.

40 – a sobering age.  But if we can only give back what we have taken in, I know it will be worth the ride.