Twenty: You Can't Cure a Disease by Treating Symptoms

I feel like I need to explain my statement in a previous post that God did not use me in Myanmar.  It doesn't mean that God had no purpose for sending me.  It's just that I suspect that the primary purpose for this trip was not so much for me to be used by God to save others, but rather for God to teach me.   I hope that in sharing what I've learned, however, the trip will have value beyond just my personal enrichment.

This trip felt like a bringing together of several strands of knowledge that I've been learning since a trip to Haiti in 2010, but the short version is this:  There is a right and a wrong way to engage internationally to foster justice and fight oppression, and She is Safe does it right.

I saw the results of "aid gone wrong" on a post-earthquake trip to Haiti.  Although I couldn't have put my finger on it at the time, I was troubled by a rather dependent mind-set on the part of many (but by no means all) Haitians whose answer to difficult times was to request money or rescue from their wealthier non-Haitian contacts.  In hindsight, I believe the attitude is one WE created over decades of well-intentioned but poorly designed efforts to help the struggling nation.

In their book Helping Without Hurting, Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert suggest that "helping" can actually hurt the recipient because it too often fails to address the roots of the problem.  For example, many programs by churches and humanitarian organizations have the goal of poverty alleviation.  However, the programs have an incomplete and unbiblical view of poverty as a lack of material goods or financial opportunity.  In this view, the "solution" is too often simply to give the needy the material goods that are lacking.

In reality, this approach is merely treating a symptom of the much deeper and more complex psychological and social roots that lead to poverty.  As a result, our well-intentioned handouts have the unintended side effects of creating dependency, undermining the dignity of the materially poor, and perpetuating the underlying causes of poverty.

Corbett and Fikkert prescribe a more biblical and holistic view of poverty as "rooted in broken relationships with God, self, others, and the rest of creation."  Using the Bible as their guide, the authors propose modeling development efforts after God's mission of what they call "comprehensive reconciliation" in ways that restore not just material possessions, but opportunity, dignity, and an appreciation of one's identity as a divine image-bearer.

Applying the perspectives offered by Corbett and Fikkert to the important anti-trafficking work that is much more in the spotlight these days, I can see how I have made similar errors in thinking.  When I first learned of the extent of human-trafficking in the world--and particularly sex-trafficking--my response was what I hope most people's would be: "We have got to stop this!  We have to rescue the women and children enduring such horrors!"

It's not wrong thinking, but it is incomplete.  Yes, we must have programs that work directly to rescue people from slavery and exploitation.  However, until we address the underlying systems of thought and culture that foster the treatment of humans as property, until we attack thinking that elevates personal gratification over all else, trafficking will continue to flourish.

Such an approach is a daunting undertaking:  It is slow, complicated, messy, and definitely not for the faint of heart.   On my trip to Myanmar, I had the privilege of seeing such efforts walked out by She is Safe staff members and their partners in Myanmar.  Seeing all of my book-learning walked out in practice in a context that is so ripe with opportunity is why I can say with confidence that my trip was a success despite the fact that I rescued no one.

Eighteen: To my Beloved Atheist:

Note: While it is written to an atheist, I challenge Christians--myself included--to read this letter as if it were written to them.  Because we are just as prone to the attitudes I am addressing here. 

It is not written to a specific person, but rather to a compilation of many people whom I love and who have deeply held beliefs that are different from mine.  I use the term atheist, but it could just as easily have been a person who passionately holds any belief system that is different from mine, be it religious, educational, political, or nutritional.  We have become such a culture of critics and--to use a technical term--side-takers. This is my attempt to offer a better way.

To My Beloved Atheist:

I read the following phrase yesterday:

"There's plenty of space here for differences and disagreements, but I will not save room at the table for aggression or harassment, I won't respond to condescension."--Jamie Wright

I almost shouted, "YES!"

Yet here I go, about to respond to condescension, albeit unintended.  I respond not to win an argument, because I don't believe I can. I am not intellectual enough nor self-assured enough to match wits with you, and we both are too deeply passionate about our beliefs.

My kids' logic book would classify it as a stupid argument: one that cannot be won because neither party can be swayed.  First of all, the key point of difference in our beliefs is one that cannot be empirically proven.  I can show you scientific reasons for why I believe there is a Creator, and you can give me scientific reasons why you believe there isn't.  However, I cannot PROVE to you there's a God, and you can't PROVE to me there isn't.  So why fight about it?

I don't want to.

I would, however, like to invite you to take a peek at my perspective.  Whether it is right or wrong is not the point of this conversation.  It is just my perspective, and I'm not sure you've ever considered it.

When you proclaim your beliefs, it is often from a stance that feels very confrontational, with the implied suggestion--if not declaration--that anyone who disagrees is an idiot. Or delusional.

I know you love me and would never tell me to my face that I am a simpleton.  Yet you ridicule my beliefs to rooms full of people with me standing there; you shout your disdain across the Internet, knowing I'm out there somewhere, living a life based on what you mock.

You don't mean to say that I am stupid.  Just people who think like me.

It doesn't offend (okay, maybe it does); mainly it hurts.

I know, Christians can be just as gifted at condescension as atheists, as can passionate Republicans, Democrats, vegans, gun owners, or gun-control advocates... you get the picture. Maybe we all have surrounded ourselves so completely with like-minded people that we forget that not everyone is like-minded, and so we scorn some imaginary "others" whom we never consider wounding because they are a caricature, not a person.

I don't know.

I do know we all need to be nicer, and put a real face to that other, that fool, we are ridiculing. So next time you feel the urge to speak or write something belittling Christians, I would like you to picture my face, and write as if you are saying it about me. 

Because you are.

While I don't want to argue whose beliefs are RIGHT, I do think it's helpful to listen more than we speak.  Even more, we need to listen to understand, not to simply to respond.  I would be happy to share with you why I believe what I do, if you are ever curious and think you could listen and be open to the possibility that a person can be rational, sane, and even intelligent, and yet arrive at a different conclusion than you did.  I would also love to hear what reasons you have for why you believe as you do, and with such passion. You're very clear about what you believe, but I don't feel like I know what led you to your set of convictions.

If we could let go of the need to convince one another long enough to hear each other, it might be a beautiful conversation.

The other point I'd like to offer some perspective on is one of motives.

You are often rather evangelistic in your proclamation of your beliefs. Whether you intend it or not, when you forcefully pronounce the superiority of your faith in no god, I feel very much as if you are trying to convert me, to get me to renounce my faith and turn to yours.  Any why not? Christians are pretty enthusiastic about converting others to their faith.  It's only fair.

Except here's the question I have always had: Why is it so important that I don't believe?  If you convince me, how is that better for me?

If I understand correctly, you believe we are products of chance, life is what it is and nothing guides or influences it other than the actors in the play.  We are on our own.  Let's even assume you are right about this.  How does it benefit my life, how is it better for me to believe it?  I can cling to my very satisfying delusion and when my life is over be none the wiser.  Delusion or not, if there is no God, and this is all there is, then I'll be too dead to be disappointed if I'm wrong.

On the other hand, if I concede that you are right and reject my faith to believe as you do--I will have turned away from my hope, my purpose, my meaning, and my joy.  Sure, I have might been wrong about it all, but what difference will it make in the grand scheme of things?  If what you believe is true, why do you feel the need to convert me--particularly if my "delusion" encourages me to love others, live humbly, give generously and fight injustice?  It doesn't feel like your motives are loving if you would take that away and offer nothingness in return.

Now humor me and try to imagine I am right.  Remember we're not debating if I'm right or not, we're going for understanding of my motives. Suspend your disbelief for a moment and pretend that what I believe is actually the truth...

What I believe is that we were created to be in relationship with a holy and loving God. Consequently, it follows that by not believing, you are rejecting him and missing out good things.  Ultimate things, actually, and I want good for you.  Furthermore, I believe that this life is not all there is, and that if you reject God during this lifetime, there are pretty serious and eternal consequences--the very least of which is spending forever with no way to feel love, joy, or satisfaction--and acutely, eternally aware of the loss.

So think about this: even if that is impossible to believe, can you at least appreciate why it would be important to me to let you know about what I believe?  Can you see that even if it makes you uncomfortable, or embarrassed or annoyed,  the motive behind the sharing of my faith is a loving one?  If I love you, and if I really believe what I say I do, then I'd have to be some kind of a jerk not to at least try to make you aware.

In fact, I should probably apologize for not trying harder.

Seventeen: Setting Things Straight About Sex

"Your naked body deserves the honor of being shared only with someone who is covenanted to never stop loving your naked soul."—Ann Voskamp

I read these words, which ring so beautiful and true, and for some reason I was reminded of a conversation I had with a young woman this summer.  She told me, "the problem with all of the purity events I went to is they push the message on us that the most important thing about a girl is her virginity."  There was a twinge of anger in her tone that broke my heart.

I was at some of those events, and I know that was not the intended message.   Still, the fact that even one girl came away feeling like that is jarring to me.  Regardless of intent, if that message is the one a young woman internalized, we failed her.  Even worse, we failed the gospel and the message of grace.

So, for every young person who has felt like that, let me set the record straight.

You are so much more than the status of your virginity.  In fact, the whole idea of "purity" is misleading.  Apart from Jesus, none of us is pure--not even the most virginal--but in Him anyone can be--even the most promiscuous.  Your value has absolutely nothing to do with your sexual status, but rather your status as the creation of a loving God who thought you were worth dying for.   One of the things that always tore me apart when this discussion came up in Sunday School or at youth events was the way issue of virginity was used as a measuring stick in hurtful, competitive ways--at least among the girls.  Those who were still waiting felt proud, and those who hadn't waited assumed the others were virgins only because they were undesirable.  

Hear this: no matter whether you have never looked at the opposite sex or have been around the block and back, you are precious and worth fighting for. You were created for a big, powerful, sacrificial love and you. are. worth. it.  

The only reason your virginity matters to God is that He wants the best for you.

I'll be honest. I hope my kids marry virgins (and marry AS virgins), but not because that would make them better people or more deserving of love.  I want it because I think it is the safest, easiest way to enjoy the gift of sex--as designed and free of baggage. However, do you know what I want more?  I want them to marry someone who treasures them the way Jesus does, because he or she understands His love.  I want them to marry someone who loves their soul and not just their shell.  

Also, I hope you get that sex isn't dirty, and it's not shameful.  God actually created sex, and He wants you to enjoy it.  The reason we old folks want you to wait is that we've learned--some of us the hard way--that when you try to enjoy God's gifts outside of the context for which He created them, you lose out on the full joy He wanted you to have.  That's why I love the quote above--it's such a great picture of what He intended and why it's so wonderful HIS way.  The human body is so much more complex than just hormones, urges and interlocking parts.  

Even secular science is finding that the best scenario for physical intimacy is within the context of a committed, monogamous relationship. Good sex releases chemicals that bond you emotionally to another person.  The only way to have sex without creating that bond is to have bad sex, and who wants that?   It's also no surprise to find out  that psychological research is finding that those who follow the hook-up culture's message of sex without relationship or commitment often suffer psychologically.  Whether your mind accepts it or not, your body and your subconscious know that sex is more than just physical.  

I guess that's the message I hope you get. You are loved whether you wait or not.  You are valuable whether you wait or not.  But when I urge you to wait, it's because I know something.  Someone needs to counter the message that the culture is sending.  

We were made for something different and so much better.

Day Eight: Better Words than Mine

Today instead of offering my own words, I want to make the gift of these words that touched me this morning.  They are the words of the Apostle Paul, written to believers in Colossus.  Think how beautiful our world would be if we all just lived this advice:

"Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful."

Shall we take this challenge, my friends?  I'm in.

Day Two: A Prayer for My Church

"If we allow people to be human and God to be God, the church has a fighting chance.  If you show up brave and true, and leaders show up brave and true, if you own your place and I own  mine, the kingdom will break through in every possible way. God is big and good enough to lead us all, and together we just might see the kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven."  -- Jen Hatmaker, in For the Love

This Sunday marks a change in the life of my church. We're changing our name.  It's a big deal for some-- and not such a big deal for others (me).  A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, after all.  This has been my church family since moving to Florida in 1998, so I know it intimately.  It's a biggish church, Southern Baptist in denomination, and, like any other church of any size or denomination, we're often times a hot mess.  But this hot mess is my family, and even if I sometimes feel aggravated to the point of distraction, I love them.

For me, there is much fuel for aggravation, but I think the irritation has a fair amount to do with the fact that I'm a Montana girl, and this is the South.  Being so close to Miami, this band of believers is an eclectic blend of Deep Dixie South mixed with a fiery dose of Spicy Latin Zing    Both come with their fair share of attitude and issues, bless them.  (We from the Northwest, of course, we have zero issues or attitudes.  Not.)  Suffice it to say that I am jeans and T-shirt in a land where the choices are panty-hose and sensible dresses or flamboyant frills and spike heels. I'm the proverbial square peg, and the holes in Florida are either round or triangular.  Consequently, it's not always what you would call comfortable for me here.  As you can see, these are not really doctrinal aggravations. Just personal challenges.

My church is also proudly a Southern Baptist church, and I am a product of a "non-denominational" faith influence, so I don't necessarily find the term Baptist something to be proud of (or ashamed of, for that matter).  We're all Christians, so Jesus should be the only thing we're proud of.  Anyhow, because of the difference in my background, my church has dearly held traditions and practices that I have to confess drive me just the teeniest bit nuts.  In these seventeen years, there have been many times when I have disagreed deeply with the way things were run or attitudes that were held. (In fairness, when we first joined the church, we knew exactly what we were getting.  Not to mention the fact that I joined them; they didn't join me.)  Still, there have been several occasions when the differences led me to consider finding another church family...one where I fit better.

Except, here's the thing:

As itchy as it can sometimes feel to be a black sheep, this is my family, and you don't just quit your family because they occasionally make you crazy.  Ultimately, it's not about my preferences or my opinions.  Nearly every thing that makes me nuts is a non-essential in terms of eternity.  Even though I might do things differently if I ran the church (which is NEVER gonna happen, by the way, so you can breathe easy as far as that goes), there has never been a doubt in my mind that our leaders love Jesus and love people.  I may have disagreed with some actions or decisions, but any time that I have looked beyond the action to the heart of the person, what I see there is love.

Sure, we have a tendency to bicker and wound and judge and sometimes behave selfishly, but this family also loves big and cares for the hurting and offers grace in abundance.  And here's a newsflash:  EVERY closely knit gathering of flawed humans--religious or otherwise--is going inflict some wounds.

That's why community is risky.  People are just messy.

While the official church priorities may not always be the same ones I have, this church body--through the lives of individual members--is reaching into the world and our neighborhoods without fanfare or grand production.  As individual members of a bigger body, we are making a difference in many ways, some that I am aware of (foster care, community service camps, pregnancy centers, teaching ESL, restoration homes for victims of trafficking, care and service for sick or invalid friends) as well as  others I probably can't even begin to imagine. Knowing that, it's really not necessary for the church policy to cover every type of ministry I find vital--because the people of the church are living their lives in such a way that loving the world doesn't require church staff or an official program.  I kind of appreciate that the church leadership doesn't have to be in charge of every single act of ministry.  I like the fact that as a church community we can come to church to increase our learning, worship together, share our passions and ideas, support one another and then GO OUT and love the world.

So here's my cry: They are not perfect, but this is my family.

May we grow in humility, wisdom, transparency, intimacy and courage because we strive to love like Jesus.

Jesus, give us humble hearts to hear and respond to truth.  May each person engage in a way that is brave and true, and may each leader humbly show up and lead in a way that is brave and true.  Let us each own our place and give others the freedom and grace to own theirs.  May we as a body be intricately and openly part of Your Church in the world and not a separate entity with our own agenda.  May we allow one another to be flawed and may our love for one another come from Your Spirit in such a way that we can see the kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.

Happy Launch Day, Crosslife Church.  I really do love you.

Bringing God into the World

This past Sunday I asked the teenage girls in my small group to imagine getting the news that Mary received when she was visited by the angel. For them, stepping into Mary's shoes would be a small step. Most of them are in circumstances similar to Mary's in many ways:

They are young, innocent, from deeply religious families--on the brink of adult life, but not quite ready.

What would their response be if they were told that they would become pregnant--supernaturally, but out of wedlock? (I know unmarried pregnancy is not so scandalous these days, but these are Southern Baptists...)  How would they feel to receive today the news that Mary got?  God Himself was going to be placed within her, grow, expand her, pain her as she brought Him into the world...and ultimately save us all.

How would they react if they received this news:

"God is going to use you to save the world, but it is going to hurt on every level.  But--GOD is going to use YOU to save. the. world."

My point in stirring their imaginations was to show them the beauty of Mary's response.  Faced with such daunting, life-altering news, she sang the Magnificat--a beautiful hymn of praise, trust and celebration.

"Blessed am I...."

Today as I sit in the quiet and think on the nativity again, I am floored by this thought:

I'm no teenager, but I am more like Mary than I realize.

Having repented and followed Christ, I am like Mary in that I received God within me through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

God Himself is within me, and if I allow it--if I nourish and attend to the Spirit, He will grow and stretch me.  As a result, I'll experience great excitement, purpose, anticipation and joy--but the stretching will also bring discomfort.

When I share the Spirit in me with the world, it will very likely cause me pain.  This world is certainly a place that often shouts, "No room!" to His presence. The current culture has no problem with the Universe looking out for me, but squirms if I claim the God of the universe does. Therefore, for me--an educated woman from an intellectual and scientific community-- to follow the God of the Bible will no doubt bring me disdain in the eyes of many whom I value.  Disdain hurts.

So, I realize today I must ask myself the same question I asked the teenagers:

What will my response be to the news that God has chosen me to carry His Son to the world?

Will I fear the discomfort, attempt to escape the pain, and lament the heavy load I carry within?

Or will I--in spite of it all--be awed by the reality that God would use me to save the world.

Me.

Oh, Jesus, let the words and heart of that young Mary also be the response of this old Mary:

"Oh, how my soul praises the Lord.  How my spirit rejoices in God my Savior! For he took notice of his lowly servant girl...."

Grace and Truth

"Because He was full of grace and truth, from Him we all received one gift after another."  John 1:16

This was my memory verse this week.  Not to simply repeat, but to meditate upon.

Because Jesus was full of grace, He made it possible for me--and you--to receive what we don't deserve, the favor and presence of God Almighty.

This is a BIG HONKING DEAL.

However, I'm not sure we can fully fathom the magnitude of His grace unless we also remember the truth part.  My pastor's son, also a pastor, preached it in a way that resonated this Sunday.

"The key to doing all the things you should do...is that you can't do it."

How's that for a feel-good truth?   

It is, really, because once I realize that I can't do what is required, I can marvel at the wonder that Christ has done it for me.  Unless I grasp the truth that I am capable of nothing that is holy, unless I see the truth of who I am without Christ, I can't fully absorb the magnitude of the grace that He has showered upon me.

Without the ugly truth about me, I can't appreciate the utterly magnificent grace of Christ.

I experienced this truth in a very vivid way last week.

I was innocently folding laundry when some very unpleasant memories just popped into my brain.  UGLY memories of something awful I did as a young teenager. And then that memory set off another, and another, and, unfortunately, my misguided youth provided ample fodder for a complete avalanche of memories of my depravity.

Imagine a version of the FB movie--with only the bad things.  Yeah, it was that--only longer.

The realization of who I was without Christ rammed right into my solar plexus and knocked me down.  It sucked the air right out of me to realize just how rotten I was capable of being.  This should not have been a great revelation to me, but it was.

You see, normally I have this talent for completely forgetting anything that is unpleasant, and frankly, there are many things in my past that I prefer to forget. (Don't get me wrong, I had a safe, happy childhood and was well loved by two wonderful people--it's ME that was horrible.)

I truly was rotten, but I was a bit stunned to realize just how rotten, because I've always been so nice.   Parents didn't really fret if their kids hung out with me.  (They probably should have.) Anyway, it's a bit of a shocker for a pathologically nice person to be faced with the fact that her pleasant temperament was just a sweet coating around a selfish, dishonest, nature.

That day as I folded and the memories flooded back, I was undone.

Honestly, I don't know why on that day I had those memories. My first instinct was that my enemy was accusing--pointing the finger to show me how unworthy I am to even attempt to serve Jesus. Maybe it was, but he should have known better.  Because as soon as that thought crossed my mind, the realization hit me that my unworthiness is sort of the point of the Gospel.  

Jesus shouldn't use me.  But He does.

And those sickening memories--as unpleasant as they were, turned out to be a gift.

Here's why:

In remembering who I was apart from Christ, I was amazed at where He has brought me.  I hated looking at the picture of the past, but it helped me see that that person, is no longer who I am.  I'm still in progress, but I really am a new creation.

He loved me as I was, but He didn't leave me that way.

It was a gift to feel the full weight of my sin, because it helped me to grasp the full weight of the Gospel.

Can I just tell you---it is an unspeakably awesome thing to stand before a holy God, undone, and say, "I am not worthy," and to feel His gentle whisper, "I know. But you're mine."

Sex-traffickers, the Prophets and Jen Hatmaker

The past few weeks God has been creating a perfect storm that is MESSING. ME. UP.  I feel compelled to write, but I'm not even sure I can express clearly what is churning in me. I want to be polite, clear, and logical in challenging people, like the ever-gracious Tim Elmore, but my discontent is so deep right now that I think I'll probably slip more into a Matt Walsh-esque degree of snarkiness.

Except that, honestly, I don't feel snarky.  I feel desperate.

Here's the storm:

I have recently begun working to put on a 5k to raise money for She is Safe, an organization that works to fight human trafficking through prevention, rescue and restoration.  I've been interested in the issue for several years, but in recruiting helpers for my cause, I have been reading and re-reading stories of girls affected by human trafficking.  I am sickened by the number of cases in which it is actually a girl's family that sells her into slavery to be used up and abused as a commodity to satisfy the greed and perversion of oppressors.  What kind of parent would sell a child into prostitution?

At the same time, my chronological read-through of the Bible has landed me in Jeremiah (aka, the weeping prophet).  Turns out he was weeping because he was commanded to give God's message of judgement to a people who didn't want to hear it (Jeremiah 7:27). As He speaks through Jeremiah, God calls His people "adulterous" and accuses them of prostituting themselves to other gods.

Meanwhile, during my break from teaching, I am also finally reading the book 7:An Experimental Assault on Excess by Jen Hatmaker, which was recommended by a friend.  While reading the chapter on her drastic reduction of media consumption, the final "disturbance" collided with the previous two to produce a spiritual typhoon within me.  I don't know what it was specifically about that particular chapter (conviction, perhaps?), but suddenly the realization hit me full in the gut:

How can I be enraged by impoverished parents selling their daughters, when we here in the land of plenty are prostituting our own children to idols?  Because whether we realize it or not, I'm afraid we are.

For the past nine years I have worked in the youth ministry at our church.  For the past eight years I have taught writing classes to Middle School and High School students.  Every year for the past four years, the young people I've encountered have gotten markedly more self-absorbed, demanding and apathetic about the Gospel.  And I'm talking about the good kids.   This does not make me angry; it breaks my heart, because I LOVE these kids!

Sincere, godly parents bring their kids to church faithfully, send them to camp, VBS, and mission trips.  What they don't recognize is that their kids don't even see the spiritual feast laid before them because they can't take their gaze and attention away from their smart phones.  They have no interest in the Word of God because they are too busy broadcasting their own words and images into cyberspace and then compulsively checking their "approval ratings."  (I once listened to a group of 14- and 15-year-olds discuss their marketing strategies for getting Instagram followers.)

I've watched as teens receive praise and honor (heck, I've been one of the adults heaping praise) for worshipping at the altar of achievement, even when the pursuit of that success has become a source of identity, an idol, in the life of that student.  I've watched when that success leads to arrogance, pride and contempt for those less talented.

I've witnessed teens who obediently sit in church, passionless and bored, critiquing not the content of the message, but the entertainment value or delivery.  If it doesn't satisfy them, they feel they are absolved of the responsibility to listen--because the Word of God is no longer good enough on its own.  Yet I've seen these same seemingly passionless kids raising their hands in adoration for a boy band or football team. I know many girls who know exponentially more about the members of One Direction or Luke Bryant than they do about Jesus, and many boys who know more about their favorite athlete or video game than they do about their Savior.

More often than not, I leave my time spent with youth grieving for them and the emptiness that they don't even realize is their life.  I'm not blaming this entirely on the adults in their lives.  The culture that surrounds them certainly plays an overwhelming role, relentlessly bombarding them with lies and distractions.  I constantly thank God that I did not have to navigate my teen years during this generation.

But here is the conviction that is crushing me.  We tell our kids to follow Christ, but then we give them full access to every possible distraction that isn't blatantly evil.  We avoid boundaries because we fear stirring up a heart of rebellion.  Wanting to extend grace, we make excuses for "little"sins so often that I fear this generation doesn't see the need for a Savior, because they don't really think their sin is all that bad.

It's tempting to simply shrug these trends off and say, "Well, they're teenagers--it's a stage---they'll outgrow it."  We would be buying a lie.  According to Jen Hatmaker's research for 7, "94% of evangelical churches reported loss or no growth" last year.  She claims, "We are losing three million people annually, flooding out the back door and never returning."  The people flooding out are those who have been raised in church--those we thought were just going through a stage and would outgrow it.  Why do they leave?  Because they have found something else to worship.

Honestly, if I found out that one of my kids was battling an addiction to drugs, I would WAGE WAR on those drugs.  Why, then, do I buy into the notion that it's unreasonable to wage war on an addiction to an ipod, video game, cell phone or shopping?

My aim is not to point fingers or place blame, but simply to challenge us ALL to examine our role in the lives of our young people.

In my case, I know the first heart I need to examine is my own.  Do I have idols that pull me from Jesus?  Do I need to remove anything from my life that competes for first place?  Am I placing importance on any thing or behavior that is actually misplaced worship?  Am I making excuses for my own sins, rather than agreeing with God, being honest about them and repenting?  I want to start with myself because the best way to help the young people in my life is to set the example of honestly and humbly tearing down the idols in my own life.

Next, (and, I have to confess, this is MUCH harder for me), I need to put in place and enforce appropriate boundaries in the lives of those over whom I have authority.  This task is tough for me because I hate confrontation--and boundaries create confrontations.  Boundaries are not popular--and I want people to like me.  In many cases, the boundaries I need to set will be very countercultural. People will think I am weird--or worse--judgmental.  For a weak-willed, distractible people-pleaser like me, enforcing boundaries is a daunting task.

But God calls me to speak the truth, and the truth is this:  Anything that keeps a person from full surrender to Jesus is an idol, and we as parents, teachers, mentors, have an obligation to protect our young people from idolatry.   If not, we are prostituting them.

The Heart of Modesty

I ended my previous post on modesty promising to elaborate on the following convictions:

1. Modesty IS important, but it's an attitude, not a dress code.

2.  Modesty is everyone's responsibility.

3. It's not about you, (and it IS about you).

Although I have read extensively on the topic, when it comes right down to it, every one of my convictions about modesty is based on just one passage:

"One of them, an expert in religious law, tried to trap him with this question:  “Teacher, which is the most important commandment in the law of Moses?”  Jesus replied, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments." Matthew 22:36-40

I have just tossed out a long post explaining how I came about my convictions, because I've changed my mind about elaborating.

In the process of writing, I came to the conclusion that no one needs anymore explanation than the Scripture above. Any sincere follower of Christ who faithfully and humbly applies it by focusing first on love for God and then on love for others will live out biblical modesty.  

In the words of my good friend Kyle Kent, "Simply keep in mind that we are pointing others  to God and His salvation with everything we do, wear and say." 

Couldn't have said it better myself.

My Independent Thinkers

Hmmphfff.

Someone has been teaching my children to think for themselves, to search for truth and not just blindly accept ideas just because some authority says so.

...Oh, wait, that was me....

When I began homeschooling about six thousand years ago, one of my heart-felt convictions was that I wanted my children to know how to THINK independently.

I taught them to show honor and submit to authority, but also I wanted them to wrestle through the tough questions and challenge weak logic so that after the wrestling, the convictions that remained would be unshakable.

Beware of what you wish for.

Here's the thing...(cringe)...

I always kind of assumed that their convictions would end up matching mine--because I'm right.

My idea was that they would wrestle and search and get all grown-up and independent in their thinking and then come to the very deeply-held conviction that Mommy Knows Best.  (I do, you know.)

Imagine my frustration, then, the first time my beloved child--a child I carried in my womb for months, nursed, potty-trained, nurtured and poured truth into---had the audacity to disagree with me.

Scandalous.

It started when my oldest was about 14 years old, but back then I was the mom and I could still "say so."  She didn't have to agree with me, but she had to obey me.

We're entering new territory now.

My oldest is now 19--an adult in the eyes of the law--with two siblings close behind her.  If she wants, she can get a tattoo and there's nothing (legal) I can do about it.

She has legal grounds for saying, "You're not the boss of me!" (To her credit, she is wise enough NOT to say it...)

I can't even talk to the health insurance company to clear up a claim without her consent because "she's an adult." (Yeah, whatever... who pays the premiums?)

It's a bit unnerving, this loss of authority.

I raised my kids right--or as right as I knew how.

I encouraged them to think biblically and then taught them to do it.

I challenged their thinking when I thought it was faulty, and I instructed them to challenge mine when it contradicted the truth of the Bible.

I urged them to form their own values and convictions and hold them tightly.

And now...

now

I have to release them to live by their convictions.

When their convictions match mine,  it's a beautiful and exciting thing to behold.

When they don't, it's annoying.

In some cases it's even terrifying--because I realize that part of releasing them to live their convictions means allowing them to experience the full effect of the consequences of those beliefs.

What I really need to release is this notion that I have control, that their destiny is my responsibility.

It never was.

God gave me a job to do, but their lives are in His hands.  I need to release them not to themselves, but to Him.

They may mess up...just like I did.

Even in moments when they can't be trusted, He can.

Didn't He use even my gravest sins to bring me closer to Him?

Maybe I need to remember that the Father Knows Best. 

#1346-#1360

1346.  Mission Interact, a beautiful way to bring the body together across denominations and love the community at the same time.

1347. Honor given to a humble young man.

1348. An eager anticipation of seeing how God's grace will turn a great disappointment into a great opportunity for a surrendered young couple.

1349. Blasting away the blues by singing show tunes with the girls at the top of our lungs.

1350.  Watching my cowboy persevere through hard things.  I love that he GIVES his best, but doesn't need to BE the best at everything.

1351. Outpouring of affection for our frenchman by the youth of FBCO.  He may not understand our God, but he will know His love.

1352. Coming up on the 11th hour, waiting to see what God will do.

1353. Another testimony of God's provision through our months of no income.  He alone--and not the government--provided for our needs.

1354.  A new school year, the comfort of routine.

1355.  A choice in every situation to praise instead of complain.

1356.  Songbird's brave testimony before others and the simple, profound truth she shared. 

"Brokenness is part of the plan."  

1357. A very hard and costly relationship lesson, and the bittersweet privilege of walking a child through it.  

1358.  English chatter on the way home from camp.  So many questions, so little time to answer!

1359.  A chance to collaborate with a friend.

1360. The difficult but liberating reminder that the only One I need care about pleasing is the One who takes me as I am.  

Missed Opportunities.

#309 Another chance to have an eternal conversation.

I read it as I review my list of 1000 gifts, and it haunts me.

Because I missed that chance.

Trips back "home" to Montana from Florida are very infrequent because of the expense--maybe once every three years or so--yet this year I was able to go twice.

Once for a 50th anniversary, once for a wedding. Happy occasions.

During both trips, my sweet mother encouraged me to get together with my much-loved advisor from college.  He was more than a teacher to me, he was truly a mentor.  The first person to get it through my thick skull that I was rather smart, but regrettably lazy when it came to academics,  he challenged me to live up to my potential.  He had a wonderful way of challenging without pushing.  Imagine a really intense cheerleader.

"He's been sick.  This may be your last chance to see him."

I believed her--but I didn't.  This man was a physical and intellectual powerhouse; my mind could not fathom that he would let even cancer defeat him.

Still, I tried.

I was fairly certain he was an atheist, so if he was indeed that sick, there was a conversation we needed to have.  Knowing him as I did, I was doubtful that he would have ears to hear of things eternal and supernatural, but I also knew that my responsibility was simply to speak and trust the Holy Spirit to do what He would with it.

I called and was shocked at the defeated, feeble voice on the other end.  He was happy to hear from me, but lacked the energy even to pretend to sound cheerful.  He was having some medical tests the next morning, but he and his wife (another favorite of mine) both wanted to get together and talk. We set up a time for the next afternoon.

The time of our appointment came and went, and I received a call that the tests had led to further tests. They would be at the hospital very late.  He would call me the next day--which was my last day in town.

He didn't call.  Mother said they had likely gotten very bad news and it would be best to leave them alone.

Well, I had tried.

I still could not wrap my mind around the reality that he wouldn't live to a ripe old age, like every good Kansan that I know. Also, in the back of my mind I assumed there would be another chance.

There was.

Three months later a dear friend from high school was getting married and we flew back to Montana again just for the weekend.

Another chance to have an eternal conversation. 


We were busy that weekend visiting with other transplanted Big Sky natives who were in town for the festivities.  Not so busy, however, that I couldn't have squeezed in a phone call or visit--and an eternal conversation.  Just busy enough that I could avoid thinking about it.

 I think I was a bit afraid.  How do you start that conversation?  "So, I hear you're dying...." 

What would I say to impress the importance of saving faith on a man who didn't believe in eternity? So much uncertainty, which I dealt with by procrastinating.

The weekend came and went, and I never called.

Three days later he died.  There would not be another chance.

Shortly after he died, my good friend shared a video with me of Penn Jillette of "Penn and Teller" fame.  In it, the very passionate atheist tells a story of a man who came to his show, waited in line, praised his performance, and then very humbly and intelligently offered to share the Gospel with him.

The comedian would have none of it, but in the video it was obvious that the man had stirred something in him because the Christian stranger had cared enough to share with him.

At one point Jillette looked dead at the camera and challenged professing Christians, "If you really believe that I will spend eternity in hell if I don't follow your Jesus-- if you really believe that-- how much do you have to hate a person not to share your faith with them?"

Did I hate my beloved professor?  NO!  But when it came right down to it, I loved my comfort more.

Oh, Father in Heaven, forgive me.  Help me to love others in way that matters eternally.  Help me to love them enough to be rejected by them and thought foolish. Over and over in Your Word, You tell Your people to go and proclaim--and to trust You to give them the right words at the right moment. Father, forgive me for forgetting and for not trusting You.  Help me to never miss another opportunity to have an eternal conversation.  

Who's Proud?

 

I have been stewing over the concepts of pride and humility.  Both are rather slippery.

What is pride?  My knee-jerk mental picture is an arrogant, haughty person who views himself as better (or smarter, or holier, or more important...) than others.  There is certainly obvious pride, but the most dangerous is subtle or disguised pride.

At its core, pride is a heart centered on self. The proud heart says, "Me first, God."

By this definition, a person who is far from haughty can also be proud.  Insecurity and self-pity are actually symptoms of pride. What a perfect tool pride is for the enemy.  If he can't make us feel superior to others, he can get us to feel sorry for ourselves about it!  Either way, pride reigns.

In contrast, humility is the result of a God-centered heart.  The best definition I've heard is that a humble person doesn't think less of himself; he thinks of himself less often.  The Catch-22 about humility is that the moment we realize we are acting humbly, we are at risk of losing that humility.

As slippery as these qualities are, the Bible is abundantly clear about which heart God prefers.  He opposes the proud and gives grace to the humble.  Haughty eyes are at the top of the list of things God detests.

God's preference for humility resonates even within our own flawed hearts.

Be honest; don't proud people offend you? They do me.

The men and women I most admire are the ones who are the most humble. Even in our fallen and fleshly state, we see the divine in humility and the disgusting in pride.

Why then, if we experience such admiration for humility in others, does it seem such a distasteful thing to strive for in ourselves?

We respect the lowly, yet resist being thought lowly in the opinion of others.

We cry out for attention, esteem and praise, even as we marvel over the beauty of a soul that does not seek recognition.

During the past several years in many different situations, I have watched pride destroy marriages, families, businesses, security, peace, and fellowship.  I have grieved as people whose craving for respect or status or control or stuff proved more dear to them than God's fellowship and blessing.  I've witnessed devastated people standing in the rubble of opportunities or relationships ruined by pride--yet still clinging desperately to the very idol that caused the destruction.

It is painful to watch--even worse to be among those wounded by it.

So often in the past months I have been tempted to beg God to bring down the proud.

Before the prayer can ever pass my lips, this thought enters my mind:

"What if that's YOU?"

Because I am just a likely to be acting in pride.  It's so easy to spot in others, so hard to recognize in ourselves.

Over the past months I have felt a wide array of painful emotions brought on by a great disappointment.  I have struggled to resist a root of bitterness that would to take hold in my heart and choke out love.

The very emotions and sins I wrestle with reveal a heart that is focused primarily on ME.

A heart that is proud.

Do I really want God to bring down the proud?

Because I would definitely be among those going down.

No, instead, I want to beg God to keep constantly before me an awareness of His grace to me.

I don't deserve anything, and He gave everything.

 I don't want God to bring down the proud, I want Him to bring down the pride.

Create in me a clean heart, O God.  Expose any pride to which I am blind before it destroys.  Reveal truth not to expose fraud before the world, but to show your child that she is resisting You and missing out on Your best.  Draw me broken and repentant before You--not making excuses, not glossing over, not placing blame--but TRULY repentant.  Show me how despicable my pride is, so that I can cry out in repentance and receive Grace.

Father, break me to humble me so that I can experience the beauty of Your grace and the freedom to show grace to others.