Praying for Which Kingdom?

It's interesting to pay attention to conversations about prayer. Often it seems as though after many disclaimers about the importance of prayer that transcends Christmas-list-style requests or yard-sale-style bargaining, the conversation will conclude with a Seinfeld-esque, "Not that there's anything wrong with that." I must confess that's how I, too, often conclude conversations about prayer. The truth is, however, that is more than just a reluctant conclusion to my conversations about prayer; the call to honesty compels me to admit that, more often than not, the reluctant conclusion is mostly a way of trying to make peace with my own failure to really practice something more than "not-that-there's-anything-wrong-with-that" kind of prayer.

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The term "prayer" could be said to be an appropriate description of far more human speech than we typically describe with the term, at least insofar as "prayer" often means for us merely requests presented to God. For instance, we don't tend to think of the disciples, as presented to us in the gospels, as particularly prayerful folks. In fact, we tend to view them as novices, given Luke's account of the disciples' requesting Jesus to "teach [them] to pray." But the reality is the disciples could be said to have been prayerful people. They "prayed" to Jesus to save them from the terrifying thunderstorm. They "prayed" to Jesus that they might be able to have a hand in destroying their Samaritan opposition. They "prayed" to Jesus in search of a declaration of their superiority compared to those who acted in Jesus' name but whom the disciples themselves did not know. They "prayed" to Jesus for V.I.P. treatment in the afterlife. They "prayed" to Jesus in hopes of being commissioned to make a last stand against the arresting mob in the garden. It is true that the disciples were novices in terms of the spiritual maturity (or lack thereof) of their prayer lives, but it was certainly not for lack of trying.

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Similarly the term "prayer" could be used to describe far more of the human speech in our own time than we typically describe with the term. Sure the proliferation of books, seminars, classes, and blog posts about prayer might suggest we view ourselves as novices when it comes to prayer. But the truth is we tend to be prayerful people. We "pray" to God to save us from natural disasters and national security crises. We "pray" to God in search of a declaration of our (team's, church's, community's, country's) superiority compared to those we do not know very well or who seem to be quite different than us. We "pray" for V.I.P. treatment in the afterlife, many of us whether or not we believe in any kind of afterlife. We "pray" for opportunities to triumph over those we perceive to be our enemies. The truth is many of us tend to be novices in terms of the spiritual maturity (or lack thereof) of our prayer lives, but it is certainly not for lack of trying.

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It seems to me the challenge at the heart of the quest for a spiritually mature practice of prayer is that we often find ourselves praying for the wrong kingdom. It might be the kingdom of one's personal life. It might be the kingdom of one's business. It might be the kingdom of one's church. It might be the kingdom of one's community. It might be the kingdom of one's country. Or it might be one of the many other kingdoms competing with the Kingdom of God. Each time we "pray" we have a choice to pray for an impostor kingdom or for the Kingdom for which Jesus encourages us to longingly pray.

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We often minimize the degree to which we struggle with this choice we have each time we "pray." To admit we do, in fact, struggle seems to be an admission of weakness or a lack of faith or an incomplete commitment. Yet we would do well to confess just such a weakness or a lack of faith or an incomplete commitment, rather than try to cover up what others often can see more clearly than we. Moreover, if we do not self-critically realize our own struggle to choose to pray for the Kingdom for which Jesus encourages us to longingly pray, we may find ourselves caught in a situation like the one captured in this video, which epitomizes the struggle many of us face day in and day out.

May God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the indwelling Holy Spirit bless us with courage, fill us with strength, and grant us wisdom that we might pray not for our own impostor kingdoms but for the only Kingdom which endures forever.

Delivered from the Egyptians, Saved from Ourselves

Here is the audio of Sunday's sermon, "Delivered from the Egyptians, Saved from Ourselves," based on Exodus 7-14. You can stream the audio below or download it here.

Jesus or Heaven?

In inviting the first disciples to follow him, Jesus offered no perks, extended no bribes, and promised no tangible rewards. In inviting people to become disciples, we often offer perks, extend bribes, and promise tangible rewards. In fact, it might be fair to say our track record reveals we've prompted more interest in seeking after heaven (offered as a perk, extended as a bribe, promised as a reward) than following after Jesus.

The following "parable" from Peter Rollins's The Orthodox Heretic invites its hearers/readers to reflect upon the nature of their own spiritual journeys: whether they are more interested in seeking heaven or following Jesus. I hope this parable stirs your heart and mind to wrestle with the purpose and meaning of your spiritual journey as it has mine.

You sit in silence contemplating what has just taken place. Only moments ago you were alive and well, relaxing at home with friends. Then there was a deep, crushing pain in your chest that brought you crashing to the floor. The pain has now gone, but you are no longer in your home. Instead, you find yourself standing on the other side of death waiting to stand before the judgment seat and discover where you will spend eternity. As you reflect upon your life your name is called, and you are led down a long corridor into a majestic sanctuary with a throne located in its center. Sitting on this throne is a huge, breathtaking being who looks up at you and begins to speak.

"My name is Lucifer, and I am the angel of light."

You are immediately filled with fear and trembling as you realize that you are face to face with the enemy of all that is true and good. Then the angel continues: "I have cast God down from his throne and banished Christ to the realm of eternal death. It is I who hold the keys to the kingdom. It is I who am the gatekeeper of paradise, and it is for me alone to decide who shall enter eternal joy and who shall be forsaken."

After saying these words, he sits up and stretches out his vast arms. "In my right hand I hold eternal life and in my left hand eternal death. Those who would bow down and acknowledge me as their god shall pass through the gates of paradise and experience an eternity of bliss, but all those who refuse will be vanquished to the second death with their Christ."

After a long pause he bends toward you and speaks, "Which will you choose?"

What do you think?

P.S. The Orthodox Heretic is currently available at Amazon.com as a bargain book for $8.00. Just click the picture to proceed to the product page.

Villains and Hope

Here is the audio of Sunday's sermon, "Villains and Hope," based on Exodus 5:1-6:8. You can stream the audio below or download it here.

Just Go!

Here is the audio of Sunday's sermon, "Just Go," based on Exodus 3:1-4:17. You can stream the audio below or download it here.

Burn Out Bright

It’s incredible how attached we are to comfort. She will shop at the same grocery store every week for years, but when the store’s management decides to reconfigure the layout of the store so that “everything is out of place,” she will walk out the door and never come back as a way of protesting the loss of her comfort zone. He will go to the same place every morning for coffee and a biscuit, but when others who look different and smell different begin to adopt a similar pattern, he will walk out the door and never come back as a way of demonstrating his displeasure with the loss of his comfort zone.

I guess somewhere along the way we also began to think faith was all about our comfort: So some of us have faith because we long to be comforted by the notion that our past sins have been forgiven. Others have faith because we long to be comforted in the present by a God who will make things easy for us or at least make us feel better about ourselves. Still others of us have faith simply because we long to be comforted eternally instead of punished.

Certainly God is a comforting God, who comforts people in distress. But the God who comforts is also the God who calls people to lives of risky sacrifice and service. Perhaps this is why so often when God calls, the people being called try to come up with all kinds of excuses not to answer. Moses and Jeremiah both say they can’t speak well enough. The people of Israel say they would be better off back in Egypt. Some of the folks Jesus calls say they have urgent tasks to complete before they can follow him.

Sometimes we’re not all that different from those we read about in Scripture who grasped for any possible excuse not to move outside their comfort zones into God’s calling. Sadly the consumer attitudes that lead us to boycott our favorite grocery store or abandon our regular breakfast haunt can all too easily find their way into the church. What’s especially dangerous about this is that we can find ways to spiritualize our excuses and relieve ourselves of taking any responsibility for our own unwillingness to get out of our comfort zones. So they will worship with the same congregation every time the doors are open for years, but when the church’s leadership, called into service by the Holy Spirit and the congregation makes intentional and thoughtful efforts to help the congregation grow in faith and live out their faith, they will walk out the door and tell folks they weren’t being spiritually nourished as a way of expressing their frustration with the loss of their comfort zone.

Sadly we often miss out on opportunities to do God’s will when we latch onto flimsy excuses to stay in our comfort zones. Imagine how different the world would be if Moses had refused to go back to Egypt or if Peter and Andrew and James and John had refused to hop off their boats and follow Jesus. May God give us courage to embrace the opportunities to break out of our comfort zones and let our lives burn out bright to the praise of God’s glorious grace!

Here's a song by Switchfoot which first introduced me to this wonderful way of putting the calling of God on our lives: to "burn out bright."

How might you be able to burn out bright this week?

A Box Office Flop

Here is the audio of Sunday's sermon, "A Box Office Flop," based on Exodus 2:11-2:25. You can stream the audio below or download it here.

Cards

Perhaps it is because the tendency to focus on self is universal. Perhaps it is because the inclination to reshape selfless faith into selfish religion is an inherent part of what it means to be human. Perhaps it is because the propensity to get stuck in our own little worlds is as intrinsic to our identity as our gender or the color of our eyes. Whatever the case, the authors of Scripture, the representatives who speak to God’s people on God’s behalf, and even Jesus repeatedly find themselves in the position of having to remind God’s people what it means to be God’s people.

We sometimes speak about the circumstances of life as though they are like a hand of cards that has been dealt to us. As anyone who has played cards knows, as a player you simply have no control over the cards you are dealt; all you control is the way you play the cards. Some hands are stacked with trump card after trump card. Others are full of worthless low number cards. Then there are those hands that are a mixed bag, some good cards and some awful cards. Complicating the analogy is the fact that the quality of the hand depends on the game you are playing. For instance, a hand flush with face cards and spades is perfect for playing Spades but not so ideal for playing Hearts. Then there’s the fact there are different ways to be successful. One could, for example, seek to rack up as many points as possible throughout a hand of Spades by capturing as many books as possible or rack up points at the end of the hand by avoiding capturing any books at all. Regardless of one’s skill, however, what often plays the biggest role in the outcome is sheer happenstance, pure luck; so much depends on the cards you’ve been dealt and the way you play them and the way others play the cards they’ve been dealt.

The Christians James writes were in a situation in which it would have been easy to dwell upon the crummy cards they had been dealt. Everybody deals with a few bad cards, but some of these folks were dealing with poverty, feelings of isolation from other believers, and an environment fairly unwelcoming to their faith. But James, like Moses and the prophets before him, knew that if God’s people get stuck dwelling on the bad hand they’ve been dealt, they will likely neglect one of the major elements of the calling God places on the lives of God’s people: to stand with and support those who have been dealt terrible cards. So James reminds his audience that God desires for them “to look after orphans and widows in their distress” (1:27), that is, others who have been dealt awful hands.

As we survey the hands we have been dealt, each of us can spot cards we wish we could trade. Certainly there are times when the most faithful way we can respond is by begging God to act to change them. But as we have been reminded by the images of the hundreds of thousands of people suffering from the effects of a bad card in Haiti this week, more often the best way to respond is by doing whatever we can to stand with and support others who have been dealt awful hands and to trust God with our own hands.

Who are the "orphans and widows" in your life that God desires you to look after? What are some of the bad cards others they have been dealt? What can you do to stand with and support them as they deal with those cards?

Liars, Traitors, and Saints?

Here is the audio of Sunday's sermon, "Liars, Traitors, and Saints," based on Exodus 1:1-2:10. You can stream the audio below or download it here.

Growing with Jesus

Here is the audio of Sunday's sermon, "Growing with Jesus," based on Luke 2:21-24, 41-52, which kicked off the new year for our church family. In it, I describe several of the tangible steps our church leadership is taking in an effort to help each member individually and our entire congregation communally grow with Jesus "in wisdom and in favor with God and people." You can stream the audio below or download it here.

The Impossible Dream?

Here's the audio of Sunday's sermon "The Impossible Dream?" based on John 17.

Who's Got My Back?

No one would have faulted him for being nervous. In fact, most probably would have expected him to be at least slightly unnerved. Yet when asked after pitching a masterful complete game in game one of the World Series whether he had been nervous, Cliff Lee responded quite matter-of-factly, “I really never have been nervous in the big leagues. This is what I’ve wanted to do my whole life; it’s what I enjoy doing. I put all the work in between starts . . . there’s no reason to be nervous if I did all the work. The game is the time to go out there and have fun . . . and trust your teammates and your skills.”

Listening to the interview, I was struck by Lee’s confidence. Confidence in the skills he had spent years practicing. Confidence in his teammates to have his back and cover his mistakes. Confidence in his coaching staff to provide strong leadership and appropriate guidance. In some ways, his confidence almost seemed absurd. He was, after all, pitching in the home of the greatest team in the history of baseball. He was surrounded by tens of thousands of screaming fans and dozens of reminders of the great players in history who had roughed up pitchers as good or better than he. He was going up against one of the most potent Yankee lineups in the last few decades. Yet during the game he looked so relaxed the commentators noted it was like he was throwing batting practice, not pitching the opening game of the World Series in which his team was the underdog.

It is interesting how often church people talk about the circumstances in which they find themselves living. If you listen closely you can hear all kinds of conversations about the devil’s well-chronicled history of success in convincing people to accomplish his purposes. You can hear all kinds of chatter about the hostile environment of people who seem to want Christians to fail and see dozens of reminders of those who have gone before who have been roughed up by evil. You can hear all kinds of short-sighted speculation about how it’s harder than ever to live a faithful life in these times.

It is altogether appropriate to have a healthy respect for your opponent. But there is a huge difference between worrying yourself into losing before you’ve even taken the field, deciding you’re likely to lose before you’ve even thrown the first pitch, and throwing yourself fully into practice and preparation, aligning with a team to watch your back and cover your mistakes, and submitting yourself to the leadership and guidance of a coaching staff. It seems to me as we enter into the Yankee Stadium of life we have no reason to be nervous. This is, after all, what we’ve spent so much time preparing for, and we have a wonderful team to support us and an unrivaled coaching staff to lead us and to guide us!

An Infusion of the Holy

Here are two related quotes I rediscovered today in Eugene Peterson's outstanding book Tell It Slant: A Conversation on the Language of Jesus in His Stories and Prayers:

Jesus, equally at home in heaven and on earth, equally at home in his "Father's house" and in Joseph and Mary's house, used the same language--personal, metaphorical, particular, relational, local--wherever he happened to be, whether in the synagogue or out on the street, and with whomever he was talking to, whether a Samaritan or God. He didn't debase the holy into the secular; he infused the secular with the holy. (268)

I want to eliminate the bilingualism that we either grow up with or acquire along the way of growing up: one language for talking about God and the things of God, salvation, and Jesus, singing hymns and going to church; another language we become proficient in as we attend school, get jobs, play ball, go to dances, and buy potatoes and blue jeans. One language for religion and another for everything else, each with its own vocabulary and tone of voice. I want to break down the walls of partition that separate matters of God and prayer from matters of getting food on the table and making a living.(267)

Peterson's longing to eliminate bilingualism resonates deeply with me. However, what often results when we become aware of this discrepancy is the contrived usage of religious vocabulary in unnatural, attention-getting kinds of ways. It seems to me Peterson's aim is not to embolden Christians to wear their religious vocabulary on their conversational sleeves or wave it around like a flag. In addition to destroying communication with those who don't share our faith, such a practice would fail to heed Jesus' repeated reminders not to show off our faith. Rather, his aim is to guide us into an awareness that we are being shaped as whole beings into the likeness of Christ, including our capacity for using language. It is vital, therefore, that we exercise great care when utilizing this gift of language we've been given.

What might it look like today for us, like Jesus, to infuse the secular with the holy? Surely to take up this task is to recognize that all language occurs in the context of relationships and to begin by recognizing Christ has called us to a new way of engaging in all our relationships. What if we saw every interaction with a cashier, every moment spent in attendance at ballgames, every encounter with a fellow driver on the road, every conversation with an employee, as an opportunity to infuse the secular with the holy? God only knows.

Praying with the Revolutionary Rescuer

Here's the audio of Sunday's sermon, "Praying with the Revolutionary Rescuer," based on Matthew 6:9-13.

Amen

For a few brief moments, it was as if time were standing still. It was lunchtime Thursday, and I was trying to catch up with a few more people before leaving Abilene to journey back to Hohenwald after my trip to ACU’s Summit. I was excited to catch up with an old friend and to hear about the changes that are just around the corner for him and his family. I was excited to share with him stories of friendships developed in my new surroundings. Perhaps most of all, I was excited we were going to be able to share one more fantastic meal at Harold’s Pit Bar-B-Q.

But it wasn’t the smell of the mesquite-smoked beef brisket as we walked through the door that seemed to cause time to stand still. Rather, it was the sound of owner Harold Christian’s voice stopping all conversations in their tracks by inviting everyone in the room to join him in a song and launching into the familiar refrain of the gospel spiritual, “Amen.”

Harold and Drucilla Christian

For a few moments, in the unlikeliest of places, it was as if we were standing on holy ground. The line stopped moving. Customers set their sandwiches down. Conversations ceased.

Sure there were some who didn’t sing along. Sure there were no conversion experiences. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that, for a moment, in that most ordinary place and time, Harold shared his faith, his foundation, with all who would listen in the way most natural for him: by using the beautiful, baritone voice God gave him.

Most of us aren’t going to interrupt a crowded restaurant by launching into songs. Indeed, most of us shouldn’t; God hasn’t placed us in a position like Harold’s or gifted us with that kind of voice. But Harold’s ability to allow his faith to permeate everything he does and to keep him grounded, even if it means sacrificing efficiency during the lunch rush, is an excellent example for us all. It is a picture of what it means to do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Here's a video of the scene that day.

Infomercial Jesus

Donald Miller has quite a way with words. These, in particular, caught my attention this morning as I was finishing his latest page-turner, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life:

Growing up in church, we were taught that Jesus was the answer to all our problems.... But the idea that Jesus will make everything better is a lie. It's basically biblical theology translated into the language of infomercials. The truth is, the apostles never really promise Jesus is going to make everything better here on earth. Can you imagine an infomercial with Paul, testifying to the amazing product of Jesus, saying that he once had power and authority, and since he tried Jesus he's been moved from prison to prison, beaten, and routinely bitten by snakes? I don't think many people would be buying that product. Peter couldn't do any better. He was crucified upside down, by some reports. Stephen was stoned outside the city gates. John, supposedly, was boiled in oil. It's hard to imagine how a religion steeped in so much pain and sacrifice turned into a promise for earthly euphoria. (203-204)

It's one thing to recognize the truthfulness of these words. It's quite another to allow them to critique our own expressions of faith and practice of ministry.

• How do we honor this truth when ease and comfort are among society's ultimate values?
• How do we honor the true Christ when the primary hope of many Christians for future generations is that they be excited about church or Jesus, thus leading to the praise and exaltation of Infomercial Jesus?
• How do we honor the Servant who prays "Not my will but yours" in a made-to-order world in which we've made Jesus into a product pitch-person selling a customizable, made-to-order version of himself?

Surely our attentiveness to the stories of Jesus about the good Samaritan, a selfish older brother, a persistent and dedicated gardener, and others has helped us see that one of these things just doesn't belong here: ThighMaster, Salad Shooter, Awesome Auger, ShamWow!, Jesus.

May the Holy Spirit root out any desire we have for Infomercial Jesus and draw us nearer to the One who willingly lays down his life for others!

A Common Vocation

One of the challenges we face as people of faith is not disconnecting faith from life. In Christianity Beyond Belief: Following Jesus for the Sake of Others, Todd Hunter observes the tendency we have of associating the notion of vocation solely with whatever it is we do with our lives, especially our career or job. In my experience Christians often seem to have been left with the impression that whatever they do in their various everyday roles has little or nothing to do with their faith. The ability to live out faith is thus restricted to one's private devotional life or one's participation in the activities of the community of faith. While these are certainly appropriate ways of living out one's faith, I think these words from Hunter are a helpful reminder that we can live out faith by doing whatever we do all in the name of the Lord Jesus:

Vocation or calling is about much more than what we do. It is one person--God--calling to another person--me. Cooperating with God, growing in him for the sake of others, is our singular vocation, no matter what we do to get a paycheck. We are principally called to God and his purposes. Fix this in your imagination--following Jesus is our special function--and the rest will fall into place. It becomes our self-conscious identity. We can live this vision out as school teachers, police officers, business partners, actors, managers or construction workers. Life suddenly pops with meaning, power and adventure. This--cooperating with God--is why we were created. (53)

In your roles as teachers or accountants, truck drivers or doctors, stay-at-home parents or retirees, how does your faith give meaning to your ordinary routines and activities?

Jesus the Storyteller

These words jumped out at me this afternoon as I re-read portions of Eugene Peterson's outstanding book Tell It Slant: A Conversation on the Language of Jesus in His Stories and Prayers:

Storytellers invite participation. Storytellers make us aware of the way things are, not just aware as spectators but aware so that we can get in on this world of wonders.... Jesus does not tell stories in order to illustrate large 'truths' about God and salvation, the devil and damnation.... Jesus tells stories, not to inform or explain or define, but to get us actively in on the ways and will of God in the homes and neighborhoods and workplaces where we spend our time.

Nothing is more rudely dismissive of Jesus than to treat him as a Sunday school teacher who shows up on Sundays to teach us about God and how to stay out of trouble. If that is the role we assign to Jesus, we will badly misunderstand who he is and what he is about. He is calling us to follow and join him in the work of salvation's eternal life being carried out right now.... (134-135)

What might happen if we were to take seriously Jesus the storyteller, who calls us into involvement in the unfolding story of God's work in the world?

Dinner with Jesus

Here's the audio of yesterday's sermon, "Dinner with Jesus," based on Luke 14:1-14.

The Silence of God

I’ll never forget the firestorm of controversy among many of my well-meaning Christian friends when Garth Brooks released his chart-topping single, “Unanswered Prayers.” “How could he say such a thing?” they asked. “Doesn’t he know there is no such thing as an unanswered prayer? Sometimes God just says, ‘No!’ I can’t believe he’d suggest God just doesn’t answer.”

It’s amazing how sometimes we’re so anxious to correct someone’s theology that we completely miss the point of what he or she is saying. Because the truth of the matter is, “Unanswered Prayers” was not intended to be a theological argument that God doesn’t answer prayers. Instead, the notion of unanswered prayers is reflective of the feelings so many have had at one time or another in life. We’ve asked and nothing’s been given to us. We’ve sought and we’ve found nothing. We’ve knocked and the door hasn’t been opened. It feels as though all we’ve been given by God is the silent treatment. These are the deep-down heart cries of one who feels (or felt) wronged by God.

The unfortunate truth is many of us are just as uncomfortable with cries of protest to God as we are the notion of unanswered prayers. In spite of the fact scripture is full of examples of people protesting what they feel are wrongs committed by God, we find ourselves jumping to God’s defense, as if God needs a defense team of amateur lawyers.

I wonder what might happen if instead of attempting to correct the finer points of another’s theology or jumping to God’s defense, we instead allowed ourselves to be vulnerable and share our own doubts. What if we shocked the world by acknowledging that sometimes all we experience in response to prayer is the silence of God? What if we told them of a man after God’s own heart who felt abandoned by God, or the Word made flesh who felt forsaken by God, or a suffering apostle who felt neglected by God? Could it be that opportunities for argumentation might be transformed into opportunities for spiritual friendship? Could it be that situations with the potential for conflict might be transformed into situations with the potential for conversion? Could it be that chances to correct others might be transformed into chances to love others? Could it be that the greatest opportunities for ministry occur in the face of the experience of the silence of God?

Here's a video of the song that inspired these reflections: "The Silence of God" by Andrew Peterson.

What experience have you had with the silence of God?