Back in the early 90’s, I was a new Christian. I read all the theology books I could get my hands on and listened to a ton of sermons on cassette tapes while driving up and down I-75 between Tennessee and Georgia. During that time, one of my friends turned me on to a guy named Tim Keller, who was starting a new church called Redeemer in New York City.

He had me at “Hello”.

Not only did I love Keller’s preaching, but I also deeply resonated with his efforts to take the gospel into a hardened, secular place like Manhattan. As an adult convert to the Christian faith, I knew what it was like to be suspicious of the gospel. I sensed a calling in my life to help other suspicious people know and experience the grace of God.

I wanted to move to New York.

Through several twists and turns, I wound up working at Redeemer nearly 10 years later. Since then, I have followed that same call: first to San Francisco and more recently to Seattle. For the last 15 years, I have tried to align my life with spreading God’s kingdom in 3 cities not known for their piety.

So what have I discovered?

I have seen God bless my labors with some good and satisfying fruit. I have seen churches grow and new churches planted. I have seen peoples' lives change through the power of the gospel. This past Sunday at church, Angela Wheeless told us some of her story. Hearing about God’s work in her life was a tremendous blessing to me. God is good, and he is at work.

But at the same time, the reality is God hides much of his work from us. He actively conceals what he is doing from us. We don’t see the full fruit of our labors. We don’t see many of the changes that are taking place around us. In addition, a lot of the things we have hoped to see simply don't materialize. For example, I have yet to see throngs of my non-Christian friends lining up to be baptized.

This can be frustrating and even lead to thoughts about giving up. But I think the hiddenness of God is a good thing. For one, it helps keep us humble. If God showed us all the work he was doing through us, we would probably become arrogant. Triumphalistic Christians are a menace, not a blessing. Secondly, the hiddenness of God also keeps us dependent upon him. When we can't see results, we must continue to trust in his goodness and cultivate soft hearts.

This is probably the most important result of the hiddenness of God. It shapes us into humble and dependent people while we walk along the path of mission. And, if there is one thing I have learned in a life lived in mission, it is that our character matters as much as results.

Here is an excellent sermon about the Hiddenness of God.

Let me clarify a few things. As Psychologist Keith Sonnanburg points out, being alone and being lonely are not the same thing. Seattle is filled with people who chose the former and are quite content; whereas loneliness is a sense of disconnection, a lack of genuine community. Loneliness knows no bounds. It affects those who are married, single, rich, poor, male and female. In the depths of loneliness, we desperately long to be known by someone and to know them.

Why is loneliness a justice issue? Tim Keller, in Generous Justice, defines pursuing justice as giving people what they are due as image bearers of God. We are due relationship. I am not suggesting that those who do good deserve relationship. Rather, relationship, just like food, is a human need. One needs it to survive. Because our modern world has made it difficult to connect with other people, loneliness is rampant.

Considering loneliness as a justice issue will change the way the Church responds. Most solutions I’ve seen include a call to change one’s habits. Get a hobby or a pet. Don’t medicate with busyness. Develop social skills that allow you to engage in conversation. Whether these solutions are right or helpful is not my point. My point is that by considering loneliness as a justice issue, we will see it as a societal problem, not just a personal one. We all have a part in finding a solution, including the Church.

How must the Church respond? I am not totally sure. I think that's conversation we need to have. Maybe it’s as simple as uncovering the seriousness of the issue and asking God to make us into people who care more. Maybe it’s intentionally fighting against isolation.

Whatever the solution, I think we must begin by seeing loneliness as an issue of justice.

One of the things I really like about Spanish River Church is their single-mindedness. They believe that the best way to see God’s kingdom spread on earth is through the planting of churches. That’s where 100% of their mission giving goes. They don’t give to parachurch organizations or other ministry initiatives. They support church planting—period. They do this because they believe that starting churches is the wisest path to take in order to see the gospel make an impact over the long haul.

I think this is true. When a church gets planted, a new gospel-believing congregation comes into existence. This congregation’s life will be intertwined with the life of the community that surrounds it. Maybe the new church makes a big splash, but quite often it doesn’t. But, we need to remember that making a big splash is not the most important thing.

In a place like Seattle, one of a congregation’s greatest gifts it can offer our city is “staying power”—the slow, steady, faithful presence of a gospel-believing community. Our city is filled with doubting, skeptical, and suspicious people. More often than not, some of the most deeply held suspicions are directed at Jesus and his church.  This suspicion cannot be overcome in an instant. It takes a long time to earn trust. It’s slow, plodding, and meticulous work. But, I think it is work for which the local congregation is ideally suited.

Congregations have the unique ability to offer staying power to our city. Our belief is that, over time, God will use his congregations in this city to build something beautiful. I think this is what Jesus had in mind when he taught this parable:

Jesus put another parable before them, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches. (Matthew 13:31-32)

So here’s the question: How do we know when we’re doing a good job? How can an individual Christian or a congregation figure out if they are succeeding at the task God has given us?

For most of us, the stated or unstated default answer is this: the presence of tangible, positive results is a sure sign we are laboring well. These "positive results” can be various good things. For a Christian parent, positive results could be having children that grow up to be faithful Christian adults. For those with a heart for justice, positive results could mean effectively mobilizing others to serve the poor. For pastors, good results often mean numerical growth in a congregation.

I think this is a trap. Making these good things (and they’re all good things) barometers of whether or not we are doing a good job of following Jesus into mission quickly leads us astray. It makes us servants under the tyrannical rule of what William James so aptly called “the bitch goddess of success”.

So what are we to do? I think we should reject idolatrous notions of success. But we can’t just leave an empty space there. The via negativa is not a satisfying way to live. We need something positive to work towards. We need a better definition of true success.

I am currently reading through a book that gives such a definition. Kent & Barbara Hughes’ book, “Liberating Ministry from the Success Syndrome” has been very beneficial to me. Through a powerful combination of a life of ministry and a love for God’s word, they flesh out a compelling vision for evaluating our kingdom-centered labors.

Here is the core of their argument: faithfulness to God is success. This is so simple, but incredibly profound. Anyone can be faithful. Anyone can love God, serve others, and live a life of grateful obedience. And this is what we are called to do. Any other definition of success will ultimately undo you and those around you.

It’s true Kent and Barbara wrote the book for pastors. However, I think one can easily apply their concepts to other aspects of following Jesus into mission.

Our experience of loneliness has reached epidemic proportions. As a pastor, I hear more people say they struggle with loneliness than anything else. It is by far the biggest struggle in our community and, in my opinion, in Seattle. We are lonely people.

I am very thankful for this article not because of the solutions it offers but for what it uncovers. I agree with Marche when he writes, “Loneliness is certainly not something that Facebook or Twitter or any of the lesser forms of social media is doing to us. We are doing it to ourselves.” We are lonely because of how we choose to live.

This causes us to consider our habits and rhythms of life and ask some very honest questions. But I don’t think we should begin by only asking about what we do to ourselves that contributes to our own loneliness. We must also ask what habits and rhythms we employ that contribute to others’ loneliness. And not just as individuals, but also as communities. Why? Loneliness isn’t a personal problem; it’s a cultural one. Through our own habits, we have made it very easy for one another to be lonely.  As a result, I believe the way forward is for alternative communities to intentionally live in such a way that encourages relationship. The fight against loneliness must begin with an other-centered posture and it will take everyone, not just those who are lonely, to find a solution.

So, what habits do you employ that reinforce our culture’s experience of loneliness?

Because of the pervasiveness of this issue, this post is the first of many on the topic. We need to start talking about loneliness and asking God to direct us as we seek to address it.  Also, if you are interested in reading Stephen March’s article, it can be found here.

The message of the Resurrection is that this present world matters; that the problems and pains of this present world matter; that the living God has made a decisive bridgehead into this present world with his healing and all-conquering love; and that, in the name of this strong love, all the evils, all the injustices, and all the pains of the present world must now be addressed with the news that healing, justice, and love have won the day. That's why we pray: "Thy kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven." Make no bones about it: Easter Day was the first great answer to that prayer.

If Easter faith is simply about believing that God has a nice comfortable afterlife for some or all of us, then Christianity becomes a mere pie-in-the-sky religion instead of a kingdom-on-earth-as-it-is-in-heaven religion. If Easter faith is simply about believing that Jesus is risen in some "spiritual" sense, leaving his body in the tomb, then Christianity turns into a let-the-world-stew-in-its-own-juice religion, instead of a kingdom-on-earth-as-it-is-in-heaven religion. If Easter faith is only about me, and perhaps you, finding a new dimension to our own personal spiritual lives in the here and now, then Christianity becomes simply a warmth-in-the-heart religion instead of a kingdom-on-earth-as-it-is-in-heaven religion. It becomes focused on me and my survival, my sense of God, my spirituality, rather than outwards on God and on God's world that still needs the kingdom message so badly.

But if Jesus Christ is truly risen from the dead, Christianity becomes what the New Testament insists that it is: good news for the whole world, news that warms our hearts precisely because it isn't just about warming hearts. The living God has in principle dealt with evil once and for all, and is now at work, by his own Spirit, to do for us and the whole world what he did for Jesus on that first Easter Day.

That is why we who celebrate Easter do so with material things: water in baptism and bread and wine at the Lord's Supper. Easter is about the living God claiming the world of space, time, and matter as his own. That is why Christians celebrate it with candles and flowers and incense and processions and banners and, above all, music: the world of creation has been reclaimed by the living and healing God. That is why we who celebrate Easter after a Lenten fast do so not with a guilty sense of going back to things that are tainted with sin, but with the joyful sense of celebrating the goodness of God's good creation in all its rich variety.

The full article is here.

It’s an important question. If Jesus didn’t die on the cross then he didn’t resurrect from the grave. And if Jesus didn’t resurrect from the grave, there is no sacrificial death that ends in victory. No forgiveness. No atonement. Nothing. As Paul said, if Jesus has not been raised, our faith is futile and we are still in our sins.

So, did Jesus really die on the cross?

According to Jewish custom, a hanged criminal was cursed by God and, therefore, should not remain hanging overnight lest he defile the land. Because of this, the Jewish religious officials requested that the Roman soldiers expedite Jesus’ death along with the two criminals crucified. It was Roman custom to do this by breaking the legs of the criminals, which they did. But coming to Jesus, they recognized that he was already dead and to make certain, they pierced his side resulting in blood and water pouring out.

So, was Jesus really dead?  

Like anything I believe, I must have faith to conclude that Jesus really died on the cross. I must believe the testimony of the Apostle John without seeing it happen myself. However, the sort of faith required is not blind but informed. Intelligent faith. The Apostle John seemed to understand this when he wrote, just after describing the last moments of Jesus’ death, “He who saw it has borne witness – his testimony is true, and he knows that he is telling the truth – that you may also believe.”

The Apostle John personally gives testimony to what he saw that day. He bore witness to it. He saw Jesus agonize on the cross. He heard Jesus cry out. He watched Jesus breath his last. He witnessed blood and water pour out of Jesus’ side. He saw it all and tells us about it.

At this point, you may be asking yourself, “How do we know that the Apostle John isn’t lying?” I think if John were making up a story, he wouldn’t have made up this one. Jesus, who claimed to be God, dying as a common criminal? God would never be portrayed as so weak. Tim Keller, in The Reason for God, writes,

"Why would the leaders of the early Christian movement have made up the story of the crucifixion if it didn’t really happen? Any listener of the gospel in either Greek or Jewish culture would have automatically suspected that anyone who had been crucified was a criminal, whatever the speaker said to the contrary... The only plausible reason that all of these incidents would be included in (The Gospels) is that they actually happened.”

So, did Jesus really die on the cross? By faith, I believe the answer is yes.

But there is a danger here we must recognize. Very often, we can view the Biblical characters primarily through their weaknesses. I have begun to realize that I do this all the time.

For example, take the Apostle Peter. When I think of Peter, where does my mind go? I think about all the boneheaded things he did in the Gospels. Most poignantly, I think about Peter's denial of Christ at a key moment.

Essentially, I often view Peter as a failure. In my imagination, he is someone who talks a big game, but cannot be relied upon in a crisis.

But this is not the full story on Peter. After the resurrection, God transformed Peter into a strong and faithful pastor. Throughout the book of Acts, Peter was the first man out of the helicopter, preaching the gospel in some very difficult situations. God had transformed him from a impulsive coward to a pillar of the new church. His character began to reflect the meaning of his name--Rock. He became steady and strong.

Was Peter a perfect man? Of course not. He still fell short as a transformed man. But, the point is this: God changed Peter in some very significant and beautiful ways.

So what difference does this make? I think it makes a substantial difference. If you're a Christian, and you primarily view people like Peter, Abraham, and David through their failures, you probably view yourself primarily through your failures as well. It is very possible that you aren't seeing the significant transformation that God is working in your life right now.

The upcoming Easter season is a good time for you to start thnking about some of the ways God has already changed you. Get input from people who know you best. Ask them how you have changed recently or over the past couple of years. What you're basically getting at is recognizing how has Jesus shared his resurrection life with you.

I am convinced that this kind of self-awareness is a key ingredient in a healthy Christian life. The resurrection of Jesus means that God is authoring a good story with your life. It is vital that we learn how to trace these redemptive storylines in our own lives.

He is risen!

What? The Internet, down? How can I pastor without the Internet?

I sat in my chair and felt helpless. I really needed to send some emails. My Inbox was like an untended garden and needed some love. But, of course, I couldn’t do what I needed to do. So, I considered some options. Maybe I should read the Bible. That’s always a good idea but wait, can’t. My Bible is online. Maybe I should call some parishioners. See how they’re doing or something. I concluded they’d be weirded out and so I didn’t call. Maybe I should read the book on preaching that I’ve been reading. No, not a good idea either. I would just be distracted because I would be constantly thinking about my Inbox.

I’ve often wondered how the Internet, particularly email and social media, is changing how I pastor. Generally speaking, as a pastor I believe I am called to guide, protect, instruct, and care for God’s people. I do these things in context of my particular local community and job responsibilities. In the few short years I’ve been a pastor, I’ve notice my pattern of work has changed as a result of the Internet. These changes are both positive and negative.

How is the Internet, particularly social media and email, redefining the pastorate? I may not be best person to answer this question because other people, who’ve been pastors much longer than me, have experienced more change. Nonetheless, I will offer my thoughts. This list is not exhaustive, nor is it only applicable to the pastorate. I imagine most jobs are in process of redefinition.

What are the positive changes?

Accessibility. In the past, pastor and congregants mostly interacted in-person on Sunday morning, some mid-week gathering, or over coffee or a meal. Because of email and, more importantly, social media, pastors and congregants are able to “see” each other throughout the week. Either through a blog post or some status update, we can know what each other is thinking about or doing.

I think this change lends itself to a greater degree of comfort and familiarity between congregant and pastor. As a kid, I was greatly affected when I saw my pastor in a more everyday, ordinary context wearing jeans and baseball hat. It humanized him. Social media can do the same thing. Whether one is a pastor or congregant, social media gives opportunity “see” each other in the context of their “real” life.

I believe increased mutual comfort and familiarity between pastor and congregant results in both parties seeing each other as human. This lends itself to better relationships and more effective pastoring.

More communication. Because of the Internet, I’m more regularly in communication with congregants and they with me. For better or worse, we are able to ask questions of each other that probably wouldn’t be asked if email didn’t exist.

In addition, email can be a less intimidating, less complicated, and, therefore, easier way to initiate a difficult conversation. For me, I think this is a positive change because pastoring often happens in the context of some difficulty that we would rather ignore. This difficulty can be personal sin, interpersonal conflict (including conflict between pastor and congregant), trying circumstances, or something else. If email allows us to more easily move into the struggle and discuss, then I believe it’s a good thing.

Access to more resources. Pastors have more access to resources that assist in guiding, instructing, and caring for God’s people. Personally, I’ve sent articles or blog posts to people that really help them in their place of need.

In addition, it is hugely positive that pastors can easily access resources that help them understand and carry out their calling. Personally, I’ve read blog posts and articles that help me understand my role and the particular issues I encounter. I’ve listened to sermons that help me understand particular texts. I’ve participated in an online pastor’s forum that gives opportunity to interact on various issues.

What are the negative changes?

Less in-person meetings. Because of email and social media, you don’t always need to meet in-person. There are some issues easily discussed and resolved over email or some other medium. Of course, this sounds efficient, and is in some ways. But it can also be negative.

Meeting in-person demands a way of relating that allows for better pastoring. Sitting across the table from someone, I am forced to see the person as a human who has a story filled with hope, joy, and pain.

Illusion of relationship. This point is related to the one above. I really believe to properly pastor a church you need be in relationship with the congregants. Because of social media, pastors can feel they know their congregants when in reality, they really don’t. Regularly seeing someone’s status updates does not provide the sort of relationship that pastoring requires. For social media to be a positive, it must not be the main channel of relationship. It must be supplemental.

More distraction. I think most us understand how email and social media can be a major distraction. Though I may be wrong, I think pastors are more easily susceptible to this.  There is such a broach spectrum for what counts as pastoring. For example, I can rationalize watching a You Tube video by saying that I’m seeking to “understand culture.” Because of this, I can think I’m doing something useful with my time when in reality I’m just distracting myself.

More unnecessary conflict. Email is a gift but also a curse. I might actually hold the record for “most times being misunderstood as a result of hasty writing”. Though email does allow for more communication, more isn’t always good. I don’t think I need to explain or prove that email can cause unnecessary conflict. I think we all know that it just does.

Misunderstanding an email or even communicating something that should’ve been said in-person isn’t particular to the pastorate. Any vocation requires one to be wise in their use of email. But given the fact that a pastor plays a unique role in someone’s spiritual health, unnecessary conflict has the potential to be very damaging.

We see this fairly clearly with the liturgy we use in our Sunday worship. Each week, we engage in a collection of regular practices like confessing our sins, receiving God’s forgiveness, singing God’s praises, hearing from God’s word, and gathering around God’s table together. We believe that through these practices, God shapes and transforms us.

For example, through singing praises to God on Sunday morning, we actually believe that God transforms us into people who more readily praise him on Tuesday afternoons . Through the regular practice of praise, we become people who are more and more skilled at praising God. Our liturgies change us.

But what about our other liturgies? What are the other deeply-ingrained rhythms of our lives doing to us? How can we modify them in such a way that they will change us for the better?

Consider your regular practices in any of the following areas:

• Your free time
• The number of hours you spend at work
• Your media habits
• Your relationship habits
• Your spending habits
• Your conversation habits
• Your habits related to caring for the poor

Take your habits in any one of these areas and ask yourself the question: How are these practices changing me?

Let’s take an example pretty close to home: your computer habits. This is, after all, a blog post. So if you’re reading this I assume you have a fairly well-developed set of computer habits.

Here’s the point I want to get across: your computer habits do not leave you unchanged as a human being. Over time, these habits will shape you. You need to ask yourself whether or not these habits are shaping you in a good way or a bad way.

I don’t ask these questions in an attempt to generate guilt. Instead, pick one area where you would like to make a change for the better. Make changes to your habits and practices in that one area with the belief that God will actually use those changes to transform you.

For more on this topic, I recommend Jamie Smith's book, Desiring the Kingdom.

Though it’s hard to ignore the problem of homelessness, we find a way. Some of us ignore it because we don’t know how to respond or because we are apathetic. Whether we are overwhelmed by the complicated nature and bigness of the issue or bloated with a sense of self-righteousness that leads to indifference, we might conclude that they got themselves in this mess and they can get themselves out of it.

My friend Ben works with those who are homeless. He works at an emergency shelter and will often go on the streets to hand out blankets and socks. A couple of weeks ago, he taught a class on homelessness at Grace Seattle and reminded us that everyone, those with and without homes, are made in the image of God.

Ben told a story of woman who encountered a young man curled up in a doorway. Slowing down and seeing him, she said “Hello.” It was a simple acknowledgement of his humanity and it did more than what we might expect. It gave him hope. It stopped the downward spiral of dehumanization that was happening due to being ignored and, at times, treated like an animal. Her interaction didn’t provide hope right away, but after weeks of simple interaction, they were able to develop a relationship. Eventually, she was able to understand his story and what she could do to help. And she did. She helped this young man get off the streets, and it all started with a ‘hello.’

I have to confess that I usually ignore those who are homeless. I am sometimes numb to their presence, at other times overwhelmed, resulting in feeling paralyzed. Ben challenged me to see those whom I often overlook. I can’t reform the cultural or societal structures that lead to homelessness. I also lack the resources and knowledge to help someone get off the streets. But I can see. I can see those without homes as people and treat them with the dignity and respect they deserve.

I understand that addressing the issue of homelessness is even more complicated than developing eyes to see. Even acknowledging someone’s presence requires wisdom. But my point is simple: all people, even the homeless, are people and we must see them as such. In doing so, we are following Jesus, who always saw those who were hard to see. The Gospels include a number of stories where Jesus, even in the midst of personal attack and stress, loved the unloved.

Seeing someone doesn’t seem like much, but it is.

So a couple of weeks ago I picked up Jerram Barrs’ book on prayer called The Heart of Prayer—What Jesus Teaches Us.  For a long time, I have valued Jerram’s teaching because it is straightforward, clear and faithful to Scripture. This book is no exception. I have also found this book to be a great benefit to me in my own prayer life.

In the first chapter, Jerram writes about what we commonly call “The Lord’s Prayer”. This prayer forms the foundation for Jesus’ teaching to his disciples about prayer. Jerram pointed out something really helpful. He said that if you say the prayer out loud from beginning to end, it takes about 15 seconds in its entirety. Fifteen seconds…that’s it.

When I think about a 15-second prayer, a lot of words come to mind: perfunctory, hypocritical and feeble are just a few of them. But, in Jesus’ eyes, a 15-second prayer is apparently OK. That’s because God accepts our prayers not because of their length, eloquence or emotional intensity. Rather, he accepts our prayers because of his love for us in Christ.

So don’t let the shortness of your prayers stop you from praying. God delights in hearing from you, even if it’s only for 15 seconds.

A fortress? In the midst of a hostile environment, the church should be a place were people feel safe. Certainly, it should protect its occupants from harm. Jesus taught us to pray, “Protect us from evil” and it seems that the church can and should respond to this prayer.

How about a hospital? Jesus said that he didn’t come for the righteous but for the sick. The church should not expect to be a group of moral, intellectual, or social rock stars. Instead, it is a place where one can go and be cared for.

What about a coffee shop? Most coffee shops are comfortable and hospitable. Come as you are and enjoy friends and a good cup of coffee. It’s not a place where you are judged but invited to be yourself. Likewise, the church should be hospitable and enjoyable. Jesus said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Church should be a place where we, even just for a moment, slow down and see what is around us. We enjoy community. We enjoy God’s creation. We enjoy life.

Art gallery? God, the transcendent one, wants to be approached and worshipped. However, for some he may be more of a piece of art than a relatable being. Therefore, the church should be a place where He is worshipped, considered, pondered, but not fully understood. Standing in His presence is to evoke something in us; call something to life. If we see church as an art gallery, we draw much comfort from the Apostle Paul’s words:

“Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!

‘For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor?’

‘Or who has given a gift to him that he might be repaid?’

For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.”

I don’t think these images are necessarily wrong. They all capture something unique and beautiful about the church. But allow me to offer one more image that I find compelling.

“He put another parable before them, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.’”

The church as a tree. I love this image for a variety of reasons. At first glance, a mustard seed is nothing. However, once it is planted and dies, it becomes something substantial. It becomes a tree that has life. But a tree does not exist for itself; rather, it provides a home for the birds of the air. It is a place of rest. It is a blessing. A tree is also a thing of beauty. It is pleasant to experience whether it provides shade or a transcendent moment of beauty. A tree, if it’s healthy, isn’t stagnant but continues to grow and bear fruit.

So, when you think of what the Church is and what it should aspire to be, what image comes to mind?

Sentimentality is self-centered whereas love is other-centered.

Sentimentality only receives whereas love primarily gives.

Sentimentality ignores sin and brokenness whereas love absorbs sin and brokenness.

Sentimentality feels good whereas love feels fulfilling.

Sentimentality is intuitive whereas love is counterintuitive.

Sentimentality is risk-adverse whereas love is risk-taking.

I understand the allure of sentimentality. It comes easy. It requires little. It seems more practical. But at the end of the day, what we want is love. Though it is costly, it is beautiful.

Because of the Gospel, we don’t have to settle for sentimentality. We can walk the road of love.

This is a good and healthy kind of questioning, because it is indeed possible to sell out. Jesus said quite famously, “For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself.” I think it is a manifestation of God’s common grace that many Seattleites are concerned about forfeiting our lives in the midst of some kind of quest for success.

But there is a potential downside to this virtue. The downside happens when we become driven chiefly by what we are against.  We don’t want to be like the red-state, big-box-retail, working-for-the-Man rest of the country—but at times all we seem to be able to think about is how we are different from “them”.

As human beings, we were created for a much broader purpose than this. It is not enough to know what you are against. It is also important to know what you are for.

True, in a fallen world, there are many things that need to be opposed and we should work towards eliminating. But, we also need to figure out what we are trying to create and foster. This is because as God’s image bearers in the world, he has given us the dignity of positively moving into the world to create and fill (Genesis 1). In a similar manner, Jesus has also launched the church in the world with a positive mission—to make disciples (Matthew 28). We must be attentive to the positive work to which we are called or we will ignore the dignity that God has given to us.

To be a Christian with this understanding of the world is a lot like remodeling a house. It is going to involve some demolition work. Some things are going to have to be rooted out and destroyed. At the same time, there is a positive vision towards which you are working. It won’t do merely to tear down old walls. A new structure must be put in their place.

So what are you living for?

I was reminded at our Ash Wednesday’s service last night that Lent is also about mission. In fact, one might say Lent is all about mission.

For years, I’ve taken a Jesus n’ me, pietistic view of Lent. It is the time of the year that I intentionally put into practice the Apostle Paul’s words, “Train yourself for godliness." I’ve fasted from this or that. I’ve committed to doing something. But, to what end? My end has always been to cultivate a deeper understanding of God’s love and forgiveness and to renew my commitment to him.

The problem with this view of Lent is that it doesn’t go far enough. God’s love for us is not just for us. It is to spill over into the lives of others. God’s love is to spill over into mission.

So, let me ask you the same question I’m asking myself: How can I intentionally love my neighbor this Lent? Whatever the answer, my hope is that I will develop a habit that spills over into the rest of the year.

I have a feeling that this is going to be a lot more difficult than not drinking beer for a few weeks.

Ash Wednesday Service | February 22, 7pm | 1300 E Aloha St.

Come join us in observing the beginning of the Lenten season (Childcare available through age 5)

Ash Wednesday—the beginning of the season of Lent—is all about authenticity. Traditionally, Christians have allowed ashes to be spread upon their foreheads on Ash Wednesday. What results is an absurd looking community of people all with dark smudges on their faces. What is the point? (Note: Anyone who is uncomfortable with this practice can freely choose not to participate in this part of the service.)

The point is that Ash Wednesday is a reminder of who we are—we are mortal and we are not gods. We will not live forever and many of our dreams will die with us. Many of us spend most of our lives trying to deny this reality, but Ash Wednesday is a time when we consciously remind ourselves of the truth—from dust we came and to dust we shall return.

But Ash Wednesday is not only about reminding ourselves about the fact that we are mortal. It is also about owning the fact that we are sinners. In the ancient world, placing ashes on your head was a way of saying, “I am guilty.” On Ash Wednesday, we adopt this practice as well. So as we stand around and look at each other with these odd black smudges on our foreheads, we are saying to God and to each other, “I don't have it all together. I'm not the person I want to be. I am a sinner.”

Finally, Ash Wednesday is also a time of hope. The ashes are placed on our foreheads in the shape of the cross. This is a reminder that if we have faith in Jesus, our mortality and our sins aren't the final word about us. There is a stronger reality at work in our lives-the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Through Jesus' work on our behalf, God has actually won the battle over our sins and has even defeated death itself.

To prepare yourself for this service, listen to "Come All Ye" by Hymns from Nineveh below. We will be playing this song during the service. Hope to see you there.

Though there was so much to consider, one point stood out.

It is clear that God of the Bible is a God of justice. He loves justice and he wants his people to do the same. Our love is not abstract but practical, moving us to action. As His image bearers, we are to cultivate eyes that see when people do not get what they need. We are to advocate for those who do not have a voice. We are to work for justice in the world.

And integral to this work is prayer. For me, prayer doesn't immediately come to mind when considering how to pursue justice. Sure, I believe prayer works; however, pursuing justice is about getting your hands dirty and using your voice to speak against those who oppress. Regardless, prayer is not to be an afterthought but an essential part of the work. In our discussion on Sunday, I was struck by a couple of different aspects of this type of prayer.

First, God, not us, is a father to the fatherless and the defender of the helpless. God uses our work, but it is first and foremost God’s. This reality must be worked into our hearts through prayer, because if it isn’t, depending on the result of labors, we will either become self-righteous or overcome by guilt.

Second is a similar but slightly different prayer: we are to ask God to help us take our rightful place as creatures. We cannot reverse the curse of sin and death, and therefore we cannot eliminate injustice. If our panel discussion revealed one thing, it showed us that advocates for justice are passionate people. They tend to say “yes” to everything and overwork themselves. They are deeply affected by the pain of others and will do almost anything to assist, even at great cost to themselves.

In this battle, prayer is vital. We must ask God to remind us that we are creatures with limitations. We must ask God to help us not to lose hope when our best efforts only make a dent. We must ask God to help us cope with the pain we see and experience.

Prayer must be a vital part of doing justice.

Is marriage a good thing? Absolutely. I just did premarital counseling yesterday for a couple that has been engaged all of a week. I heard their story and happily agreed to perform their wedding. When we finished our time together, I prayed and thanked God for bringing the two of them together. Marriage is a good gift from God, and I am thankful he has given this gift to my friends.

But how can we make marriage an ultimate thing? Marriage becomes an ultimate thing when we equate being married (or being happily married) as the ultimate goal in life. In this worldview, life doesn’t really begin until you walk down the aisle or your marriage is deeply satisfying.

Before you’re married, you’re seen as an irresponsible child. After all, if you were responsible and mature and godly, you’d obviously be married. So, after you get married, you get promoted to the grown up table. Finally, you’ll get to eat something other than mac ‘n cheese on Thanksgiving.

There are a couple of major problems with the idolatry of marriage. The first is pastoral. If your view of life is that marriage is the highest good, how do you counsel people who are not married? Do you tell them to suck it up while they muddle through a “Plan B” life? Or worse, do you tell them something well-intentioned but heretical like, “As soon as you learn to be content, then God will bring you a spouse?”

What about people who are in bad marriages? Do you encourage them to believe that God will someday transform their spouse into the person they’ve always dreamed of? What are they supposed to do twenty years from now when their husband is even more insufferable and checked out than he is today?

The other significant problem with idolatry of marriage is that it’s not biblical. The gospel teaches clearly that there is one way to have “life”, and that way is to be a disciple of Jesus (John 20:30-31). Life is not found in “Jesus plus anything”—not even marriage.

Going a little deeper into Scripture, you will find that even the best marriages in the world have an expiration date. Jesus says that in the new heavens and new earth there will be no marriage (Luke 20). This can be a baffling text to people that are happily married. But the reality is this: the best marriages are only signposts pointing beyond themselves. The self-giving and mutual enjoyment that marks good marriages are pointers to the relationship between Christ and his people. This is where true and full life is to be found.

I am not alone in my struggle. Beginning with Adam and Eve, humans have always struggled to give God and each other the benefit of the doubt. For the purposes of this post, I don’t want to consider why we struggle but rather the consequences of not giving the benefit of the doubt, and then pave a way for a better course.

Consequences

Not giving the benefit of doubt results in interpersonal conflict and isolation. When I first got married, my wife and I read a book entitled Fighting for Your Marriage. Though the book is about communication in marriage, its principles are applicable for all our relationships. I remember two things from the book.  First, speaking gently to others is life giving. Second, not giving the benefit of the doubt leads to conflict. Doing so assigns a negative meaning to someone’s words and actions that almost requires confrontation.

In addition, when we don’t give the benefit of the doubt we pave the way to relational isolation. No longer are we a team working through an issue but two individuals attacking each other. When this happens, we sink deeper into our own world, convinced by the narrative: “I am alone and this person (and everyone else) is against me.”

A Better Way

I think the key to giving the benefit of the doubt is found in 1 Corinthians: “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”  When Paul says, “Love believes all things,” I think he is saying that to love is to “trust and believe as opposed to mistrust and misbelieve”.  Another way to say it, “love doesn’t let us become cynical and skeptical. Instead, love never ceases to have faith as it never loses hope” (Thanks Scot McKnight).

The million-dollar question is this: What does believing all things look like in relationship? Though this will not be exhaustive, I want to give 4 suggestions.

Go with what you know. I often struggle to give the benefit of the doubt when I am contemplating what was said in conversation, how they said it, what I know about that person, etc. It is in these internal conversations that I take what was said and add a negative twist or even add new thoughts altogether. “Believing all things” means that when we process through these interactions, we lean heavily on what we know to be true and work not to assign motivation or extra meaning. In fact, I think sometimes stopping the internal conversation is a very helpful thing to do.

When in question, lean toward grace. Often, if not most times, it is impossible to go with what we know because we are not sure how to interpret what was said or done. In such situations, we can usually interpret words or actions in a few different ways. Struggling to give the benefit of the doubt is accepting a negative interpretation as true whereas believing all things translates in either accepting a positive interpretation or concluding you just don’t know what was meant.

Ask for clarification. I have found that asking clarifying questions really helps. If something is unclear or comes across as hurtful, I simply ask, “What do you mean?” Nine out of ten times the way I initially interpret something was not what the other person meant.

Preach the Gospel to yourself. Not believing all things is a Gospel issue. In my own reflection, I have found my struggle to be directly tied to a desire to protect myself from criticism and a feeling of inadequacy. This is ironic because when we don’t give the benefit of the doubt we interpret what was said in the most critical way, resulting in feeling inadequate.

The Gospel changes us into people who don’t need to protect ourselves. Believing that Jesus knows that we are flawed and inadequate and yet still forgives and accepts us changes everything. We don’t need to protect ourselves from criticism; in fact, we should expect it because we already know we are sinful and broken and have all sorts of blind spots.

Preaching this Gospel to yourself will bring these Gospel realities deeper into your mind and heart, so that your instinct becomes, more and more, to believe all things.

At the same time, the church exists for the world. This is why mission is an absolutely critical dimension to Christian self-understanding. Our word mission is derived from the Latin word for being “sent”. God has established the church and in continuously sending her into the world.

We see this dynamic in the Bible from the very beginning. When God called Abraham to follow him, God said he was going to bless Abraham so that others may be blessed through Abraham (Genesis 12).  This rhythm has rightly been described by saying that the church is "blessed to be a blessing." By this standard, a non-missional church is a contradiction in terms.

In my own life, I have embraced this teaching lock, stock and barrel. I have spent the past decade and a half of my life doing my best to participate in God’s mission in the world. For me, this has meant living and pastoring in cities not known for a warm embrace of the gospel. There is much about this that has been tremendously rewarding and invigorating.

At the same time, following God into this mission invariably brings about suffering. Like so many others, I have experienced this as well. Sometimes, this catches me off-guard. However, the Bible teaches that suffering and mission go hand-in-hand. When we engage in God’s mission in the world, we will suffer. There are no exceptions.

This is where cruciformity is an another absolutely critical dimension to Christian self-understanding. What does cruciformity mean? I normally try to stay away from “jargony” types of words, but I want to make an exception here. To be cruciform means to be “cross-shaped”. To be cross-shaped means to have your life marked by voluntary, sacrificial suffering on behalf of others.

Jesus’ life was cruciform. It was marked by voluntary, sacrificial suffering on behalf of others. Our lives are to be cruciform as well. This is precisely what Jesus is getting at when he says,  “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.” (Luke 9:23-24)

This means constantly giving our lives away. It means being misunderstood again and again and again. It means at times being ignored, slandered and marginalized. But it also means that every time we give our lives away, we find that God gives them right back to us. We give our lives to the world as God continues to give his life to us through Jesus.

What difference does cruciformity make in mission? I think it makes a huge difference. I will limit my discussion to two ways cruciformity postively impacts mission.

First, God uses suffering to purify the church's motives. For Christians of my generation, many of us are attracted to mission because it’s exciting and appealing. Churches and Christians use phrases like “living on the edge” and “radical” to make living God’s mission similar to participating in the X Games.

Is following God into mission exciting and unpredictable? Absolutely. Like a lot of you, I have many crazy stories to tell. However, the motive for following God into mission is not to be found in satisfying any kind of adrenaline junky tendencies we may have. The motive for following God into mission has to be love: love of God and love of neighbor. God uses suffering to further refine our hearts.

Second, cruciformity actually enhances mission by keeping the church humble. The world doesn’t need another self-serving, self-congratulating, sloganeering group to arrogantly push its way forward and seek to dominate others. If mission were one walk-off home run after another, the church would definitely trend in this direction.

However, through a steady diet of suffering, the church is continually brought low. It is God’s way of helping us get over ourselves. I think this is beautiful because the world needs a group of people who are being constantly shaped and reshaped into the likeness of Jesus.

Before I get to a few practical guidelines, I wanted to get two of my assumptions out on the table.

First, church discipline is really one of the thorniest aspects of congregational life. There is no "Handbook on Discipline" in the Bible. There are some general principles, a couple of examples, and that's about it. There are so many gaps that have to be prayerfully waded through. This creates tension and a good number of gray areas.

For example, should a matter be kept private (Matthew 18), or should it be made public (I Timothy 5)? Is the sinful behavior a "weakness" that needs to be covered in the name of love (I Peter 4), or is it something that needs to be confronted (Luke 17)? Add to this the sins and weaknesses of the people actually responsible for carrying out the discipline, and you have a pretty volatile cocktail on your hands (Note: For a more detailed discussion of the difficulty of church discipline, see Rob Rayburn's sermon here.)

Second, even though it is extremely difficult, church discipline is biblical and therefore a non-negotiable piece of of a congregation's life.  It's not the only non-negotiable piece of a congregation's life, but it is one of them. We need church discipline in order for churches to grow in their abilities to love God and neighbor. Church discipline is also a gift God has given us to fight hypocrisy in the church. This is very important both for the sake of our own personal integrity and also furthering the mission of the church. A church filled with hypocrisy is not going to be an effective light in the world.

So how can we approach church discipline in a way that is productive? This is by no means exhaustive, but I do think these guidelines will help us navigate through many of the challenges of church discipline.

1) Abusus non tollit usum. This is a great Latin phrase that literally translates, "Abuse does not remove use". It means that just because something can be done poorly and even abused, that doesn't mean that thing should never be used. For example, take alcohol. Can alcohol be abused? Absolutely. If abused, it can destroy your life. However, that is not a reason for alcohol never to be used. Rather, we have to learn to use it properly. When we do, it will be a great gift to us (Psalm 104).

The same is true for church discipline. Has it been abused by the church? Absolutely. Church history has several examples of heroes of the faith who have been excommunicated and even executed through the miscarriage of church discipline.

However, this does not mean we should never practice church discipline. Church discipline is really a profound gift God has given us because he wants us to grow in the faith. Sometimes, that means we need to be stopped in our tracks and told very lovingly but firmly that we are headed straight off a cliff. We need to be honest enough with ourselves to be able to say, "You know, I actually need to be under the spiritual leadership of people who are responsible for warning me when I am doing something stupid and destructive."

In other words, we have to understand that discipline is a form of love. This is often lost on us today, as we live in in a culture that prizes autonomy of the individual over all things. The Bible, however, teaches that anyone who merely affirms every single decision we make actually isn't our friend (Proverbs 27:9). Sometimes, a true friend will say hard things to us precisely because they love us. So it is with church discipline.

2) We need a court of appeal. Because church discipline is fraught with all kinds of difficulties, the people carrying out the discipline also need to be held accountable and have their decisions subject to review. In the Presbyterian denomination in which I serve, if an individual is disciplined by their congregation's leadership, that individual can appeal that decision to the regional governing body (i.e., the Presbytery). This keeps the congregational leadership in-check and is helps ensure a much better outcome in the difficult process of discipline.

I have seen this work in the real world. Several years ago, a church in our Presbytery excommunicated a family. The family believed they were wrongfully disciplined, so they appealed the decision. I was on a team of people that reviewed their case. We wound up ruling that the congregational leadership had been in error. We re-instated the family to their great relief and gratitude.

3) Trust the Lord. Most of you reading this blog are probably familiar with Jesus' words "For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them". Christians often invoke this verse at the beginning of a small group Bible study or even at the beginning of a worship service. However, the context of this great promise is church discipline (go here for the full context). Jesus knows how hard it is to deal with sin. He knows that all parties involved in church discipline have blind spots, weaknesses, and limited perspectives. The good news of the gospel is that Jesus wades into this mess with us.

Lord, have mercy on the church.

Death is our common enemy. It is an intruder with whom we are never to make peace. Death is not the way it’s supposed to be. Nonetheless, what Jesus said and did in face of death must change the way we view and experience it.

Jesus said that he was the resurrection and life, and secured that promise with his own death and resurrection. Those who by faith are connected to Jesus share in his resurrection and life. Though Christians will face death, they need not live under the power of it. Death does not have the last word. Christians live with the hope that they, like Jesus, will rise again. The life for which we long—the good and flourishing life—cannot be taken away, even by death.

But how should Christians think about the death of those, particularly loved ones, who are not Christians? Before I mention a couple of points, I want to acknowledge the difficulty of this subject because when we talk about death we talk about eternal destinies. I believe in heaven, hell and the resurrection of the dead. I believe that Jesus is the only source of life and that life is with him. If we deny Jesus, we deny life and receive what we wanted—a life without God. Hell.

So, how should Christians think about the death of those, particularly loved ones, who are not Christians?

God is the author of salvation and the judge of all. There is a fine line between being theologically aware and theologically arrogant. Being theologically aware leads to knowing God whereas being theologically arrogant leads to thinking we are God. This distinction is important because many, out of theological arrogance, confuse knowing the source of salvation with being the author of salvation. When this happens, we make the mistake of thinking we can know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, whether someone is a Christian.

This is complicated by broad evangelicalism’s emphasis on salvation by profession of faith. In other words, we know that we (and others) are Christians if we profess that Jesus is our personal Lord and Savor. There is good reason for this. The Apostle Paul writes, “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” Profession of faith is important. It is even a sign of experiencing salvation. However, we must not make the mistake of determining whether or not someone is a Christian based on whether they profess faith.

I, along with many friends, have asked the question of those who have died: Are they a Christian? Did they have faith? I don’t think there is anything wrong with this question. However, we must answer humbly. We must answer with the recognition that God and God alone saves, not one’s profession of faith. We cannot fully know what transpires between God and a person. God is the judge. We are not.

God is full of love. In the last few years, a new universalism is starting to emerge. James Smith, professor at Calvin College, suggests two fundamental approaches that drive this movement: “I can’t imagine a God of love would send people to hell” and “At least I hope that God doesn’t send people to hell.”

I understand why people are drawn to these teachings. It is a grievous thought that people, particularly those we love, are separated from God in hell. However, the problem with the new universalism is that it’s built on presumption and therefore provides little comfort and direction in thinking about loved ones who have died but never, at least to our knowledge, made a profession of faith.

I think a better approach is to cling to what we know with confidence. What we know with confidence is that God is full of love. Knowing this shouldn’t translate into believing there isn’t a hell or if there is one, it’s empty, but should instead evoke a deep, abiding trust.

Some close to me have died. Those who were professing Christians, I tried to grieve as one who has hope. As for my deceased loved ones who were not professing Christians, I trusted that God would attend to them in a way that is loving and just. I can trust him with my soul and the souls of others whom I love. This doesn’t translate into wishful thinking but real relinquishment of control over others’ eternal destinies.

In other words, not much changes from week to week. Sure, we sing different songs, pray slightly different prayers and hear from different parts of God’s word, but the weekly pattern is the same.

In a culture obsessed with the novel and unique, we should ask a very important question: What is the wisdom in this?

God generally doesn’t work through seismic spiritual events in our lives. True, most of us can look back to significant turning points in our lives that were profound and maybe even “out of body”. But the vast majority of the growth God brings is the result of slow, plodding work.

Think about the Bible’s dominant metaphor for spiritual growth—it is the growth of fruit. When you grow fruit, you don’t just plant some seeds and expect immediate results. No, you plant seeds and then you do a lot of the same things—watering, fertilizing, pruning—over, and over, and over again. Then you will have fruit. French winemakers are said to not really take a grapevine seriously until it is at least 20 years old. I think we need that kind of perspective when we think about growing as disciples.

By worshiping liturgically, we are doing the same things over, and over, and over again. We do this with the belief that, over time, God will bless these practices with fruit in our lives. Sure, there will be some seismic moments of profound change. But, for most of us most of the time, change will happen in a much more deliberate fashion.

And how does this spiritual growth manifest itself? It manifests itself when we actually “become the liturgy”. It happens when our liturgical actions—like  responding to God’s word, confessing our sins, praising God for his goodness, pouring out our sorrows at his feet—become second nature to us.

Think about our liturgy and the actions we practice. Every week, we confess our sins. We confess our sins on Sunday morning because we want confessing our sins to become second nature on Thursday afternoon. We sing our praises to God on Sunday morning so we can learn how to instinctively praise him on Friday nights. We pour out our hearts in prayer to God on Sunday morning so that we can turn toward him in prayer when our lives fall apart on Wednesday.

Is it the sexiest way to worship? Not by a long shot. However, worshiping in this way helps us be shaped and formed by a God who grows his people slowly and steadily.

Here is a helpful clip that explains some of this thinking.