Grow A Burger

I read today that they have grown a hamburger from stem cells. Apparently, we now have the ability to grow our own meat in a lab without the assistance of a cow. Someone will soon eat the $380,000 burger.

Over thousands of years man has amassed an enormous amount of knowledge. We’ve eradicated diseases, visited the moon and explored the depths of our oceans. We’ve discovered earth is one tiny speck of dust in the vast expanse of the universe, seemingly insignificant and still unique.

So much knowledge and we’re still so stupid.

For some reason we’re still trying to kill each other. Because you have what I want, don’t look like me, don’t agree with me. We kill each other for nations, for religions and for a buck 60.

I’ll kill you because I’m bigger and stronger, because I’m afraid of you, because I have a gun. Maybe I don’t need a reason, I’ll do it because I can.

We are amassing all of the knowledge of the universe and we’re still as stupid as Cain.

We should be astonished by our accomplishments and horrified by our depravity, but we read about both with such increasing velocity we yawn and click the next link.

All of this would be depressing if I didn’t have faith in Christ, the promise of his return and the hope that comes with it. One of the reasons I believe is because the alternative is too pathetic; millions of years of evolution and we’re just as dumb as when we first crawled out of the water. 

Roundabouts

Europe has a lot of roundabouts. You know, those traffic circles that take a more “organic” view of traffic patterns. Cars glide into and out of the flow of traffic naturally, as God intended.

Unless, of course, if you’re used to red lights. Then roundabouts are a chaotic jumble of vehicles, bobbing and weaving in and out of traffic with no particular system or order, absolute chaos created by Satin himself.

One thing you learn pretty quickly is: When entering a roundabout, never assume what the driver rounding the circle is going to do. Don’t look at his blinkers. Don’t factor in his speed. Pay no attention to the angle of direction, making it appear the car is exiting. Those things only lead to tears.

Only when the vehicle has completely left the roundabout, or driven past you, can you feel free to enter.

We should live all of life this way. We spend a lot of time wondering, “What if… ?” You can insert your particular phobia.

It starts in school. “What if I don’t pass this test?” The issues get bigger as we grow older. What if I choose “the wrong” university? What if I don’t get a job? What if I can’t find a mate? What if something is wrong with my baby? What if she leaves me? What if I get fired? What if I don’t have enough for retirement? What if the cancer comes back? What if…?”

There is risk we can mitigate, and we should. You know, the whole, “an ounce of prevention” thing. But you can’t live there. You can’t spend your life asking “What if… ?” If you do, you never truly live.

Christ tells us that each day has enough trouble, so deal with the trouble of today and let tomorrow worry about itself. You can go ahead and try to jump into “tomorrow’s roundabout” if you want to, but today will be a lot more enjoyable if you wait until it gets here. 

The Intuition Problem

My mom had a gift, an intuitive ability to understand people, sometimes even before they understood themselves. That, in addition to her nearness to God, allowed her to offer wisdom and healing to lost and hurting hearts.

I like to think of myself as intuitive, sometimes. It’s a great asset if you’re trying to understand how someone feels, but doesn’t help much with balancing your checkbook.

I think we all try to read people and situations. It’s easier for some of us than others, but with two-thirds of all communication being nonverbal we all rely heavily, not just on what we hear, but what we see.

Then our minds start to make sense of the image, like a puzzle, arranging the pieces until we can draw a conclusion.

It’s a great system that helps us understand what’s behind someone’s words. We don’t just know what they say, we know what they mean.

But we rarely get a complete image, so we fill in the gaps. We draw from our own stories and fill in the holes, like grabbing pieces out of another puzzle box to see if they fit.

The less I know of you, the more gaps in the image, the more gaps, the more I insert my own story. Basically, the more I don’t know, the more I make up. And I have a pretty active imagination.

The problem is my story doesn’t fit into yours. They are different. I am reading, evaluating and judging based on what little I see, then filtering it through my past.

The more I think about that, the scarier it sounds.

In the background of our conversations oozes a history of family, playground politics, childhood sweethearts, betrayal, hope, aggression, insecurity, affluence, failure, joy, poverty, loss, success and education, most of which I will never get to know.

Throw in race, religion and culture and it’s surprising we don’t have more protests, violence and war.

It’s bad enough in normal relationships, but then we make judgments based on what we see on TV, the internet, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. We claim to know the picture, based on one piece of a puzzle… just because it’s connected to 99 pieces of our own.

It’s easier to judge from the filter of your experience, than it is to inter into the pain of someone else’s.  It’s sloppy and maybe even damaging, but it’s easy… and we do it all the time. 

Be Like Christ and Make Me Happy!

Christians get in trouble with each other (very, very rarely of course) because we expect our brothers and sisters to respond in a Christ-like manner. 

We get blindsided when we realize we are still dealing with people who are broken and sometimes sinful. More importantly, they may even have a different view of what a “Christ-like” response would be.

Being the expert on Christ-likeness, I will now help you understand what a Christ-like response is… it is one that makes me happy!

No, really.

If you want to have the attitude of Christ, first ask me what I want and then give it to me. You should also forgive me my minor affronts and failings, because that’s what Christ would do.

Doesn't the Bible say he will forgive all our sins and if we ask anything in his name he will give it to us?

So, if you want to be like Christ, forgive me and give me what I want.

I guess I shouldn't just ask you for stuff. I should really say, “In Jesus name, give me your taco!” Either way, you’re supposed to give it to me.

Yes, yes he did rebuke Peter and broke out a can of “Whoop-hiney” on the money changers, but that was just a flash of OT Jesus. You know, he was in between the Testaments so there had to be a little residual OT in there.

Now we live in the age of Grace, Baby!

So don’t confront me when I make poor decisions. Don’t challenge me when I’m selfish and petty. Don’t question my bad attitudes. And please, PLEASE don’t expect me to grow.

Growth is for the birds. It’s painful and I might actually have to change.

Don’t try to have a hard conversation with me, because frankly, it would be hard. I might get my feelings hurt, or be forced to think about stuff. I’m certain to get mad at you, and you don’t what THAT, do you?

Instead be like Christ. Give me what I want and forgive whatever I do without question or consequence. And I’ll continue to live my shallow, little, non-reflective, growth-stunted Christian life.

That’s what you would do if you REALLY loved me, right? 

Relax, It's Not About You

The nice thing about working for a Christian organization is, each morning I get together with people I care about and we can talk about God’s word, our lives and pray together. It’s beautiful really, and I’m not thankful enough for it.

This morning a friend reminded me of 1 Corinthians 1:26-31, God choosing the foolish, weak and base, the “things that are not… so no man may boast before God.”

We talked about the disciples and were reminded of the rabble of men Christ chose to be closest to him. I had to smile as I thought about the rabble of folks he’s brought to HCJB Global.

Bright and gifted, from different countries, cultures and contexts drawn together by a longing to let people know about Jesus. We are a weird and wonderful bunch of ragamuffins, not dissimilar from the strange group of people first touched by the Gospel.

It’s a humbling thing to serve with them.

The Bible doesn't tell us Christ went to the temple and asked the Chief Priest to follow him. But he did talk to some guys out fishing. It’s like he skipped Rick Warren to go chat with the guys stocking shelves at Walmart.

I think we question that we can have an impact in this world because we question our abilities and our chance of "success." The beauty is it’s not about you. It's not about me either, though that’s a harder lesion to learn. 

So if you’re feeling, foolish, weak and base, cheer up! You’re in good company. And no matter how you feel, know that you were chosen. 

Transparency

For me, something happens in the life of a person when they come to Christ. There is a realization they are broken, away from God and unable to repair the relationship. In that moment, there is an honesty, a transparency, between the soiled and the sacred.

There is a moment when the realization of depravity is so profound and the sense of acceptance so great you don’t care who knows where you've come from or what you've done. In fact, you feel so free for the first time, you want everyone to know.

Like this clip of Delmar in Oh Brother Where Art Thou? you want everyone to know how much you have been forgiven.

But something happens to us along the way. The transparency that was so life giving at the beginning gets covered by status.

We’re clean and everyone around us looks clean too. Our story of cleanliness inspires others and elevates us. We feel valued, respected and important. It feels good and the thought of losing it begins to drive us. 

Basically, at some point, it becomes about me. So when we stumble, we hide it, protect the status and chip away at our freedom.

It’s a tragedy.

I’m sinful. I can be selfish, inauthentic, a bad husband, bad father, arrogant, condescending, critical, lie and wrestle with addiction. These are aspects of my character I hate, but have to admit are there… and his grace is sufficient.

If I hide that truth from you, I hide the grace of God. How arrogant is that?

If I care more about your opinion of me than I do about sharing God’s story of forgiveness, whatever my struggle, I rob myself of the freedom it brings and rob you of witnessing the goodness of God. 

Transparency is hard, risky and can cost you… it almost certainly will. 

What’s hard to understand is, the brokenness caused by it's absence is far more severe. 

Why Americans Hate Soccer

Standing on the roof of a hotel in Africa, I heard some commotion down below me. It was some men arguing in a language I didn't know. It was a sound I've heard many times before, so when I looked down I wasn't surprised to see they were playing soccer.

Early the next morning, Nancy and I dodged three different games being played on the beach by boys, young men and men who wished they were young. We could have been in Ecuador, or any one of 190 other countries around the world.

The world is crazy about soccer. But Americans hate it.

Two things changed my attitude about soccer, watching Marcus play (Andrew prefers hockey) and Ecuador’s first ever trip to the World Cup in 2002. It’s hard not to get swept up in the excitement when living in little nation that is surpassing expectations.

I think Americans hate it because we don’t understand it. Most of us haven’t grown up playing it, so we don’t appreciate the difficulty and athleticism involved. We don’t understand the rules and the points for wins, losses and ties.

We don’t like ties… and we really don’t like losing, which happens to our national team every World Cup. Sure, we’re able to squeak out victories in qualifying, over nations a fraction of our size, but can’t seem to manage it against countries with a larger talent pool.

Losing drives us nuts so we complain about soccer being a sport with few goals scored and nil-nil ties (we don’t like the word ‘nil’ either). We complain about that, so we don’t have to admit that the rest of the world is better at something than we are.

We’re 22 in world rankings. About the same spot we are in math, science and reading (we hate those things too).

My attitude towards soccer changed because I had something at stake; Marcus or my adopted country was playing. I think we only begin to care about things when we are invested, only then do we truly pay attention.

It's true of a person, family community or nation. Look at where they are spending their money, then you will know what they really love.  

When the Church is a Teenage Girl

It’s amazing how needy we can be. A quick glance at Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or Vine will reveal people clamoring for attention, to be noticed, to be “liked.”

Citing the dopamine and oxytocin produced by pictures, posts and “likes” a Psychology Today article noted, “Facebook fools our brain into believing that loved ones surround us…” 

I saw a recent interview about the impact this is having on young women. The more revealing the outfit, the more attention their photo draws. Not a pretty recipe for an insecure young teen.

I wonder sometimes if we in the church aren't much different than that teenage girl.

We all have a need for significance. We want to be a part of something, a community of change, a place where hearts are healed and lives are restored. That’s a good thing. It’s something I believe God wants for us as well.

But I worry that sometimes in our quest to make a difference, our focus changes. We become less concerned about the needs of those we’re serving than we are about protecting what we've built.

It might be our organization, or our job or our reputation. The focus becomes growth, achievement and status instead of service, sacrifice and love.

Somewhere, I make it about me.

Your significance was proclaimed two thousand years ago on a cross. That’s how much you’re worth. Your value was displayed before you ever accomplished anything. Quit striving you’re already known… and you are loved. 

I've Been a Coward

I was probably 12 when I arrived at the bus stop and saw my friend getting pummeled in the middle of the street. The guy dishing out the beating was the neighborhood bully.

He was the same guy who stomped the cool snow fort we spent hours building and threw the rock that broke the watch my dad brought me from Japan. Now he was on top of my friend, beating him.

It was a surreal scene, not your normal schoolyard battle with kids circled and yelling. Everyone was still and quiet, the only sounds scuffling, smacks and whimpers. It was like everyone knew it was wrong… and we all just stood there.

Over 30 years later I still feel guilty. I was a coward. I was afraid.

Getting involved would have cost me something. He was bigger, stronger and mean. Even if we could have taken him together I would have paid later. I didn't want to get hurt, so I just watched it happen.

I still feel sick when I remember that story. It’s a feeling I never want to forget.

There are bullies in this world.

Some of them are people who take advantage of the physically, financially or socially weaker.

Some of them are ideas and ideologies, societal norms or positions of my group, my political party, my religion or my Facebook community. We don’t address them for fear of being shunned or “unfriended.”

But so often, those others only have power because of the bullies inside us. They shout, “You’re too fat, too weak, too ugly, too stupid, too addicted, too broken, too sinful, too lost, too nerdy, too needy, too insecure, too unlovable, too worthless.”

And we believe them.

So we lose our daily battles. We don’t talk to our boss about the inappropriate comment, or our friend about the bad attitude, or our spouse about a hurtful behavior. We stuff it and move on, believing the bully and fearing the cost.

Sometimes, I’m still afraid.

I hope the next time I am, I will remember the pain caused by doing nothing.