Duality

In The Jerk, a Steve Martin classic, there's one scene that regularly pops into my mind. Martin's character has made a fortune in record-setting time. He's also found a wife and things in that department aren't going so well. He boldly declares to his wife that he doesn't need any of the stuff that they've accumulated... well, except for a few things. Also, the character is a moron.

In times of hardship, what are the things we grab onto?

When we look at our lives, what is truly important?

Where do we invest our time and effort?

How much time have we devoted to ashtrays, paddle games and remote controls?

(Watch the clip)

There are really only two things that are important. There are two things that we should spend our time on - two things that we desperately need a connection to, two things that will last.

God and neighbors. And that's it and that's the only thing I need, is this.

Two are better than on, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him -- a threefold cord is not quickly broken. Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When evildoers assail be to eat up my flesh, my adversaries and foes, it is they who stumble and fall. Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war arise against me, yet I will be confident. - Psalm 27:1-3

*I don't know what's going on with the green lines in the clip. If you know of a better version online, I'd love to swap it.

Can you blame them?

Friends of ours recently got a puppy. (Even though they swore they never would.) We hung out with them and their kids and the puppy on Easter. It was interesting to see how they dealt with their new puppy and their kids. It sure seemed like the puppy had full immunity in everything. If he was horse-playing with one of the kids, it was always the kid that got reprimanded when things went too far. When they talked about house breaking and staying in his cage and barking, non of it was the puppy's fault. He didn't know any better, after all.

They couldn't blame the dog, because he didn't know. If he knew better, he wouldn't be any problem at all. Their son knew better, so he was the one who got the harsh tones. He knew.

Paul, in Ephesians, writes the same thing about the Gentiles compared to the Christians.

Now this I say and testify in the Lord, that you must no longer walk as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their minds. They are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, due to their hardness of heart. They have become callous and have given themselves up to sensuality, greedy to practice eery kind of impurity. But that is not the way you learned Christ!

Because they know Christ, they know better.

Notice that Paul does not say, "learned ABOUT Christ." He's talking about an intimate knowledge of the savior. He's talking about having a real relationship with God. It is only this relationship that can turn us from sin. It is only this relationship that can keep us from serving ourselves. It is only this relationship that can keep us on the straight and narrow.

The world is filled with things that entice and enthrall. It tells us what we need to be happy, to be fulfilled, to be whole. If people don't truly, intimately know God they believe everything else. Can you blame 'em?

After the Peak

There's a pattern that shows up in Elijah's life. He stands up to the reigning powers and authorities, only to find that immediately afterwards he is thrown down into the pit of despair. What a reward! All that effort and all that bravery, only to find himself struggling with a purpose for living?

"I have had enough, Lord. Take my life, I'm no better than my ancestors."

The same thing happens to us. We work up our courage, we fight off our fears, we make a huge step out on faith and things look perfect - for about a minute and a half. Then, we find ourselves doubting everything. Why did I do all that work? Why so much effort? Why did I risk this - if this my reward is feeling worse than before?

Look at the story again (1 Kings 19:1-9). What do you notice about Elijah? Okay, you notice a lot of things - but pay attention to this one - he's all alone. He leaves people behind, heads out into the wilderness and hides. He isolates himself, he's alone with his feelings - those feelings of doubt and inadequacy and worthlessness. No wonder he's a mess.

Look ahead and see what God does next. 1) He consoles Elijah. 2) He gets Elijah a partner.

Whether you're a powerful prophet or an average Joe, you need people. They catch us when we start to fall into despair, they build us up when it is time to act. They provide the balance and cushion that we need to get by day to day. God doesn't lead us out into the wilderness and hide us in rocks anymore. He talks to us through his servants - those people in our lives we chose to live and grow with.

Gained

"If I fought wild beasts in Ephesus for merely human reasons, what have I gained?

If I worked my entire life just for a better job or a bigger house or a nicer car or a spoiled family, what have I gained? No matter what we accomplish or how we are acknowledged or who notices it is all for naught if it is the end goal.

I have a box full of medals that really do me no good. I spent hours in the gym to earn them. I sweat and bled and cried for them, but in actuality they are worthless. The last time I pulled them out of that box it was to coax more blood and sweat and tears from others to earn something similar. In some ways it was another waste.

I'd like to think that there was something more the second time around, however. When those medals came out of the box again, it wasn't simply to encourage winning at some silly game. It was about building a bond, creating relationships.

Jesus calls us to Love God and Love People. That starts with a connection to God and a connection to People. It develops into a relationship with God and a relationship with People. It deepens into Love for God and Love for People.

I'd like to think that those medals did serve a greater purpose later on. I'd like to think that they helped some people to connect over a common goal. I'd like to think that they played a small part in building relationship.

I know they helped to teach me about love.

Practicality

One thing that people can't say about the Bible is that it is boring. Okay, people CAN say that, but if they do it is usually a good indication that they haven't really read it. No other book (that I've read) can take one pericope and in it include a history lesson, an encouragement, practical advice and supernatural promise.

Paul writes to the Corinthians about the past sins of the Israelites (1 Cor 10:1-13). He first affirms that the stories of the Israelites in the OT are true - they really happened, they aren't just myth or metaphor. Their status as historical fact does not take away from their value as lessons or examples for the people of Paul's day (and ours). In fact, they added to the practicality of the example. These were real people who responded in real ways. They weren't just made-up examples.

Paul parlays this idea into some practical teaching of his own. He warns his audience not to get too comfortable in where they are, not to become complacent or assumptive. Once you assume that you have something figured out, pinned down or conquered, that is when you are most vulnerable. If we assume that we can handle something, then we probably can't. If we think we've beaten something, then it has already beaten us. If we stop working on getting better, we are already getting worse. Our enemy is relentless and our task is of utmost importance.

When the battle seems un-winnable, Paul delivers the best, most practical, yet most supernatural piece of information. God only lets us get what we can take. He won't let us be overwhelmed. He won't let us find ourselves in an impossible situation. Instead, he'll provide a way out, a means for us to stand up, a way to conquer.

Too bad we still try to do it alone. Too bad we don't listen.

The weaker brother

Over and over again I've heard the argument of the "weaker brother" from 1 Corinthians 8. Honestly, most of the time it has been in the context of drinking. It takes some kind of form like, "I never drink because a weaker brother (read 'recovering alcoholic or alcoholic-in-waiting') may see me and think it is okay for them to drink too."

BTW, calling (out loud or in your head) someone who is fighting through recovery 'weaker' is foolish and disrespectful. You probably couldn't lift their shoes, nevertheless walk 12 steps in them.

Where does the weaker brother argument fall in terms of relational discipleship? If we take Jesus' command to make disciples seriously, shouldn't we be strengthening these brothers instead of sheltering them? It is our job to walk with them, engage them, help them move toward being a mature disciple who makes disciples. This doesn't mean that there are never times to protect them, but it should only be for a season, not a lifetime.

A Different Perspective

I can't help but listen. I'm really trying not to. But, one of the boys they're talking about is name George and it is impossible to ignore.

It seems to be a single dad and the manager of a nanny service. They are discussing the situation Dad is having with his nanny (Anne). She wants more money or less hours so she can get another job. That's not a big deal. $50,000 nannies with 401(k)s and benefits is a different world than the one I know, but still not a big deal.

What is a big deal is the role this nanny plays in Patrick and George's lives. She's the one who knows what homework is due, she's the one who plays tennis with them. She's the one they want to go to the lake for the weekend with. She's the one they have a relationship with. She's the one to whom they offer incentives so she won't leave until Pat and George leave for college.

Dad (and the nanny whisperer) know that it is important to have consistency for their kids (plus, "You have to go through the work of finding a new one. You know this is my third?"), but it is not important enough for them to provide it themselves.

I don't know these people and I am sure that I am making gross assumptions, but where is the love here? What will these kids think about having a paid-for role parent? What is truly important for these kids - providing them with everything they want in life and a house big enough to hold it all or providing them with what they need?

Compare and Contrast - Charity & Community

I was reading some of Perkins' "Beyond Charity" where he talks about the difference between charity (not the biblical word for love, the modern practice of giving stuff to people to make yourself feel better about not being someone who depends on people giving them things to survive) and community development.

Then I was reading Acts 4 and 5 where Luke describes the situation of the early church. Here, like in Perkins' book, people in need are cared for.

So, my question for today - how does the early church practice compare to today?

The two are similar in that the people who had gave to the people who didn't. In this way everyone was taken care of. There has been a lot of political talk lately about "redistribution of wealth" and even some talk of the Bible's command to bring this about. Is this what we are reading about in Acts?

Another area of comparison is sacrifice. Many (we don't know if it was all) of the early Christians gave all they had to one another. They didn't give leftovers or just a portion, even though giving everything was not demanded of them. Ananias and Sapphira were struck dead because they lied about giving, not because they withheld a portion of their giving. They didn't have to give all the money they had, they just had to be truthful about what they were giving.

The people had a choice as to what they gave, it wasn't mandated and it wasn't a tax. Giving is an individual choice, not a rule followed under threat of penalty. It is a way to show that you love your neighbor as yourself. It should make us happy to give, we should enjoy it. If we have to give, it isn't any fun.

The third area is relationship. These people lived life together. They didn't consider their possessions their own. They weren't giving up what they had, they were sharing it with people they cared about. The watch passed down from your grandfather to you has much more value than the one from the department store glass case. Why? Relationship.

Redistribution of wealth, welfare and even things like Product(Red) [love you, Bono], exist only because true giving does not. They exist because true charity does not. They exist because true love does not. They are Diet Coke, the unnatural, man-made substitute that will never really duplicate the original.

Ain't nothin' like the real thing baby.

Luke 9 - More Teaching

Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do THE CROWDS say I am?”

Then he asks, “Who do YOU say I am?”

Inherent in this question is the fact that the disciple’s idea of Jesus should be different than everyone else’s. They’ve walked with Him; they’ve talked with Him; they’re being changed by Him. If their idea of Him was the same as the world’s then they had all been wasting their time. Their answer was personal, it wasn’t something that they had heard, it was something they lived.

What is my response to the question, “Who do you say I am?” Is it the answer from books that I’ve read or what my parents or my Sunday School teacher told me? Is it the latest, greatest from academia or the classic idea from one of the desert fathers? It should be none of those. I don’t say who my friends are based on their facebook page or by their biography. I know who they are because of relationship. Anything less in my understanding of Jesus is nothing at all.

Luke 8 - Heart Dirt

For me (and I'd assume many others) the Parable of the Sower has been a source of comfort. You can read this parable and use it to explain why our attempts at witnessing have not been successful - we are just talking to people who are the wrong kind of soil, so its not our fault that they don't listen or turn away.

What a crock. Farmers don't just go out and scatter seed. They know the value of that seed and the need for a return. Instead, they condition the soil so that it will be more productive. They till and fertilize and plant and fertilize and water and fertilize and water and fertilize. Are we farmers or seed scatterers? It isn't our job to just throw out information and hope for a return. That's a waste and a disservice. That isn't loving God or loving people. Instead, we have to work the soil, work with people and dig into their lives to loosen the soil. We've got to support, nurture and encourage them to water their budding faith. We've got to provide opportunities for them to grow and serve to fertilize the growth that has started. All of these things happen through relationship, not through one-way communication. We've got to live relationship.

We've got to be farmers (at least I do, because that's what my name says).

Luke 2 - Constant Fulfilment

Simeon had been waiting his whole life for Jesus. He knew he wouldn't die until he saw the savior. So, he sees the savior and then what? We hear a few of the things he says and hear the relief in his voice, but what happens next? Does he just drop dead? Does he go out and tell everyone he knows? Does he just go back to normal life? What do we do when we meet Jesus? Do we meet him for the first time, say hello and then go back to our normal life? Do we meet him every Sunday morning for juice and crackers, then go back to our normal life afterwards? Do we meet him every morning for a quick chat and then do what we want to do? Is this what it is supposed to be like? Is that a relationship?

Repairs

The soft white flakes had just begun to fall, each one floating gently, slowly down as if to prolong the time it had before it would melt helplessly on the quickly moistening ground. His boots routinely trudged along the familiar path to the side door of the garage.

Inside, he flicked the light-switch, the cold of the morning causing the ballast of the fluorescent lights to hum as the overhead lights flickered and struggled to life. In the slowly brightening chemical glow mixed with the sunlight from the windows, he made his way to the far side of the shop, weaving between the customers’ cars in various states of disarray. Today’s project sat in the corner, away from busy work that paid the bills. He slowly pulled back the tarp, looking at the familiar lines of the car he’d known for so long. He knew every angle and every curve as well as he knew himself, maybe better.

He put the tarp away, stealing a glance out the window. The snow was falling harder now, the flakes quickly giving up on their ill-fated attempt to stay afloat and plummeting to the rapidly cooling earth. Small patches appeared on the ground, expanding islands of white in a damp sea of the black asphalt parking lot.

He ran his hands along the car’s rear fender, his experienced fingers feeling the ripples of decay underneath - hidden from view only by a thin layer of green paint. At the workbench he picks up the orbital sander and pulls a circle of sandpaper from the roll. He sprays the disc and smoothes it over the head of the sander as he makes his way back to the car. The tool makes a familiar whir as he switches it on and soon it is covered in faded green dust that matches the car. The green gives way to gray and then silver - all surrounding the familiar pink hue of a years-old fiberglass patch and the deep umber of rust that has bubbled up around and through the old repair. More sanding reveals the extent of the damage, and the sander is exchanged for a wire-brush wheel.

A quick glance out the window shows a stark reversal in color. Islands and seas have switched places, now it is shrinking dark patches that struggle to stand up to an encroaching sea of white.

The wire brush does its job, digging out fiberglass and oxidized steel, leaving a hole-scarred, pock-marked, swath of silver metal in an expanse of green. He leans down and inspects the metal closely, removing his safety glasses and positioning himself in the best light. Deep within the marks, beyond the reach of the bristles, he can still see tiny pockets of brown. Another pass with the wire brush makes no difference. Neither does a different brush. The man sighs and hangs up the brush, he walks over to the mixing bench and gets down the can of fiberglass and the hardener. His hands scoop out the pink fibrous mud and he scrapes it absentmindedly onto a mixing board. Almost without thinking he measures out a portion of the hardener and begins to mix the compounds together and get the patching process started.

As his hands continue the familiar work, he looks out the window situated above this bench. From here he can see the whole parking lot and the street on the other side. Nearly everything he sees is white. It looks clean and fresh, unspoiled and untainted. No plow trucks have gone by, no footsteps have trampled the snow. From his point of view, the world looks perfect.

His hands still at work, his gaze moves closer to the shop and suddenly his eyes stop. There, in front of the far garage door is a spot, a blemish, a scar. He watches as white flakes continue to fall on the spot and instantly disappear into black - powerless to cover this one spot of ground. A month prior one of the mechanics spilled a basin of used oil there and the fluid soaked into the asphalt before it was sopped up. Now, the normally invisible stain was all too obvious and it glared at the man through the glass.

He looked at the spot and then at the silver swath of fender. He saw the invisible stain and the barely visible spots of rust. He saw the mix of green, gray and pink dust that had fallen throughout his work area and at the pink mixture on the board before him. He scraped the mixture into the trash and swept up the floor. Putting away the broom, he pulled out the die grinder and cutting wheel. The falling flakes of snow that had captured his attention in the window were replaced by shooting sparks of flaming hot metal that flew from the grinder’s wheel as he cut out the diseased section of metal from the fender.

As he searched through the sheet metal bin, looking for a piece to fill his newly created hole, he thought about his decision, the oil under the snow and the rust buried in the fender. This wasn’t someone else’s car, it was his. This wasn’t a paycheck, it was his passion. This mattered to him, it was important. He knew the only way to fix the problem was to get to the root of it, cut it out and rebuild it. Anything less would just be a temporary remedy, another patch that would have to be replaced in time. Things this important shouldn’t be patched, they should be fixed.

He picked his piece of metal from the bin and carried it with him as he walked back across the shop. He walked right past the cutting tools and right past the welding equipment. He set the piece of metal down and reached for the shop telephone. His fingers brusquely punched in the numbers and he scarcely breathed until someone picked up.

“Hey, its me.”
“Yeah it has been a while. And I’m sorry for that.”
“No, no excuses.”
“Uh... We need to talk - can we meet and talk? - I... I want to fix thi-...to..to really fix us.”

Friends and Brothers

Here I am, flat on my back, helpless, defenseless, beaten. Intense pressure crushing down, intense heat closes in from all sides. Again.

It hadn’t started this way. This time was supposed to be different The heft of my armor had come to give me confidence, the pommel of my sword was worn and true, my shield was dented, but still strong and now it was all I had.

The fight erupted seemingly without warning, as always. I had seen the shadow approaching, extending along the ground as it silently slithered out from beneath my feet and poured into my path. Yet I’d ignored this obvious sign and brushed it off as a passing bird or a simple storm-cloud.

It wasn’t until the first blow hit me that I recognized what was going on. Upended by the sudden impact behind my left shoulder, I tumbled forward and tucked into a roll; it seemed an eternity passed before my feet were under me again. How could I have been so unaware? How could I miss what I knew to look for?

I found my bearings and laid eyes on my attacker. The dragon slithered through the sky. His black body effortlessly glided on scaly wings, his eyes of fire laughed at the ease with which he had once again surprised me. My eyes followed as he circled around and he placed himself between me and the sun.

I squinted and raised my sword to shield my eyes so as not to lose sight of my attacker. But, as he glided toward me, staying in the path of the sun, the corona of his evil eclipse baffled my mind as I saw an angel of light. Mesmerized and artfully distracted, it was only at the last second that I dodged his attack.

The closed claws of his front legs that had knocked me forward were now open and swiping towards my face. I countered and felt the claw tear along my shield as I spun with the blow, using the dragon’s force on the shield to swing my sword around and into the soft underside of his outstretched wing. The dragon screamed out a paralyzing roar of pain, fury and fire as his momentum brought him to the ground and my wound ensured he’d stay there.

He tucked his wings behind him and reared up to his full height, towering over me. Sensing what may be my only opportunity I sprang forward, overly aware of the dangerous flames spewing from his mouth. With my sword held like a javelin, I lunged towards his midsection, attempting one great blow to finish him. I felt the tip of my sword slide between two thick scales, ready to tear through the soft flesh beneath.

The slight smile was wiped off my lips as the dragon crouched and turned. Returning to all fours, the dragon’s scales clamped down on my sword, ending my attack before it did any damage. As he turned, the sword was wrenched from my grip and his tail swept around from behind me and hit me in the back of the knees, sending me hard to the ground.

Now, here I am again, flat on my back. I cower behind my shield as the dragon’s front leg pushes me down and peals of fire curl around the edges of my shield. Everything I see is distorted and moving, the waves of heat rising like those from a parking lot on a scalding summer day. I smell my own hair being singed off and the leather that holds my armor together begins to burn. No matter how hard I push, the weight of the dragon is too much, my shield is too small, I am too weak. I close my eyes and await the inevitable.

Before the flames envelope me, something unexpected happens. I’ve been here before, I know the ending, but this time its different. This time. With my eyes still closed I feel my shield move imperceptibly. Just a slight change in the slow downward progression. I recognize that my right side is not quite so hot. I slowly pry open my eyes and see something beneath my shield. My arms are both there, crossed in front of me and shaking from exertion, but between them is another arm, reaching out from my right and holding up my shield.

I turn my head to the right and there you are, lying next to me, the edges of our shields just overlapping. You have scars, just like I do. You are bleeding, just like I am. And now the flames lick at your skin, just like they lick at mine. You have fought the same dragon I have. But your arm is under MY shield. As we push together my shield stops moving downward and it hovers there, balanced from above and below for just a moment. As my shield stops, yours starts to drop. I take my arm and place it beneath your shield and push with strength that I didn’t have a moment ago.

There, on the ground the two of us together push. The flames are still as hot, the cuts still bleed, the pain does not subside. But there, under the dragon’s weight, amidst the flames and with the pain, for the first time we begin to stand. Together