New Years for the Detroit Lions

The Detroit Lions made NFL history on Sunday night, ending their season 0-16 after a 31-21 loss to the Packers at Green Bay. It was the epitome of failure. An article in the NY Times by sportswriter Karen Crouse put it this way:

"The Lions’ emotions swung from hopefulness to helplessness to humiliation as the fact sank in that they had replaced the 1976 expansion Tampa Bay Buccaneers, who finished 0-14, as the benchmark for badness."

Watching part of the second half on Sunday with a friend, I thought to myself: What on earth is their motivation to win this thing? What could the coach possibly say to them at half time? "1-15 means victory boys!" Ugh.

Well, whatever was said, it was enough to keep them hoping well into the fourth quarter that maybe they could come back and somehow not be the worst team of all time, until...some infighting on a promising drive near the end of game earned them a 15 yard unsportsmanlike conduct penalty, which ultimately led them to give up the ball. They did not get it back.

To me, this is a timely illustration about the difference between new years celebrations and new years resolutions. The Lions need a new year's celebration. As evident in the fourth quarter at Lambeau Field, resolutions do not work when you've dug yourself to the bottom of a deep, dark pit of failure. At that point, you need to go home and get Billy Idol to help you realize,

"It's a nice day for a white wedding.
It's a nice day to start agaaaaaaaaaaaain!"

The beauty of New Years Day is a clean slate, and this brings new motivation to be a new person. Unfortunately, resolutions usually bring false-hopes that can only reveal to us how much of the old person still helplessly remains. And that can be humiliating.

So here's to the Lion's resurrection in '09! Happy New Year to all.

Boggle is the Church?

My roommate hates Boggle. The time limit stresses her out, and we are both *slightly competitive people, so she doesn’t enjoy the 90 seconds or so of word-hunt. I love Boggle. Boggle has to be one of the best games ever made. If you’ve never played it, it may seem slightly simplistic; but it is incredibly fun, and it is a picture of the kingdom of God.

Boggle is a game where 16 dice with letters on each side are jumbled around in a plastic box and then arranged (however they happen to fall) in a 4-sided grid. Your mission is to construct as many words as possible within the time limit using the dice; the catch is that the dice you use to make the words must be touching. The words you create which your opponents do not count as points for you.

At the end of a round, one player reads their list out loud, often to the amazement, frustration, and amusement of the other players. It is ridiculous how many words are there to be discovered. You can often spend the last 30 seconds of a round searching the board for anything you might have missed- staring and trying your hardest to see new words. But you rarely (if ever) find them all.

I realized at the end of the third round today why I love this game. It is reflective both of the beauty of community we get to share in through Jesus presently, and the hope we live in that all will be revealed and made perfect one day in heaven. We each see different words in the puzzle set before us, just as we each see and experience different aspects of the Lord in relationship with Him. We all bring these experiences to the table, and we get to discover even more of how loving, dynamic, beautiful, and good He is. The end of the round is fantastic because you can’t believe that there are any more words to find- and yet, voila! Through the sharing in community, you discover brilliant words you just couldn’t see! And even as you sit with your fellow word-hunters after having gone through your lists, sometimes you happen to uncover several other words you’ve all missed.

I enjoy the game most when I am not in cut-throat competition mode, focused solely on the task of finding words to win (which is a special place for me, if you are aware of my competitive inclinations). I love the anticipation that comes with knowing that others are going to offer up some ridiculously clever finds which make me appreciate that there is always more to discover. I love that we get to bring our finds together to see the puzzle more comprehensively. I love that only God knows all of the words which might be extractable from that crazy concoction of letters, and I love that I’ll one day sit with Him as He shows them to me. (Although I’m not so sure Boggle will be on my mind at that point…)

The Return of the King

Imagine standing amongst 5 million other people as you await to be a part one of the most monumental days in history. Half of the world is watching on television. You have been willing to wait in freezing temperatures, wrestle with traffic, and even camp overnight all in order to reserve your spot for the big day. The anticipation has been stretched out for years, even though it feels like an eternity at times. In the last couple days you have even been losing sleep amidst the excitement.

Such is the sentiment of many Americans concerning the inauguration of president-elect Barack Obama in less than a month. That day in January will be a significant milestone in American history. Consequently, this inauguration will be one of the most elaborate ones ever. According to the Los Angeles times, the Obama team hopes to raise $40 million in order to cover the costs of the festivities. Of course, the president-elect will first officially be sworn in, receiving his rightful title. Then nearly five days of celebrating will ensue. Would anyone expect anything less for one of the most joyful days in our nation's recent memory?

If the previous two years have taught me anything, it has been that when the pressure is on, people act with completely unedited behavior, and if there is one thing the election taught us concerning human nature, it is that we LONG for a king. When times are tough, with a faltering economy and broken military crisis, we are desperate for one to come in and make everything right. We cry out for leadership. But we don't want just any leader. Our conscience somehow seems to give us a specific vision. Many of those who voted for Barack Obama feel he fits this profile. Others may not have voted for him, but express similar hopes for any candidate. They long for a leader who is powerful -not kind of powerful - but one able to accomplish whatever he needs in order to provide for their well-being. They long for a leader who is just - not kind of just - but holistically just - one who can weed out corporate greed, provide decent health-care for all, and emphasize diplomacy over violence. They long for a leader who is innocent - not just slightly innocent - someone who is completely immune from even the slightest of temptations. Perhaps most of all, they long for someone who will heal our nation - not sort of heal it - but fully redeem it, accepting responsibility for the holes it has dug itself into. Surely every human being can identify with the longings for this kind of a king.


For this desperation for a king is universally expressed. When we are honest, all of us can admit that life feels as thought it ought to look differently than it really does. One glance at the morning's headlines reminds us. Whether it is a story exposing a governor's corruption or the horrifying murder of young girl by her mother, our world appears just as broken as ever. If this feels distant, consider what conclusions we might draw from the lighter columns advising us how to tolerate our family members when home for the holidays. Unfortunately, it seems something is lacking in us, as well. If we are not aware of it in ourselves, surely we recognize it in those immediately around us.

Yet, while many understandably wait for this magical day in January, it is a historically accepted fact that one man claimed to be king over 2000 years ago. And yet while he was crucified and buried, he rose again with the promise of a final return - a return that will surely be the most radiant, most glorius celebration in all of time. Just like the coming inauguration, he will accept his rightful throne and rule his kingdom in power. However, unlike any human leader we could ever have, this one perfectly meets the expectations inscribed on our conscience - a leader who commands all power, administers perfect justice, exhibits pure innocence, and yet bore all of our shortcomings that we may gain citizenship to the kingdom itself. However, there's no camping out for this ceremony. No donations are required. He The one price for the subjects' attendance was paid by the king himself.

Yet this King did not arrive to Earth in a limosuine. He was not accompanied by millions of adorning fans or greeted by a slew of A-list celebrities. No, he arrived in a dirty room of animals, defining the humble life he would lead and the humiliating death he would submit Himself to on our behalf.

As you gaze upon this historic moment next month, consider the most beautiful inauguration of all time that will crown the one truly worthy king. May it be soon!

The Weary World Rejoices

For all who are feeling exhausted or depressed or anxious this holiday season, Merry Christmas to you. I think this is my favorite of all Christmas carol lyrics - the not-so-familiar fourth verse of "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear":

O ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow
Take heart, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing
O rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing!

Beauty In Our Secular Christmas?

I was listening to some "holiday" music on NPR today while driving around and was amazed at how many happy, positive songs there are about Christmas that have absolutely nothing (overtly) to do with Christianity. Well, I guess I wasn't that amazed, but it was interesting. Every single song I heard spoke of something fond or magical about this time of year, while not a single one mentioned anything particularly Christian, and I'm sure the folks at NPR were quite intentional about this, which I can understand. But to me, it begs the question: Why? Why so fond of Christmas? What is the source of this Christmas magic, if not simply the hard facts about Jesus being born to a virgin some 2000 years ago? Obviously tons of people don't believe that and still LOVE Christmas time. 

So what is it that makes Christmas so universally wonderful? Even for those of us who believe in the Christ-child of the Bible, we don't simply love Christmas because of the fact that He was born, do we? Perhaps the best of us can answer yes, but for most, the answer is no.

Think about children. When you were a child, if you were normal, you loved Christmas for the presents. That's simple and not at all "Christian". But even that goes beyond the realm of mere selfishness and materialism into the realm of magic if you believed (as many of us did) that there was a jolly old god-like saint flying around the world in a sleigh and coming down your chimney to leave you that gift you really wanted. And let's be honest, you believed you would get it, even if you were a brat most of the time, even despite the threats from your parents, and even though you were confident Santa was quite serious about his naughty and nice list. Still you trusted. Santa was coming for you.

Of course, when we grew up, we found out that was not actually true. We all believed in something that turned out to be...false. Or did we? Well, yes, in a sense, but in another sense, all the folklore, the movies, the songs, the decorations, and our parents own - uh, lies - were instilling in us something very profound, and profoundly true. At Christmas we really believed that there was a deeper magic to this world, a magic from the outside, which was extremely powerful and yet extremely personal. We were confident this magic was big enough to reach the whole world in a night and yet small enough to fit down our very own chimney, walk around in our living room, and eat our cookies. And we believed that, while he stood only for what was good and noble and worthy, he came to give gifts, not rewards. We knew all this at Christmas, and we were right.

As Natalie Portman's character said in one of my all-time favorite movies (though I have almost given up trying to get other people to like it with me!), V For Vendetta, "Artists use lies to tell the truth while politicians use them to cover the truth up." Very true. And I think, if we are Christians, we ought to understand this "art" correctly. But first let me say, the facts of the Christian message are crucial. They MUST NOT be lies. To paraphrase Paul, if Jesus was not actually raised from the dead, then all is lost. Our faith is pointless and pitiable at best, and probably extremely harmful to the world and to ourselves at worst. Our hope is in the facts of Jesus coming, dying, rising, and returning to reign (when he does). But even those facts are something more than facts. They are more than packageable, memorizable moments on a timeline. And they appeal to more than just our memory or our intellect. They are a story - the story, in fact, which speaks to the deepest longings of every human heart. The story we all want to be true, that proclaims that there is hope for us and for this screwed up world we live in.

C. S. Lewis, a gifted storyteller himself, speaks of the Christian story in a similar fashion, I think, except instead of the word "story," he uses the word "myth," which in our culture has become nothing more than a synonym for "not true." For example, "You don't really believe that Bible non-sense do you? Christianity is a myth!" Well, maybe it is, but perhaps it's the myth that speaks to deepest parts of the human soul. And maybe it's the myth that became fact at Christmas, when Mary became pregnant. At least, that's what Christians believe. Anyway, here's a quote from Lewis on this subject:

"To be truly Christian we must both assent to the historical fact and also receive the myth (fact though it has become) with the same imaginative embrace which we accord all myths. The one is hardly more necessary than the other. The man who disbelieved the Christian story as fact but continually fed on it as myth would, perhaps, be more spiritually alive than the one who assented and did not think much about it."

So it's Christmas time in America, and it is easy to see how our culture has sadly trampled on the real beauty and the real hope of the facts of the Christmas story - the incarnation of God himself. But, in my view, we have not yet trampled on the myth. On the contrary, at Christmas we seem to feed on it. Think about it. In our customs and traditions, are we not in some way clinging to the ancient myth(s) of love, redemption, and restoration? Is there not some of the right kind of hope, even in the secular carols, customs, decorations, and myths that inspire us to celebrate, to reconcile, to do good, and care for the needy, though we may not have any idea about the source of the inspiration?

Perhaps there remains something magnificent about our American Christmas, that along with destructive commercialism and consumerism, helpless family dysfunction, cold weather, and the reminder of sickness, poverty, and death...there is also the mysterious yet familiar feeling of hope that somehow draws even the most broken and unfaithful among us into a love story that became fact when the Word became flesh, and became our real redemption on the splintered wood of an actual cross some 2000 years ago.

Yet even without knowing it or without remembering it or without believing it, we sing and bake and decorate and give...because we want it to be true. We need it to be true. Lord, thank you that it is. Merry Christmas!

Despair, Then Hope.

The holiday season is traditionally a time when we remember the poor, and at present there are literally hundreds of homeless men, women and children in our area. Some of them may find temporary shelter in places like the Judeo-Christian Outreach Center, the Salvation Army or the home for battered women, but many will be sleeping in the woods tonight. Some will wander the streets all night long in the cold with absolutely no place to go. Others will try to get some sleep on public benches at the oceanfront, and still others will take semi-shelter against the outside walls of local churches like First Presbyterian and even Galilee. This is happening every night just blocks from where you and I live.

They have known desperation in ways that most of us cannot imagine. And while we may walk by them and, at times, think, "Why can't you just get a job at McDonald's or something?", the truth is for many of them that they aren't even welcome to have a meal in McDonald's, much less to get a job there. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bought a burger for someone while they waited outside the door. They are the rejects of society. They have burned bridges. Most of them have quite literally lost everything, not only their belongings, but also their relationships with every single friend and family member. Having slipped through the cracks of every local social service organization, they are the ones for whom all attempts at reform and recovery have ultimately failed. And now they’re roaming the streets and freezing to death in the woods – men, women, and children alike – and we are less than excited about helping them.

That’s why I bring it up: because it’s worth considering. Why do we hardly ever get involved with these people who are so desperately in need of help? Why do we choose to alienate them from our communities, even when often times we genuinely feel sympathy for them? It is strange…but not that strange. We have our reasons, and here’s my best guess as to what they are:

1) It’s almost always awkward and inconvenient. Outwardly needy people don’t fit into the comfortable suburban environments we like to create for ourselves. They can be loud, unkempt and even smelly. None of those things are going to help your business in a restaurant or country club, and they’re not going to be very helpful in your bible study either. Perhaps these are legitimate concerns at times, but certainly they are not admirable concerns. “Nice people” would look beyond such things. “Good Christians” would accept these people anyway, right? Sure. But that’s not the only reason we avoid these individuals. No, we have much more legitimate reasons (it gets ugly from here)…

2) In general, desperate homeless people do not come across as “good people". Often times they're just not. In my experience at least, homeless people don't get banned from McDonald's just because they're smelly. Sometimes they're being discriminated against, but many times they're doing something inappropriate or illegal. They make a scene. Maybe they start begging for or even demanding free food, and then they threaten the woman at the register when she doesn’t deliver. Happens all the time. Homeless people have issues. Ministries and charitable organizations market themselves with the idea of “helping innocent victims", and they appeal to us for that very reason. But what happens when the victims are also offenders? Nobody after watching one of those inspirational commercials on TV says, “That’s nice, but I’d rather find some crack-heads and sex offenders to help.” Everyone would rather help "good people".

But maybe you've noticed there's kind of a shortage of these "good people", and not just out in the streets. Spend enough time with the people in your own family, your school, your workplace, even your church, and you may not like what you see. As my old boss used to say, "Working in a church is like working at a fast food restaurant; you're not gonna want to eat there anymore." This is true, and very depressing. But maybe you've come to grips with the fact that we all have serious issues and we all need help, and this does not drive you to despair. You say to yourself, “These homeless peoples' issues are far more obvious than my own, but maybe we’re not that different after all.” And strangely, you have new inspiration to help. Good. So let’s say you start getting to know a homeless person. You soon discover problem number three.

3) They hardly ever make progress. First you decide to give money. Most people have done this, and if you have, you know it doesn’t help much at all, other than making you feel better about yourself. So then you decide to give your time instead and perhaps help someone find housing and apply for a job. For most of us, time is our most precious commodity, much more difficult to part with than our money. But you want to, and you enter into this person’s world. The first problem you run across is that he doesn’t have any form of ID, which is an absolute necessity, so you must spend the next several months going through each and every government process required, and at last you succeed. Then after another long process you get him into a decent apartment, but after three weeks he breaks some rules, threatens the landlord, and is evicted. Back to square one. But there is still hope for the job. The one concern is that his resume may reveal that he’s not quite qualified, but the next day you discover the real issue: his criminal background disqualifies him completely. Back to square one again. Then add addiction to the equation. How many times are you willing to take someone back to rehab and pay their way through again, even when it doesn’t seem to help at all? And how many times are you willing to get lied to? How many times are you willing to get used before you call it quits? You can try to stay motivated by telling yourself, “He’s going to get better. Things are going to work out.” But what happens when he doesn’t get better and things don’t work out?

Well, you really, actually despair. You feel like all your efforts add up to nothing, and there is no hope for this person’s life to ever be made right outside of the miraculous grace of God. Exactly right. Remember this?
This is the center of our faith. We are Christians. We’re the ones who believe that there is no hope for us outside of this one occasion of utter despair. We're the ones who believe that we nailed our Savior to a cross, even as he said, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do,” and promised eternal life to the criminal being justly executed by his side. The cross is hope for hopeless people.

You see, at just the right time, while we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man…But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” - Romans 5:6-8

Christianity is not for good people, acceptable people, or even improving people. Christ died for the powerless and the ungodly. He died for the “down-and-outs”, and we are among them: the loud, the unkempt, and the smelly, the helpless and the hopeless, the victims and the offenders. If other people knew our hearts, all we’ve done and said and thought, we wouldn't be allowed in anywhere! But at a church where the gospel is preached and the eucharist is served, there, needy sinners like us will always be welcome. And so will our needy friends from the streets. And one day, in the Kingdom of God, we will all finally be strong.

The plight of the homeless reminds all of us of our common helplessness in being who we want to be, who we were meant to be. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; He chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of the world and the despised things – and the things that are not – to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. We and our homeless neighbors are one in our need. We're in this together. Try to remember that as you see one begging on the sidewalk or making a scene in a 7 Eleven. We are just as desperate, and there is hope for us both. Rejoice! Emmanuel has come to thee.

Arrested Development Movie?

There was a time when TV changed lives. Perhaps you have forgotten. Or perhaps you were somehow left in the shadowy darkness of ignorance. It was called Arrested Development, and it changed the landscape of television forever - no, even more - the very landscape of human hearts who were found somehow soaking in it rays. (Especially if those hearts could personally relate with the Bluth family and their ridiculous portrayal of family dysfunction.) Yes, for a time, there was daylight entering the dark world of Friends and Everybody Loves Raymond re-runs.

But alas, after not quite three seasons, Fox shut it down. And so, with the blessed exception of The Simpsons and the The Simpsons Movie, I have spent the last couple of years shaking my fist in rage at the now-awkwardly-named, 20 Century Fox Studios. But perhaps they are finally coming to their senses. I had heard murmurs, nay, rumors afoot about the making of an Arrested Development movie. But now, apparently, there is speculation (the next step up after murmurs and rumors). And I've been out of the loop. Ladies and gentlemen, there is hope.

This is a video from quite a few months back. Opinions certainly may vary about Keith Olbermann, but I give this minute and a half an A++. Watch and hope with me...



And here's more hope from Gob Bluth (pronounced like Job in the Bible, hmmm...):



Friends, if you haven't seen this show, you should probably go get the first season right now (but skip the extended anchor - it's uncensored and not as funny; the bleeps in the anchor are way funnier.) Go buy it. Trust me. Or else I'm going to have to give it to you for Christmas.

8 Pound 6 Ounce Baby Jesus

In yesterday's post, Ross wrote about how Christmas itself is wonderful. "It meets our longings. It fills our needs. It invades the dead of our winter, bringing light to the darkness and warmth to the cold."

How incredible! Christmas ITSELF is wonderful. So wonderful in fact, that many people love to celebrate it without really even understanding what they are doing. How many people do you know who have Christmas trees, hang stockings, or light up their front lawns every December and yet may never have stepped foot in a church or opened a Bible to hear the story of how Jesus came into the world over 2000 years ago? You don't really have to be a Christian at all to celebrate Christmas. How ironic!

It seems that many people share the sentiments of Ricky Bobby in Talladega Nights when he prays to little baby Jesus "in his golden fleece diapers with his tiny, little fat balled up fists... don't even know a word yet, just a little infant, so cuddly, but still omnipotent." Ricky admits...

Look, I like the Christmas Jesus best, and I'm saying grace. When you say grace you can say it to Grownup Jesus or Teenage Jesus or Bearded Jesus or whoever you want!

I can't help but wonder why?! Why do so many of us celebrate this season without even knowing what we're doing? Why does Ricky Bobby like the Christmas Jesus Best?

Harry and the gang even celebrate Christmas at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For crying out loud! Has Baby Jesus infiltrated the Wizarding world too?

The answer is emphatically yes!! Perhaps in our heart of hearts there is a deeper longing for Christmas than even our minds can comprehend.  Perhaps, without even knowing it, we are acknowledging our need and our hope for something or someone to come from the outside and save us. And perhaps, without even realizing it, we are announcing and celebrating Him, even in the most common Christmas carols:

"Christ the Savior is bo--rn,
Chri--st the Savior is born."

Maybe the Christmas Jesus is so many people's favorite because without even knowing it, at Christmas time they acknowledge that Christ is real... simply by participating in CHRISTmas.

You see, Christmas itself is so wonderful because CHRIST is wonderful!!! This actually is a season of hope, even if we don't really understand what that means. Ricky Bobby and Harry Potter may just be characters in movies but their sentiments resonate deep within each of us. We need Christmas! We need a season of hope, hope that one day all that is wrong will be made right. And as Christians, we know that hope has come in the form of 8 pound 6 ounce baby Jesus.

Christmas: Merciful Interruption

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. – Luke 2:8-11

This is my favorite time of year. I love the anticipation of Christmas. I love the mood, the decorations, and the music. I love the reminders of the gospel I find in the songs we sing and the traditions we keep.

BUT, of course, you may say, this time of year is rife with commercialism, consumerism, and materialism. Especially in America it seems that we’ve just about ruined Christmas. We’ve stripped it of all its meaning. And I think to some extent that is sadly true. I used to get so mad about Christmas every year because it never seemed like anyone cared about the meaning of it all. I’d always overhear neighborhood mothers saying things like,

“I am so not ready for Christmas this year.”

And another would respond, “Oh, I’m not either. I’ve got so much to do.”

Have you heard that? It’s like there’s this checklist in all of our heads entitled, “Things We Need To Do To Be Ready For Christmas.” And the older we get, the more we get this idea in our head that if Christmas is going to be good, we’ve got to make sure that we are the ones to make it good. And then we get really obsessive about the preparation and miss out on the whole deal. It’s like spending weeks planning, packing, and preparing for a vacation, and then forgetting to get on the plane.

We always seem to miss the fact that Christmas is bigger than us. Christmas is not what we make of it. It just is. It’s self-sustaining. Have you ever stopped and wondered what is so magical about this time of year? It’s a strange question. Think about it. It’s the dead of winter. The days are short; it’s windy and cold; you dread going outside at all, and then you get in the car and hear, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” playing on the radio, and you can’t help but think, “Ahhh, at least there’s Christmas.” Christmas comes at the worst time of the year and makes it the most wonderful time of the year. And it’s not because we decided, “I’ve got an idea: I’m going to give Christmas my all this year – I’ll make it wonderful.” But rather it’s because Christmas itself is wonderful. It meets our longings. It fills our needs. It invades the dead of our winter, bringing light to the darkness and warmth to the cold.

My family usually doesn’t get this and I assume we’re probably not the only ones. Though we’ve done a lot of things well, holidays have never been “the most wonderful time of the year” for us. In fact, it’s usually the “crap-crappiest season of all.” It’s a nightmare! We’ve spent years trampling over the beauty of Christmas by last-minute shopping, chronic over-buying, stressful last-minute decorating, intense boot-camp style wrapping, and of course, ridiculous family feuds about one thing or another. We go through the whole mess just to “make it a good Christmas,” and by the time we get to church on Christmas Eve I can’t quite remember what we’re celebrating! You’ve all probably experienced this type of stuff to some degree, so hopefully you can smile along with me. And we do get to smile, because we know, at the end of the day, Christmas is still Christmas. It’s like the “deeper magic” of Narnia. It is beyond us and it cannot be undone.

And this is my point. Do we ever really get “ready for Christmas?” Can we ever be ready for God to come and make His dwelling among us? Well, not if ready means cleaning up our act and making ourselves worthy of His visit. No one is. I’m not and you’re not. But thankfully, that’s not what Christmas is all about. Christmas does not celebrate a God who comes to those who have prepared for him, to those who have cleaned up their act, to those who are ready and willing to welcome him in. That’s not the story. When God came to earth, no one was ready. Everyone turned him away. The best he could get was a dirty stable.

But you see, this is good news for all of us. That’s why we celebrate! He didn’t come for those who were ready. He came to invade the ugly lives of those who didn’t give a crap. He wasn’t given a warm welcome. He wasn’t welcomed at all. But he came anyway. Sometimes you’ll hear it said in churchy things, “You know God is a gentleman. He’ll knock on the door, but he’ll never come in unless you let him.” Well, the Christmas story says otherwise. In the Christmas story, when God comes to earth, he breaks down your freaking door. He’s no gentleman; he’s a rescue worker. Jesus comes and shatters every barrier between you and him, because all he wants to do is get to you. You cannot escape the Love of God. That’s what Love means, and that’s what the Christmas story is all about. He has invaded time and space to set you free from everything that’s making you hurt inside. He has come to meet your every longing – and He will. That’s why we sing:

Rejoice, Rejoice, Emmanuel has come to thee…

And:

The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in Thee tonight.

The famous passage in Luke’s gospel explains that an angel came and appeared to some shepherds who were sleeping out in the fields. They were no one special - just some random shepherds. It had never occurred to me before how random this whole scene is. Why those dudes? God is coming to the earth and the angel finds some random shepherds to tell? It’s not like they were especially prepared for the whole thing. They were scared out of their minds! But the angel comes to them with this news, kind of like, “Hey, you guys are members of this planet. You’re gonna wanna hear this…” And then he says, “I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people.” Your world has a Savior. He was just born. And this news is for all people. It doesn’t say “good new of great joy for some people, for those who make themselves worthy.” It says “good news of great joy that will be for all people.”

The message is this: Hey random shepherds “Do not be afraid. Your world has a Savior.” Hey rich kings from far away lands, “Your world has a Savior.” Hey poor African AIDS orphans, “Your world has a Savior.” Hey newly pregnant unwed teenager in America, “Your world has a Savior.” Hey fanatical Muslim terrorist, “Your world has a Savior.”

God has come down. God interrupts. God invades our distracted, self-indulgent lives and makes us His own. He turns everything upside down. Through Jesus, he rewrites the story of the world so that sorrow, pain, darkness and death give way to cookies, gift giving, bright lights, and singing. And that’s what makes Christmas so beautiful. Jesus has come and He’s making all things new. So Merry Christmas.

The Difference Between Optimism & Hope

I teach a confirmation class for teenagers preparing to be confirmed at our church, and last night's topic, as dictated by the Outline of the Faith in the Prayer Book, was "The Christian Hope." A few hours before the class, I got a call from a friend in Charlottesville who let me know that one of my close friends had been found dead in his apartment. As is often the case, the shocking reality of the word "dead" did not hit me for a little while. In this case, it was right after I arrived in the youth room that evening. And there I was, crying on the floor, 15 minutes before I was going to teach a class on "The Christian Hope."

What is "hope" anyway? I think in our culture, the word has become almost interchangeable with "optimism," that is, looking on "the bright side" of things. Even when the worst happens, we try to find the good in it, and/or we make ourselves believe that some good will come it. As Christians, we've gotten pretty good at this. We use the Bible to preach optimism all the time. We mine it for verses that will fit well in Christian Hallmark cards and motivational speeches. Even and especially at funerals, for example, we paint death as a "quiet passing" that is not only natural, but acceptable and ordained by God. You'll often hear this passage read from Ecclesiastes, as though to bring us comfort:

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven

a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot

a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance...

But somehow we miss the words that follow, which bring clarity to what Solomom was saying:

All have the same breath; man has no advantage over the animal. Everything is meaningless. All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the spirit of man rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth?"

And we miss his words that come before:

Meaningless! Meaningless!
Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.

What does man gain from all his labor
at which he toils under the sun?

Generations come and generations go,
but the earth will remain forever...

What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.

The point is, Solomon was bitter. He was not at all finding comfort in the words, "There is a time to be born and a time to die." He was questioning whether or not there was any meaning to life at all if, no matter how much one works or learns or does or gains, you soon end up in the grave, like every human being before you, and like every one that is to come after.

Solomon was not an optimist here. He did not see the bright side of anything, except maybe for a moment, as it was being overshadowed by the unstoppable darkness of death. He was honest.

But he was wrong about one thing. There was one who came and proved him wrong; one who came to break the meaningless cycle of death once and for all. He came as a light in the darkness, but the darkness did not understand him. He gave himself up to the cycle of meaninglessness, and he died. But with his death, he brought the entire cycle down with him, and he conquered it and he rose victorious.

We believe this. This is our hope. And it is real hope. So there is no need to be optimistic. In other words, there is no need to play mind games with ourselves to make ourselves feel a little bit better. We can call death what it is - our enemy. We can hate it. We can agree with Solomon that if sin and death get the last say, this life is meaningless. But then we can say, "What of it? Our hope is in the One who called Himself 'the resurrection,' the One who died to overcome death and the One who promised that if we put our hope in him, even though we die, we will never die." (from John 11) This is our hope.

And, again, it is real hope. Optimism, in this respect, would be worthless. We cannot make Jesus and Christianity just another a way to make ourselves "feel better" about humanity and the world. He did not die simply to be a martyr. He did not die simply to inspire. He did not die simply to leave a "legacy of love." He did not die to fuel our optimism. He died because He was our only hope. And He is not simply "risen in your hearts." Don't talk such nonsense. He is actually risen.

And if He is not, then our faith is futile, and we are to be pitied more than all men. But that is what it is to put your hope in something. There will be dark times when it seems all is meaningless and nothing is going to work out for good. And we will be tempted to turn to the drug of optimism for relief. And often times it will bring quick relief, like Advil at the first sign of a headache. But what if it's a tumor that's causing your head to ache? The real issue then is not the pain, but the tumor. The pain serves to show you the reality of the tumor, and the Advil will do nothing to stop it - it will only cover it up or help you to forget about it. Hope, on the other hand, does not necessarily stop your hurting. True Christian hope usually only happens in the very midst of pain. It is especially during the dark times that we are reminded that our hope is found in Him. And there it is secure, no matter what the threat and no matter how much it hurts. We don't need to pretend that this life or this world is better than it is. That makes less of our hope that He is coming back to destroy all that is so screwed up about this place; our hope that the old order of things will pass away, and that He will come with a new heaven and a new earth. In our greatest despair, we realize how truly great our hope is in Jesus.

His name was Nat Glover - my friend who died. I knew him for the last few years of his life, and for the most part, they were not happy times for him. He was an amazing man with a bitter story. He was a movie buff. So am I, so we went to see quite a few "pictures" (as he called them) together, but he was never so impressed with the recent ones compared to the classics of old. He was a talented sketch-artist and would make up movie titles and plotlines with old stars from the 40's and draw up detailed movie posters to give to me and a few other friends. The tragedies of his life, including his own mental and physical ailments, broken relationships with family and friends, and especially the loss of his mother (whom he loved more than anything) had driven him for years into deep, debilitating despair. Most days he could hardly find the motivation to get out of his house, or even to take a shower or have a meal. He was a believer and came to church with us regularly. And when he heard something he knew was true, he would say in his slow, Nat way, "Yeaaaaah, that's right."

In my view, it was not "Nat's time." At least, not his time to die. It was his time to be free. It was his time to be completely alive, to be completely sane, to be completely himself - to realize what he was always meant for: not to die, but to live eternally with his Maker. And I believe he is now actually free. Praise God. Thank You Lord. What hope we have in You.

Human Nature in a (Disco) Nutshell

I wish I could claim credit for this find. It is from a friend, John Zahl. Gospel truth comes in many forms.



"I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing." - St. Paul, Romans 7

The Ring of Power in Real Life

"What good is it for a man to gain the whole world and yet lose or forfeit his very self?" - Lk. 9:25

I was watching The Fellowship of the Ring yesterday and was struck once again by Tolkien's genius in describing the strange, self-damning nature that seems common to all human beings. It is the very nature that Paul recognizes in himself in Romans 7: "For what I do is not the good I want to do; no the evil I do not want to do, this I keep doing." The ring in Tolkien's story makes this phenomenon crystal clear. It is known as the "The Ring of Power," because it offers just that - power. Control. And everybody wants it. Almost every significant character who comes in contact with the ring is tempted and even overwhelmed by the opportunity it offers for complete control. And yet, all the while, it is quite clear that the ring controls its owner much more than the owner controls anything. How true this idea is in our lives.

In my day-to-day life, I find myself constantly encountering these two faced opportunities, offering first to give me everything I think I want or need, and yet in the very next moment threatening to destroy everything that I actually love. There are a few versions of the Ring of Power in my life. Sometimes I say "no" to them. Sometimes I entertain the thought. Sometimes I actually take one. And I try it on. And I obsess over it. And I defend it almost to the death, though I know on the inside it's terrible for me.

This is what we all do, I think. And I'm not talking about little "sins." I'm talking about your obsessions. You don't have thousands of them. You may have just one right now. Or maybe two or three or four. But one is enough to do some serious damage. You have an alcohol problem or a body-image issue or a money addiction. Maybe you're obsessed with your appearance or your reputation. Maybe with your boyfriend or girlfriend or with a certain guy or girl. Or maybe you're obsessed with whatever it is you currently call "success." You've been working so hard for this promotion or that grade or this acceptance letter or that bit of recognition, and nothing else matters right now. It takes up all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and you've got absolutely nothing left to give to those you care about most. Maybe you cannot picture life without it. Or maybe you tell yourself it's only going to be X more months or years or whatever and then you'll be finished and everything will be back to normal.

This is what we do, and this is what kills us. And even when, at first, we can see that it's killing us, we continue on to the point that the "EXIT" door is no longer anywhere in sight. And it's much more comfortable there, where there is no tension. At times, our conscience may still speak, and we may consider being done with it for good, but usually we just end up thinking there's no need to be that "extreme." Is it really even that big of a deal anyway?

The answer is yes. Yes. Yes it is. The kingdom that your obsession is building for yourself will become hell for you, if it is not already. As Tolkien's friend C. S. Lewis often states in one way or another, hell is getting what you want. Hell is when your obsessions find their fruition, and you end up spending the rest of eternity with yourself. This thought is brilliantly illustrated in Adam Sandler's under-rated not-at-all-a-comedy, Click, in which his character gets a magical remote control which allows him to literally control his entire life. He gets whatever he wants, and thus (spoiler alert) loses everything, including his wife and kids. He gains the world and loses his very self.

In The Fellowship of the Ring, we find a similar scenario (with an opposite turnout) when the queen elf Galadriel sees the ring for the first time. It is perhaps the most chilling scene in the movie. She is so overcome with terrible thoughts of power and control that her entire body grows and lights up and her face becomes almost demonic. But in the very next moment, she shrinks down and smiles again at Frodo, saying, "I pass the test. I will diminish...and remain Galadriel." She gave it up, and thus saved her life.

Jesus' teaching is nearly flooded with this sort of theme - giving up what you want to have, giving up what you have, denying yourself, taking up your cross, etc. And often times these words come in the context of "following him" or being his "disciple."

"...any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple."
- Lk. 14:33

There's been a lot of talk in the church in recent years about "discipleship," which usually deals with the question, "What does it mean to follow Jesus?" This a good question. What does it mean? The assumption in most evangelical churches I have come across is that we do "evangelism" for those who are not Christians, that is, we tell them the good news about Jesus dying for them on the cross. And then once they believe, we do "discipleship," meaning we teach them how to "follow Christ." This makes some sense to me, but still I have to ask, "What does it mean to follow Jesus?" Usually we mean some sort of training that helps us "grow" in faith and obedience after we have accepted him. But interestingly enough, when Jesus talks about discipleship in specific, he seems to have a different idea in mind. Rather than "growth" and "obedience," he speaks over and over again about "giving up," "losing," "denying," and "dying," and all of this from the very beginning. We are told before we even begin that we ought to count the cost - and the cost, apparently, is our current life.

To the rich young ruler, Jesus said:

"You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give it to the poor...Then come follow me."

To the man who wanted to follow, but needed to bury his father first, Jesus said:

"Let the dead bury their own dead..."

To the man who wanted to say good-bye to his family, Jesus said:

"No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God."

To his disciples he said:

"If anyone would come after me he must deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it."

So what does it mean to "follow Jesus?" Well, it means to die, as he did. We follow him to the cross. We bring with us all the things that we are unwilling to let go of - the things that make us slaves - and we go to the cross. Our obsession, our addiction, our kingdom, our hell. We cannot rid ourselves of it on our own, by discipline or determination or will-power. You know that if you've ever tried. It must be put to death. And we must not wait. We must not put it off. Your issue will not subside and be "fine" six months from now or two years from now when circumstances change. Like the ring of power, it must be destroyed or it will destroy. And everything it has made us to be in the mean time must die with it; even if that's ten years worth of "you," kiss it goodbye. However much of our identity has been built on that thing, that is how much must be torn down.

Can you imagine being really, really rich and successful, and then having Jesus tell you, "Give it all away"? You would think it ridiculous and wrong, even offensive. But your thoughts would only confirm that he is right. Our kingdom must fall so that his might reign in our hearts. The ring must be destroyed. We must die with Him to our old selves, so that we might be raised to new life with Him. And when we give up our kingdom of autonomy (of hell), we discover a completely new kingdom that is indescribably better...

"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.
Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it." -Mt. 13:44-45

In closing, consider these two sayings of Jesus. In the first, Jesus tells us that the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure in a field that is so valuable it is worth selling everything we have, everything we are in order to have it. And we should. But how on earth can we possibly bring ourselves to do it? How do we destroy the ring that consumes us? How do we find new life? Our hope is in the second image. Notice, the kingdom of heaven in the second line is not like a pearl. The kingdom is like a merchant - a merchant who gave up everything for one invaluable pearl. You are that pearl. The kingdom of heaven sold its one and only Son to buy you out of slavery. He gave up himself so that you could be set free - to be his "disciple" and follow him to the cross where we finally loose the chains of our toxic obsessions; where we die to the old, and are raised to the new.

Monk: Religious Devotee or Underutilized Abbreviation for Monkey?

Actually, it's a TV Show on USA starring the former cab driver from Wings, my favorite kind-of-funny sitcom from childhood. Surprised you didn't know that. Anyway, in this show, Adrian Monk, the main character, is a detective determined to solve crimes while constantly dealing with the challenges of a mental illness, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or OCD. Having watched only one episode of the show (and thus having no right to review it), I was struck by the fact that Monk's helpless condition consistently elicits both pity and laughter, almost simultaneously. It seemed strange at first and then I realized how true-to-life that is. We joke all the time that "I am" or someone else is "so OCD," meaning that we are obsessive about this or unusually anxious about that. We almost always do not have a diagnosable case, and in fact, we may risk seriously insulting those who do, BUT...


There is a reason we make jokes like that. While laughing at our own unusual behaviors, we're covering up something helpless about ourselves - something pitiable. We can actually relate to Adrian Monk. I'm sure Monk fans, whoever they are, probably don't enjoy the show simply for the laughs, and obviously not simply for the pity they feel. There is something more to it - something very familiar about OCD. Something to which we all can relate: helpless, hopeless anxiety.



Consider this. Which was the harder of Jesus' commands?

"Do not worry about your life."

or

"Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect."

Trick question. They are both completely impossible. Like Adrian Monk, we are continually anxious and often even neurotic about one thing or another, and we just can't help it. For Monk it is perhaps an unusual fear of "germs," but for us it is the very usual fear of failure or of losing wealth or losing love or losing security or losing our reputation. And like Monk we are usually trying to combat our fears with rituals and repetitive behaviors that, at best, bring only temporary relief. None of our habitual treatments, religious or otherwise, can actually make the problem go away.

But thank the Lord that He did not simply give a command. He gave His life.

This is the good news of the Christian message. But perhaps it seems trite or overplayed or even nonsensical to you, so I'll try to clarify...

I was recently reading about a newly developed cognitive treatment for OCD called "responsibility transfer therapy." To quote from the article, "In this model, the OCD sufferer is encouraged to hand responsibility for the problematic behavior over to another person. So, for example, a sufferer may allow someone else to monitor whether the oven is turned off, so they don't have to obsess over whether it is." And apparently this works! Do you see where I'm going with this?

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. - 1 Peter 5:7

This means surrender your "positive thinking" mind-games, and cast your anxiety on Him. Surrender your insurance policies, and cast your anxiety on Him. Surrender your alcoholism, your pornography addiction, your exercise addiction, your eating disorder, your "looking cool," your guilt, your grief, your insecurities, your pietism, and cast your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.

Peter was able to follow up Jesus' impossible command with this comforting promise, because he saw Jesus crucified and risen. Your responsibility has been transferred to Jesus on the cross. It is for freedom that Christ has set you free.

Christianity Is A Myth?

I haven’t seen Bill Maher’s new movie, Religulous, but I’ve heard a little about it. Within his broad criticism of organized religion, Maher reveals that Jesus was suspiciously similar to the ancient Egyptian god, Horus, who was believed to have been born of a virgin, had twelve disciples, walked on water, died and was resurrected.

By pointing out this similarity, Maher probably wants to shock a lot of Christians. And maybe we should be shocked and worried a little. Maybe we have something to learn from Maher. Let us not simply scoff and dismiss him as some evil atheist and look for the first shallow reason we can find to discredit him. We’re not running for political office, are we?

So is Christianity a myth? That depends on what ‘myth’ means. As opposed to seeing ‘myth’ as a synonym for ‘something false that was made up,’ let’s look at a more classical definition of ‘myth’ as, roughly, something that communicates reality to the senses or to the imagination. In this way, Christianity is a myth, because it certainly communicates reality to our hearts and souls and imaginations as well as to our brains.

But is it just a myth that copied earlier myths? Was Jesus just a copycat of Horus? Here we can turn to one much wiser than we and Bill Maher, particularly in the realm of literature and mythology, C.S. Lewis:

“The heart of Christianity is a myth which is also a fact. The old myth of the Dying God, without ceasing to be myth, comes down from the heaven of legend and imagination to the earth of history…We pass from a Balder or an Osiris [that’s Horus’ dad by the way], dying nobody knows when or where, to a historical Person crucified…We must not be nervous about ‘parallels’ and ‘Pagan Christs’: they ought to be there—it would be a stumbling block if they weren’t” (God in the Dock, 66-67).

I think what Lewis is getting at is this: some of these ‘myth’ realities are in our DNA. These have echoed throughout human history—here in Egyptian mythology, here in Greek mythology, here in a peasant farmer who wrote a poem one day that no one will ever read, about a god who died and rose from the dead.

So Jesus was a copycat: that’s the whole point. He was a copycat of the entire Old Testament (see Luke 24), and not just that, but he was the copycat of the true ‘myths’—the ones that contained some grain of reality—that popped up throughout history.

But he was more than a copycat. He was the fulfillment of all of these hopes, these prophecies, these ‘myths’—Jewish and Egyptian (and Greek and Roman and Babylonian…). What these imagined, or prefigured, he embodied—literally. He was the body, the human being, who was the dying god who rose again. He was and is the real fulfillment, not just of Jewish prophecies, but of the deepest longings in every human heart, portrayed in the very best myths across cultures and across history.

The Denied High Five & The Gospel

Here are some brilliant thoughts on insecurity and the gospel from a friend of mine in C-ville, Matt Kleberg. Can you relate?

There are few moments more socially humiliating than the denied high five. You walk through a group of people, see a friend in the crowd and throw up a big five, but alas, the so-called friend misses the gesture and you are left with your hand in the air. You have one and only one option - the head scratch. If you can convince any witnesses that you really intended the scratch all along then you are safe, but you just know that everyone saw the denial, the rejection. You are a fool. The cover-up scratch failed, and you are humiliated, exposed, a goofy wretch.

[He then explains that, as a Christian, he tended to cover up his weaknesses and issues, not wanting anyone else to see his sin. And his friends began to turn away from him because they couldn't relate. They saw him as fake, "like a mannequin in Christianity's window display." He goes on to say...]

I internalize and cover up my sin and weakness because I fear that any failure on my part implies a failure of Christianity. I must be perfect; otherwise Christianity is just a big flop, exposed as an elaborate hoax. The pressure is on and I must perform so that Christianity looks like a good buy.

This assumption is the exact opposite of the gospel. It is anti-gospel. To say that my failures somehow discredit Christianity completely disregards the cross! What pride and hypocrisy! Out of death we are made alive in Christ and our new identities are not bound up in our own righteousness, but rather the righteousness of Christ. It is by His perfection that we are presented as spotless before the Father. And while the Spirit does begin its healing work on our hearts, it is forever the work of Jesus that makes us children of God. I no longer have to disguise my sin for fear of nullifying the gospel. The gospel, rather, nullifies my sin, and frees me up to live as though transparent. The world can see through me - can see that I am needy and that there is a savior who triumphs over my brokenness.

It is not in my goodness that I truly relate to my friend. We relate to each other in confession, in our common condition.