It's Time We Talk

I went to the Sox game the other night and was sitting beside this really nice guy, helping him score the game. He and his buddy were drinking beers and I immediately went to a place in my head that is nice and secure: the boxing in of a person. Because of that one beer, I thought to myself: Nice guy - needs Jesus.

I am an idiot. Turns out he's an evangelical pastor, saved as a teen in a youth group in the same town that I grew up in, loves the Lord and has a passion for the lost (and the Red Sox!!). Again - I am the idiot that I never wanted to be.

But my misguided judgmentalism aside, I really think it's time for us to talk about the Christian and drinking. Because as my wife said on the way home: "I think we're in the minority now." I don't even know where to begin half the time. How do I purge all those years of being told "Christians don't drink" from my mindset? Often, the way we've been raised eventually becomes an automatic response that becomes difficult to untangle even after you get to know someone. I don't like this, but I am realistic about it.

I still think that drinking is something that the Christian should be willing to give up for the brothers and sisters that have problems with it. But I don't want to force that down their throats, because that's just going to increase the bitterness and division. What I really want is some reasoned, loving dialogue on this. I believe I'm right in my decision, one that I've blogged about in the past - but I also don't want to be the person I was at the Sox game.

Should that pastor give up drinking simply because people like me exist in the Christian world? Well, scripturally, the answer is "yes." (See Romans 14 and I Corinthians 8) If we are truly seeking peace and the welfare of the other brother, then I think that this is pretty clearly spelled out by Paul.

Should this pastor who has a problem with others drinking prayerfully rethink his response to these situations? The answer to that question is "yes" as well, and I think that this is clearly spelled out in the exact same passages of Scripture.

In other words, we both need to start putting the interests of other people ahead of our own. I would love to hear some dialogue on this issue.

Pulling Up Short

There is a deeper, purer, more meaningful place with God than most of us are experiencing. It is a place of rest (Hebrews 4) in the finished work of Christ. It is a present-tense dwelling place (Psalm 27:14, John 10:10, Titus 2:11,12) and for some reason we continue to sabotage our walks every time we get to the edge of it.

In Numbers 32, the Israelites have finished their 40 years of desert wanderings and are on the verge of the Rest. Just before crossing, the leaders of the tribes of Gilead and Manasseh pull Moses aside and tell him that they like the east side of the Jordan, that they will settle there and not cross. Moses proceeds to take one of the best 'fits' that's recorded in the OT. He is enraged that they will not cross with the other 10 tribes. To their credit, they say that they will send their fighting men over to help - but they want this land, on the other side of the Jordan.

I really feel that this symbolizes my life and probably the lives of most other Christians. We get close to the victory - so close we can taste it - and then for some reason we pull up short. We're afraid of what total commitment might cost us. We like our comfort zone and are worried that really pushing deep into God will require of us things we don't want to give up or get into.

It's time. Seriously - it's time to push deep into the heart of God and quit shooting ourselves in the foot every time we get close to the deeper walk.

You Are Here

In Numbers 33, the Israelites are finally on the verge of entering into the Promised Land, and Moses is told by God to recount the 40-year trip in the desert. (Remember this: the desert is never meant to be the destination.) As Moses lists the places that they've been, he does something that I find very meaningful: he gives no summary of what took place in each setting, good or bad. He simply lists them without explanation.

I like this. Moses basically says, "We were there, and now we're here on the verge of something great." What they went through mattered, but it wasn't worth rehashing. There were times of victory, times of grumbling, times of great faith and times of doubt. But that wasn't the point - the point was now here we are. These places mattered, but we're not going to dwell on past failures or successes (see Isaiah 43:18) we're going to move forward.

I really think it's time we stopped "dwelling" and started moving forward. There are great and wonderful things, present day things, that the Lord wants to move us into. But we are caught up in our past and can't move forward to do them.

You are here - on the verge. Whatever steps and stages of your life that got you here don't matter as much as the fact that you are here. Do something here. Today. At this moment - let God do a wonderful work. He is real and He is alive.

Long Division

I told my two youngest kids (4, 6) that I would play with them the other night. They asked if I would play "Littlest Pet Shop" and proceeded to bring out a bin with about 50 little plastic animals. We spent the next 20-30 minutes dividing up the animals into groups. And that was basically how you play the game.

I guess when you're immature, the game consists of simply putting everything (or everyone) into a group and that's it.

Hope For No Man

--
Matthew 21:28 - 31 "What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, 'Son, go and work today in the vineyard.'

" 'I will not,' he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.

"Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, 'I will, sir,' but he did not go.

"Which of the two did what his father wanted?"
"The first," they answered.

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I am No Man. It's my super-hero identity, and like Superman and Batman, I hide it well. It stays in my head and in my heart, where you can't see it. It's my first response to situations I'm faced with: No. I don't want to do that, I want to do what I want to do and I want to do it my way.

But there's hope for No Man. I find it in this parable (which I know has multi-layered meanings beyond where I'm taking it). There are two brothers, and I know them well. I am the first one - the one who doesn't want to do what the Father wants me to do. But after going into the fields, He changes my heart and I see what I need to do. From what I gather, He is pleased with the fact that His will is done through me.

For example, one night on the subway home from a Sox game, I was exhausted, and all I wanted to do was sit quietly until I got to my car. A filthy-looking man, probably homeless, asked me how the game went. I turned away - I didn't want to deal with him at this point. In my heart I said 'No, not here, not now.' So I prayed to God and said, "I know Your will, and You're going to have to take over this situation." I turned back to the man and I saw him completely different - as a person who just wanted to talk, and I loved him. I spent the rest of the ride talking to him as I should have in the first place. (No, he didn't get 'saved' or 'healed' or anything like that, but he was treated as a human being.)

I don't want to be No Man. I hate him and his cynical nature. I don't want to have the initial critical, selfish response to every situation, every request, every sermon, every poor man I encounter, every extended arm that needs a hand.

I know a lot of Christians like the second son who say 'yes' but never do anything about it. I certainly don't want to be that person. I want to say 'yes' and mean it and do it. I pray for that often, that God will change me. I can feel it happening, slowly but surely - I know it's a process.

But in the meantime, I find great hope for No Man, that even if my initial response is ungodly, if I stop, think it over and turn it over to God, He can still use me and be pleased that ultimately I did obey Him.

Dispense With the Tears

Disclaimer: Don't misread what I'm about to write because I am a big fan of Godly repentance. In Psalm 51 David is in tears, broken to the core of his being at the fact that he let God down. He says that this is the sacrifice that God requires: a broken spirit and a contrite heart.

With that said, there is another aspect of a broken heart - and that's listening to God and doing what we didn't do or not doing what we did do. You know, the thing that caused us to be broken before Him in the first place.

In Haggai 1, the prophet lays it out hard on the people in Jerusalem, telling them to get to work. You've put your comfort above the work of God!! You have no satisfaction in your lives because you're tending to your own work while the Temple lies embarrassingly half-finished!!

Then they do something interesting: They do something. There is no record of a period of repentance, no record of a time of debate and discussion. There is nothing but a simple response: "Okay - well then let's finish it!" And they do, in a very quick amount of time.

I love this!!! When I encourage (yell at?) my kids to stop watching tv and start doing their homework, I don't want an hour of tears, I want an hour of homework!!! I don't want to hear all their 'buts . . .. " I want them to get off their "buts" and get to work.

Sometimes we just need to hear what God is saying and get up and do it. Or stop doing it. Really - sometimes it's as simple as that.

I Need Psalm One To Love

(or "How the Psalms Should Be Retitled: A Year in the Life of a Desperate Housewife!")

I love the psalms, I read them as often as I can and like many people I use them as the kickoff for my devotions. I think one of the reasons I love them is because of the passion of every type of emotion that is found within: love, fear, anger, hope, praise, peace -- and even hate. Not hate in the angry American way, but in the Middle Eastern sense: such a deep love for someone that everything else appears hate in comparison. They show all of the emotions that I feel during the course of an extended period of time with God.

It is a book of total honesty: "This is what I am feeling at this very moment." I love that about it - it's like reading a diary of a year in the life of someone madly in love with someone else. On certain days there is intense love (Psalm 84), impatience (Psalm 4), distress over letting your loved one down (Psalm 51), comfort in placing yourself under their banner of protection (Psalm 23), intense anger over injustice (Psalm 82), and on and on.

That's why it is a dangerous exercise in trying to build doctrine from the psalms. How would you like it if someone pulled a page from your diary and tried to build that as the doctrine of your life? "This person is always angry." "This person worries about nothing." "This person worries about everything." "This is a very bitter person." "This is a very trusting person."

It would be extremely unfair. But understanding it as a 'diary' helps us read the hard psalms and know that it was simply how the author was feeling at the moment. When you think of them this way, they become much more readable.