just joseph

My favorite character this Christmas was Joseph.

I've never thought of Joseph before. Ever. Joseph is just kind of there...in the background...like the cow.

In most artist's renditions of the nativity scene Joseph appears to be a last-minute add-in, hidden in the background, on the edge of the spotlight.

I have friends who, at some point, lost the Jesus and the Joseph figurines to their nativity set. They replaced Jesus but didn't spring for a new Joseph.

He's "just Joseph."

The Catholic Church didn't even make Jo a saint until the 10th century. He didn't have a church named for his honor for 200 years after that.

I think most of us wonder what to do with Joseph, really.

The only editorial statement on Joseph in the entire Bible is this: Matthew writes, "Because Joseph her husband was a just man and did not want to expose [Mary] to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly (1:19).

The word "just" (also translated righteous) essentially means "committed to doing the right thing for the sake of others."

And that's basically what Joseph does. Again and again. Quietly. In the background. On the edges of the spotlight.

Our tendency is to constantly lift up the spectacular, the prominent, the headliners. We expect God to use the Billy Grahams and the Martin Luther Kings. But the Josephs?

The truth, it seems to me, is far different. God rarely uses the spectacular. But he regularly uses the just.

I want to be more like Joseph. I want to do the right thing for the sake of others. He's just Joseph. Ya, but he's a just man.

I think the world needs more men and women who will quietly do the right thing.

the first month of your year

I noticed something last week for the first time. I love it when this happens. I read something in scripture that I know I've read many times before but, this time, it jumped off the page and it's been running around in my head ever since. I'm not sure exactly what this "is all about" for me quite yet, but my interest is peaked and I'm trying to listen.

The LORD said to Moses and Aaron in Egypt, 'This month is to be for you the first month, the first month of your year.'

This is the first sentence of Exodus 12 - the account of the Passover, the event which kicked off Israel's march to freedom after 400+ years of dignity-robbing slavery.

God's about to lay out the plans for the whole Passover meal, the final plague, the mass exodus, the whole deal. But before he begins the instruction he essentially says, "OK, we're starting over. This is a new day. This day is your first day. The old way of marking time, the old frame of reference for your life and past - it's over. This is the new beginning. We're starting a whole new calendar. We're starting fresh. Your world's about to change."

It's like the whole BC/AD calendar shift. It's like God is saying, "I'm going to do something so significant that your whole existence and understanding of reality will be changed. There will be the way life was before this event. And there will be the way life is after this event. It all changes...right here. Ready to listen? OK...go get a lamb...

Over the last week - and already twice today - I've been in conversations in which people have expressed this amazing reality over and over again: There was the old way of living. Then Jesus opened their eyes and they embraced Him. And now everything's different.

Yes, there are still struggles, there's still pain, there's still doubt. But, ultimately, the whole frame of reference is different - it's a new day. Because now it's not just about making bricks in Egypt. That's last year's calendar. That's so pre-exodus. Today it's about living an adventure of freedom and purpose in Christ.

My heart says, "Bring it Lord! Help me to fully embrace the truth of this new life!"

mistake point at jackass creek

I took a break last week. Went backpacking with an old friend along the "Lost Coast" of California. We spent three days hiking with spectacular Pacific views and sleeping on tiny empty beaches under blankets of stars. Ahhhh.

Since returning to the office a week ago, I've been buried. Buried. Yessir. I pay for my vacations dearly.

Sometimes I hesitate to take any breaks at all because I know that doing so locks me into some really, really long days when I return.

But if I'm truly modeling me life after Jesus, then taking breaks is not an option. Jesus took breaks. And he took them when he was really, really busy, really in demand. He once went up into the mountains after an entire day and night healing the sick, with people from all the surrounding villages still en route. I imagine it would have been easy to think, at this point, that there just wasn't time f or a break. But apparently this was precisely the time Jesus needed one.

I'm often temped to think, "I'm too busy serving Jesus and His Church to take a break." The truth is, I'm too busy serving to not take one. And so are you.

There's a deep place in each of us that can only be renewed by getting away and resting, by laying the work aside for awhile, by remembering that it's only by strength given by God that work gets done in the first place, and by actually trusting that God will take care of things in the end.

So it's another early morning after another late night. But deep inside I'm still. I'm experiencing His peace.

how sterile is your god?

For the last three weeks our community has been focusing on the 3rd Person of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit.

I’ve been surprised at how many have told me that these have been some of the only, if not the first, teachings they've ever heard about the person and work of the Holy Spirit.

It’s obvious that the evangelical Christian tradition has, for the most part, been overly cautious about the Holy Spirit – to the point of hardly teaching about him.

Even our own denominational family, the Church of the Nazarene, which – few people know - was originally named the “Pentecostal Church of the Nazarene” - I think may have over-reacted to controversial views concerning the person and work of the Holy Spirit to the point of neglecting Him.

This is tragically ironic for a theological tradition that puts such an emphasis on holistic transformation. And I think we’ve seen the fall-out of our dim view of the Spirit – not just in the Nazarene Church but throughout the broader evangelical movement. If you stress transformation but neglect the source of transformation, you get...legalism. Delightful.

If you teach that Christians should live differently but are too afraid of the Spirit who enables us to be different, then you miss the source of real power for change and your message becomes that of behavior modification. And you end up with really bizarre definitions of what it means to be a Christian – like Christians don’t drink or dance or go to parties – when Christ himself did those things.

Kendra Creasy Dean's quote haunts me: The church is pretty good at behavior modification, but it stinks at transformation. (The Godbearing Life)

Is the Holy Spirit controversial? Yes. Some of the best scripture we have concerning the role of the Spirit in the Church Paul wrote because people had a confused understanding of the role of the Spirit.

So do we stay away from the Spirit? Do we choose not to seek the continual infilling of the Spirit? Do we avoid teaching about the Spirit? No!

The Holy Spirit is God here and now!

This is as practical and relevant as our relationship with God can get! We’ve got to embrace the Holy Spirit. We need a robust view of the Spirit. Is this dangerous? Yes. But that’s where the good stuff is. Is it mystical? Yes, but aren’t you longing for a spirituality that makes a real difference in real life?

I’d rather make some mistakes and have a dynamic relationship with God… than play it safe and opt for a sterile religious experience.

Longing for Community

Each of us has been created for relationship; we have an inherent need for acceptance and love. So much (if not all) of human pursuit can be traced back to this deep desire to be known and embraced. We base our sense of worth in whether or not others accept us. We strive in our efforts to become important believing that success will result in love.

Our culture has become increasingly proficient at covering up this created need for community. We idolize rugged individualism while our longing for intimacy causes us to run after all sorts of counterfeits. It’s ironic, isn’t it? We live in a “global community” with unprecedented opportunities for communication but most of us are more lonely and isolated than ever before.

The amazing opportunity, just waiting to be seized by the Church, is to engage this individualistic, performance-based culture with a Jesus perspective – one which says, “You’re not loved because you’re valuable. You’re valuable because you’re loved.”

What if we treated others as if their value was based solely on how God sees them?

“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son…

All Skate

This Sunday our church community is moving to a new location and we're really fired up about it. It's a great move for us for lots of reasons. But one of the more important ones is that the move itself if providing many new opportunities for people to get involved in serving.

We've been having fun with this "get involved" theme by calling it "All Skate."

Did you ever go roller-skating as a kid?

Remember “couple-skate?”

You and your friends would be screaming around the rink, weaving in and out of crowds, having a great time, when suddenly the music would change from something like Devo to Phil Collins, the lights would dim and the DJ would remove 90% of the kids by limiting the rink to “couples” only. Couple skate? Are you kidding me?

The next three and a half minutes would drag on in painful adolescent silence until, with a collective sigh of relief, the lights would brighten, the music would wind up, and the DJ would exclaim, “ALL SKATE!”

And then everyone would pour out onto the floor because everyone is invited to "All Skate."

So anyway someone forwarded a great email from a couple young guys in our community and I wanted to post it because it captures the heart of All Skate!

Here it is:

I'm excited about doing [this specific act of service]. I remember what you said about it being my "guitar"... that is, my way of helping out with the church. What with all the stuff about "all-skate" and the move to Foskett Ranch, I was wondering what I could possibly do to help out, and your suggestion was like saying "I have no money and no time, God. I can't help," and hearing him reply "Yes you can." Thanks.

That's beautiful!

Women: More than Equal

I went with some friends to watch The Da Vinci Code over the weekend. I’d read the book and spent some time researching the historical validity of some of Ron Brown’s assertions. I felt seeing the movie would help me engage people in conversations about Jesus and the Bible.

Lots I could say about the movie…but one of the “adds” not in the book was a rant by one of the characters accusing nearly all of society’s ills (including racism and sexism) on the Church. This obvious cheap-shot at the greatest source of societal improvement throughout history was so misinformed – and yet so widely believed – that I felt compelled to respond. Clearly, the Church has made significant, frequent mistakes. But even a quick view of education, health facilities, and social services in this country reveals an indisputable record of service by the Church.

The movie’s focus was largely on the issue of the Church’s oppression of women, which was especially disturbing since Jesus, and those who followed him, lifted women in their culture from a place of non-personhood to a place of honor.

Peter and John and Paul and the early leaders of the church did not oppress women, as Brown claims, but actually lifted them out of oppression.


3 examples:
1. Jesus stood up to unjust treatment of women (as in the story of the woman caught in adultery).


2. Jesus accepted worship from women in a religious culture which relegated women to the outer circle (as in the “sinful woman” who anoints Jesus’ feet with perfume, and her own tears).


3. in a culture where women were not accepted as valid witnesses in a court of law, the first witnesses of the empty tomb and first messengers of Jesus’ resurrection were women (see Luke 24).


Here’s the bottom line:
If the resurrection is real, then Easter was the first day of the new world – a world where all of creation is being restored to its original purpose.


So Jesus’ treatment of women moves so far beyond a “women are equal thing.”

For Jesus, it’s not about being equal. It’s about being whole.

He stands up for the woman caught in adultery and offers her mercy rather than judgment to make her whole.

He receives worship from women who love him and know that they need him to make them whole.

He reveals the truth of his resurrection and gives women a message of hope to make them whole.

The resurrection is not about giving you the same rights as that person or the same privileges as that person – that kind of understanding just completely misses the point. The resurrection is about making you the person you were created to be. It’s not about being equal. It’s about being whole.

Does Jesus Know What Sin Feels Like?

Someone from my home group made a provocative statement a few weeks ago. She said she thought Jesus knows what it's like to be a sinner.

We we were discussing St. Paul's assertion that Jesus "became sin" (God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the rightousness of God. 2 Cor. 5:21).

So I've been chewing on this for weeks. Does Jesus know what it feels like to sin? To be a sinner? And what implications does that have for the remorseful sinner?

Here's the critical point: In order to truly "take our place" Jesus had to do it fully. He had to feel it fully. I think Paul's words may well indicate that Jesus felt what it feels like to sin, to have sinned, to be a sinner: he felt rejection/separation from God. Thus the Psalms 22 quote (My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?).

Anything less is short of full atonement - at least I think you could argue that.

The fine line is here (I think): He did not chose to disobey God. Therefore he is authentically "without sin", perfect, able to be the sacrificial lamb.

But his fully empathic sacrifice necessitates a level of experiential knowledge which, I think, is equal to the guilt and misery of knowing that you have broken relationship with God. Not that Jesus "broke it" but that "it" was "broken" - voluntarily, mutually, and yet fully.

Crazy.

So it's not just "Jesus died for my sins."

It is (as the apostle's creed strongly implies): "Jesus went to Hell for me."

That's just amazing.

What's most powerful about it, in my mind, is what that could mean for the heart and soul of the sinner. The potential for communion with Jesus, for comfort from the Spirit of Jesus, in the crushing moments following the sinful act, the truth that Jesus knows you fully even in that moment - actually has the opposite effect as the original sacrificial act (which separated Jesus from God): Jesus' full emphathy actually could draw you (the sinner)closer to God (in Christ).

So, as Paul says, "Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more."

I could be wrong here - I've never read this...but the ramifications of this idea, from a spiritual formation perspective, are awesome.

Why I Did Lent With My Kids

Over the last 40 days or so, I've thought a lot about the death of Jesus.

And so have my kids.

Yesterday we were at the lake and my son threw a cross-shaped piece of wood in the water and exclaimed, "Jesus is dying on the cross!" My daughter has been drawing the crucifixion on her chalk board. We attended our church's Ash Wednesday service together. On Friday we walked through the stations of the cross together (my son only made it through the first 3). We've been reading bedtime stories about guys named Judas and Pilate.

I'm either sick or brilliant .

Here's what I'm thinking: so much of our "Christian education" is targetted exclusively at the mind. We (rightly) want our kids to learn this and memorize that and repeat this correct answer. This is good but it'll die sometime in early adolescence if they have not also experienced God. There's a big difference between understanding something and knowing it.

I want my kids (and the kids of our community) to grow up feeling the wood of the cross, sensing the darkened hush of Good Friday's worship. I want them to know the pang of disappointment when we abstain from certain foods on Fridays. And I want them to delight in the sweet burst of flavor when we indulge in what God has given again on Sundays.

For years I've shared life with teenagers for whom church was an irrelevent bore. Asleep in the back row. Disconnected and unaffected.

Maybe I'm still too young. Maybe I'm still too idealistic. But my dream for my kids is that by the time they reach middle school they'll be too in love with a Jesus they've experienced as far too real to write-off as irrelevent...or boring.

Yesterday my daughter and I were talking about Easter and about how it rained so hard all morning. "It feels like it should always be sunny on Easter, doesn't it dad?" she commented. "You know, since Jesus came back to life?"

Exactly.

datsuns and donkeys

The other day I pull up to a stop light and I’m right behind this huge, shiny black HUMMER.

Then - I’m not making this up - this little brown late 1960s datsun 320 pickup rattles up on my right. I haven’t seen this model truck since I was, like 8…and it stops right next to the HUMMER.

The contrast between this hulking urbanized military mammoth and this rust-thin brown Japanese farm truck was so severe that I literally started laughing out loud.

And I yelled out to anyone who would listen, “What’s with the Datsun?”

In our culture, if you’re going to drive a HUMMER, you’re making a statement.

But that little light brown non-truck looked so out of date, so out of place, that I was thinking, “If you’re going to drive that you’re definitely making a statement."

There’s this story in the Bible which, sometime in the middle ages, was subtitled The Triumphal Entry. No doubt because of the celebrating crowds, the palm branches (symbolizing military victory), the expectations of the people, the hope that Jesus would overthrow Rome, etc.

But is that really the message Jesus is sending? Triumph?

Imagine you’re there:

It’s wall to wall people.

As the commotion draws nearer and nearer – and people are yelling “Hosanna!” which means “Save!” or “Lord, save us!” - people start praising Jesus. “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” And “Blessed is the King of Israel!”

And then, Jesus himself passes right before you – you barely see him as he rides by and you’re exhilarated but you’re also a bit perplexed. Because there are no chariots. It didn’t even look like he was riding a horse. Everything about that scene was just screaming white stallion but it was definitely not white and way too small…. And as the chaos clears and the noise moves slowly down the road you turn to the guy next to you whom you’ve never met and you say, “What’s with the donkey?”

It’s like Jesus is daring us to see through the cultural dressing up and the politicized expectations and see Him and get the point.

Sometimes our expectations of Jesus are based more in our cultural values than on Jesus’ own words or – when words wouldn’t be heard anyway – on Jesus’ own actions.

Sometimes we superimpose our definitions of glory or triumph onto Jesus and we miss the whole point.

We’re expecting a God in a HUMMER, we get God in a Datsun 320.

On Sunday we’re worshipping Jesus as King. By Friday, when he hasn’t performed – when he hasn’t met our expectations – we’re screaming for his crucifixion.

The challenge for us – for this whole season of Lent – but especially during this week which is called “Holy,” is to slow down. To pay attention. The challenge is to honestly ask, “What’s with the donkey?”

Ash Wednesday

As the primary designer of our community's worship gatherings, I typically walk through the experience, beforehand, and imagine how the various aspects of the service will be experienced by the people. I intentionally take the perspectives of various people at different points in their spiritual journey while asking myself, "How's this going to feel for ____?" "Will this connect with ____?"

One perspective I consistently forget to consider is my own.

So I'm placing the mark of the cross with ashes on the foreheads of our community members last week at our Ash Wednesday gathering. And my parents approach me. I rest my blackened thumb on my mom's forehead and say, "From ashes you have come and to ashes you will return." I say this to my mom.

I wasn't prepared for that.

Then my dad steps up and closes his eyes. And I mark a cross on his forehead. I realize I haven't looked at his forehead for a long time. I realize my dad is aging. I tell the person I can't imagine living without that he will return to dust. I remind the man I regularly cling to for advice that he is mortal. My heart is startled by my words, like someone else is speaking them.

Minutes later my children - who have been talking about this moment all day with their mom - very seriously and slowly approach me. And as I mark the cross on their soft, pure skin, I whisper, "Turn from your sin and believe the good news: Jesus loves you!" Everything in me is pleading, longing that truths represented in this experience will connect deep within their souls - that they will know the love and freedom that Jesus brings, that they will grow up experiencing Jesus, not just hearing their dad preach about him.

Ash Wednesday is supposed to be about remembering my mortality and my need for a savior. But this year, I couldn't escape the reality that it is also about the mortality of those I cherish, those I look for for guidance, and those who are looking to me.

Lent?

So far, 2006 has been a blur: long days, late nights, unfinished projects, a schedule that’s bursting at the seams.

It’s in times like this that my longing for a spiritual experience that is deeply rooted and deeply refreshing reaches a nearly frantic state. I simply have to connect with God on a level that makes a difference. Literally.

It’s in these times that so much of the typical Evangelical church experience feels like more noise, more busyness, more hype. This is when much of the programming we offer seems to accomplish little more than making busy people busier.

It’s ironic, isn’t it? In an effort to become relevant to the culture the church parrots the pace and volume of our society until there is no discernable difference.

My soul thirsts for an actual transformational experience, not just a message about transformation or “three easy steps” to understanding transformation. Can I just have the real thing, please?

For hundreds and hundreds of years, Christian worship has followed a rhythm designed to transform hearts. This rhythm includes seasons during which the Church is invited to celebrate special events and experience specific truths. One of these seasons is called "Lent." It spans 40 days (not including Sundays) leading up to Easter. This year, Lent begins March 1st.
Few evangelicals seem to have thought much about Lent. If we’ve heard of it at all, most of us associate it with Catholicism. “Isn’t that a Catholic thing?” I’m asked whenever I mention Lent. I usually try to gently point out that all of Christianity was “a Catholic thing” until just a few hundred years ago.

Unfortunately the point of Lent has been largely lost in our culture. The ancient and powerful discipline of fasting has been reduced to some kind of religious diet. So my friend “gives up chocolate” for Lent because she needs to lose a few pounds.
For others Lent has come to represent an oppressive, forced period of sobriety - kind of like a “time out” from having fun. Few see any point in this kind of experience. It only serves to reinforce the stereotype of God as a killjoy or the Church as an overly-controlling institution.

Yuck.

Do you think we might have missed something along the way? Might this ancient tradition have to do with more than chocolate? Could it possibly address one of the deepest longings of our souls?

The heart of the season of Lent is the invitation to slow down.

The word Lent is derived from an old English word meaning 'springtime.' The Latin adverb lente means 'slowly.' On the basis of etymology alone, Lent signals the onset of spring and invites us to slow down our pace, to gather our thoughts, to take stock of our lives, to begin once again to put things in their proper perspective.

It's a time of remembering what really matters, of focusing on what will last. It's a time to reflect on our relationship with God, to consider our need for a savior, and to embrace the wonder of grace. It’s an invitation to experience the beauty and wonder of redemption. It’s a season of preparation for the celebration of the greatest of all stories: the triumph of good over evil.

Yes, some of us will be more somber and more reflective during Lent. Some of us will embrace a more simple lifestyle for a season. Some of us will grieve or fast or serve more or pray more. But this “observance” of Lent, this “slowing down” will all be focused on something very specific: the desire to receive a renewing of life.

Our church community is taking a fresh approach to this ancient tradition because we're aching for a spirituality that makes a difference today. May you, too, step off of the fast-paced, consumption-based treadmill of our culture so that you can truly live. May you slow down. May you be renewed.

Then Moses Blew My Mind

So I'm reading the life of Abraham when it suddenly hits me that this whole record is written by Moses – the law guy, the 10 Commandments guy. It's Moses that writes that Abraham's believing God's affirmation of his calling is credited to him as rightousness.

Is Moses actually saying that Abraham’s fight for faith, his struggle to believe and its successful outcome makes him “right with God” every bit as much as keeping all the commandments of God?

This blows my mind. Moses lays out the 10 commandments, elaborates on things for a couple chapters, then says, "And if we are careful to obey all this law before the LORD our God, as he has commanded us, that will be our righteousness." (Dt. 6:25)

But Abraham’s fight for faith is such a remarkable response to crises, his staring down unbelievable odds – I’m 75, my wife is past menopause - and believing that God will keep his promises is so pure and beautiful that Moses writes “that was credited to him as righteousness.”

Apparently, Moses’ main concern is not the nature of Abraham’s faith; it’s Abraham’s willingness to fight for faith.

Faith Like Abraham

Most of us who have spent some years in church have heard people teach about the importance of faith – often we hear Abraham’s story used. Faith is one of the central themes of the Bible.

But most of what we have heard about faith comes primarily from the writings of Paul in the NT. Paul uses a verse from the story of Abraham ( Gen. 15:6 ) but he uses it to make a different point. Paul is arguing with Jewish Christians who are saying that in order to be Christian you have to keep the law – be circumcised, etc. So Paul is talking about having faith vs. having good works. In his world, people are keeping lists of all the good works they’ve done and thinking that that’s what makes them acceptable to God. Paul, correctly, argues that it’s not about having good works, it’s about having faith…which, of course, is one of the most central and unique aspects of Christianity. The problem comes when we begin to think of faith exclusively as something we have… Faith is a noun. Faith as possession.

Paul uses the story of Abraham for his purpose – and it’s a really important argument. But Evangelicals have focused on it so much that when we think of “faith” we think of it as a possession. So we say things like, “If I just had more faith.” “I don’t have enough faith.”

But in the story of Abraham the context is totally different. It’s not about faith vs. works. It’s about faith vs. giving up. It’s about believing or not believing. It’s faith as a verb. It’s faith as fight.

What Abraham is applauded for (originally) is not that he possessed such great amounts of faith, but that he chose to believe God. What’s so inspiring about Abraham is this he fights for faith. Faith, for Abraham, is a verb. It's not something he has. It's something he does.

He’s in crises. He’s ready to toss the towel. He’s like, “What’s the point?” God says, “Look at the stars.” And Abraham fights back the disillusionment and believes. He holds on; doesn’t give up. And God says, “That’s what I’m talking about. That’s righteousness.”