Born King

We love Kings and Queens.  They fascinate us.  From an early age our imaginations are captured through the allure of royalty.  It’s why the majority of the outfits in my six-year-old daughter’s “dress up” box are Disney princess dresses.  It’s why when I wrestle with my three sons, we hold each other down and ask, “Who’s the king?”  We can’t seem to get enough of this idea of royalty.  One of the lead stories this morning on the Today Show was about the latest book surrounding the engagement of Prince William and Kate Middleton; it was entitled, Kate & William: A Royal Love Story.

There is something so inherently powerful about the concept of a king or queen.  It carries with it the promise of position, power and prestige.  So strong is the gravitational pull, we tend to glamorize them as existing at the intersection of dignity and nobility.  As though the mere claiming of a title somehow confers the very best of human virtues. 

Of course we know this isn’t true.  History is full of royal despots that captured or retained their thrones through cruelty, oppression and torture.  Yet what unifies both good and bad kings and queens is the process they each went through to grasp their scepters of rule.  There were always steps to the throne.

History tells us that kingship was conferred through marriage, death, deception, revolution, popular vote and victorious battles.  Though the mechanism may have differed, one truth remained—no one was born king or queen.  At best, birth pointed to a royal lineage and the potential for kingship at some future date.  Prince William for example, was not born King of England.  He was born a prince.  To become king, him grandmother and father must both die.  As blue as his blood may be, he is not yet a king.

How unique and interesting it is then when the Magi ask in Matthew 2 verse 2, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews?”  The birth of Jesus is unique for many reasons, I submit though, that is was also unique that he was born King.  There was never a process for Jesus to become King.  There were never any steps to be taken toward his throne.  Neither royal intrigue nor clandestine assassination plot was necessary.  He was born King.  Before his baby hands held a rattle, they held the royal scepter of creation.  Before he cooed in his mother’s arms, He spoke the cosmos into existence.  Being a King is his nature.  He can be nothing less.

For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him.  Colossians 1:19

The babe in a manger that we celebrate at Christmas is also the King of creation.  To overlook this is to miss the point of Christmas.  The Magi did not fall at the feet of the baby Jesus because he was some ruddy-cheeked cherub.  They fell and worshiped because he was King.

 

In the words of the classic carol, “Angels from the Realms of Glory”, I invite us all to,

            Come and worship,

            Come and worship,

            Worship Christ the newborn King.

Truth is irritating.

Truth is irritating.  Or perhaps I should say, Absolute Truth is irritating.  It is annoying.  It is the ever-present mirror pointing out the ridiculous spinach stuck in our teeth.  As a thorn it pricks our Americanized values of diversity, acceptance and self-reliance. 

A few years ago I was living in Phoenix, Arizona.  While taking the risk of offending many of my dear Phoenician friends, everything in the desert wants to hurt you.  Rocks, insects, cactus, and the oppressive heat have one unified goal – to suck the life from you and leave your bones to bleach in the sun.  It was in this hostile environment that I decided to train for my first half marathon.  Silly I know.

Our house was on the edge of the city nestled into a loving lunar landscape of rocks, cactus, a few more rocks followed by more cactus.  Many mornings I would head out and log a few miles of training before heading in to work.  It became a consistent pattern.  Wake up, pull on my shorts, lace up my shoes, take a t-shirt and dunk it in a bucket of water, put it on, take a ball cap – dunk it in water, put it on (if you have questions about my pre-run process please refer to the previous paragraph).  Once properly equipped for my surroundings, out the door I would run.

More often than not I would find myself slipping into a run induced delirium.  I’ve heard this described as the elusive “runner’s high”.  It’s the point at which conscious thought about running ceases.  You enter a strange state of cruise control; no longer are you making any real choices about the world around you.  Legs pump, arms swing, feet strike the ground; repeat, repeat, repeat.  There is no longer any decision to run – you just do.

Then, Ouch!  What was that?  I keep running – it keeps hurting.  First it’s distracting, then irritating, then finally painful.  Somewhere during the ten miles of my morning run I had picked up an obnoxious cactus needle stowaway.  It had lodged inconveniently under the soft fleshy ball of my foot.  Step, ouch! Step, ouch!  Each stride sent this offensive piece of vegetable matter deeper and deeper into the nexus of nerve endings in my foot.  Any semi-intelligent mammal with opposable thumbs would have stopped running; taken off the shoe and removed the injurious spike.  I, however, am far from semi-intelligent.  No sir.  I would not be stopped.  I would not succumb to the inconvenient truth shooting like a hot knife through my foot with each stride.  My plans for my morning run would not be altered, no matter how painful.

As I limped through the front door, my wife asked, “Honey, what’s wrong?  Did you hurt yourself?”  Crumbling onto the couch, I removed my shoes and took out the offending spear.  “Yeah, I got a needle in my shoe.” I say.  Looking at the needle, my blood stained sock and me, my wonderful wife furrows her brow, cocks her head slightly and asks a deeply penetrating question, “Why didn’t you stop and take it out?”  So offensive and hurtful is the question that I shrug it off with a grunt.  “No, seriously.  Why didn’t you stop and pull that thing out?”  Frustrated and slightly chagrined I reply, “Because I didn’t want to.  I was hitting a good stride and didn’t want to stop.”  Mustering up all her compassion, mercy and wifely grace, she replies, “Man you’re dumb.” and walks away to go get the hydrogen peroxide.

Why didn’t I stop?  Because I didn’t want to.  Because my plans would have been disrupted.  Because holding on to what I wanted to do outweighed the potential value of stopping and taking the needle out.  No matter how intense the pain of each foot strike, I refused to accept the reality jabbing through me.  I choose instead to accept repeated and increasing pain rather than adjust to the truth of the situation.

So often I respond to Truth in the same way.  I ignore it.  I struggle through in spite of it.  I make excuses for why it does not need to be “my” truth.  As the pain and discomfort rise, so do my rationalizations and excuses.  I willingly hold tight to lies rather than surrender to offending and uncomfortable Truths.  Truth is, my lies—that I’ve built plans, systems and fortresses around—are far more destructive and disruptive than the time and effort necessary to align myself with Truth. 

My stubborn unwillingness to stop and remove the needle from my shoe had lasting consequences.  I developed an infection that sidelined me for a few weeks.  Ignoring the truth cost me much more than the time it would have required to accept reality and respond accordingly.  So much pain would have been avoided if I had stopped, acknowledged the truth and dealt with that offensive spike. 

Truth is so often like that cactus needle. It is placed as a holy splinter nudging us toward transformation.  It is meant to be irritating.  If not, it would never grab hold of our fallen, sinful sensibilities.  Embracing Truth and making the necessary course corrections—though difficult and sometimes painful—protect us from greater harm.  

God places Truth in the souls of our lives to grab our attention.  Can it be ignored?  Sure.  Can we put off dealing with the Truth?  Yes, but it prolongs the pain and increases the scope of the consequences. 

I’ll bet Jesus has placed an irritating piece of Truth in your life.  I would also bet that often you do your best to ignore it.  Choosing instead to push through the discomfort while pursuing your own plans.  This must drive Jesus nuts.  He patiently pursues us and we doggedly hold tight to our plans.  Choosing a lie over His Truth.  I wonder if in His infinite love and compassion Jesus’ response is like my wife’s response to me—“Man you’re dumb.”

Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. John 8:32

Death is unnatural

I hate death. 

A few minutes ago my brother called to tell me our Uncle had suffered a massive stroke during the night.  My Aunt woke up when she heard his breathing change.  Immediately she called 911.  The paramedics arrived and transported him to the hospital.  Once there, the doctors determined that he had such a horrible sepsis infection that it caused the stroke.  After working feverishly to stabilize and save him, my Uncle Dave—one of the sweetest men I’ve ever known—slipped away.  Like dropping a big rock in a calm stream, this set in motion a series of ripples across my entire family.  Phone calls were made, plane tickets were bought, lives were disrupted and hearts were broken.

Death is wrong.  It is counter intuitive to the relational wiring of who we are as humans.  There is a reason goodbyes hurt so much.  Because we were never created to experience them.  We are stuck in a cosmic paradox.  As spiritual beings we are meant for eternity.  Yet our eternal spirits reside in fading flesh.  A flesh that suffers the results of sin, sickness and Satan on a daily basis.  From birth forward we pursue, chase and wrestle with relational validation and connection.  While at the same time drawing closer, day by day, to the moment of our own passing.  This is not how it was meant to be.  We were intended for unbroken union.  Union with one another and union with a loving God. 

Officiating many funerals over the years, the one unifying factor is the power of relationships.  Rich, poor, young, old; relationships are what connect us.  They add value to our present.  They define us.  When they are taken from us, they are what injure us the most.  Even when death brings a release to those suffering through horrible pain, it still feels inherently wrong.

Romans 7:24 Who will rescue me from this body of death?

After hanging up with my brother I called my cousin—one of Uncle Dave’s daughters.  She and I are close in age and look like we could be brother and sister.  Upon getting the news of her dad’s passing she gathered up her seven-year-old daughter and began the drive up to her parent's house.  After a few rings she answered the phone.  The quiet pain in her voice was obvious.  She shared what she knew, choking back tears.  We talked for a few moments.  Neither one of us sure what to say.  In situations like this, it is ridiculous to ask, “How are you?”  Having been where she is a couple years ago with my own father’s death, “I’m so sorry.”, was the best that I could think to say.  Then an image came to mind; my dad standing next to Jesus, at the entrance to eternity, waiting anxiously to wrap Uncle Dave—his little brother—in his arms. 

The image of my dad standing side by side with Christ, welcoming my Uncle Dave into Heaven represents so much for me.  It reminds me that God understands the contrariness of death.  It reminds me that He understands the power of relationships.  It reminds me that death does not have the final say.  It reminds me that Jesus will lovingly restore the relationships that death attempts to take from us.

Revelation 21:3-4 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

Yes, I do hate death.  It is tragic, painful and heartless.  But I praise God that it does not have the final word.  Jesus’ redemptive work on the cross demonstrates God’s compassionate understanding of the unnatural tragedy of death.  Death is in fact “unnatural”.  It is not what was intended.  What a great battle is won when we acquiesce to the lie that death is part of the natural order of life.  Life is the natural order.  God’s every act is to restore what sin and Satan have broken.  Jesus said, “I have come to give you life.  Life abundantly!”  It is this hope, this restoration of relationships, this redemption of present pain that carries me through to the time when all will be restored to its natural order.    

How can I pray for you?

“When you called this morning and asked if there was anything you could pray for me today, wow. I had tears come to my eyes. It's been a long time since I've been asked that.”

This was an email from a friend of mine that lives on the other side of the country.  We’ve known each other since high school.  I had called to follow up on a pretty trivial question that her husband had asked me.  Towards the end of our conversation I asked how I could pray for her.  Looking back in light of her comment, I do remember that she paused for a moment or two. 

I share this not to puff myself up, or to make you think that I’m a super saintly friend.  Far from it.  I can be as lame as the next guy.  It has only been in the last two years that I’ve made an intentional effort to ask people how I can pray for them.  What this question has done for me and those I pray for has been surprising and humbling.

I have wrestled with prayer for years.  Like Jacob on the side of the river—prayer always seemed like something I clung to desperately, but often left me limping along afterwards.  Two and a half years ago that began to change.  Two and a half years ago I was unemployed.  Two and a half years ago I was living in my parents basement.  Two and a half years ago my wife gave birth to our fourth child.  Two and a half years ago my dad died.

The weight of these pressures was taking a heavy toll on my ability to rise above spiritually.  My tank was empty.  Daily life felt like wearing a 100-pound lead vest.  The emotional gravity of my circumstances was pulling me down with frightening strength.  Unsure what to do or where to turn, I began shutting down a little at a time.  My shut down would have been complete if not for the presence of faithful friends.

As lost as I felt most days, my friends kept pulling me back through the anchor of their prayers.  Never before in my life had I been prayed for so consistently and powerfully.  The prayers of others became a very real tether to a redeemed future that God had for me.  The transition out of my temporal pit was not immediate or painless, but it was made possible through the faithful prayers of those that loved my family and me.  Prayer, though still mysterious, took on a power and efficacy that had previously been missing.

That season of pain and trial changed me.  Having been on the receiving end of intentional and specific prayer refined my understanding of this foundational act of faith.  Surprise, surprise—prayer really does matter. 

I may not have all the answers to the Free Will vs. Sovereignty of God questions that prayer raises.  But I do have a personal story of redemption and healing.  That story is a daily reminder to not pass up the opportunities to pray for others.  It matters.  In ways we cannot imagine or anticipate.  Take the time today to enter into the life of someone else.  Ask them, “How can I pray for you?”

Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

damaged goods

“I’m damaged goods.”

Recently I had the joy of sitting down at Starbucks with three of my former students.  Each of them has been through difficult journeys on their road to embracing their identity in Christ.  Through this process they have become three of my favorite young women. 

Wanting to make the most of our time together, I got right to it.  “How are your hearts?” I asked them.  Two of the three were quick to respond, “Great!”  Each explained that though it has been a difficult road to getting healthy, they feel encouraged by what they see God doing in their lives.  One of the ladies shared that counseling is helping her to understand and address some past hurts and lies that continue to impact her.  This is a painful process, yet necessary and fruitful.  Another described how her deepening connection to Christ is opening doors for healthy relationships with men.  It is a little nerve racking, but also exciting as she seeks to honor God in a dating context.

When I turned to the third young lady I noticed that she had tears in her eyes.  “How ‘bout you?  How is your heart these days?”  The weight of that question crested over her like a thirty-foot wave on the North Shore of Oahu.  Catching her breath she said, “It’s good.”  Then taking a beat to think about it she replied, “I feel like I’m damaged goods.”  Ouch.  Hearing her say that was like getting a round house Mike Tyson to the solar plexus.

There are few things more destructive than self-identifying with our mistakes.  When our self worth becomes mired in the muck of our sin, everything begins to unravel.  What an amazing win this is for Satan.  Believing this lie is to hand Satan the keys to the kingdom of our souls.  The cure to this epidemic of negative self-worth is an injection of Truth from scripture.

Jeremiah 31:3 I have loved you . . . with an everlasting love. With unfailing love I have drawn you to myself.

“Damaged goods.“  After taking a moment to collect myself I looked around at the ladies and asked, “What word do they call someone who is a daughter of a king?”  Blank stares.  Slowly they began leaning into the realization of what I was saying.  “A princess?” “That’s right.” I said.  “Once you have put your life and faith in Jesus’ hands He declares you to be sons and daughters of the most high God.”  Galatians 3:26 tells us that we, “are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus.”  If God is the King, and we are his children, that makes us princes and princesses.  Now go and live accordingly.  We are not damaged goods.  The King has declared us holy and righteous.  As adopted sons and daughters we need to live in the reality of our royal heritage.  That means taking captive those thoughts that degrade our self image and distract us from the eternal reality of our identities in Christ.

The three legged stool

After more than 15 years of youth ministry I found myself wondering if any lives were really changed.  I knew how to draw kids in.  I understood how to lead students into a greater understanding of biblical truth.  I knew how to contextualize the Gospel for teenage culture.  And there were certainly successes along the way.  Kids met Jesus and were baptized.  But I was still plagued by the idea that transformation was not happening to the degree that Christ desired.

As I poured over scripture I began to see a pattern in the way Jesus developed others.  When I looked at the methods Christ used to spiritually form the disciples three elements continued to rise to the surface.

First, He called them in to Community.  Most of these twelve men didn’t know each other before Christ’s calling.  They were busy pursuing their own lives when Jesus stepped in and called them to form a new community.  Twelve diverse men of varying ages, socio-economic status and cultural backgrounds drawn together around the unifying principles of the Kingdom of Heaven.

Second, He reproduced His vision, values and beliefs as He Mentored each of them.  Jesus did not merely stand on a mountain side and declare all that the disciples needed to know.  Rather, he invested His life in each of them.  He walked with them.  He made sure that the Gospel message was not a seminar to attend, but rather a fresh and beautiful way of living.

Third, He sent them on Mission.  Specifically in Luke 9:1-6 Jesus sends them out to preach the Gospel and to heal the sick.  This diverse intergenerational group of men were to go out and meet people’s spiritual needs and their immediate physical needs.  As I read the Gospel accounts, serving others began to jump out at me as the catalyzing agent of true spiritual transformation.  Jesus understood that to solidify the values of community and mentoring He needed to send the twelve out on mission.

This third idea began to radically alter my approach to youth ministry.  For many years I had succeeded in creating Community.  I had even done a solid job of Mentoring teenage students and adult volunteers.  What I had not done very well, was to expose and challenge young people to go on Mission.

Its now years since those initial revelations, and they remain as true today as they ever were.  When I began leaning into the service and mission imperatives of following Jesus, lives began changing in transformative ways.  When serving others together became a foundational principle for me, I saw students (and leaders) own their faith in fresh and life long ways.

Today I am sold out to these three ideas of: Community, Mentoring and Mission.  When lived out in an intergenerational context they form a three legged stool that supports a biblical vision for the Kingdom of Heaven.

Fitting In

Recently I met with a gentleman in his 70’s.  He is a terrific man with years and years of experience as a lay leader in the Church.  It was lunch time as we sat down at a local Panera.

After some initial chit chat, we leaned into the heart of the matter.  This gentle Godly man was wrestling with his place in church.  After decades of service and teaching others, he was now at a place where he couldn’t figure out where he fit in the greater body of Christ.  For years he identified himself as someone who could teach and lead others through the Bible.  He loved nothing more than to communicate the Truths of scripture to a room full of hungry minds and hearts.  Recently though, his hearing has been failing.  With tears in his eyes he explained that he no longer can lead discussions with more than 2-3 people.  His ears are not able to filter out the background “noise” enough to stay focused.

This is a true tragedy in his life.  He no longer feels sure that he has a real place in the Church.  With humility and sincerity, he looks me square in the eyes and asks, “Where do I fit?  What do I have to offer any more?”

His question broke my heart.  Were there ways as a church that we had dropped the ball in this man’s life?  How had we let a man with so much wisdom, experience and knowledge feel so undervalued during the autumn of his life?  If he was feeling these things, then there must be others as well in similar situations with similar questions.

Looking into his eyes, it was clear what one of the answers was.  He needed to pour his years of faith into the lives of the generations behind him.  Though he is unable to lead a room full of people, he can still sit across from a man and impart wisdom and grace.  I replied, “You have so much to offer!  In this season of life, we as a church need your knowledge, wisdom and experience to be poured into and reproduced in the lives of other men.  Would you be willing to mentor others?”  I could see the idea filter through this seasoned saint.  Slowly, like a washcloth absorbing spilled milk, the idea soaked in.  With renewed light in his eyes he said, “I think I could do that.”  

Its been several weeks since we met and he is now mentoring a 50 year old gentleman.  He has renewed passion and a greater commitment than ever to reproducing Christlike vision, values and beliefs in others.