The Sword of Greed or the Sword of Generosity

An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.

It’s an understandable reaction to being wronged, but sometimes the best answer doesn’t make logical sense.

Jesus said if you live by the sword, you die by it as well. Whatever rules we choose to engage in, we must be willing to have those same rules enacted upon us. If I live a critical, negative and judgmental life, I should not be surprised when you treat me in the same manner.

As I mentioned in my last post, the emotion that many of us are feeling towards the spirit of Greed we see in our country today is acute. It angers us to see it, and rightly so, but we must be fully aware of the sword it is causing us to wield.

Folks complain that Wall Street executives make zillions in bonuses while their employees suffer and their companies go under. The corporate big-wigs giving no concern for those who work for them; I’m not sure how that works in their mind. As a business owner, I look at this and scratch my head. I would never want to treat people that way. But if I lost my job at a company where the CEO got a huge Christmas bonus and I got a pink slip, how would that make me feel? Yea, I’d be pissed too.

But where should I direct that outrage? How effective would it be for me to protest in front of the CEO’s house? It might make me feel vindicated to give him the finger and a piece of my mind, but what impact would it have on the Spirit of Greed?

If I live by the sword of anger, I must be willing to die by that sword. What do I have in the end when I exchange Anger for Anger? Everybody ends up angry.

I am a fan of Malcolm Gladwell’s book, The Tipping Point, in which he addresses how movements begin. They often can be traced back to simple, small beginnings. A trend starts because a few kids start wearing a particular shoe, that then gets noticed by a photographer, that gets noticed by a fashion designer, that gets noticed by a buyer, that ends up in stores all across the country and on the feet of hundreds of thousands of people. This is the nutshell version.

What if a Spirit of Generosity reached a tipping point?

It bothers me that in the majority of the noise I hear on the news, you can feel the anger. This goes for the Left and the Right. Everyone is angry and mad as hell. Is that sword really going to make anyone change their tune?

I memorized this bible verse years ago, which says, by what a man is overcome, by this is he enslaved. The explanation given to me was in a negative light, that if you are overcome by alcohol, then you are enslaved to alcohol, if you are overcome by Greed, then you are a slave to possession. I affirm that this would be a true conclusion, but could it work in the converse? Just as a person can be overcome by Evil, can a person be overcome by Good? I see a lot of people overcome by anger and rage at the Greed that pervades our culture, but what would happen if a movement of people was overcome by Generosity?

Solutions to Undefined Problems

I say it often, and that is, I am fascinated by behavior I don’t understand, which is part reason why I don’t think I ever made a very good evangelical. I found myself more interested in knowing why you believe what you believe than in me trying to explain to you the Good News. Even though I was trained and capable of sharing the 4 Spiritual Laws in my sleep, I was never quite comfortable with the approach. I always found myself asking more questions than giving answers.

While I do hold to my opinions, I’m not one to feel the need to argue a point. Political news shows that get pundits riled up and shouting at each other lead me to switch channels to something a little mellower. Contention creates drama, which some people seem to thrive upon, but it wears me out and makes me want to change the subject.

Our current political discourse is rife with this kind of quarrelling, which is both repulsive and alluring. I’m turned off by the polarization, but I am drawn in like a mouse to the cheese because there is so much belief and behavior I don’t understand. And I want to know why.

Take the Tea Party/Occupy Wall Street extremes. Some would say these are, in essence, the same reaction to the same economic concerns, with the main difference being one is far right and the other is far left. I’m not sure it’s that clear cut, but for purposes of laying out my thought process, let’s use it as a starting point.

The Political Right becomes upset with the status quo. It rallies together, organizes itself into what is known as the Tea Party. It creates a fairly understandable message; smaller government, lower debt, lower taxes, and campaigns on this platform, and eventually made a difference in last year’s midterm election. As I see it, the source of their anger was quantifiable and practically addressed. Cutting government spending and lowering taxes, whether you agree with it or not, is something that can be easily understood and enacted upon.

On the other hand, The Political Left, also becomes upset with the status quo. It rallies together, organizes itself into what is known as the Occupy Wall Street Movement. Yet its message is not quite so clearly articulated. It lacks order and identifiable spokespersons. It is seen by the general public as chaotic and immature. Described as a movement of hippies, Marxists, anarchist, and losers, the effort lacks cohesion and clarity, and therefore dismissed by those who are unsympathetic.

But to the thoughtful I would offer an appeal to not write the movement off carte blanche. You may disagree with the solutions being offered and miss the root cause of the provocation in the first place.

The first step in any kind of problem solving process is to first identify the problem. It sounds simple enough, but it fails to get done in many cases. Leadership must ask, “What is the problem we need to address?” and assist everyone involved to at least agree on what the answer to that question is. But too often we leap over this initial first step into providing our own answers to how we think the problem should be handled and heave blasting critiques to the solutions offered by those with whom we disagree.

In casual conversations with people, I like to ask those with opposing views if they know what problem the Tea Party is trying to address. I’m amazed at some of the first things out of the mouth are not defined problems, but characterizations of what they think of the movement; bigots, racists, homophobes, etc. When I do the same for the other side, and ask for opinions of what the Occupy Wall Street Movement stands for, I get the same kinds of replies; losers, lazy, socialists, freaks.

No problem identified yet.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and try to oversimplify the two movements from my vantage point. As I see it, the Right is trying to address a practical problem, while the Left is feeling the brunt of a spiritual matter.

Our country has a debt crisis. I would hope that is obvious to see. Our government spends more than it takes in. This is not a hard concept to understand. It’s the essence of sustainability. Produce more than you consume, and you can count on a sustained future. If we all agree on this, then we can get to work on a solution. Whether you think there should be more tax cuts, tax hikes, taxing the rich, cut this, cut that, spend more, spend less; these are solutions, however differing they may be. But before we tear each other apart for our solutions, have we agreed upon a common problem?

But our country is also in a spiritual crisis, and this one is a whole lot harder to pin down and address. By spiritual I don’t imply religious, but I would like to believe than an atheist, agnostic and religious person can all agree that Greed is a problem. Greed has wrecked havoc on our financial system, and not just within our borders, but around the globe as well. Greed is a longstanding human transgression, branded as one of the seven deadly sins. It has been with us since the beginning of time, and it’s not planning to go away anytime soon.

When I say spiritual, I mean just that. Greed is a spirit, much like the wind, you don’t see it, but you recognize its presence and acknowledge its consequences. And like telling the wind which way to blow, it’s my view that similarly, Greed that is immune to legislation. Sure, we can put regulations in place, stack on more and more layers of oversight and control, but Greed will still find a way around the system, and will forever take advantage of those who get in its way. Regulation is a solution, but the problem of Greed will still exist.

When I check in on the Occupy Protesters, I listen for their yearnings, not their demands. Yearning is provoked by the Problem; demands are only a response to the Problem. And if the problem is spiritual, it only makes sense to me that the reaction to it would be equally hard to pin down and quantify. Anger and outrage are understandable. They, too, are spiritual reactions.

I remember reading the parenting books when my kids were toddlers. The consensus among them was never discipline or act out in anger. The emotion may be justified as an initial response to behavior, but unchecked anger will only be interpreted as combative, not constructive. An eye for an eye leaves two people blind.

Greed is a problem and should make us angry, but it needs to lead to a constructive solution. Spiritual matters require spiritual solutions, and there is no better solution than an inspiring one versus a condemning one. Greed can be countered by its antithesis, Generosity. Can you imagine what it would look like if our nation adopted a spirit of bounty in response?

Every great awakening starts somewhere…

All that glitters is not gold

Those who are not have a hard time understanding those of us who are, we introverts, who have an odd sort of need for time alone. The extroverts have interpretations of this requirement of anything from being unfriendly to Ted Kaczynski-like strange. But if you are one, you have an innate knowledge of what I am talking about. You may not be able to explain it, but just as effective as aspirin to a headache, so is solitude to your internal soul.

On Father's Day this morning, I began a little hashtag on Twitter (#rememberingdad) of little sayings I recall hearing from my Dad over the years. Like the time I had a flat and was so flustered by it that he simply replied, "don't cuss the one that went down; be glad the other four didn't."

"The other four? I asked. "What do you mean?"

"You've got a spare don't you? Three plus one equals four."

And thus was his simplicity of reason and his thoughtful approach to life that I saw over and over again. To this day, one of the most profound sayings he would share with me when something didn't seem quite right, like finding a bargain too good to be true, or a sales pitch offering something for nothing.

"All that glitters is not gold; All that titters is not tit."

Here again reminding me that not everything is as it seems.

But this can work in the converse, also. Some situations are much better than they appear to the naked eye. The old proverb states that there is a man who appears to be poor, yet has great wealth. Treasure is hidden, and many times left that way. It's much easier to safeguard by keeping it quiet.

Now, nearly six years after my dad's passing, I realize he was a man of great wealth, a keeper of a deep reservoir of thought, insight and knowledge, that very few people got access to. I remember him spending hours alone, on the tractor tending to our 26 acres of woods and pasture grass, or in his hand-built workshop, fixing, welding or maybe just simply enjoying the reward that the privacy proffered. I never really thought of it at the time. I was busy in my own mind to even notice or inquire. But if I had the opportunity today, I'd begin with my list of questions for him that grows longer with each continual year without him.

The more complicated my life becomes, the more I yearn for a tractor to ride, a pasture to mow, or a rose garden to tend. These were among Dad's diversions in which he found great pleasure, and which gave his mind the space it needed to explore his thoughts, much like a spelunker moving into a passage only large enough for one person to pass. It's not that you don't like people; it's just that there are some internal places too tiny for inclusion and need to be sussed out alone.

While I wish my Dad was still alive, to be able to call him today, hear his voice, and to feel his pride, I am still able to enjoy another bit of wisdom he left behind. "Don't be sad for what you don't have; be thankful for what you missed out on." Dad isn't with us any longer, but I missed out not having a father of which I was not proud.

Thank you, Dad. May I carry your legacy well.

Of music and woodsmoke

Today is my annual day to sort through my guilt for not attending a gathering of The Church As We Know It, even though I haven't participated in years. I would lie if I said I didn't ponder it, or that I am indifferent to it, even though I have been exiled for quite some time.

I think part of the residue I still carry is that my faith was public for about half of my life. I made my living because of my faith. There were expectations put on me to set an example that was culturally agreed upon by the evangelical community of which I was a part. When someone else pays your salary, you have an obligation to follow their rules. I see nothing wrong with that. The predicament arises when you can no longer balance your questions with the expectations.

When I finally came to the point of assuming sole responsibility and accountability for my faith, I decided I could start doing away with some of the excess baggage and loosen my load. Since I would be sailing uncharted waters and exploring terra incognito, it seemed a good idea to travel light. Attending The Church As We Know It was one of the parcels that got left on the dock.

So here I sit alone, Easter Sunday, watching the smoker billow its gray breath of apple wood fumes. My wife and daughter off to their respective houses of worship as I stay home and listen to the soundtrack to The Last Temptation of Christ, something I have done every year for the last ten or so years. Between the ancient sound of the music and the primal sensation of the fire, I have enough to keep my mind occupied with these two simple, natural promptings. My soul is full. There is not room for much more right now.

I know all across my city, and all across this land, there are major productions of worship being staged for the benefit and blessing of millions. I hesitate to dub it with a negative description, because many will find their way closer to God via these means, for which I am glad. It's just that, for me, when the stage that gets set, literally, with trusses of lights, cameras, video screens, sound reinforcement, and choreography, all put in place by an army of workers and volunteers for a moment in time on Sunday morning, my circuit breakers trip as quickly as running four hair dryers out of one outlet. That which I once participated and even promoted, now feels so foreign, so far away, from the point on my current horizon.

As with most of my writing, I am authoring these words for my own benefit. I am reminding myself of the reason I embarked on this journey in the first place. The unexplored seas can bring isolation, but also great exhilaration. The solitude of my new direction fosters a profundity of new stimulation for the sake of my faith. I never knew what I had until I stripped away the veneer that covered the true foundation.

He is risen, and He has risen in me, indeed.

Happy Easter

PS. Fitting to finish on track 15, it captures the passion for which the song is aptly titled.

Come On, Man...

It’s that time of year where you might hear a pastoral chiding along these lines:

How can people stand for three hours in a stadium out in the freezing cold and scream their lungs over a sports team but not have the energy to worship God for thirty minutes without growing bored…?

The comparison of worship at church with going to a football game is a likely one, especially if you are a professional pastor. Who doesn’t wish for the same kind of enthusiasm that sports elicits? But if we’re going to go there, why not take it all the way out to the edge?

Current Pastor, if you want the screaming, raving fan reaction, why not start by selling or at least serving beer at your church. Trade the Starbucks French Roast pump pot with a keg of anything cold. Football fan doesn’t need anything good; just potent. Don’t be afraid of charging a premium price for the stuff. Consider it a means of funding bible school this year.

Allow for all kinds of language and behavior. Don’t get too upset over fist fights or swearing. These are all a part of the stadium experience. Tell your janitor to wait to mop the pee off the floor of the toilets until after the worship service. It will only get worse as time goes on. And if women choose to not want to wait in the long lines for the ladies room and end up in the men’s room, turn a blind eye; it’s not that big of deal. It happens all the time at big events where there is fanatical crowd behavior that you want to have in church.

Before we shame people for not giving us the reaction we desire, let’s remember one important aspect about God:

He’s not that obvious.

Remember it was Elijah who looked for God in the Wind, the Earthquake and the Fire, but came up empty all three times. It was the Whisper that put him on his knees.

Autonomy, Mastery and Purpose

Just finished up Drive by Daniel Pink and am trying to synthesize his thoughts into a concise package for future use. This is why I could probably never write a book; I don’t do filler very well. I try and cut to the chase and make sure my point is understandable in about a page or so and then trust that you might find it as interesting as I did.

The application of my reading usually falls in the direction of leadership and how it can make me a better leader. Whether as a professional pastor as I was for so many years, or now as a small businessman, leadership is indispensable if an organization or effort is going to effective for the long term. The Tea Party Movement may have its day at the polls today, but eventually it will need a head that can direct the rest of the parts in a coherent fashion. If everyone is in charge, no one is in charge.

But the way in which we lead is the operative story here. HOW will we move people from point A to point B? What method of motivation will be employed to accomplish the mission and achieve the objective? Will it be inspiration or intimidation, coercion or cooperation? And do I know myself well enough to recognize my default tendency?

Pink’s first point about motivation is that people need a sense of autonomy in their work. This is not to be confused with independence, or a go-it-alone, every man for himself mentality. Instead it is the ability to act with choice, to feel the freedom to set a direction, make a decision, or design a plan without fear that if it fails, I won’t be put to shame. Rather, I will be trusted as a part of the team or community that affirms I am capable to do the job.

I have to admit that I never felt this kind of belief growing up in The Church As We Know It. The fundamental paradigm I experienced was built on distrust, that I did not possess the ability to make the right call when it comes to matters of spiritual belief and formation. Consequently I was told I needed to be in attendance at meetings. To use Pink’s words, I knew very little autonomy.

I believe autonomy is not extended because it appears more difficult to manage, both in the Marketplace and The Church As We Know It. I recall a saying used to defend this mentality; “Don’t be so open minded that your brains fall out.” The implication is that I would no doubt make the wrong decision if I was afforded too much freedom.

To be fair, young faith might need these kinds of tight parameters as it develops. When I was a child, I used to speak as a child, think as a child, reason as a child. But when I became a man, I did away with childish things, included in that is a lack of autonomy. I wonder if those who are disillusioned with the Church As We Know It are so because they feel they are still being treated as a child.

An espresso for me and these gentlemen...

Current Pastor, if you have not read anything by Daniel Pink, I suggest you put him on the top of your list. He has something to say that I believe is prophetic. If the Men of Issachar were alive today, I would bet they would have had coffee with Pink by now.

What does it mean to be prophetic? Is it some kind of psychic, fortune telling, future predicting ability that the odd men possessed in the Old Testament? I guess we could get lost in a discussion six ways to Sunday on that, but the point I want to address is how do we pay attention to the clues in front of us in order to make adjustments for tomorrow?

According to the Gallup Strength Finder, I have Futurist in my core set of five strengths. The consultant explained to me that there might be one in a group of fifty that possess this, and that’s because you don’t really need very many of them if they are exercising it fully.

As a Futurist, I realize I don’t need a whole lot of other futurists around me. A few, maybe, but like the ancient night watchman patrolling out on the city wall, watching through the night for anything of danger that might approach and attack his city, everyone inside the wall didn’t need to be awake at three in the morning while the watchman was out on patrol. If the watchman was doing his job, everyone else could sleep soundly, knowing that if in the event that watchman saw anything of concern, he’d sound the alarm at the appropriate time and the city would stand at attention, ready to respond to the oncoming movement.

Pink has noticed something on his watch, and it is causing me to take a further look.

I have been consuming two of his books in the past month, A Whole New Mind and Drive, and believe he has something to say to the Church as We Know It and to the pastors of the Church of the Future. My next few posts will outline in brief the importance of what he is saying, and what we as pastors might need to consider.

There have been plenty of books written about why people, especially men, are leaving the Church As We Know It. George Barna’s statistic-heavy Revolution and David Murrow’s Why Men Hate Going to Church are interesting reads, but neither gets as close to the core of what I believe is happening before our eyes, and Pink is articulating it about as clear as anyone right now about our culture and how it is shifting toward a new understanding of motivation.

Insight is always helpful, and wisdom is to be desired above gold, but without the ability to translate it into action, it becomes a dead study. The watchman can tend to his guard, but if no one hears and responds to the signal, the watchman’s effort is in vain.

Angry Politics

Since I’ve not been a part of the Church as We Know It for several years, I find that not being exposed to such an excessive amount of teaching about the bible on a near daily basis has actually helped me be more in tune with matters that I believe are really important and worthy of transformational consideration. I used to think that “more is better” when it came to Bible knowledge and exposure to Bible teaching. But instead what I think it led me to experience was excessive consumption, and hence I became fat on the Bread of Life. I never met anyone who actually believed you could actually spend too much time reading the Bible, but I now suppose that even such a practice can have a detrimental effect if expressed improperly.

I would never say reading the Bible is wrong, or that one should never study or memorize it. The practice of preaching is a good one, and I have a handful of memorable messages that have altered my thinking for the better. I just think it’s simpler than we have made it out to be.

For example, I have been camped out at the gates of the Sermon on the Mount for quite some time now, and specifically, at the first point in the sermon after the introduction of the Beatitudes. And since we don’t have a whole lot of Jesus’ sayings written down, it interests me to pay close attention to the very first formal message. I don’t take Jesus as one who minced words, nor wasted them. I believe he said things for a reason, and I want follow up and ask “why did he say that?”

Why did he make his first point about anger?

Your Bible notes might title the heading Murder, but I really don’t think that he’s talking about Thou Shalt Not Kill in the literal sense of pulling out a gun and blowing someone’s head off. Back up a little further as ask yourself what leads a person to pull the trigger? Is there any other answer than anger?

We don’t kill out of sadness, or poverty, or even pride. Bottom line is this: we kill because we are angry, and we are angry because we cannot have what we want.

This explains in my mind the state of politics today.

I will admit my conservative bent when it comes to matters of fiscal responsibility, limited government, belief in free markets, blah, blah, blah. But I find very few who I feel speak for me in the way I would like to be represented. It seems every voice out there is angry, regardless if you lean left or right. What the hell? What are we so pissed off about?

Next time you listen to a pundit, watch for their anger, especially if it is someone who defends your point of view. Bill Maher or Mark Levin, Keith Olbermann or Laura Ingram. I have a hard time listening to any of them. They are all far too angry.

I don’t think we will get anywhere in this country until we figure out what Jesus was teaching about anger. Anger is neither left or right, liberal or conservative. Both sides are plagued by it. Neither are justified in it.

With one point of his sermon, I’ve had enough to think about for a while.

How shall they hear...?

Your family always warned you not to mix politics and religion, not because they are incompatible, but because most people can’t separate the two and maintain any level of civility. They may seem like two different subjects, but they still possess some of the same baggage, carried in each arm by those who are convinced they own the truth.

I was never a good evangelist in my days as a professional minister. As a card-carrying Evangelical, I was raised with a mandate to tell the Good News to all I meet. I’ve been out of that scene for several years now, but those compulsive feelings quickly return when I watch or listen to politics on TV and radio.

What I feel about politics must be what folks felt about my attempts to communicate about my religion. Judgmental, condescending, conniving, insecure; these words come immediately to mind, because that’s mostly what I hear in today’s political debate.

I’ve grown and matured over the years since discovering faith nearly thirty years ago. I have tossed a good deal of flotsam and jetsam overboard. But I’ve kept some things locked up down in the hull of the boat that I don’t plan to jettison any time soon.

I still believe there is Good News. I still believe that Good News is to be told. It’s the ways and means of telling that Story that I’ve discarded.

I’m not even sure I could articulate how that should happen. I was always trained to “give a reason for the hope you have,” which generally justified the use of the mustard colored booklet or napkin drawing. But how does one reduce the Story of Stories down to a three minute drive-by version. The Lord of the Rings couldn’t do it in three separate films. It still left out parts that were essential to the story.

And on the heels of this admission, I recall one past scolding voice vividly, “I take my method of sharing it over your method of not.”

If I told you my method takes fifty years to tell, is that good enough for you?

With the Lord, a day is like a thousand years, but we have taken time and put a fuel injector on it, seeking to turbocharge every moment of every day, “because the days are evil.”

But what if my life is about one opportunity; one long, seventy year opportunity (if the Lord wills)? Is that a copout?

Do you have something in my size?

The longer my dad has been gone, the more I miss him and wish for his words and wit to be given from his voice rather than from my memory. But he did give me much to remember, and this story is one of them. My dad’s father was not a kind man, given to anger, probably due in part to the difficulty of his life experiences. He lost everything in the depression, had to move his family west to find work, and eventually stopped in Gila Bend, AZ finding a job as a mechanic. They lived there a few years until they had enough to make it back to Oklahoma. Dad told me one time that he didn’t have shoes that fit for much of his childhood years, because when his dad would take him to the shoe store, he would take the first pair that was brought to him by the clerk. He told me he did so out of fear of his father’s wrath, and that if he said they were too tight or too big, he would be accused of complaining and ungrateful. So instead of leaving the store with nothing, at least he had a pair on his feet, whether they fit or not. The departure from The Church As We Know It is a little like this story. For many of us, we felt we had no other option. The form and function of the present model was all that was available, and according to certain voices in our lives, all there needed to be. If we registered a contrarian view, we were rebuked, corrected, or assumed we were destined for spiritual oblivion. So, like my dad, we learned to keep quiet and just accept what was handed to us as adequate. But as we got older, we learned this was not the case. Our complaint was not born out of ingratitude, but only from a realization that it simply did not fit. Staying in the form of The Church As We Know It made as much sense as walking around in 8D loafers when a 9 ½E looked more like my foot. We can now buy our own shoes. The contrast is a crude one, as it can certainly raise more questions about the movement than provide answers. To any detractors, it would not be a stretch to assume from this story that the guiding force of my life is comfort and doing whatever feels good. But think of it from the point of view of a little boy, living in fear of his dad. There is a generation who is discovering they no longer have to be afraid of the one they call Father.

This Might Sting a Bit

If you give me a choice between getting my teeth worked on, or engaging in a political discussion, I’m going to opt for the drilling, grinding and Novacaine every time.

I finally figured out why I dislike politics so much, and it has to do with the same things I dislike about religion. Both seem hell bent on converting the opposition, but neither side seems very interested in listening to anyone else. I’m left feeling a little angry, and a whole lot confused, wondering, “Is this the way it’s supposed to be, or is it just the inevitable result of the human condition?”

Last year, I read The Jungle by Upton Sinclair, at the behest of an employee. Labeled by many as socialist propaganda, the story looks at the horrendous working conditions in the Chicago meatpacking industry at the turn of the 20^th century. Sinclair tells the story of mistreatment and misfortune of immigrant workers by the business owners, and leads you to his conclusion that the only logical answer for such injustice is to turn to socialism.

But Sinclair does what every other politician or pastor does when speaking about the point of view he is defending. He compares the strengths of his doctrine against the weaknesses of his opposition. Socialism, he says, is built on fairness and equality for all people, while Capitalism is driven by greed and avarice of the rich and few. Ironically, even in his own argument, he is in violation the very thing he espouses. He is not being fair to his opponent.

If you want to convince me of your point of view, don’t tear mine down. Instead, try to build a case by first understanding what I think and believe, and then compare strength to strength. Compare apples to apples, not apples to microwaves.

If Sinclair was truly fair, he would look at the strength of his foe, Capitalism, versus the strength of his Socialism. If Socialist doctrine is build on fairness, then to be fair, one must ask what is the equivalent positive trait of Capitalism. Granted, it may be hard to fathom, but it is a system of opportunity, rewarding hard work and determination.

On the converse, continuing to be fair, Sinclair would then compare weakness to weakness. He must admit that his Socialism has a dark side, just as he indicted Capitalism with a verdict of greed. Indeed, making money can lead to greed, but it can also provoke jealousy and envy in those who despise it.

My point is this: Take time to listen and understand those who hold an opposing view to yours. Be secure enough in your own belief to not react defensively, but see if you can clearly articulate back to your rival what it is he believes. Compare strength to strength and weakness with weakness, and don’t confuse the two. See if this leads anywhere.

What have you got to lose? It can’t possibly make things any worse.

Seeking a Simple Solution

Cowboys & Indians

Cops & Robbers

Saints & Sinners

Democrats & Republicans

We like categories. They simplify our choices and help us delineate good from bad. It’s easy to have clear cut lines that distinguish between right and wrong. Much like Ryan Bingham in the film Up In The Air, speaking of his experience getting through airport security quickly. “It’s not racist, I just stereotype. It makes things go faster.”

Categorizing our beliefs would be helpful in bringing clarity if the belief only had two sides. You believe in God, or you don’t. You want healthcare reform, or you don’t. You support gay marriage, or you don’t. The Bible is true, or its not. But I doubt that there are very few issues you and I would come down on either side, with a stark black and white line dividing us.

This is my problem with politics and religion. Both require a choice based on an either/or assumption of any given issue. Religion taught me that I was either for God, or against Him. Politics taught me that I am either Republican or Democrat. If I check the Independent box, I don’t get to play in the regular season.

Yes, it’s easy to categorize, but easy doesn’t always translate into effective, especially when it comes to making progress in religious or political discussion.

I believe there is a simple answer, but simple is not to be confused simplistic.

Digging a foundation is simple, but the work is hard. All it takes is a shovel, a strong back, and a little determination.

Jesus, save me from your followers

I intentionally steer away from writing about politics, or even discussing them for that matter. It’s such a polarizing subject that it’s rare to find someone with whom I can air my thoughts and not fear I will be labeled a hypocrite, homophobe or some equally endearing kind of moniker. But it’s because of this reason I’ve decided venture out into the unknown.

As a writer, I have the tendency to stick with what I know and with that which I am most comfortable. But as I get more serious about writing, I am beginning to see how this will act as a major hindrance if I ever desire to improve my craft. One author puts it this way, “I write to learn and discover, not to air what I already know.” I like this approach.

Another part of my resistance in openly engaging in political discussion is because of the dissonance that is created by my faith. For some, it is their faith that pushes them into the political arena. For me it is just the opposite.

Faith and politics are two extremely personal and emotional subjects. Both elicit responses from the viscera, and in turn, wind up exiting the mouth before passing through the brain for a much needed inspection of humility and civility. What you end up with is a shrill debate with no understanding or progress.

In the days ahead, I will attempt to sketch out a series of conflicts between my faith and my politics, not for the purpose of resolving them, but more as an exercise to communicate my desire to hold both in tension. I’ve watched too many of my friends abandon one or the other because of this friction. I don’t subscribe to either/or thinking any longer. My world view is not that tidy, even as much as I wish it could be.

Faith would not be faith without the handmaiden of doubt, the doubles partner of uncertainty, and the antagonist of chaos. Faith blooms and flourishes because of what is unseen, not because of what is visible and obvious. For me, politics plays this role. It is my Lex Luther, my Mr. Glass, waiting to test the strength of its counterpart.

Karen asked me a question this week that I can’t get out of my head. She said, “Do you think more people would be interested in Christianity if it weren’t for the reputation of its followers being so judgmental?” In my mind, the essence of its Good News is anything but judgment, so how in the world did it get to this point? Jesus; OK, Christians: Not so much. The bumper sticker sermon that reads, “Jesus, protect me from your followers.” is not hard to comprehend.

This blog was born first for my sake. My first motive was to write for myself and not for an audience. I needed this blog more than you did, and still do. And if that ever changes, you will be able to tell. I will hang up writing.

Doing the Lord’s Work

One of my servers came back into the kitchen during service last night and relayed the message, “Table 52 wanted me to tell you guys specifically about the brisket, “Oh my Lord!”

It told him that’s evidence that we are doing the Lord’s work.

The same was used in Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle by the workers in the early twentieth century Chicago slaughterhouses to keep their sense of humor while toiling under grueling subhuman conditions. When the pace of the line was forced unbearably forward, they would chide each other, “Now we’re really doing the Lord’s Work!

I defined the Lord’s work for years as a vocation with a certain look and appearance within a dedicated organization, defined by activities of preaching, teaching, and organizing events and activities for people. We called it ministry, and its meaning was commonly understood. This language is now changing, and so is its definition.

I remember my student director in college telling stories about the days of the sixties, when his culture was clamoring for spiritual truth, and how he took a semester off from college in order to travel around to campuses, preaching and leading people to faith. This model was used as a template for countless students, myself included, who were interested in trying to make their lives count for God. “Go into ministry,” was the response standard response to that yearning. And so we did.

As a businessman now, the terms Supply and Demand are a daily part of my thinking, but I think they should also be considered by the leaders of the Church As We Know It when thinking about how to counsel young talent and their vocational direction. Is the current Demand for spiritual direction from our culture equivalent to the Supply of people who make their living from the gospel?

Will the Church of the Future be better served by fewer professionals?

As a former professional, I always felt the need to justify my existence with stories of people and how their lives were improved because of my work, and the more of these I collected and dispensed, the better I felt about having you write me that support check. Now that I make my living from another enterprise, that pressure is off, freeing me to actually enjoy both my work and my faith to a fuller extent.

I am a pastor at my core. This is my gifting, but no longer my profession. And as with any true gift, it will work itself out in whatever I do. My reflex is to know you are taken care of, and to lead you to green pastures. I can’t help it, and neither can you.

Future Pastor, your gift is not based on your office, but found deep in your soul. It will percolate up from that source wherever you find yourself, be it in a job called Pastor, or in one with a seemingly unrelated title. How many of us know a pastor who hates his life? I bet we could make a sizable list. And how much of that disdain extends from the inorganic, unsustainable design of the Office of Pastor? The Church As We Know It chews you up and spits you out, and your average pastor stays in one congregation for an average of two years before he feels the “leading of the Lord” to move someplace else.

Find what makes you alive and exercise your gift within that realm. The seeds of your fruitfulness will grow much better in that soil.

Getting Out of the Insurance Business

“Your child may be buckled in, but is that car seat they are riding in really safe? We’ll tell you in our report at 10.”

“Drinking Water: What you don’t know could kill you. Tune in at 10 to find out why.”

Undoubtedly you’ve heard these and many more like them. They are teaser lines for news shows to try and lure you into consuming the products they are producing. They need you to watch, so they will use one of the most effective motivational tools known to mankind: Fear.

Y2K. Global warming. Swine/H1N1 Flu. Just to name a few off the top of my head. We could together make a long list of fears for which we are being told to brace ourselves for impact.

Fear makes a great sales tool in aiding the salesman to move his wares. I wonder how many transactions were made for computer back ups, tune ups and reconfigurations at the turn of the century when we were told Y2K was going to bring our whole society to its knees? If you were in IT, it was a good year. I don’t know the figures, but I would guess the folks selling H1N1 vaccine have seen an increase in their numbers as well.

The Church of the Future has a lesson to learn from this paranoia. I was raised with a fear of God, fear of death and fear of hell by the leaders of the Church As I Knew It. While I still believe we have an eternal destiny, my outlook on it is shifting from one of selling fear to one of embracing love. How does this work? Let me illustrate it this way.

Fear cripples and clouds sound judgment. How did you act when the clerk at Best Buy asked if you wanted to buy the extended warranty on that printer you just purchased? “For an additional $19 you can have the peace of mind that if anything goes wrong, it will be replaced at no extra cost to you.” Did you think about it for a bit? Were you struck with a little twinge of regret when you said no? As you walked to the car, were you ruminating on whether or not you made the right decision? If so, thank Fear for doing its job.

This is a small example of how faith was sold to me as a young man. My entire reason for being was reduced down to having the right answer for these two questions. If I only knew how many times I was asked and taught to ask others, “If you were to die tonight, where would you spend eternity?” and, “If you were to stand before God and he asked you why should I let you into heaven, what would you say?” In essence, I was sold an Extended Warranty out of fear, not a Life of Faith with the Creator of Heaven and Earth.

I think insurance is a good thing. I have plenty of it. I have it to cover my life, my disability, my cars, my house, my business, my health. I believe it’s a wise decision for anyone. But if the determining choice that drives my decision to buy insurance is fear, I will never have enough. I will constantly be plagued by every “what if” scenario I see on the 10 o’ clock news. And the way litigation goes today, I’m sure I could be sued beyond even my insurance company’s ability to pay. So what will I allow to rule my life, Fear or Love?

Peace of mind will never be brought about by insurance, an extended warranty or having the right car seat for my child. Peace is the by product of a bigger source, one that only love can produce. If my life with God is carried along by fear, I’ve missed the boat. And yet the beautiful thing about Grace is, that even if I am following in fear, I am continually invited to step out of that boat and to walk on new places in freedom with Him.

Ted Haggard and Al Gore

The challenge of communicating any vision is getting your listener to properly translate your words into the same mental picture that you see. If I spend all my energy painting an image of an apple for you, but somehow you think I’m describing an orange, then I’ve not done my job as a communicator.

I feel this way as I try to explain what I mean by the Church of the Future. I don’t have concrete examples in the same way as if I were telling you about the Church As We Know It. When you hear me use the word, “church,” you already have a prejudice toward the topic. So I search for other means to be understood.

Take the recent Green Revolution, for example. There is a section of our population that believes with all their heart that the earth is on a collision course with disaster because of the damaging effects of global, man-made pollution. Now my point is not to judge the belief, but to point out why the movement may be viewed with skepticism.

As a believer in global warming, if you try to convince me of your argument with anger and manipulation, you’re going to lose me. If fear is going to be your primary means and you get me scared that the sky gonna fall, I might bite, but how is that different than the Y2K craze ten years ago? I will change temporarily, but what happens when I don’t feel the same urgency a few years later?

In addition, I will further doubt the validity of your claims if your movement only looks like a means to make economic advancement by selling me products labeled “green.” And I am especially offended if those “green” products turn out to be inferior. You don’t look authentic in my eyes. You become yet another charlatan, nothing more than a facsimile of the hack preachers that give the Church As We Know It a bad name.

My point is not to forge an opinion about the Green Revolution, but rather to point out why I think it will end up with the same reputation as the Church As We Know It. It’s building itself on a foundation of fear and not love.

The Church of the Future will not need to make you afraid. It will recognize you are already full of fear. It will not need your money, so it won’t make you feel guilty about what you do with it. It will believe you are capable of blessing others and doesn’t assume that if you do as you please, that the natural outcome will be wrong. It believes your motivation comes from the divine transformation called rebirth, regeneration or a handful of other big theological terms.

One reason I recommend not going to the Church As You Know It on Sunday mornings is to give yourself a chance to step away from it and get a different perspective. It allows you to see the forest and not just the trees. It might allow you to understand why you feel so bored, so pent up, and frustrated.

You might see what I see.

Waking Up And Smelling The Coffee

So how long do you think you can put up with it?

Some are capable of doing it their whole life. They seem to go through life content and happy with it all, never really seeming to be bothered too much. It leaves you wondering if they are just shallow people who don’t have the courage to look any deeper than the study guide, or if you are just simply a bad person caught up in a cycle of discontent that feels like a slow boat to no fun.

But again, this is not about them. No one else is your concern right now. This is about you and first finding the answer to your questions. Vision should lead to Clarity, and Clarity brings about Perspective. And once you possess all three, you are better equipped to find a beneficial answer than a destructive one.

I didn’t always think this way and I certainly wasn’t trained to think this way. It was all about God first, others second and me third. This little mantra is easy to recite and assists in getting a leader’s point across, but catch phrases like this one used to communicate a complex idea will eventually be taken out of context. It’s a fast food truth; simple, easy and convenient, but certainly not very nourishing.

If my most personal concerns fall at the bottom of that list of three, and if I am led to believe that getting those out of order will result in wanton hedonism and a narcissistic life, I will be ill-equipped to address the desperate condition in which my inner life has developed.

The ability to put others first is an essential life skill in any relationship. Display it as Deference or Selflessness, and you will, in no doubt, be well liked. But this can only be expressed from a position of security, and in knowing your own heart well.

If your biggest concern in leaving The Church As We Know It is what your kids will think, you are admitting that that the primary reason you take them to church is out of fear.

Fear is an insidious motivator, effective mainly in preventing mishap, but not very valuable when it comes to the role of inspiration. Your fear of water might keep you from ever having a drowning accident, but it sure won’t help you learn how to swim.

You may think you are putting them first by wanting them involved in spiritually related activities, but if your faith is shriveling up inside you, what makes you think theirs won’t end up in the same condition when they get older. Maybe their crisis will happen in half the time yours did. You went to Sunday School when you were their age. How’s that working for you?

You are nothing more than a dead man until your faith comes alive.

Who Wants Pancakes?

So how’d you do this last Sunday?

I know, I know. It was a big hurdle of mine for some time, but I eventually got over it when I allowed my faith to grow a bit and realize the absurdity of my objection.

Do I really believe that the spiritual fate of my children rests in the hands of their Sunday School teacher?

You would think so if you saw how I wrestled with the question, “What about the kids?” when it came to the consideration of leaving the Church As We Know It. What would the kids think if you stopped going on Sunday?

Maybe they would think the same as you.

Would they enjoy being home as a family together, getting to make a big breakfast that you normally would never have time to do because you are rushing everyone to get dressed and get in the van so you can get to church and color?

Believe it or not, your kids get more definition from you about God, faith and the meaning of life than any other source of input. Yes, more than friends, MTV or the Internet. That doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy, or that they may put up a fight against you, but hold your ground and don’t yield your role as parent in the equation.

Taking your kids to Sunday School or Youth Group is fine and dandy and certainly there can be positive influence there, but these two things are way down on the list of importance when it comes to the key source of impact.

Kids pick up more than you know, and certainly more than you want them to. Once while driving I was listening to the Christian porn station with my very young daughter buckled in her car seat in the back. She asked, “Daddy, do we have to listen to the angry man again?” She discerned more about the message than I could have ever imagined. Yes, we switched stations and turned on music, and no, I don’t subject her to the angry man again.

You might need to give your kids more credit. In their innocence, they are capable of detecting righteousness without pretense that you as an adult have learned to express gracefully. Do they see Mommy and Daddy putting on a face for church that they don’t see any other time during the week? If so, this should terrify you more than the thought of not going on Sunday.

Your kids are little people. They are not extensions of you. They have minds of their own and will eventually make their own decisions apart from you. Are you reinforcing a sense of insecurity in them because of your own fears about what is required for faith? And when they get older, will they understand what freedom and liberty looks like because of you, or in spite of you?

It is for freedom that we were set free.

The alarm is going off, and you're tempted to hit snooze...

Guilt pretty much ruled the day for you yesterday. You went through all the motions as usual; kids in minivan, kids to Sunday School, sit through 56 min of information, kids out of Sunday School, kids to lunch, kids back home…meanwhile your head is swimming with so much disillusionment, and now add the dutiful Christmas element to it for another few weeks….yikes, it’s too much to think about. Thankfully there’s football on when you get home.

All this ambivalence, where is it going to lead? Is this as good as its going to get? Is there any real hope of transformation that you can expect? If so, what’s going to change?

You are.

Yes, you are the one that will have to change, and it might cost you more than you ever know. And if your faith is of any real importance to you, as I think it is, you are capable of doing what is necessary to return to a vibrant, meaningful expression of that faith that will leave you dangerous in the eyes of many. And I mean that in a good way.

The first step toward your revolution of liberty is to quit demanding the Church As You Know It to be any different than it is. Stop letting it be the focus of your attention. The problem does not lie with it, and neither does the answer. You will not change the institution. You are capable, however, of changing the trajectory of your own path.

The Church As We Know It is full of people for whom the system works. There is no need to get those folk to answer your questions that they aren’t even asking themselves. It would be unfair to expect them to. Instead, focus on what you believe you wish you could do.

Start by not going on Sunday mornings.

If you are serious about getting your faith back, you have to be willing to confront the barriers that are keeping you from it. The system of Sunday church is killing your inner life. Why in the world would you want to keep beating your head against that wall?

Let me repeat: This is not an indictment against the Church As We Know It. I am not pointing any fingers at It. It is a wake up call to you, and you alone. This decision is not controlled by anyone else, but it has everything to do with you and whether or not you have the balls to step up and address what is going on inside your soul.

Remember when you came to a decision about faith, and how you feared many of your friends and family would not understand as you resolved to make God a central part of your life and worldview? Remember feeling resolutely you were going to have to cut against the grain and leave a few folk mad at you?

Same song, second verse.

Faith always runs the risk of being misunderstood, even when expressed in the best of intentions. Some will understand and some will not. Deal with it and get over it. Just be willing to contend with the fallout as a result, knowing that clarity may not emerge until a later time.

It’s time to take it back, my friend. And its not just your life that depends on it.

The Little Engine That Couldn't

It’s Wednesday. You tolerate going, but she likes attending, and since she’s a stay-at-home mom, she relishes any kind of adult interaction she can get. At least this week, the group meets at your house, which means you get to watch all the kids in the basement. This is somehow preferable for an hour and a half than discussing the thoughts of man that has sold millions of books, even though you aren’t sure you agree with him, but what are your options at this point?

The Life Group, Family Group, Connection Group, or whatever it’s called, doesn’t provide you with any life, or sense of family or even much connection with other people. And yet to voice this leaves you feeling like you have a scarlet letter on your sweatshirt that is not mistaken for the college you attended. These are nice people. They have nice kids. They all seem very responsible. So why don’t you want to meet with them?

It’s not that these folk are bad or have anything wrong with them; it’s just that, it’s boring as hell.

And you hate this feeling. You wish it would go away. You aren’t a judgmental person, which makes it worse that you see it this way. Why can’t you fall in line, get with the program, stop being rebellious and self centered? It is working for so many other people, just not for you.

And so you feel trapped, stuck, with no alternative except to go along with the flow, which would be fine if there was an actual flow. Instead, you feel stuck in an eddy, spinning back and in and around, getting nowhere, only dizzy in the process.

You try harder. You remember the little choo-choo train illustration from your college days. You were always taught that Facts are the engine that pulls the Faith car and Feelings tag along like the caboose. You must be speeding downhill backward, because all you seem to have are feelings, ones that appear to be leading toward a train wreck. You fear you will be another spiritual casualty along the tracks of life.

So where do you turn? Who do you talk to? The pastor doesn’t get it. He’ll feel threatened that you don’t like him if you admit your boredom. Your wife, try as she may, does not understand the core of your dilemma. And while other guys may concur, they still seem out of touch with their own soul that they fail to identify what you are getting at.

Your only logical conclusion: They are right. You are wrong. They are in. You are out. They are fine. You are alone.

And this is where I beg to differ.