“If your time to you is worth saving, then you better start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone.” –Bob Dylan
Statistics say that only 20% of kids who are involved in church and committed to Christ will maintain the same level of commitment to Christ after they graduate. An additional 20% say that the church never reached them adequately, so they become disengaged from the church and Christ. Basically, as someone who works with youth, I’m staring an 80% failure rate right in the face. That may earn your keep in professional baseball, but not in ministry. I see that and say, “Unacceptable.” But as I’ve wrestled through these statistics, the reasons for them, and what I can do to overcome them, I’ve realized that first and foremost, God is above statistics. He is above human reasoning and emotions. He is above our excuses.
I think we walk away from our faith in God because we’ve lost sight of the most important thing- our relationship with God. In Matthew 7:24-27, Jesus talks about building our house on a solid foundation. He says that the foundation is laid by hearing His words and putting them into practice. However, I think we’ve missed the point of these verses. If you look at the preceding verses (7:21-23), you find that what Jesus really wants is for His people to know Him. This means that to build the proper foundation, we need to move from hearing to saying and doing to truly saying and doing. What does it mean to truly say and do? It means that everything we say and do flows from the fact that we know and love God and that we are known and loved by God. In other words, it comes from a relationship with God that is deep and lasting, not shallow and superficial. That kind of relationship transcends any circumstances in life.
If in our own lives, we are constantly relying on and resting in a God that is above everything, circumstances become less relevant. If in our ministry, we are showing kids this kind of relationship, they will not just become statistics. Look at statistics and become overwhelmed or look at statistics and see a hope that God is above them. The latter is what God wants, the former just wastes time. The question to myself is this: Will I waste anymore time?
Friday, February 12, 2010
The Cinderella of the Spiritual Disciplines
“And if Paul and I listened carefully, all our lives, we might hear those words.” -Paul Mclean, A River Runs Through It
If spiritual disciplines were a fairy tale, silence would be Cinderella. What do I mean by this? Cinderella was the girl up in the attic that everybody forgot about until she became royalty. Everybody was so focused on everything else that she was easily dismissed. That is, until her true value was revealed. Silence is like that. As Christians, we focus so much on prayer and Bible reading (and by no means do those have little value), we forget about a discipline like silence until we take the time to practice it and find out how truly valuable it is. In fact, if we take the time, we will find that silence is an integral part of our walk with Christ. Often, we use the two-legged analogy of a conversation to describe prayer and Bible reading. The Bible is how God speaks to us and prayer how we speak to God. But why does it all have to be about talking? What about listening? Could it be that in silence, we listen for what God is really trying to tell us?
In the life of Elijah, there is an amazing moment where Elijah is confronted with the presence of God, but in a place where he least expected it. Elijah, standing at the mouth of a cave nestled in the mountains, witnesses the power of a mighty wind tearing though the mountains, an earthquake, and a great fire. But God was not in either of those. In fact, God was in the low whisper that followed those more powerful phenomenons. And when Elijah heard that low whisper, he knew he was in the presence of God. In our lives, we too often get caught up in the noise of life. We mistake busyness for godliness, as if by doing more were become more spiritual, more in tune with Christ. Perhaps if we stopped doing more we could take time to dwell in the presence of God and listen to what He is trying to tell us. Perhaps if we stopped looking for God in the mighty wind, and the earthquake, and the fire, we would find him in the low whisper. But we have to be listening.
There is a beautiful scene near the beginning of A River Runs Through It in which it is told that Reverend Mcclean would take his sons, Norman and Paul, for walks along the Big Blackfoot River to unwind between Sunday sermons. As they walk along the banks of the river, he explains to the boys that the river and the rocks were created long ago, but that long before that, even beneath the rocks, were the words of God. The reverend pauses a moment and then says one word, “Listen.” And in the typical fashion of young children, the Mclean boys lean forward expectantly, waiting to hear God speak to them. Maybe if we took time, even a small bit, to sit in silence, all the while leaning forward expectantly, listening for the words of God, we would find them. “For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him” (Psalm 62:5 ESV).
If spiritual disciplines were a fairy tale, silence would be Cinderella. What do I mean by this? Cinderella was the girl up in the attic that everybody forgot about until she became royalty. Everybody was so focused on everything else that she was easily dismissed. That is, until her true value was revealed. Silence is like that. As Christians, we focus so much on prayer and Bible reading (and by no means do those have little value), we forget about a discipline like silence until we take the time to practice it and find out how truly valuable it is. In fact, if we take the time, we will find that silence is an integral part of our walk with Christ. Often, we use the two-legged analogy of a conversation to describe prayer and Bible reading. The Bible is how God speaks to us and prayer how we speak to God. But why does it all have to be about talking? What about listening? Could it be that in silence, we listen for what God is really trying to tell us?
In the life of Elijah, there is an amazing moment where Elijah is confronted with the presence of God, but in a place where he least expected it. Elijah, standing at the mouth of a cave nestled in the mountains, witnesses the power of a mighty wind tearing though the mountains, an earthquake, and a great fire. But God was not in either of those. In fact, God was in the low whisper that followed those more powerful phenomenons. And when Elijah heard that low whisper, he knew he was in the presence of God. In our lives, we too often get caught up in the noise of life. We mistake busyness for godliness, as if by doing more were become more spiritual, more in tune with Christ. Perhaps if we stopped doing more we could take time to dwell in the presence of God and listen to what He is trying to tell us. Perhaps if we stopped looking for God in the mighty wind, and the earthquake, and the fire, we would find him in the low whisper. But we have to be listening.
There is a beautiful scene near the beginning of A River Runs Through It in which it is told that Reverend Mcclean would take his sons, Norman and Paul, for walks along the Big Blackfoot River to unwind between Sunday sermons. As they walk along the banks of the river, he explains to the boys that the river and the rocks were created long ago, but that long before that, even beneath the rocks, were the words of God. The reverend pauses a moment and then says one word, “Listen.” And in the typical fashion of young children, the Mclean boys lean forward expectantly, waiting to hear God speak to them. Maybe if we took time, even a small bit, to sit in silence, all the while leaning forward expectantly, listening for the words of God, we would find them. “For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him” (Psalm 62:5 ESV).
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Dark Knight and the Son of God
"He's wild, you know. Not like a tame lion." Mr. Beaver, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
Do you ever feel the pressure to say something profound? Well, I do. All the time. The profound is partially what drives me to write. That, and writing is somewhat theuraputic for me. Often I find though that when I'm looking for the profound, I often can't profind it (he hits a lazy can of corn into the outfield... and that's out number 3). Seriously, though, it's in a moment of unconscious competence that I find the profound (or rather it finds me). The above title is some such thing.
It happened to find me as I was walking home from the library one day, thinking about a job interview I was going to have that week. Thinking about my spiritual life to this point, it hit me that my spiritual journey with Jesus was much like my journey with Batman. Yes, Batman. You know, the Dark Knight of Gotham City, the Caped Crusader? He's like the Babe Ruth of superheroes with all his nicknames...the Great Bambino, the Sultan of Swat, etc. That may sound like some crazy notion, but I believe that a lot of theology can be found in the comics.
For instance, did you know that Superman was created in 1933 by Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster, who both happened to be Jewish? Superman, is of course, a colossal superhero from the planet Krypton capable of saving the entire world from any sort of disaster with amazing (albeit way too many) super powers. Yet, he doesn't want the world to know who he is and so disguises himself as the "mild-mannered" Clark Kent. But did you know his Kryptonian name is Kal-El? Notice if you will, the "El" suffix. El is the Hebrew name for God. And think about the premise of Superman. A guy comes to Earth from a distant place to save the planet from distruction with amazing feats of power. Yet, he disguises himself as a regular guy. Sound like anyone else you've heard of? A messiah perhaps?
Anyway, I don't like Superman. Too much going on there. So back to Batman and my original point. Growing up, I watched the 1960s Batman TV show in syndication. This was quite possibly the worst version of Batman ever made with the Zaps, Pows, and Zwings and Cesar Romero as the Joker with his make- up caked over his mustache. Horrible. But when I was six years old, this was the coolest thing ever. And then as I grew up and learned more about Batman and all his complexity, that 60s TV show doesn't seem as real and exciting anymore. The Batman I know now is way more exciting. I see Jesus in this way. I came to know Him at an early age and the things I learned about him were wonderful and exciting, but as I grew up and learned more about Him, the more I realized that that Jesus was somewhat shallow. The Jesus I know now is much tougher, much more complex, much more a Savior than the Jesus I knew as a kid. "...for he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world" (1 John 4:4 ESV). Think on the depth of the power of Jesus Christ and you'll soon discover that Jesus is greater and deeper than you ever thought possible.
Do you ever feel the pressure to say something profound? Well, I do. All the time. The profound is partially what drives me to write. That, and writing is somewhat theuraputic for me. Often I find though that when I'm looking for the profound, I often can't profind it (he hits a lazy can of corn into the outfield... and that's out number 3). Seriously, though, it's in a moment of unconscious competence that I find the profound (or rather it finds me). The above title is some such thing.
It happened to find me as I was walking home from the library one day, thinking about a job interview I was going to have that week. Thinking about my spiritual life to this point, it hit me that my spiritual journey with Jesus was much like my journey with Batman. Yes, Batman. You know, the Dark Knight of Gotham City, the Caped Crusader? He's like the Babe Ruth of superheroes with all his nicknames...the Great Bambino, the Sultan of Swat, etc. That may sound like some crazy notion, but I believe that a lot of theology can be found in the comics.
For instance, did you know that Superman was created in 1933 by Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster, who both happened to be Jewish? Superman, is of course, a colossal superhero from the planet Krypton capable of saving the entire world from any sort of disaster with amazing (albeit way too many) super powers. Yet, he doesn't want the world to know who he is and so disguises himself as the "mild-mannered" Clark Kent. But did you know his Kryptonian name is Kal-El? Notice if you will, the "El" suffix. El is the Hebrew name for God. And think about the premise of Superman. A guy comes to Earth from a distant place to save the planet from distruction with amazing feats of power. Yet, he disguises himself as a regular guy. Sound like anyone else you've heard of? A messiah perhaps?
Anyway, I don't like Superman. Too much going on there. So back to Batman and my original point. Growing up, I watched the 1960s Batman TV show in syndication. This was quite possibly the worst version of Batman ever made with the Zaps, Pows, and Zwings and Cesar Romero as the Joker with his make- up caked over his mustache. Horrible. But when I was six years old, this was the coolest thing ever. And then as I grew up and learned more about Batman and all his complexity, that 60s TV show doesn't seem as real and exciting anymore. The Batman I know now is way more exciting. I see Jesus in this way. I came to know Him at an early age and the things I learned about him were wonderful and exciting, but as I grew up and learned more about Him, the more I realized that that Jesus was somewhat shallow. The Jesus I know now is much tougher, much more complex, much more a Savior than the Jesus I knew as a kid. "...for he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world" (1 John 4:4 ESV). Think on the depth of the power of Jesus Christ and you'll soon discover that Jesus is greater and deeper than you ever thought possible.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Epitaph of the Living Man
"All, all are sleeping on the hill." -Edgar Lee Masters, Spoon River Anthology
Throughout my young life, I've heard many speeches on "the dash." You know, the dash on a headstone, the one that sits right between your birthday and the day you kicked the bucket? That one. Let's be honest, the last thing you look at on someone's grave is a dash. And yet, I've heard many people speak on it. More often than not, the thing that sticks out is the epitaph. Whether it be "loving husband and father" or "never forgotten" or some such thing, you notice that more than any other thing on the headstone.
Then it comes to me. What about my epitaph? What do I want it to be? To be quite honest, I still don't know if I want to be buried or cremated, so I might not even have one. Author Hunter S. Thompson was cremated and had his ashes shot out of a cannon. I found that rather amusing (this after he committed suicide out of boredom, which I still don't really understand). "Radical atheist" Douglas Adams (of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy fame) was buried and a memorial service was held in his honor at St. Martin-in-the-Fields Church in Trafalgar Square. I found that rather ironic. So what's the point? Well, first of all, I just like that useless information and second of all, I don't think I have one. Except maybe that epitaphs are pointless. Think about this: On your grave is your whole life summed up in one sentence. One sentence? That's it?
Personally, I don't want my life summed up in one sentence after I'm dead. So starting right now, my epitaph is being written, not in words, but with my life. The way I figure it, "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Galatians 2:20 ESV). My life can't be summed up in one sentence at one point where my earthly life ends. My epitaph is being written every day by God's hand, in the blood of Christ, with the pen of my life.
Throughout my young life, I've heard many speeches on "the dash." You know, the dash on a headstone, the one that sits right between your birthday and the day you kicked the bucket? That one. Let's be honest, the last thing you look at on someone's grave is a dash. And yet, I've heard many people speak on it. More often than not, the thing that sticks out is the epitaph. Whether it be "loving husband and father" or "never forgotten" or some such thing, you notice that more than any other thing on the headstone.
Then it comes to me. What about my epitaph? What do I want it to be? To be quite honest, I still don't know if I want to be buried or cremated, so I might not even have one. Author Hunter S. Thompson was cremated and had his ashes shot out of a cannon. I found that rather amusing (this after he committed suicide out of boredom, which I still don't really understand). "Radical atheist" Douglas Adams (of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy fame) was buried and a memorial service was held in his honor at St. Martin-in-the-Fields Church in Trafalgar Square. I found that rather ironic. So what's the point? Well, first of all, I just like that useless information and second of all, I don't think I have one. Except maybe that epitaphs are pointless. Think about this: On your grave is your whole life summed up in one sentence. One sentence? That's it?
Personally, I don't want my life summed up in one sentence after I'm dead. So starting right now, my epitaph is being written, not in words, but with my life. The way I figure it, "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Galatians 2:20 ESV). My life can't be summed up in one sentence at one point where my earthly life ends. My epitaph is being written every day by God's hand, in the blood of Christ, with the pen of my life.
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