I had finished 2 1/2 years of college and some work before I went on active duty in the naval reserve. But the world I encountered was far more complex than what I had seen up to that point.
As I began to get to know the guys on my ship and discuss my beliefs with them I realized that I was ill-prepared to answer all their questions. I had been a Christian for years already but had never encountered real challenges to my faith.
As I began to meet the guys and get to know them I encountered the following. One guy was a red-blooded Christian who believed the Vietnamese (who we were in a war with at the time) were just like dogs. He wanted to kill them all. He believed that's all they deserved. Though he professed to "loving" Jesus I couldn't stomach his pure hatred for other creations of God.
Another fellow I met was practicing voodoo on board the ship when we were out to sea. He would go out to the rescue boat on our ship after dark and practice his religion. Although I never chatted with him much I heard about his "faith".
Two other fellows were obviously effeminate. They shared their plans with everyone on the ship as they were preparing to get out of the navy. They were going to leave their wives and join two other men and live as homosexual couples. Again, not something I had talked about in Sunday School.
One of the other guys was a professing Mormon. Seemed like a nice guy, quiet, clean cut but didn't seem to mix with the crew very well.
The guy who challenged me the most was a fellow who professed to being a metaphysician. I was vocal about my faith as any good Baptist raised kid was. I knew enough to get someone saved. In fact, I probably had a PhD in salvation from all the biblical sermons and altar calls I had experienced in my growing up years.
But this guy really stopped me in my tracks. As we shared our beliefs, he would always challenge me with the question, "How do you know God exists?" That's when I realized that the best answer I could give him was because "My Mommy told me so!" That's how deep my theology was at that time.
It was about this time that we encountered the backpackers in Athens, Greece at the English-speaking church service. They pointed me to Francis Schaeffer and his book The God Who Is There. It gave me the framework to begin understanding where the metaphysician was coming from.
Francis Schaeffer had come to his own crisis of faith in his early 50's and spent 3 years reading his Bible and pacing around a chalet in the Swiss Alps. He arrived at the conclusion that God did exist and the Bible was true. Subsequently, his children began to bring their college mates home and he developed a way to help them see the end of their philosophies. They fell short in their claims and he led them to faith in Christ and belief in the Bible. His home in Switzerland became known as L'Abri and young people from all over the world began to flock there to find faith from an intellectual base.
After reading Schaeffer's book and others as well as a trip to Switzerland (I'll share about that some other time) I began a time of discussions with the metaphysician. We would stand on the bridge (an unoccupied space when in port) and discuss the reality of God and what I saw him doing in the world. There was always a crowd of other guys standing around listening to us discuss. That fellow never came to faith that I am aware of but the discussions impacted others on the ship and the body of Christ grew among us.
I had finally owned my own faith and it was deeper than the pat answer I was able to give before...because "My Mommy told me so."
I've often wondered--Who is carrying the mantel that Francis Schaeffer did in that time? Who is answering the intellectual questions of those God-seekers who are searching for truth and reality. Speaking to them in tongues probably isn't going to bring them to faith. Neither is the flashy, loud, screaming TV preacher. Who is helping those of us with a rational mind find a child-like faith in the Father?
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Jesus Freaks
A few years ago Pat mentioned that she and I were Jesus Freaks to someone that was a generation younger than us. They laughed, hadn't heard the term and were surprised that we would want to be called such.
It was popularized during the late 60's, early 70's. With the hippie movement and all its drugs, free love (cheap sex) and other revolutionary ideas about our culture there came a resurgence of a personal relationship with Jesus. It wasn't typically encouraged in main stream denominational churches. It had tastes of the hippie culture from ocean baptisms in CA to the congregating of east coast surfers in growing charismatic churches. Young people were looking for meaning but weren't ready to give up their bell-bottomed jeans, long hair and off beat persona.
I had walked away from my involvement in church as a senior in high school. It was costing me friends by being a "Christian" and I didn't see much difference in their life style and that of the kids outside of church. But after wandering around in college for a couple of years I was longing for meaning and something to invest my life in. I returned to a small Baptist church in Reynoldsburg, OH where I was living at the time.
It just so happened (Ha) that a radical Baptist pastor named Arthur Blessitt was dragging a cross across the US, preaching where he could, bringing kids out of the drug culture into a relationship with Jesus. He had florescent orange stickers with a peace symbol on them that pointed to Christ. He told of druggies, hippies, bikers, prostitutes and others who weren't typically welcomed in church finding peace and release in Jesus. He really believed that the Acts of the Apostles could be lived again. At 20 I was hungry to see that too.
In fact I had walked away from the church because it didn't seem relevant to the issues I was facing. To hear that the Gospel was powerful enough to set people free was just what I was looking for.
I jumped on board and began the ride of a life time. I became hungry to read the Bible and spent time with a close friend four years my junior who was as passionate about following God as I was. We shared our faith with others and spent time reading the Bible.
Soon I was called to active duty in the navy. I had dropped out of college and lost my deferment. When I arrived on my ship I discovered that my chaplain was a Pentecostal. Many of the chaplains were just as carnal as the rest of the crew and took the navy as a way to avoid serving in a congregation. He introduced me to a charismatic church that was drawing kids from the beach culture to Christ.
During my time in the navy I continued to see God move in remarkable ways. We fellowshipped with sailors from other ships in our NATO fleet. I served as protestant lay leader on our ship since none of the officers wanted to do it. That involved holding worship services onboard when out to sea. At one point the chaplain from the carrier wanted to have me ousted because I wasn't ecumenical enough but the crew "revolted" and the captain asked him to return to the carrier and not come back. We had Bible studies and guys came to know God. Sometime I'll write about the discussions we had on the bridge when in port with the metaphysician.
We met Christians when we came to ports around the Mediterranean. Someone gave me a book to study called Youth Aflame by Winky Pratney. I studied it while at sea. We worked in a Youth With A Mission coffeehouse in Copenhagen, Denmark and did some street evangelism on another cruise. With met kids in Athens, Greece who introduced me to Francis Shaeffer that resulted in a trip to Switzerland later in the cruise. We knew that we were on a trek that was led by the Holy Spirit at the expense of the navy.
I remember writing letters back home to friends about the things we were experiencing. One of my friends said it was like getting letters from a modern day apostle Paul.
So what is God doing today that resembles the Jesus Freaks...those who were sold out to Jesus and following him?
It was popularized during the late 60's, early 70's. With the hippie movement and all its drugs, free love (cheap sex) and other revolutionary ideas about our culture there came a resurgence of a personal relationship with Jesus. It wasn't typically encouraged in main stream denominational churches. It had tastes of the hippie culture from ocean baptisms in CA to the congregating of east coast surfers in growing charismatic churches. Young people were looking for meaning but weren't ready to give up their bell-bottomed jeans, long hair and off beat persona.
I had walked away from my involvement in church as a senior in high school. It was costing me friends by being a "Christian" and I didn't see much difference in their life style and that of the kids outside of church. But after wandering around in college for a couple of years I was longing for meaning and something to invest my life in. I returned to a small Baptist church in Reynoldsburg, OH where I was living at the time.
It just so happened (Ha) that a radical Baptist pastor named Arthur Blessitt was dragging a cross across the US, preaching where he could, bringing kids out of the drug culture into a relationship with Jesus. He had florescent orange stickers with a peace symbol on them that pointed to Christ. He told of druggies, hippies, bikers, prostitutes and others who weren't typically welcomed in church finding peace and release in Jesus. He really believed that the Acts of the Apostles could be lived again. At 20 I was hungry to see that too.
In fact I had walked away from the church because it didn't seem relevant to the issues I was facing. To hear that the Gospel was powerful enough to set people free was just what I was looking for.
I jumped on board and began the ride of a life time. I became hungry to read the Bible and spent time with a close friend four years my junior who was as passionate about following God as I was. We shared our faith with others and spent time reading the Bible.
Soon I was called to active duty in the navy. I had dropped out of college and lost my deferment. When I arrived on my ship I discovered that my chaplain was a Pentecostal. Many of the chaplains were just as carnal as the rest of the crew and took the navy as a way to avoid serving in a congregation. He introduced me to a charismatic church that was drawing kids from the beach culture to Christ.
During my time in the navy I continued to see God move in remarkable ways. We fellowshipped with sailors from other ships in our NATO fleet. I served as protestant lay leader on our ship since none of the officers wanted to do it. That involved holding worship services onboard when out to sea. At one point the chaplain from the carrier wanted to have me ousted because I wasn't ecumenical enough but the crew "revolted" and the captain asked him to return to the carrier and not come back. We had Bible studies and guys came to know God. Sometime I'll write about the discussions we had on the bridge when in port with the metaphysician.
We met Christians when we came to ports around the Mediterranean. Someone gave me a book to study called Youth Aflame by Winky Pratney. I studied it while at sea. We worked in a Youth With A Mission coffeehouse in Copenhagen, Denmark and did some street evangelism on another cruise. With met kids in Athens, Greece who introduced me to Francis Shaeffer that resulted in a trip to Switzerland later in the cruise. We knew that we were on a trek that was led by the Holy Spirit at the expense of the navy.
I remember writing letters back home to friends about the things we were experiencing. One of my friends said it was like getting letters from a modern day apostle Paul.
So what is God doing today that resembles the Jesus Freaks...those who were sold out to Jesus and following him?
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Leader of the Band
Last night brought back a lot of memories. We heard the Lancaster Symphony Orchestra.
Coming from KY where all the rednecks live (at least that's what the outside world thinks) I experienced some world class opportunities. One of the things my school system did in Louisville was take us to the symphony. It was a bus trip that got us out of class and that's the way we looked at it.
But my life was transformed the first time I heard live music played by an orchestra. I had always loved music and enjoyed listening to our hi fi, turning up the bass and "feeling" the music. But nothing compares to the opportunity to hear live music played. I remember sitting on the edge of my seat in the balcony, eyes darting back and forth to the different sections of the orchestra that were called to play by the conductor.
The music would ebb and flow...first quietly, then with all the vigor the instruments could muster at the hands, arms and lips of their players.
Passion was on the faces of those who played. They weren't just running a bow across some strings, they were talking with deep emotion using the instrument that had become a very part of them. It was drama without words and stirred our emotions.
Last night I was reminded again of the pomp and circumstance of an orchestra. The first chair in the violin section was a focal point of the orchestra. In fact, first chair in any section carried with it respect and leadership. Aside from the tails, it's fun to think about the duel of the first chair with others who are competing for their spot. It's as intense as a football game can be only they were knocking instruments and not helmets.
Respect was conveyed and appreciation was humbly accepted. The various instrumentalists were caught glancing back and forth at each other, obviously enjoying the making of music with each other. The first chair was pointing out things and drawing their colleagues to more depth.
The featured guest soloist between focus times, stood there with great facial expressions feeling the music and with glances to each section calling them out to higher levels of accomplishment to give the audience an opportunity to share in the emotional exilaration with them.
Back to the first symphony I saw as a teen...the conductor! I remember sitting there watching the whole thing unfold and saying to myself that I wanted to be a conductor. I wanted to practice with the different sections of "instruments" in a organization until they had their part down and then blend them all together to play the "piece". I wanted to help others reach their full potential and mix together with others to delight the "audience". I wanted to conduct.
It's obvious that watching an orchestra play that they didn't sit down 15 minutes before the performance and pull that off. It took hours of coaching and practice to bring them all together. The same with any organization. No one can make lasting changes overnight. It takes a long time to change the culture of an organization whether it is religious or secular.
I still want to be a conductor in the lives of an organization. Where is that stage for me, Father, to bring glory to you?
Coming from KY where all the rednecks live (at least that's what the outside world thinks) I experienced some world class opportunities. One of the things my school system did in Louisville was take us to the symphony. It was a bus trip that got us out of class and that's the way we looked at it.
But my life was transformed the first time I heard live music played by an orchestra. I had always loved music and enjoyed listening to our hi fi, turning up the bass and "feeling" the music. But nothing compares to the opportunity to hear live music played. I remember sitting on the edge of my seat in the balcony, eyes darting back and forth to the different sections of the orchestra that were called to play by the conductor.
The music would ebb and flow...first quietly, then with all the vigor the instruments could muster at the hands, arms and lips of their players.
Passion was on the faces of those who played. They weren't just running a bow across some strings, they were talking with deep emotion using the instrument that had become a very part of them. It was drama without words and stirred our emotions.
Last night I was reminded again of the pomp and circumstance of an orchestra. The first chair in the violin section was a focal point of the orchestra. In fact, first chair in any section carried with it respect and leadership. Aside from the tails, it's fun to think about the duel of the first chair with others who are competing for their spot. It's as intense as a football game can be only they were knocking instruments and not helmets.
Respect was conveyed and appreciation was humbly accepted. The various instrumentalists were caught glancing back and forth at each other, obviously enjoying the making of music with each other. The first chair was pointing out things and drawing their colleagues to more depth.
The featured guest soloist between focus times, stood there with great facial expressions feeling the music and with glances to each section calling them out to higher levels of accomplishment to give the audience an opportunity to share in the emotional exilaration with them.
Back to the first symphony I saw as a teen...the conductor! I remember sitting there watching the whole thing unfold and saying to myself that I wanted to be a conductor. I wanted to practice with the different sections of "instruments" in a organization until they had their part down and then blend them all together to play the "piece". I wanted to help others reach their full potential and mix together with others to delight the "audience". I wanted to conduct.
It's obvious that watching an orchestra play that they didn't sit down 15 minutes before the performance and pull that off. It took hours of coaching and practice to bring them all together. The same with any organization. No one can make lasting changes overnight. It takes a long time to change the culture of an organization whether it is religious or secular.
I still want to be a conductor in the lives of an organization. Where is that stage for me, Father, to bring glory to you?
Thursday, October 7, 2010
819 and Counting
As I wrote in a fb posting recently, I didn't learn how to read until I was out of college after 2 1/2 years and found myself in the navy. I could read the words but I couldn't tell you the plot of what I had read if it was a story or the content of the information if it were a textbook. I got through my 2 1/2 years of college playing bridge when everyone else took a break from studying for finals.
I can remember deciding that I was going to teach myself how to read for comprehension. I determined that I would read a page in a book until I could grasp what was being said. I determined not to put a book down that I had started to read until I was done with it. I have since abandoned that discipline. Some books just aren't worth reading once you get into them.
So for whatever reason I started to read and record the titles of the books I had read. My first one on my list from October 30, 1970 was The Immoralist by Andre Gide. Don't ask me where I got that one!
Since that time I have read over 819 books. I realized the other day when I was typing them into an Excel spreadsheet that there are a few I forgot to write down and there are about a dozen that I have read more than once.
My first year in seminary I was assigned over 10,000 pages of reading. Believe me, some of those books weren't worth reading. I remember sitting in the library at Eastern Mennonite College reading a book on theology. I had read page after page and they all seemed to be the same jumbled up mess. I turned over 50 pages or so and read another page and it seemed just like the one I had finished before. I don't know how someone can make something about God as boring as a theologian can make it.
My most notable books? The first is The God Who Is There by Francis Schaeffer. I'll talk about this in another blog sometime but I'll simply say now that my theology and belief in God was basically "My mommy told me so." In the world I was in in 1970 that didn't go too far.
While in Athens Greece I found an English speaking church (another story for another time). There I met some kids backpacking around Europe. I told them of the things I was encountering in my faith and they directed me to a book. In fact, one of them gave me the book by Shaeffer and told me to read it. If I ever got to Switzerland, I was to drop it off (another story).
I remember sitting in the USO in Athens reading Schaeffer's book...and taking notes on it. Something I had never done while in college. It was transforming because it opened the door of philosophical thought and Christianity. I'll tell you how that impacted my life in...another blog.
The second book came into my hands many years later entitled Wild At Heart by John Eldredge. I had been asking God for some model of what a man of God was supposed to look like. I was interested in the day-to-day face of someone who was walking with God, not some Christian celebrity who was hidden behind the donated wealth they had acquired. I read and reread this book. I've loaned that copy to someone and didn't get it back.
Currently, I've been reading a lot of the classics and appreciating them in a way I couldn't when I was in high school. I've also enjoyed series by Jan Karon, books by John Grisham and many, many more.
I'm an old school guy. I can't imagine not holding a book in my hand when I read it. I hope they always commit some of them to paper. In the meantime, I'll keep reading and expanding my knowledge about so many things. Thank you God for the creativity of yours that you loaned to authors to be able to write for our enjoyment.
I can remember deciding that I was going to teach myself how to read for comprehension. I determined that I would read a page in a book until I could grasp what was being said. I determined not to put a book down that I had started to read until I was done with it. I have since abandoned that discipline. Some books just aren't worth reading once you get into them.
So for whatever reason I started to read and record the titles of the books I had read. My first one on my list from October 30, 1970 was The Immoralist by Andre Gide. Don't ask me where I got that one!
Since that time I have read over 819 books. I realized the other day when I was typing them into an Excel spreadsheet that there are a few I forgot to write down and there are about a dozen that I have read more than once.
My first year in seminary I was assigned over 10,000 pages of reading. Believe me, some of those books weren't worth reading. I remember sitting in the library at Eastern Mennonite College reading a book on theology. I had read page after page and they all seemed to be the same jumbled up mess. I turned over 50 pages or so and read another page and it seemed just like the one I had finished before. I don't know how someone can make something about God as boring as a theologian can make it.
My most notable books? The first is The God Who Is There by Francis Schaeffer. I'll talk about this in another blog sometime but I'll simply say now that my theology and belief in God was basically "My mommy told me so." In the world I was in in 1970 that didn't go too far.
While in Athens Greece I found an English speaking church (another story for another time). There I met some kids backpacking around Europe. I told them of the things I was encountering in my faith and they directed me to a book. In fact, one of them gave me the book by Shaeffer and told me to read it. If I ever got to Switzerland, I was to drop it off (another story).
I remember sitting in the USO in Athens reading Schaeffer's book...and taking notes on it. Something I had never done while in college. It was transforming because it opened the door of philosophical thought and Christianity. I'll tell you how that impacted my life in...another blog.
The second book came into my hands many years later entitled Wild At Heart by John Eldredge. I had been asking God for some model of what a man of God was supposed to look like. I was interested in the day-to-day face of someone who was walking with God, not some Christian celebrity who was hidden behind the donated wealth they had acquired. I read and reread this book. I've loaned that copy to someone and didn't get it back.
Currently, I've been reading a lot of the classics and appreciating them in a way I couldn't when I was in high school. I've also enjoyed series by Jan Karon, books by John Grisham and many, many more.
I'm an old school guy. I can't imagine not holding a book in my hand when I read it. I hope they always commit some of them to paper. In the meantime, I'll keep reading and expanding my knowledge about so many things. Thank you God for the creativity of yours that you loaned to authors to be able to write for our enjoyment.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Thomas Edison
One of my earliest heros was the inventor, Thomas Edison. I'm not sure where I first learned about him and his exploits. I do remember that Mom and Dad took me to Menlo Park, NJ when we lived in NJ. I was about 12 and we visited on a gloomy fall Saturday afternoon. I remember the beauty of the campus where he did many experiments. The big windows. The work benches and the picture of Edison standing beside one of the workbenches. He was often said to sleep in his labs while working on an experiment.
I do know where he was solidified as one of my favorite persons. That was in my sophomore year in high school. My English teacher assigned all of the guys in the class to enter the Optimist Club Speech Contest. We were to write a speech with assistance from the girls in the class, memorize it and deliver it several places.
I read books about Edison and discovered that he suffered from a hearing impairment that resulted from his father pulling him up on a train where he was a conductor...by his ears! This didn't stop Edison.
He became a prolific inventor having his hands in electricity, the phonograph, the telephone, moving pictures and more. The invention that rested with me the longest was the incandescent light bulb. He worked on finding an element or alloy that could be the filament of the light bulb. The trait that was displayed in this and other inventions of his was persistence. He was said to have tried over 10,000 different options for the filament. He was quoted as saying that he didn't fail 10,000 times. He found 10,000 ways that didn't work.
Part of why I identify with Edison is I am persistent. My mom used to call me hard-headed. That perjorative statement caused me to lose heart and back off of my persistence. I saw it as a flaw and not a gift. I often ask questions and keep asking them until I get an answer I believe covers all the bases. I look for the answer that answers all the questions and doesn't just arrive at a quick solution. I want a long term solution to a problem so I can go on to the next and not have to return to something I've considered solved before. I want to find solutions to problems that others have given up on as unsolveable.
Persistence. Hard-headedness. Bull-headedness (another perjorative term I heard often!). I want to exercise those gifts to bless my world with something that has lasted as long as the incandescent light bulb.
I do know where he was solidified as one of my favorite persons. That was in my sophomore year in high school. My English teacher assigned all of the guys in the class to enter the Optimist Club Speech Contest. We were to write a speech with assistance from the girls in the class, memorize it and deliver it several places.
I read books about Edison and discovered that he suffered from a hearing impairment that resulted from his father pulling him up on a train where he was a conductor...by his ears! This didn't stop Edison.
He became a prolific inventor having his hands in electricity, the phonograph, the telephone, moving pictures and more. The invention that rested with me the longest was the incandescent light bulb. He worked on finding an element or alloy that could be the filament of the light bulb. The trait that was displayed in this and other inventions of his was persistence. He was said to have tried over 10,000 different options for the filament. He was quoted as saying that he didn't fail 10,000 times. He found 10,000 ways that didn't work.
Part of why I identify with Edison is I am persistent. My mom used to call me hard-headed. That perjorative statement caused me to lose heart and back off of my persistence. I saw it as a flaw and not a gift. I often ask questions and keep asking them until I get an answer I believe covers all the bases. I look for the answer that answers all the questions and doesn't just arrive at a quick solution. I want a long term solution to a problem so I can go on to the next and not have to return to something I've considered solved before. I want to find solutions to problems that others have given up on as unsolveable.
Persistence. Hard-headedness. Bull-headedness (another perjorative term I heard often!). I want to exercise those gifts to bless my world with something that has lasted as long as the incandescent light bulb.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Buyer Remorse
Everyone wants a revolutionary until they get one.
I've sat through so many meetings where people clamour over the ideas that bring life to something only to have them turn into the biggest enemies of change once it begins to happen.
Revolutionaries don't leave things the way they are. They cut to the quick and get to the real issues. That's when all the excuses start coming out. "We've never done it that way before. Good luck on that one. I've been trying it for 16 1/2 years with no success. I'm glad someone finally wants to take an interest in that! (but don't ask me to help)"
One of the things revolutionaries bring is conflict. They don't take excuses. They don't take lame answers. They don't let people slide by. They confront old habits. They question someone's sacred calf idea. They ask why we continue to do things this way when they don't produce the results we want. The revolutionary quickly becomes the bad guy who wants to interrupt everyone's little party. Then begins the stream of whiners to the "parents" of the organization. "He's not playing right. Why is he so frustrated? Can't he just relax?" The organization is dying but don't even think of bringing life. We'd rather die a slow death than change.
The revolutionary experiences loneliness a lot. People are afraid to trust someone bringing in new ideas. So many have gone before that they have gotten attached to but didn't last. They hold back to wait and see if this one can pull it off.
Revolutionaries are like stallions. They buck and kick and break down fences. They run off into the sunset with their manes trailing in the wind. They are not easily tamed. In fact, as John Eldredge has stated, the only way to settle down a stallion is to geld him...but then he can no longer bring life.
We had some friends who did their thing with horses once. The oldest of their mares was old and didn't seem to have much life...until the young stallion from across the street got loose and came to visit. That old mare suddenly became a young honey who was thrilled to see the young stallion with life. It was quite a task to get them apart.
Life. We're like the frog in the pot of boiling water. We'll sit there as the heat is turned up until we die, never thinking about jumping out of the pot. We'll stay in a situation, criticize the revolutionaries and stallions until we die.
Having a revolutionary around is hard. It brings conflict but I have seen conflict produce some of the closest relationships I've had as the conflict is worked through. In conflict, someone drops all their guards and the little kid inside comes out. Then you can connect. It isn't pretty. In fact if you are a peace-lover don't ask a revolutionary home to dinner. They'll get you to real peace but it will take conflict to get there. Most of us don't have the heart for that.
I'm a revolutionary and although I'd like to retire from the battles I still get into them without hesitation. I'm more cautious now, letting people know what they are in for but it still seems to go over their heads. They really don't know the price or the benefits of having a revolutionary around.
Anyone need life?
I've sat through so many meetings where people clamour over the ideas that bring life to something only to have them turn into the biggest enemies of change once it begins to happen.
Revolutionaries don't leave things the way they are. They cut to the quick and get to the real issues. That's when all the excuses start coming out. "We've never done it that way before. Good luck on that one. I've been trying it for 16 1/2 years with no success. I'm glad someone finally wants to take an interest in that! (but don't ask me to help)"
One of the things revolutionaries bring is conflict. They don't take excuses. They don't take lame answers. They don't let people slide by. They confront old habits. They question someone's sacred calf idea. They ask why we continue to do things this way when they don't produce the results we want. The revolutionary quickly becomes the bad guy who wants to interrupt everyone's little party. Then begins the stream of whiners to the "parents" of the organization. "He's not playing right. Why is he so frustrated? Can't he just relax?" The organization is dying but don't even think of bringing life. We'd rather die a slow death than change.
The revolutionary experiences loneliness a lot. People are afraid to trust someone bringing in new ideas. So many have gone before that they have gotten attached to but didn't last. They hold back to wait and see if this one can pull it off.
Revolutionaries are like stallions. They buck and kick and break down fences. They run off into the sunset with their manes trailing in the wind. They are not easily tamed. In fact, as John Eldredge has stated, the only way to settle down a stallion is to geld him...but then he can no longer bring life.
We had some friends who did their thing with horses once. The oldest of their mares was old and didn't seem to have much life...until the young stallion from across the street got loose and came to visit. That old mare suddenly became a young honey who was thrilled to see the young stallion with life. It was quite a task to get them apart.
Life. We're like the frog in the pot of boiling water. We'll sit there as the heat is turned up until we die, never thinking about jumping out of the pot. We'll stay in a situation, criticize the revolutionaries and stallions until we die.
Having a revolutionary around is hard. It brings conflict but I have seen conflict produce some of the closest relationships I've had as the conflict is worked through. In conflict, someone drops all their guards and the little kid inside comes out. Then you can connect. It isn't pretty. In fact if you are a peace-lover don't ask a revolutionary home to dinner. They'll get you to real peace but it will take conflict to get there. Most of us don't have the heart for that.
I'm a revolutionary and although I'd like to retire from the battles I still get into them without hesitation. I'm more cautious now, letting people know what they are in for but it still seems to go over their heads. They really don't know the price or the benefits of having a revolutionary around.
Anyone need life?
Monday, October 4, 2010
Revolutionary
It's hard to feel like a revolutionary when you are sitting at home with a cold on a rainy day.
But yesterday was different. Pat and I went for a walk. She tried to encourage me for a few blocks and then we fell silent. I even walked a little behind her for awhile instead of dragging her at my pace as usually happens.
Eventually, she asked me what I was thinking. I'm always a sucker for that question. I enjoy processing things verbally. Part of what I said to her was one of the things I identify myself by. I am a revolutionary. I like to turn things upside down, especially things that have been left alone for so long.
That's why I asked some of the questions I did when I pastored. "Why do we need Sunday School? Why do we meet on Sunday mornings? Why do we do things the way we do them?" Those kinds of questions make people uneasy. It requires them to think about things. I requires them to substantiate their answers. It's not good enough to have them say as the Amishman says, "because we always done it that way."
Part of what stimulated that question was an invitation from my neighbor to attend his church. (He noticed that we don't rush off somewhere on Sunday morning like so many in the neighborhood). He said things were good, okay or something like that at his church except for the changes in worship. The age-old controversy between singing off the wall/scripture songs and singing hymns in perfect 4 part harmony without accompanying instruments. But the sermons were good.
What makes them good? Because they sound good? Because they have 3 points? Because they use a lot of scripture? Or are they good because the Spirit of God uses the message to convict my neighbor and others of areas in their lives where they are far from God? I'm afraid I wouldn't fit in his church. I would shortly offend someone because I wasn't satisfied with the mix of music or the content of the sermons or the fact that I want to grow in my spiritual life. I want to live on the edge. I was to see the power of God unleashed to change the world we live in.
$100,000,000 isn't going to change the home situations of the children in Newark, NJ. It isn't going to change the absence of parenting and moral teaching that their parents didn't get. It isn't going to remove the hopelessness they have. It isn't going to heal their hearts. Only a spiritual, heart change can do that. Only an encounter with Jesus and his healing power can do that. Only the restoration of families and lives will do that. It isn't about money, it's about love.
So I would probably be labeled ungrateful for not being excited about the grant of $100,000,000 just like I'm not excited about "good" sermons and lifeless worship. I would be criticized for not celebrating the microscopic growth of a church over 25 or 30 years. I'm looking for 3,000 added to the church in one day! I'm looking for captives being set free! I'm looking for permanent change in lives. I'm looking for the Holy Spirit to help us sort out the mess when we turn it upside down, shake it up and let him tell us what to keep and what to throw away.
If we don't do some revolutionary things in our world it isn't going to be around long. It's time for the church to be salt and light...one individual at a time. Does anyone out there need a revolutionary? I know one looking to turn some things upside down.
But yesterday was different. Pat and I went for a walk. She tried to encourage me for a few blocks and then we fell silent. I even walked a little behind her for awhile instead of dragging her at my pace as usually happens.
Eventually, she asked me what I was thinking. I'm always a sucker for that question. I enjoy processing things verbally. Part of what I said to her was one of the things I identify myself by. I am a revolutionary. I like to turn things upside down, especially things that have been left alone for so long.
That's why I asked some of the questions I did when I pastored. "Why do we need Sunday School? Why do we meet on Sunday mornings? Why do we do things the way we do them?" Those kinds of questions make people uneasy. It requires them to think about things. I requires them to substantiate their answers. It's not good enough to have them say as the Amishman says, "because we always done it that way."
Part of what stimulated that question was an invitation from my neighbor to attend his church. (He noticed that we don't rush off somewhere on Sunday morning like so many in the neighborhood). He said things were good, okay or something like that at his church except for the changes in worship. The age-old controversy between singing off the wall/scripture songs and singing hymns in perfect 4 part harmony without accompanying instruments. But the sermons were good.
What makes them good? Because they sound good? Because they have 3 points? Because they use a lot of scripture? Or are they good because the Spirit of God uses the message to convict my neighbor and others of areas in their lives where they are far from God? I'm afraid I wouldn't fit in his church. I would shortly offend someone because I wasn't satisfied with the mix of music or the content of the sermons or the fact that I want to grow in my spiritual life. I want to live on the edge. I was to see the power of God unleashed to change the world we live in.
$100,000,000 isn't going to change the home situations of the children in Newark, NJ. It isn't going to change the absence of parenting and moral teaching that their parents didn't get. It isn't going to remove the hopelessness they have. It isn't going to heal their hearts. Only a spiritual, heart change can do that. Only an encounter with Jesus and his healing power can do that. Only the restoration of families and lives will do that. It isn't about money, it's about love.
So I would probably be labeled ungrateful for not being excited about the grant of $100,000,000 just like I'm not excited about "good" sermons and lifeless worship. I would be criticized for not celebrating the microscopic growth of a church over 25 or 30 years. I'm looking for 3,000 added to the church in one day! I'm looking for captives being set free! I'm looking for permanent change in lives. I'm looking for the Holy Spirit to help us sort out the mess when we turn it upside down, shake it up and let him tell us what to keep and what to throw away.
If we don't do some revolutionary things in our world it isn't going to be around long. It's time for the church to be salt and light...one individual at a time. Does anyone out there need a revolutionary? I know one looking to turn some things upside down.
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