Monthly Archives: October 2011

“Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet.” – Jesus

Two weeks ago, I was out at beautiful Lake Tanglewood to do a wedding. I had a little down time, so I sat down and read a blog post of someone’s on my smart phone.

This post was full of profound point after profound point. I came across a monumentally significant and timely thought that has the potential of not only transforming my life for good, but was witty and universal enough to be useful for just about everyone I ever get into spiritual conversation with.

Want me to tell you what it was?

I wish I could. I’ve forgotten it.

This happens to me all the time. I don’t know exactly what to credit it to, but I have a rich life of getting to hear and have thoughts like this all of the time. I think it is fair to say that my life is saturated with them.

• I spend a lot of time in the Bible, for instance, most especially prioritizing Jesus.
• Additionally, I have stacks of books that I invest in, recommendations from folks who’s lives have earned my admiration. And these people are legion, so I have many books they say helped make them admirable.
• I get profound, life-changing wisdom in my inbox every single day, so much that if I read them all, I would have time for little else (and these are the ones I signed up for and have proven themselves worthwhile, let alone all the others that come uninvited, equally worthy, I’m sure, but I just don’t read or watch unless I’m so overwhelmed that I do it just to feel like I accomplished something).
• On top of this, I am in some thickly rich relationships with several small groups (a men’s group, a couples/family group, our church staff, our church’s elders and ministers) that have AS THEIR POINT the idea that we need to saturate ourselves in the wisdom of God and in each other’s lives in a way that we connect the two.
• I go to a movie almost every week on date night with my wife, and we have honed our skill at picking movies with profound meaning (and then finding meaning in them even when they don’t)
• This doesn’t even count my wife (who has a few small groups of her own), and my kids (who are teaching me every day if I will pay attention).

Pearls! Pearls! Pearls! I’m drowning in them.

But I have forgotten and lost (hear: “trampled on”) more great pearls than I will ever remember, and let’s save me from humiliation by not mentioning how few I have effectively incorporated into my being and lived out.

It makes me sick to think about it.

Back to Lake Tanglewood: when I read the profound, timely, and life-changing thought, I remember looking up at the Lake below me, and at a spot down there right by it that looked both accessible and comfortable (not to mention beautiful), and I thought, “I should go down there right now and just dwell on this sentence. I should visualize how it has and can be expressed, and use my imagination to script a fairy-tale future for myself that incorporated and utilized it’s wisdom. I should do that right now…or I’ll forget it.”

I did not choose the former. And sure enough, it is forgotten.

With all my might, let me discourage you from doing that.

I’m all about being a life-long leaner and stuff, but instead of filling your mind with 100’s of great thoughts, hoping that “something good will happen” by letting them pass through like wind does a screen door, pick one. Take it home, or out to a beautiful place, and dwell on it. Give it all over your creative energy…every last drop…and let it transform from a wise saying to an new action or “way” in you.

This will change you, and the world, more than all the great thoughts and books and quotes and readings and scriptures that pass through your minds all put together.

Ironically, an email from a friend of mine in Houston intrigued me enough to watch this 3 minute video, and it is the perfect example of what I mean.

Johnny was no pig. He took the pearl like no one else, and he changed himself and the world.

Please! Pick a pearl!

I went and saw the movie “Moneyball” last night with Carrie, and it was long, interesting, and good. I wasn’t blown out of my seat or anything, at least not at first, it was just enjoyable.

• I liked the portrayal of Billy Beane – his courage, his inclination to think out of the box, his fatherhood, and his belief in and obsessive focus on winning a baseball championship with the limited resources available to him
• I liked his unlikely 2nd man, Peter Brand (who reminded me a bit of Mall Cop, both in name and demeanor), and his unique gift set contributing in a powerful way to the whole organization
• I liked the baseball in the movie, but I really liked the subject of the movie that was shamelessly using baseball to express itself…

What subject?

Fundamental, DNA-level, hard-and-costly-but-potentially-revolutionary, wholesale change.

This movie is not for sports fans (although they will like it), it is for anyone who has ever dreamed of taking on a system that needs to be improved.

There was one scene that awoke something inside my heart that, unbeknownst to me, has needed some cattle-prodding for a while now.

It was at a point where Beane, in implementing a brand new system of how to field a baseball team, finally experienced some success. The Oakland A’s won a record-breaking 20 games in a row. They made history. But Beane, as he surveyed whether this milestone really mattered or not, told his buddy Peter, “Unless we win the last game of the season, everyone in baseball will write us off as a fluke. A romantic experiment that can have some momentary and significant success, but that ultimately is not sustainable and will fail.” (not an exact quote)

He said, “But if we win, then we will have fundamentally changed baseball and made it better. Now that would matter.”

My heart jumped into my throat with excitement, and I was borderline on the verge of tears. I had found myself in the heart of this movie…and I was reminded of how nice it is to feel so…explained.

Beane didn’t merely want a cool record for the record books. He wanted to win. Winning, in baseball, is defined as coming out on top of the MLB Championship game. But even that, at this point, would not be enough… Beane wanted to win the MLB Championship game while utilizing a new, better system.

This explains my heart for the church.

I grew up in a church system that steadfastly believed that regular church attendance, increasing Bible knowledge, and unified agreement on how we should worship on Sundays would produce the “win.” And the definition of a win was clear – it was posted on the bottom of a number-tallying bulletin board in the hallway by the exit door: “Weekly Sunday Attendance Goal: 1000!”

If we had 1000 people attending on Sundays, people who came regularly, were increasing in Bible knowledge, and worshipped in the way we thought was right we would have considered that winning the MLB Championship. Of course, and rightly so, we would not have stopped there – just like a MLB team wouldn’t quit playing just because they won a pennant – but it still would have been significant. It would have mattered to us.

But that doesn’t matter to me. As a matter of fact, I’m trying to do my part as a “General Manager” of a little “ball-club” in Amarillo, TX to show the world that there is a better way, a better system, a truer one, one that is both more effective and closer to the intent and heart of God.

What’s the better system I’d like to see us implement with our team? Relationships. Intimate, brotherly, sisterly, authentic, and Christ-centered relationships with God and others.

While I’m way more comfortable categorizing a “win” with the admittedly ambiguous words “Kingdom growth,” I certainly would not be discouraged if we starting having 1000 people in our pews on Sunday mornings each week. But I do not merely want 1000 people in the pews…I want 1000 people in the pews because of, and because they want to help co-create, our new, better, truer system.

At one point in the movie, young Peter was scared. He felt like Beane was living out the vision of the new system a little too purely, in a way and at a pace that was going to be too hard to explain or defend to the baseball establishment. He knew that if they implemented the vision too zealously, they could lose their jobs. Beane, on the other hand, knew that if they implemented the vision partially, the system-schizophrenic team would lose their games, and then they most certainly would lose their jobs. He knew that even if they by some fluke won, the establishment would point to all the things that remained of the old system (along with a little bit of pure baseball “magic”) as the reason for their success.

Beane, in the face of Peter’s fear and tentativeness, said definitively that he was going to see this through…all the way. Then he provocatively asked Peter, in a “be-careful-what-you-say-next-because-I’ll-expect-you-to act-like-its-true” sort of way,  “Do you believe in this system or not?”

“Yes. I do. Totally,” was his slow, methodical, fully-owning it reply.

Enough said. Because of this pair’s resolve, the plot of the movie could go on.

I felt like Beane was talking to me. Do I believe in this new system, this truer way of being God’s church? Do I believe that this matters, or not?

Yes. I do. Totally.

So, I too can go on. Praise God.

It’s an important question. Even the usually-resolved Beane found himself asking, at one point in the movie, while driving alone in his pickup contemplating, “What. Am. I . Doing.”

What I am doing is making disciples of Jesus Christ through loving, spiritual friendships. And I’m asking our church family to organize itself in a new way, within a new system, so that they can do the same.

I’m seeing some amazing milestones, some truly incredible fruit from our church’s intentional transition from the old faithful ways to these new and equally faithful ways. But I don’t want to be satisfied until we win the proverbial “last game of the season”.

I want to be able to look at our church family and see everyone in it actively and obviously living their whole life for God’s glory, obviously and willingly becoming more and more like Christ, and offering themselves as spiritual friends to all the hurting people in this city who need the relief and abundant life that Christ offers.

One more parallel from the movie: At the end, Beane is called by the Boston Red Sox and offered more money than any sports manager had ever been offered if he would just come there to implement his new system. He would have willing bosses, willing co-workers, and willing participants, and more money to implement it than Oakland had.

But he didn’t go. Why? “Because I want to do it here,” Beane said, while sitting in the Oakland locker room.

This captures the heart behind why, when given the chance, I decided against both planting a church or leaving the Church of Christ (and this is not to be mistaken as a condemnation of either). God knows that what we are doing here at Southwest, while rare, is not unique to us. There are church plants that begin with nothing but like-minded people, sparing their home churches the pain of transition, and themselves the discouragements of meeting resistance. And there are other denominations that are years, if not decades, ahead of us on this journey that I could potentially partner with.

But I want to do it here. The Church of Christ people are my people. They have loved me. They have raised me. They have tolerated me. They have survived me. They have enabled me. They have taught me. They have not been perfect, any more than I have. But they…they are mine. And I am theirs.

The Red Sox went on to win the MLB World Series two years later, without Beane, but with his new system. I don’t think this discouraged him. As a matter of fact, their success with the same system in Boston probably fueled his commitment to working towards it in Oakland.

And he still is.

And so am I. I don’t want to go somewhere were it might be easier to make disciples through relationships. I want to do it here.

“Thomas, one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord!’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.’ A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you!’  Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.’ Thomas said to him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Then Jesus told him, ‘Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.’” – John 20: 24-29

The claim was nothing short of unbelievable. Jesus said he would die and then rise to life. And now his buddies tell him that, sure enough, they had seen Jesus die and then rise to life.

Thomas wasn’t buying it.

Why would he? It’s a ridiculous, unrealistic thought. Honestly, I really respect Thomas. His realism didn’t make him a 2nd class follower of Christ. He was the whole package!

• He left everything to follow Jesus (Mk 10:28). Can I say I’ve done that?
• He had internally resolved that following Jesus was worth dying for, and led the others in this view (Jn 11:16). Have you?
• And in the quote above, once Jesus did address him in his rational skepticism, he went further than any of the other guys did by declaring Jesus to be nothing less than God Himself.

Have I made Jesus, God?

Pause. Let me clarify. Or elaborate. Or whatever it is I’m doing here.

If making Jesus my God means that I revolve my life around him, my thoughts around him, my behavior around him…then yes.

If making Jesus my God means that I go to him for guidance, answers, and even life…then yes.

If making Jesus my God means that I strive to obey what he teaches, do what he does, and become more like him in character, mission, and priorities…then yes.

My question today, however, is…have I made the RESURRECTED Jesus my God?

Thomas had done all those things I listed above, too. He believed in Jesus who lived and died and represented God. He didn’t argue or leave his apprenticeship with him when Jesus said he was God (Jn 14:8-9). It was the resurrected Jesus he doubted.

And it matters…at least to me. And it comes down to this:

I can’t believe in the resurrected Jesus without believing that miracles can happen.

What I have come to recognize is that I can follow Jesus “as God” in two different ways, and few if any would ever notice but me.

Option 1: I can follow the good, holy, serving, compassionate, confronting, challenging, and “gave-his-life-for-my-sin” Jesus as God. This will save my soul (I think), make me an activist for the poor and hurting (most of the time, at least), cause me to worship regularly out of awe and gratitude (with others and in my heart), stand up for truth (even as I’m continuing to learn it), and share Christ with others.

The problem with option 1 Jesus as God? I would not believe that miraculous new life on Earth would be possible.

Option 2 is what I need. I’m after nothing short of world-change for people’s hearts and lives (including mine). Not current world-adjustment. Not current world-improvement. Not current world-tweaking.

The world-change I’m after for people is world-resurrection. Which means a death must occur. And who in their right mind would recommend death to someone as a solution?

The answer? Only those who believe in the resurrection.

Believing in the resurrected Jesus as God makes me a believer in the potential death and resurrection of every person (including me) I meet. So I look at them differently. They can feel it. And when I start being convinced by them that their situations have hopelessly trapped them into being who it is they currently are, and this sadly DOES happen to me sometimes, I can literally feel my disbelief in the potential for that person to have and enjoy a brand new life.

And something dies in me when this happens. Something dies, and the best I can offer them is some money, or a prayer, or my compassionate presence, or a ride, or a meal, or a comforting focus on the suffering of Christ for their sins, and the promise of a better life in Heaven after this sucky life is over.

But not hope.

At least, not hope for the abundant life (that Jesus said he came to give) now. There is no chance for them to enjoy the Kingdom of peace, joy, and righteousness now. Not when I only make an unresurrected Jesus God.

I guess technically, I belong to the camp Jesus referred to as “those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

But I feel more like Thomas than one would expect; like I have personally and proverbially put my own hands in the side of Jesus. I have seen the wounds on his hands that killed him. And yet there he is. Alive. New. And with him, the whole world changed for me. No old self, dead, with all of it’s curses, and my new self alive and kickin!

I, like Thomas, can now say to the resurrected Jesus… my Lord and my God!

I know it has been a LONG time since I’ve posted. For those who have missed it, I apologize.

For the rest of you, I hope you have enjoyed the break.

And even now, I’m using my blog as a shameless promotion tool of some more old books I have for sale on eBay… for you or for you to forward to those who might have an interest.

I’m beginning to save up for my Daddy-Daughter trip to the Philippines next summer on a mission trip (yes, like the one I took with Shade this past summer and that I haven’t written to you about), that may turn into an all-family mission trip, so I need to start raising funds early.

Check out the books here.

Included:

• 2 Church of Christ/Restoration Movement treasures: An 1960s ACU Lectureship book, and a 1970s Jimmy Allen book.
• A religious book written by American politician William Jennings Bryan.
• A rare and old book from the 1600s (yes, it is even in English, published in London)…this one is very cool, you won’t regret checking it out (but it will cost you to own it!)

Thanks to all of you who regularly support me in these crazy adventures of mine.