The Sinful Pursuit of Morality

Would anyone read “My Utmost for His Highest,” if we found out some dirt on Oswald Chambers? What if we learned, he was a terrible father, who ignored the rape of his daughter by one of his sons. That he seduced another man’s wife, then had the man killed so he could have her. Then, at the end of his life, he took a count of the number of books he’d sold, to glory in his achievements.

Most of us would disqualify that kind of man and trash his books. Still, we read the Psalms of David. In them we find healing, encouragement, strength and refreshment.

I’m struggling with the pursuit of morality in the evangelical church. Please don’t misunderstand me. I believe Christ calls us to a life of holiness. He says if we love him, we will obey him.

Here’s the thing, he is the one we love, obedience is the product. Not the other way around. Forcing obedience doesn’t create love for God. The difference is subtle. It’s pharisaical. It’s wicked.

It seems, for the past 30 years or so, this is what the church has been trying to do. Organizations were created to lobby and legislate.  Then we wonder why people get upset and call us “judgmental.” We protest and say, “But we preach a gospel of love and grace!”

No. No we don’t. We explain the rules.

Somewhere along the line we started telling people how to live, instead of who to serve. We started telling people what to do, instead of who to follow.

Our Bible is full of screwed up people, with messy stories, who loved God. They blew it in ways we would consider unforgivable. Still, they are forgiven.

I wonder how things would be different if we preached Christ crucified. If we spent time each day reading and wondering what loving him really looks like, then tried it. I wonder if our world would be different. If I would be different.

David had some significant moral failures. And penned the most beautiful words. For some reason, God chose to look past the failure, into his heart and use him anyway. I hope he’ll do that for me. I hope we’ll do it for each other. 

Retail Church

In my early 20's I worked retail for a couple of years. You learn a lot about people when you work retail. I have to say, whoever came up with the slogan, "the customer is always right," was an idiot.

The thing that stuck with me the most was, people who work in the service industry have a hard job, with low pay and, many times, are treated poorly by the people they are trying to serve. I became convinced, everyone, at some point in their life, should spend a year working in service.

Nancy and I have been working cross-culturally for about 17 years. We've had the privilege of visiting churches around the world. As a result I've become convinced, every believer should spend at least a year in a church, in a nation with fewer than 2% evangelical presence.

I worry the number of church options we have in the west has resulted in us treating it more like retail. We shop.

I can go in, sit, get served and walk out. Just like a store. No investment, no engagement, no relationship. If I don't like the preaching, the music or kids program, I'll head down the road. If someone offends me, bail.

As a result, we can treat our pastors like they work in the service industry. Hard job, low pay and many times treated poorly by the people they're trying to serve. We go in with the attitude, "the customer is always right."

The problem is, God never intended for the church to be filled with consumers. In a society driven by capitalism, it's hard to get our head around that.

If you belong to a church body, love it... warts and all. Commit, belong, invest, buy in. God gave you those people, not to use them, but to wash their feet. It's time to quit shopping and go look for a bucket. 

Eucalyptus

When we lived in Ecuador, there was a park behind our house with some tall, beautiful eucalyptus trees. We spent many evenings, walking the dog around the park enjoying their leafy shade.

Until one day, a team from the city showed up. They chopped off all the branches, then topped them. I was horrified. Our once beautiful park was now full of giant barren sticks, 20 to 30 feet high.

I couldn’t understand why they killed these trees and why they didn’t, at least, come harvest the giant stumps sticking up everywhere and plant new ones. 

It was probably a year or more later when I began to notice the tops of the trees sprouting leaves. It was weird, like a little bush had climbed up to the top of the stump. Over time, branches sprouted and grew and they began again, to look like healthy trees. 

There have been times in my life when I’ve felt like those eucalyptus trees. Seemly flourishing, then suddenly stripped and topped, left feeling dry, lifeless and wondering what the heck happened. 

I think we’ve all been there. Sometimes it’s external. Something out of our control crashes into our lives and leaves us reeling. Sometimes it’s because we have made some foolish choices, the consequences of which are devastating. 

In retrospect, I think these trees were pruned for their protection. They had grown too tall too quickly. Their narrow trunks and towering height had left them leaning precariously. 

Likewise, I think, at times, God prunes us to ensure our foundation can support our stature.

But the bottom line is, no matter what has left you feeling barren, you are a eucalyptus tree. It’s in your DNA. No matter how it feels, you were designed to sprout again. No matter the damage you’ve suffered, you can rise. 

Sometimes we need the help of friends who can water and nurture us. Sometimes we may need a professional “horticulturalist” to guide us through the recovery process. 

And as we grow, remember, it may take some time, it may look and feel a little funny, because it's not like it was before. It's OK. Do the hard work of growth. You'll get there. You are a eucalyptus tree. And you will rise. 

Trump

I hate blogging on politics because I really see very little point. Sadly, real hope and change seem unlikely. But as I've watched the campaign of Donald Trump unfold I have been baffled by his appeal. It finally hit me today. It's fear.

We have become addicted to fear.

The Trump campaign seems to know and understand it better than anyone else. Maybe even because they themselves are fearful. I don't know. I know only, it is a drum they, and others, are beating quite effectively.

Any of this sound familiar? Immigrants are going to take our jobs! China is going to take our country! ISIS is going to attack the homeland! They are going to take your guns!

Or how about? Your families will be separated by deportation! Spending limits will shut down the nation! ISIS is going to attack the homeland! They'll let even crazy people have a gun!

It's time to stop living in fear. Stop eating a steady diet of Fox News or MSN. Stop reading email forwards you can't possibly verify, then dutifully pass them along like they're gospel. Stop scowering the internet reading articles that enhance your preconceived preoccupations.

If you are a Christ follower and this has been your life. Stop it! Watch this Bob Newhart video if you're having trouble understanding me.

If the things I've listed are things that preoccupy your day, it's probably because you're consuming the wrong things. I'm not saying we should bury our heads in the sand and not know the facts. I'm saying, a few hours of study each night, about a week before your primary, should probably be enough. Not this hysteria they'll be feeding us for the next year.

We have but one savior. We have but one hope. We have but one promise. Christ, our Hope, eternal. Rest in that. Because no one else can offer anything close.

Vacations -- A Missionary's Guilty Pleasure

Nancy and I got to Ecuador last week, spent some time with some of our folks, then headed for the beach.

Same, Ecuador (Sah-may) is a place of healing for me. We've spent countless vacations here, with our boys and friends, over Christmas and in the summer. I even have a sweet memory of my sister and her boys stranded here with us, when a general strike closed the roads. Not a bad place to be stuck. 

My happy place

But when we got here, Nancy clicked two pictures, posted them on Facebook and I thought, "Crap!" 

Missionaries don't like to tell you about their vacations. If we ever do, we qualify it with phrases like, "We found a great deal!" or "Used frequent flier miles!" or "Someone blessed us with!" Those things are probably true. But many could also say, "We lived frugally and saved for it." or "The last few months have left me emotionally exhausted. I needed time away." 

You see, people give us money. Widows give us money. Personally, since our basement flooded, people have given us all kinds of money, supplies and help to fix it. And here I sit, looking at the ocean. Something about that feels wrong. 

We wrestle with that, the guilt of taking a break, in the beautiful places God has landed us. Especially when we know other's have sacrificed to send us here. And anxiously, we wonder if our donors feel the same way.

So there are missionaries who don't take great vacations. Or we hide them from you, like a dog afraid you'll steal his bone. That's why I love Nancy. Secrecy isn't in her. "I'm on vacation. (click, click) Deal with it."

Missionaries need vacations. It's in those places where we can reflect on our lives, on God's creation and his presence. He renews our vision, our calling and affirms who we are in him. It's when we rest, cease to pour out and only exist to be filled.

Missionaries need vacations. Just ask them. You need one too.