Word of the day: DIALECTIC. Thanks Cory.

Obedience and intimacy. Two sides of the same coin. One cannot healthfully exist without the other. To love God but defy Him. To follow His commands but without heart, without relationship. Both ways veer away toward decay. Jesus: “If you love me, you will obey my commands… if you obey my commands you will remain in my love.” Kids like me grew up practicing obedience but receiving love (and mercy) is the growing edge. For others, the reverse is true. I think God has patience with all of us, but none of us should be happy with a lopsided devotion. Jesus addresses both groups: “You hypocrites! You nullify the law to follow tradition!” Or… “You are healed. Stop sinning or something worse might happen.”

I’ll admit I’m on the rebellious side, but I have a pretty tender conscience. Typically I think through my actions and try to err on the safe side to avoid sin. But of course avoiding sin can be radically different than obedience! I know it feels unfair sometimes, but the truth is inaction can be just as damning as carnality.

But over all, I suppose remaining in Jesus’ love is the tough part for me because it’s not something I can check off a list. It’s an unending state of being. And as my friend says, everything we do towards being “in Christ” easily becomes a new moral standard (how was your quiet time today?). What he and I decided though was that the best doing-oriented stuff of discipleship is the stuff that hardwires God-awareness into our daily life. Prayer, study, meditation, fasting, and all the spiritual disciplines should be the fine tuners on our spiritual instrument that inch us toward that resonant frequency of awareness and alignment with what the Holy Spirit is doing in our lives… (hmm… nice analogy, Nate. Pat, pat, pat.) They should make us better listeners, more attentive, more responsive. (Lovemaking analogy deleted… *bleep*) If they don’t, then we may be practicing obedience without love. And I’m learning there IS no safe side with God. Either we walk in the tension or we veer off the road.

“Remain in me and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me, you can do nothing.”

In, in, in. Not on, around, or among. With Jesus there’s a whole lot of “in” going on. In makes love. In makes obedience. In sees all the shit and all the beauty. In accepts and challenges at the same time. In makes growth, and life, and freedom. Guy in black and white with neon sweat rivulets looks at the camera and says, “is it in you?”

…Wow, I’m a dork.

How do you say "In Christ" in HTML?

Yes I had some inspiration before I decided to “quickly” attempt to add a comment box (again!) to my blog. “Just put this line of code wherever you want you your comment box to appear.” What the hell is that supposed to mean when this is what I’m looking at?!

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Ugh.

Unlike the endless purgatory that is HTML code, Jesus is… unpurgatoryish… or something. Like that transition? “A” for effort?

John 14. I could spend a year in this chapter. I’ve been coming back here since August. It’s a healing salve on my spirit. “Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in me.” Phsshhhhhhhh…. Exhale. Okay.

Remember how I was reading Ezekiel a while back and I was saying how everything God says through Ezekel is followed by “then they will know that I am the LORD.” Wipe out this city… then they will know. Bring back the exiles… then they will know. Pour out wrath, pour out mercy…. Then they will know. Knowing, a holistic cognition that impacts a persons choices disposition… that was the big “SO THAT” of Ezekiel’s ministry.

Jesus has a different “SO THAT”… a new tactic, a better way to achieve his goal of whole-disciples that glorify the Father. He ups the ante from holistic knowledge to relational proximity. “I’m going to prepare a place for you SO THAT where I am you may also be.” Closeness, togetherness, community. That’s the SO THAT of Jesus’ ministry. That’s the big deal.

I’ll take it a step further. Jesus says, “I am in the Father and the Father is in me.” There is a community within the Trinity, an eternity-past love relationship within the Godhead. That relational dependence and intimacy worked its way into the blueprint of creation so that “Imago Dei” means “relational like God.” God is totally self-sufficient in the unity of heart and purpose he shares within the Trinity. But AMAZINGLY, Jesus is saying, “You can join our club, our intimate group, our triune love community.” Jesus extends a hospitable welcome for people to be “IN” him (“In Christ” is a thematic phrase throughout the New Testament).

He’s not saying that we will BE God, but that the increasing level of love and trust within our relationship with God will create such a deep intimacy (into-me-see… I couldn’t resist) that “If you ask for ANYTHING in my name, I will do it for you.” And when someone believes in the truthfulness of Jesus’ person and mission, the Trinity comes and sets up its home INSIDE the heart of the individual.

If anyone is in Christ (en christou) he is a new creation, a different sort of bloke. The newness is the intimacy of closeness with God. Not just knowledge, but closeness. In that closeness, free will and election bleed together like paint on a canvass and both yield to joy. Law and spirit, grace and truth, already not yet… all the content of our present dialectic tensions fade. The tension eases within the intimacy of the “in” because of the relationship. Responding to Thomas’ question (how can we know where you are going) Jesus says, “don’t you know me, Thomas? Even after I have been among you for such a long time?” Jesus knows that his relational proximity to Thomas could be described only as “among” but He know that one day soon, Thomas would be “in”. Jesus exhorts his disciples in the next chapter to remain “in” Him, not just “among” or “around” him.

The way, the truth, the life. It’s not law or judgment or reason now. It’s a person. A relationship. Not just with the historic hero of bible-thumping evangelicalism (lest you think that such cultural baggage is a prerequisite)… but the true Logos, the majestic creator come incarnate lover, rescuer, and friend with a simple mission: That where He is we may also be.

Unibrows and Foot-washings

Sandra is a 5-foot Iraqi American (excuse me... Persian American) preschool teacher. She’s one the toughest, sweetest, and funniest people I know. She’ll put on her “foreigner unibrow” (one finger across the forehead) and say the most ridiculous things. Last week when I saw her she complimented my cooking and bowed to me. I grinned and bowed lower. She went lower. Pretty soon we were laughing with our cheeks pressed against the kitchen floor shouting, “No! You’re the greatest! YOU’RE the greatest!!”

This morning I felt frustrated with my marriage. Mostly I felt frustrated with myself. There was a time last fall when I was able to express deep acceptance towards my wife. It came out of several weeks of receiving deep acceptance from the Father each morning. But that experience didn’t last beyond September and neither did my profound acceptance toward my wife.

In counseling, I had been learning about healthy expectations in relationship and I feel that month empowered me to make lasting changes in my expectations toward Debra. But if I’m totally honest, I still hold on to my judgments and criticisms. And being more honest still, they are rooted in a deep personal insecurity about living a meaningless and unproductive life. And continuing that honesty (these thoughts are just coming to me now)… I think the experience of productivity in ministry (mens group, worship leading, mentoring, etc) has set me up with the pressure to repeat my success and receive more affirmation, more esteem. In other words, pride.

This morning my eyes fell on a scripture depicting the opposite image of pride: Jesus washing the feet of his apprentices. And these words especially: “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher have washed your feet, you should wash one another’s feet.” And along with that, a little voice in my ear: “Do you know how low I had to go for you?” Jesus gets lower than the kitchen floor to serve me. Not because he thinks I’m “really something” but because he loves me and wants to show me the way to destroy pride and live in love toward my wife, my neighbor, even my enemy.

I remember a powerful moment in my young arrogant life when someone I thought lower than me washed my feet. We were at a high school leadership camp and the final night was a foot-washing service. When it came around to me, the person washing my feet was the person I esteemed the least: an unattractive and socially awkward kid whom I had done my best to ignore all week. Worse still, I was deeply self-conscious about a toenail fungus infecting my right foot. I disliked the idea that the lowest man on the totem pole might show disdain for me, thus proving that I was the lowest man. But without hesitation and with total acceptance, he washed my feet. And that’s exactly what Jesus did: he became the unpopular kid and served me in my most vulnerable places so that I could adopt the same attitude toward others. Instead I have adopted pride and the profound pressure that goes along with maintaining one’s popularity and esteem. It’s the pressure to improve my standing by relating only with people more important than me, to get things done, and to gain notoriety with them. Last night I was only half joking when I told Debra, “Maybe I just need to play more video games, accomplish less, rest more.” The truth I was scratching at wasn’t an encouragement to be lazy. It was an encouragement to make choices based the rhythm of “my own drum” (Jesus in me) rather than success and esteem… to be empowered by humility rather than driven to ulcers by self-importance.

I think I know how it feels to be humble enough to wash feet (and to allow mine to be washed) and I know I’m not there now. Jesus, break through my crusty heart to empower real humility, real servant-hood, and real acceptance.

Men, Men, Manly Men!!

 It’s been about 10 years since Faith Covenant Church has hosted a mens retreat. So everybody who showed up last weekend was taking a risk, including me. For some reason, pastor John had handed over the reigns of the retreat to me and my father-in-law, who used to be on staff at Faith and is a known commodity.

In our planning meetings, there was a stomach-churning premonition of God’s work in this group. We hoped for breakthrough, for revival. What we got was a beginning… with a lot of room for growth.

I expected an age range. I personally invited retirees, 20-somethings, and high school guys. But when I got to the camp Friday night, I was clearly the youngest. In fact, I’m confident I undercut the average age by at least 35 years… And I was expected to teach!

Suddenly that stomach-churning feeling wasn’t a premonition of the Holy Spirit’s work but a terror of this generation. It’s not that I revere this age group, but that they make me feel profoundly unsafe. Among my father’s generation, I am almost never listened to. I am interrupted, bulldozed, advised, corrected. I’m going out on a limb here because some of these men may read this blog: I hate that part of their generational personality. I really can’t stand it. I’ve heard it is the way they express care, the way they naturally banter and develop relationship. Interrupt, talk louder, shout your opinion, make a point, quote a proverb. But it went right over my head. Here’s how I experienced it:

Truth is, I feel like I’ve got this space to roam in relationally. When I turn to the left (with these men), my space gets chopped and a new fence appears. When I turn to the right, the same thing happens. Finally, I’m standing still in a tiny relational space and I opt to keep my fat mouth shut.

But the Lord seemed to whisper that first evening that this was good practice for me; that I would need to make a choice about who I wanted to please. A verse that was spoken prophetically over me a couple years ago has become a commissioning challenge for me:

But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am too young.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the Lord. (Jeremiah 1:7-8)

So teach I did. My topic? Healthy relationships. Hahaha! I talked about the importance of becoming a safe community of men and making the choice to be vulnerable. I gave some pointers of how to be safer and more trustworthy. Then I broke them into small groups with the admonition to not interrupt, not give advice, and not dominate the conversation. And though I’m convinced those admonitions went right over their heads (our group had several opinion-laden, impersonal “truth nuggets” that didn’t really relate to the conversation), I think for them if was a valuable time of getting to know each other and praying together.

Later I did a workshop on listening prayer. (I’m not sure people got the memo that it was optional.) We discussed our experiences with listening to the Holy Spirit. Then we tried it as a group! 10 minutes of total silence and then some sharing time, or what the Vineyard calls, “ministry time.” Oh how the crickets did chirp. Then the following dialogue emerged:

Guy 1: um… so, what if you think you heard something and it’s not biblical or unbiblical, it’s just neutral? What do you do then?

Me: Do you want to take a risk and share it? If it’s not useful we can throw it out, but you’ll never know until you take the risk.

Guy 2 (cuts in): Ya know, I’ve always thought that when we hear things, it’s either 100% God or 100% Satan. What do you think of that?

Me: No, I think there’s lots of room for people in between…

Guy 1: Yeah, maybe I won’t share my thought after all.

If only for 10 minutes of uninterrupted quiet, I’m glad we did it. But I do hope it was the beginning of something… For some perhaps, a habit of listening or a reminder to leave room in our prayer for God’s response.

But under all the banter, the posturing, the loving-through-advice, new connections were growing and old relationships were galvanizing. Two guys credited me as the reason they came. One gave me his heart-felt gratitude for my invitation, feeling he had made new friendships, which in 30 years of church attendance he had been unable to form.

I went in with low expectations: not every retreat has to be a homerun. But I’m hopeful that this was a beginning, the start of new friendships leading to a deeper Jesus life for many of the men in our congregation who have for years felt alone in a crowd, isolated in their own church.

For me there were some wonderful conversations, the discovery of at least two individuals I could relate to: men with vibrant spirituality who know what it’s like to be an outsider, to have rough edges, to experience pain. Those are my favorite people to be around.