Part 2 - Trust Talk: disintegration of the misunderstanding gene

So we all bring these biases to the table, and they're like our blood type or DNA configuration. We're vaguely aware of them, but we don't really know where they came from or even the stuff of which they are made (other than nucleotides... of course... I think).

Last night I sat down with my loved one and tried to pick apart the thickett of biases that cause me to be what I am, her to be what she is, and both to make wrong assumptions about the other. Fortunately she affords more grace than I could think of asking for, and she lets me brood and think out loud before anything makes any sense to anyone.

First I should clarify that if my approach at disintegrating the misunderstanding gene(biases) focuses on any "other" out there, my attempts are misguided and futile at best. I have control over exactly one set of misunderstanding genes (biases) and that is plenty. My hope in deconstructing these misunderstandings is to better know how I represent to the world (for a great insight and instance of the misunderstanding gene, check out this guest post on Matt Singleton's blog).

Last night my wonderfully insightful wife led me to realize that an almost otherworldly trust is the key to making an honest attempt at understanding or even seeing my biases. Since my blindspots are by definition spots (place) that are blind (unable to be seen) I need someone else who can see to point them out to me.

For instance, when my wife and I are talking and she brings up something that a) bores me, b) frustrates/angers me, c) goes over my head... my first reaction may be to roll my eyes. This eye roll may be completely and totally without intention and even without me knowing it. The eye roll is caused by my reaction... either a defense mechanism against inferiority or pride about my time, or whatever. My reaction comes from a (possibly, possibly not) subconscious bias toward what my wife is saying. She, responding to the manifestation of my misunderstanding gene, manifests her own... "Why are you rolling your eyes at me?!?" she says tersely.

Stop camera.

Enter trust. My response SHOULD be, "this person that I love and trust is sensing something. I trust that she's not trying to hurt me or simply trying to win, so which of my blindspots is she seeing." Because of trust, we can begin the process of taking this whole thing apart and finding out why I responded the way I did. Through this gentle, but intentional process, future misunderstandings can hopefully be avoided and misunderstanding gene is one step closer to extinction.

The implications for me with my wife are one thing... but I think about the implications in my life otherwise. One of my biases is to be cynical and critical. I tend to see the world too many times through sideways glances. But what if I trusted that God was big enough to use anyone who crossed my path to sharpen me... like muslims, or buddhists, or mean people, or liberals? What if my 1st response was ALWAYS a response of trust... not in them, but in God?

This is hard to even process because I know that there are people out there who will try to use, manipulate, take advantage of, and otherwise destroy me and mine (that's what John 10:10 says). But it's in the face of those objections things like Matthew 5 begin to stand out. What if I find God more in those situations where I've been abused than I ever would without it? What if my understanding of God is stunted because I've never trusted God enough to do the right thing, or the BEST thing even if I might be taken advantage of in the process?

Father, I'm grateful that you can redeem even mistrust and misunderstanding. Help me to trust you in a way that doesn't make sense to anyone but you. Father, help me to be one of the reckless ones, who believes that everyone's voice can lead to beautiful things in your hands. Help me to listen more, speak less, and always seek to understand first. Thanks God.

Part 1 - remisunderstaning

(note: I didn't intend to do a multi-part post... it just sorta happened that way. And since Matt did it, I might as well too...)

Does it ever seem like you have the same conversations with someone over and over again? It's not like you intend to do it, but when you're talking with someone and a certain topic comes up, the conversation always seems to turn out the same way. There are these little built in filters and biases that seem to come up again and again, no matter how hard we try and no matter how hard we wish they wouldn't, and no matter how much we promise and swear that we'll be different next time... we never are.

This becomes especially important to me as I get closer to the birth of my first child. Part of God's covenant promises to His people is that the sins will be visited on generation after generation, in the same way that blessings will be visited. I'm not one to see God keeping a score card and promising to visit His wrath on innocent children because of the schmucks that we are, but I'm starting to see that these filters become part of the DNA that we pass on to the future generations.

There's a poverty mentality, there's an entitlement mentality, there's a victim mentality, there's a "gotta get mine" mentality, and seemingly innocent and otherwise wise and gracious people seem to show up with these blind spots that color their whole lives. How do we go about addressing things that are as deep, personal, and seemingly unchosen as our blod type?

The implications for this are everywhere... I think of the things I picked up from my parents that are now vital parts of who I am. I'm an incurable Astro's fan, for instance (it's not as bad as being a Cubs fan). I didn't choose it, but I also can't un-choose it without great cost and sacrifice.

In the great game of getting along and moving forward, these biases and unconscious tendencies make communication difficult. I will unwittingly pass along my ideas of who God is and what He wants from me to those I talk to. It's not so clear cut as what I say, it's as much about how I say it. I think understanding the reasons that we misunderstand, or even understanding THAT we misunderstand is a step in a direction. But it's a daunting task, calling for the greatest humility and grace, to sit at the proverbial table with others who we feel need to hear our message but who may not even be able to hear what we have to say in the way that we want to say it.

Belonging Preceeds Believing

Before Jesus indoctrinated... He invited. Before He gave his disciples the sermon on the mount, He went to a party with them. Before He sent them out to heal the sick, cast out demons and raise the dead, He paired them up. Jesus made sure that no one in His new Kingdom would be alone.

This morning I was teaching a class at church, and 2 sets of parents talked about their 20 something children walking away from the faith. I resonated with them, because when I was 20 something, I walked away too. The general idea for the class was Solomon's hopelessness in Ecclesiastes 1 and Christ's gift of hope from Matthew 20.

The parents cried as they read Ecclesiastes, because they said that it sounded just like what their kids would say. I encouraged them to take heart that the scripture was validating their experience, and encouraged them to keep reading the story, because even Solomon finds a better answer under the sun.

But we ended early and I had a chance to talk pretty pointedly with these parents and one of the elders in our church who happened to hang around. This is really exciting for me, because I truly believe that the emerging church/postmodern mindset isn't just a fabrication, but it's a reality that will inreasingly be borne out in the generations to come. Today I had the chance to represent these postmoderm minded kids to their thoroughly modern parents, and I may not have ever felt as blessed to be used by God.

I wrote on the white board the phrase, "Belonging preceeds Believing." I asked them to take the phrase apart and see what they thought. Each of the people in the class was a mature believer who had been in the church for their whole lives. The elder has raised 3 of the most amazing children I've ever known, and is one of the most humble, godly people I know.

My skin tingled as I watched lightbulbs come on in these people. This was their kids, this was where they were. It didn't take long to piece together the puzzle of pretty sharp, observant kids standing back and watching their friends become overchurched. As kids who were thinkers, they realized that the message they were hearing wasn't being fleshed out. They felt, and feel, that the problem was with the message... so they got rid of it in search of something better. Rather than dismissing the belonging, they dismissed the belief.

It was amazing to watch these grown men and women wrestle with this. "But where does knowledge fit into this whole equation? It's the Truth that sets us free?" and on and on it went in defense of attacking unbelief with information. They weren't antagonistic at all, not in the least, they just hadn't ever thought about it from this angle. At the end of the discussion, one of the parents named Mark came up to me and said, "you know, I believe what you said about belonging preceeding believing. It just wasn't that way when I was growing up."

I think Mark walked out of the class understanding something about his kid that he didn't understand before. He and I spent a little bit of time talking about what that might mean in his relationship with his kid and how it might all play out. I didn't give him any answers where none were due, but I told him that it worked out in my case.

Today my philosophy took form and became real to someone else. Just by my nature, my tendency will always be to remain in the philosophical and theoretical. I will coast by on autopilot while I think about how to do what I'm doing. But today the stuff that I put into my head and mull over hopefully built a bridge for someone else to cross over to their kid. What a cool thing to see. What a cool thing to be a part of.

The craziest thing... since I've started blogging (lo these seven entries), I've become acutely aware of long spaces between entries. Do I not have anything to say? Am I slowing down mentally? Am I just a sluggard? You know what Proverbs says about sluggards... crap, I'm headed that way!!

But maybe not. Maybe it's all good and I'm just hanging out. We'll never know for sure I guess.

Crosses & Conversations

I read Matthew 10 today and Christ's call to follow seems especially poignant on Good Friday. From calling Peter & John from a fishing boat, to calling the rich young ruler from the trappings of weath, the idea of following takes on a new and special significance in the light of Easter.

So in Matthew 10, Jesus is sending out His disciples. It's a glorious day, can you imagine? When I get 14 seconds of training and experience, I feel like I'm ready to fly the plane. So the 12 must be chomping at the bit, ready to do what they were born and called to do!! Especially after hearing Jesus' opening words...

"... go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. As you're going, preach that the Kingdom of Heaven is near, it's here, it's at hand! When you need to, heal those that are sick. Raise those that are dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. Freely you've received, freely give."

Even the following verses about not taking anything extra don't seem so bad in light of the commissioning service they just received. I can almost hear Peter, "Now that's what I'm talking about!" Jesus goes on to talk about going into towns and leaving a blessing, and wiping the dust off of the feet for any town that won't receive them. James and John, the "Sons of Thunder" must've cast furtive glances, "if I can raise the dead, can you imagine what I'm going to do to a town that won't accept me? I'll do more that wipe the dust..."

In my vulnerable moments, these are the things that I feel like I signed on for. Too many times my prayers are that God would use me for these kinds of things. Lord, if you want to heal the sick, I'm willing to do that. It doesn't sound nearly so transparently self-serving when I'm surrounding it in the highest of prayerful language.

But then the conversation turns a bit, "Behold, I send you out as sheep among the wolves... the men will hand you over to the courts and scourge you in the synagogues. When you go before Kings and governors, don't worry about it, you'll know what to say, but by that time you'll be hated by all because of me. And only those who stick with it to the end will be saved..."

Wait a minute Jesus... this is hard core... then He says the ultimate, "He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. And he who does not walk with me into the gas chamber is not worthy of me..."

The reality of the cost of discipleship hit me this morning. Dietrich Bonhoeffer talks about cheap grace and costly grace. Cheap grace (the grace we give ourselves) is like me after hearing the first part of Jesus' speech... the mock humility willing to bear the burden of greatness. Costly grace on the other hand, is the grace that only comes from taking up the instrument that will put all of our un-God nature to death. That grace cost Christ everything. The scary part is that too many times, the cost of discipleship doesn't hit me. Too many times I'm an "organizational" christian.

The exciting thing for me right now is that I'm not scared away by the call or the cost. It doesn't make sense, because most time when it comes to stuff like this, I'm a snivelling weenie, but there's something in me that realizes the call of Christ to follow is worth it. It doesn't mean I understand it all, or that I understand any of it. But that Spirit in me that cries "Abba" realizes that the call of Christ is more worth it than all of the other stuff that lures me away combined.

Thank you, Lord for Easter. Thank you, Lord that you went to the cross, and thank you Lord that you didn't stay there. The only one who was truly capable of knowing the cost, and you counted it worth it. Father, I don't understand all of it, or even much of it, but I pray that the space in me that realizes you're worth leaving it all for, I pray that space would grow. I pray that space would consume me. Jesus, you amaze me. Thank you for today. Thank you for Sunday. Thank you for you.

Eternal Significance

One of the coolest things for me to sit and think about is the web of relationships that I've had a chance to be a part of. I often sit and think about how cool it is that I know someone who knows someone who knows someone... you know, 6 degrees of separation.

This is especially interesting when I hear or come across something that impacts my life. It's tough to say in a moment which things will truly change my life, but it's not tough to know which things change my day... and changed days always have potential to change my life.

In particular I began listening to a sermon series called "Revangelism." Kyle Lake was a guy who has touched my life, and I never met him. I remember being shocked and stunned upon hearing about his tragic death. I was surprised at how much grief I had over a guy who I never met. Part of my grief stemmed from the understanding of the role he played in the movement of the Church. I'm always fascinated by people who are on the cutting edge of anything.

Most of my heartache, however, came because of my web of relationships. I know a disproportionate (for a guy who hasn't been in college for 6 years and lives in San Antonio)number of peple who go to Baylor and who are and were directly impacted by Kyle's life. It's almost as if I could see the fingerprints all over the people that I loved and respected. Then today, driving in my car with Kyle coming through my iPod talking about Dave in an operating room, I realized that his ministry and legacy continues. Through a life lived on purpose, I am today being challenged to think about the way I engage my culture with the Message.

Technology has allowed Kyle's voice to reach my ears and touch my heart, but I've been moved by the story of St. Francis and the advice of Brother Lawrence. I've been comforted by St. John of the Cross... over and over and over in my life I find my perspective and worldview shaped by voices from the past, both recent and distant.

I'm thankful that certain voices age like wine, and their tales and heart beat through their words and across space. I think nothing less should be the goal for followers of Christ. For those who have been offered a life of abundance, when we grab it, realize it, and begin to live in it... it's the abundance that flows down and trickles into the lives we pass on the way.

God of wha?

One of my favorite songs is the Crowder duo of "I need words/God of Wrath." Tangentially, that's a major reason I love Crowder... he's willing to delve into areas of theology that many people fear to tread. Well done sir... thank you.

More to my point though, I love the song because of the reality of the two messages right next to each other...

I need words...
I need language...
I need a voice...
I need a song to sing you, that I've yet to find.
I need you...
To be here now

Utter dependance. The voice of humility cries helpless in the midst of all the things that would push and pull us and demand our attention. In the face of God, we must sing and speak and worship, or just fall silent, but the reality is that any song I could come up with is empty without His words... larger than sky and life and the longing inside of me.

God of wrath
God of love
God of Earth
God above
God of hope
God of peace...
All I am for you...

And still, as we strive to reach, touch, and worship the One... the first thing we must sometimes come to terms with is that He is, from time to time, a God of Wrath. That doesn't compromise His character or His love or Peace or Hope... in fact it harmonizes with it, creating something beautiful and deeper that my language could express. It's in the face of His wrath that my words fall most painfully short... because I am at once in the face of a wrath that I could never contend with... and at the same time held in the strong arm of one who saves completely.

This morning, I need words. An 18 year old boy whose parents go to my church, wrapped his truck around a tree and died. I know things like this happen. My theology will hold that because of the fallenness of man and the brokenness of the world, good people die and young people die and parents must bury their children, even though it seems to rage against the very fabric of fairness. I had to talk to that mother this morning, and all I could pray was, "God, I don't have words to say that will make sense. God, I fear being trite and canned. I fear that I'll try to diminish the reality of pain because my broken perspective thinks that it will somehow diminish you."

God, my view of you is too small. The richness of who you are becomes more colorful in the face of tragedy, because I find that you are bigger than even tragedy. Father, save me from ever being trite. Save me from ever trying to rescue someone from what you're leading them through. I don't understand, so I need words.

Thank you, Mr. Crowder for speaking the dangerous truth about our very large Creator. May He forever smile upon you... His faithful bard.

In our college gathering last night, a brand new theological concept was uncovered for me by an 18 year old young man. We're at the point in our evolution (didn't mean to use evolution in a church context) where we're hammering out the ideas and values that will hopefully give structure and direction to where God is leading us. I've been amazed at the process, and I really believe that God's doing a cool thing. See my 1st blog for all the specifics of that...

So last night we're going through the first part of Acts 2. The one where the apostles speak in tongues. It was fun to watch the 4 baptist kids squirm when I told them we were going to talk about the gift of tongues. They were soon off the hook. But the conversation turned to how God used these apostles to speak in the tongues of the listeners. God is a God who wants to be heard, and He doesn't make it difficult... even to the point of miraculously giving your language to someone else if needs be. We used that as a jumping off point to go to 1 Corinthians 9, "I have become all things to all people so that I may by all means save some." We wrestled with that a great deal. College students who grew up deep in the teeth of churches and have seen a great many things, heard a great many things, and in many ways been absolutely steeped in the traditions, beliefs, and practices of the church truly wrestled.

Their fears were well grounded... do we compromise? Do we become like people so that we can turn them into us? Doesn't that make the one's we're emulating like little projects? Who wants to be a project? The conversation was beautiful. Then, this young man in the corner spoke up, "I don't think it means I have to be a crack addict or a prostitute, but I think it means that I need to be accessible to those people."

It's such a simple word, but it's rich with implication. The concept weighed on me all night and even into this morning. Above all things, Jesus was accessible. Above all things, Jesus (the accessible one) made God accessible. That is what made the Pharisees so infuriated, a man who claimed to be holy and righteous... accessible to prostitutes, thieves, the dregs of society. Not only accessible, but available as well. The God who Isaiah saw as High and Exalted made Himself accessible to every man in Jerusalem during Pentecost. They didn't have to find their way to Him, He made His story accessible to them. Beautiful.

In my quieter moments, I wrestle with this. I don't have a hard time believing Christ's divinity. That's the kind of God I want. It's His humanness that shakes me up. It's His accessibility. His flesh means that I can't explain away my faults and foibles. If Jesus had stayed in heaven and shouted through a megaphone, "clean up your act bubba!!" I could have cried "UNFAIR!!" Instead, He came and said, "Come to me if your weary and burdened. I'll give you rest."

The rub of it all, is that those moments of realization are when I need His accessibility the most. When I see Him as most holy, most perfect, most different from me in every way, that's when He comes and seems closest. It's a paradox that I don't understand. It's a mystery that my brain doesn't wrap around, but it's just like my humble God to reveal Himself to an 18 year old kid who tries his hardest to know and understand Him. And it's just like His grace, to use that young man to make Himself further accessible to me.

May today be a day for you, of unhindered accessibility with the Almighty.

Benjamin Franklin's revenge

"In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes."

Damn you Mr. Franklin!! While not ironic in the Alanis Morissette-ian sense, it certainly was a dreadful coincidence and run of bad luck that yesterday was the day that I had to sit down and write Uncle Sam a $1 check for my taxes, and almost as if to recompense an insult... my crabby uncle in the striped suit and stovepipe hat stole an hour from me as I slept. The cursed midnight thief! The inevitable hour of my demise draws ever closer, and all I get is one hour gone! If something happens to me before October, I'm going to be pissed. (I guess this is not directly Ben Franklin's fault, but submitted for your approval... he pops off with the death and taxes thing, he happens to be one of the fathers of American government, and the government is responsible for daylight savings time... conincidence? You decide.)

Be here now.