Missional as the New Legalism, Part Two

Mark told a story in his gospel about a controversy between Jesus and a few religious experts (See Mark 7.1-23). The controversy surrounded the issue of ritually washing one’s hands before eating food. In this story, Jesus’ disciples were not washing their hands before they ate. This caused the religious experts to ask Jesus why they were not “living according to the tradition of the elders.”

Jesus told them that it was not about the rituals, traditions, rules, and lifestyle that religion offers. None of these things made someone clean or unclean. It was about what’s inside you, namely the heart. Jesus told them that out of the heart came “evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly.” He said that these things come from inside and defile a person.”

Let’s be honest, if that is what lurks inside of us why even go there? It’s messy, dirty, and shameful. Perhaps it’s better to just cover it up and not disturb it, which is what propels legalism forward. Legalism allows you to perform without ever asking questions about what is inside. So we get busy doing all sorts of things and ignoring our hearts, but when we ignore what’s in our hearts it doesn’t go away. It festers, it grows, and at some point it will spill out.

A family that I know spent their entire lives working for a Christian Evangelistic Ministry. This particular ministry was very concerned with how people on their staff were performing. A few years ago the father of this family I know was diagnosed with a terminal illness. He died shortly after. It was then that all the dirty laundry of their life came out.

He was an alcoholic. He was abusive. Their marriage was a sham. All of this and they lived next door to another family who worked for the same ministry. His wife confessed that while they both knew things were bad they could never have said anything. No one wanted to know what was in that man’s heart. Probably because those in leadership of that ministry did not want to talk about what was in their heart.

Unfortunately stories like this are rather common. Men and women saying all the right things, doing all the right tasks, and acting out a beautiful spirituality, but in the end all of these things are only a mask. Which is why Jesus called those religious experts “hypocrites.”

Hypocrites were actors in the theater who wore masks. Their masks bore exaggerated features so people could tell what kind of character they were. Yet, while people saw the mask they never knew who the actor behind the mask was.

When it comes to acting, what matters is the mask. When it comes to legalism what matters is the performance. But when it comes to Jesus what matters is the heart.

The more people in the church are only told “go and do” the more in danger we are of overlooking the heart. If the insistence from pastors to their people is only to “be missional” we may ignore the transformative journey. It’s easy to do.

Being missional is good and right. But sometimes, the cleverest trick the Evil One plays is getting the people of God to do a lot of things that are good and right so we fail to see the one thing.

A few weeks ago I sat with some pastors who were talking about being missional. They were telling stories of their sermons that challenged their congregation to be missional. They spoke of this book or that book that gave good insights on being missional. They spoke of a conference that was all about the missional movement.

Eventually the talk of transformation arose. One pastor commented, “Just be careful, the more you tell people to focus on their own transformation, the more focused on yourselves you will be, and the less missional you will become.” This is true only if we are teaching them to be transformed into something other than Christ. It is impossible to become more like Jesus and not live missionally.

Beyond that, why, for so many, is this an “either-or” proposition? It is, and must always be, a “both-and.” Mission and transformation cannot be separated, one leads to the other and the other to the one. However, if it is only about “doing” then we may just have the one or the other, in which case we miss the heart – the very thing that matters to Jesus.

Missional as the New Legalism, Part One

Over the last few decades a word has crept into the Church that technically, is not even a word. Even so, the word “missional” has found itself used nearly as much as the name Jesus. Some churches even choose to use it to describe what kind of church they are (for an example, click here).

This renewed emphasis on “being missional” has been much needed for the Church. For far too long the Church has attempted to act as the moral police for culture, rather than existing as a healing agent to our hurting and broken world. The idea of a “missional” Church calls the people of God to rightly serve, give, care, and love like Jesus did.

As you can imagine much good has come from this. There has been a reawakening of God’s concern for the poor and vulnerable, a greater understanding of social and systemic evil, and a deepened expression of the gospel being more than just getting to heaven when you die. No doubt this expression is desperately needed in the Church today, but for some missional is becoming the new legalism.

Legalism is a way of viewing life and religion that insists on doing (and mostly not doing) any certain number of "things" (these "things" are any number of arbitrary rules that are legislated by a group or organization). Legalism is a checklist, a rulebook, a bullet point outline as to how one can live a God-pleasing (not to mention incredibly boring) life. Living this way is quite easy. It allows one to know where they are in their spiritual journey. It is this mindset that is subtly being thrown into the missional talk.

Several weeks ago I was with a pastor who was telling me about how his church is making a shift to be more missional. He had plans, classes, illustrations, and a clever series of sermons that were bound to get people out of the pew on Sunday and into their world. While this is good, it boiled down to telling people what they had to do. This conversation is like many that I have had with other pastors, and similar to scores of articles and books that I have read. Simply put, the message is: BE MORE MISSIONAL.

At first glance I would not argue with this. The problem lies with the culture that has largely existed in the American Evangelical Church over the last one hundred years. That being legalism. Many want their pastor to tell them what to do. Many want something to check off the list. All so that they can have safety and security in knowing they are doing the right thing. For an increasing number of people “being missional” is just one more thing on the list.

A friend of mine shared an article with me last week drafted by a group of national thought leaders, pastors, and theologians. The article had to do with the tenants of what it is to be missional. It was indeed a thorough explanation of God, who has a missional heart. They were clear and compelling on why we, the people of God, should also be missional. Even still, at the end of the article I was disappointed. It was a treatise on what we need to do.

All of this talk will only be more legalism as long as we ignore the central component in being truly missional – a transformed heart. Living in a missional way will forever be impotent as long as the Church is doing out of obligation. Being missional will always be empty if people are engaging because of a rousing sermon that has induced excitement for an event or guilt about not doing enough. Mission must happen out of a transformed life that enables us to exist as the transforming presence of Jesus in our world.

The real tragedy would be for many to be more missional and ignore their own heart. In the end missional will just be the new religion and, as one poet has said, religion is what happens when God has left the building. Mission must always happen out of a transformed heart, and as we will explore further, a transformed heart will happen out of mission. But if we only speak of “being missional” we will lose the transformation, and it will only be the new legalism.

Why I Try to Not Be Busy

Several times every week people make the assumption that I am really busy. They ask me about meeting some time and quickly add, “I’m sure you’re busy.” I recently received an email that made the assumption of my busyness by saying, “You have to be one of the busiest people on the planet.”

While being ranked about anything, as number one on the planet is flattering, my reply to these comments is always the same, “Actually, I am not busy.” Few really believe this at first, but it’s true. More and more in my life I am rarely busy.

This is not to say that I do not work well, but there is a difference between work and busyness.

Good work is simply keeping focus during the time allotted for those things to be done. For me, this is typically daylight hours. Working well (for me) is not producing, but engaging in something that is fulfilling and life giving. When I work well there is a good kind of tiredness that sets in around 10 PM.

Busyness is more a restlessness that pays no attention to the time allotted for things to be done. Busyness does not allow for things to remain unfinished. To be busy is to be someone who does not have an off switch. Keeping busy sucks life out of me and blinds me to what’s really important. When I am busy I am constantly fatigued, and get sleepy around midnight.

I have begun to see what busyness produces in me – edginess, an inability to be present anywhere, stress, and a fast-paced daily rhythm.

Conversely working well produces in me – more patience, a greater ability to be present everywhere, wholeness, and an easy-going daily rhythm.

For me, it is that black and white.

This is good on the one hand, because when I am busy all the symptoms readily appear. Then I can sit and look at what is occupying me and holding my attention. On the other hand, it is bad for when I am too busy, well as you can see - I become an irritable mess.

With this in mind, over the last several months I have really begun to address work and business in my life. I have begun to ask what brings me to a place of wholeness, what brings me emotional, spiritual, and physical health? What is a good daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly rhythm?

In pursuing this way of living, I enlisted the help of my wife, accountability partner, some pastor friends, and our elder team. I reorganized my weekly schedule, adjusted my teaching calendar, lessened how often I check email, and made some commitments regarding what I won’t do before or after certain hours.

Honestly, I began to do less, and in doing so God has allowed me to be more. It’s not that I have more time, but that I have time that is better. I have fewer commitments, yet I am able to better serve because I am more alive.

Every day the temptation is still there for me to be busy. It really is addicting. Most days I admit this is a problem and know, that with divine intervention, I can overcome it for the one day. Some days I have to think about this every hour. Other days I fail miserably and I start running downhill, and we all know how that ends.

This morning I sat with a group of pastors, several of whom spoke of their busy and chaotic lives. I was one of them. The last few days have been too much for me. So once again, it is hitting the reset button and starting new and fresh with a new day.

In a few hours, I will go home. I will turn off my computer, shut down the cell phone, and coach my son’s soccer practice.

Tomorrow, when I wake up there will be an email waiting for me that will get answered, there will be an office that I will spend some time in, a phone call that I return, and several other things left undone from the day before that may get done. When I leave tomorrow to pick up my kids from school there will be more things to do that don’t get done, and they will spend the weekend unfinished.

There are days when things left undone drive me crazy. On better days I recognize that there are things that may never get done, but it will be okay – and more importantly, so will I.

Reflections on Justice and the Death of Osama Bin Laden

I was sitting on the couch tonight eating a burrito and chatting with my wife about the weekend ahead when a friend texted me asking, “Are you watching the news?” Within moments we learned the news that had captured the world’s attention. Osama Bin Laden had been killed.

In the midst of this news Twitter and Facebook were abuzz with celebratory comments, some even making a claim that this was a victory for God himself. In all of this I began to wonder if God was as happy as those who were celebrating the death of Bin Laden.

In response to this, we immediately want to talk about what happened on 9/11 or point to the horrible atrocities this man masterminded as justification for his death. We claim that his death was warranted or “just” because of the blood that was on his hands. We believe that “justice” was served.

However, I wonder, is there another response that in no way lets Bin Laden off the hook while at the same time honors those who were victims of his evil crimes?

Marietta Jaeger-Lane is a woman who can give some tremendous insight into this. Her young daughter was kidnapped and brutally murdered during a family camping trip. Yet, she mustered the will and strength to ask the man who killed her daughter the first time she ever spoke to him how he was feeling. She told him that she was sure his actions had placed a heavy burden on his soul.

How does a mother of dead child ever come to the place where she shows mercy to her child’s murderer? For her, it came from her understanding of Jesus and a renewed sense of justice - not vengeance with justice slapped on it to make it work - justice that restores.

We often live with a mistaken notion of justice. When someone hits us, we believe that we have a right to hit that person back. The problem is that we rarely hit the person back with the same force - we hit them back harder. In the moment that we hit the person who has hit us we become like them, for in that moment we have both hit.

More than that, the person we hit back is bound to hit us back - harder. And when they do, we will want to hit them back – harder. On it goes, the never-ending, downward spiral of violence. It is a myth that violence can produce peace. As Dr. King said, “Returning violence for violence multiplies violence.”

The good news is, there is another way. Jaeger-Lane, a woman who endured the pain and heartbreak of violence against her daughter, teaches us about this. She recognizes that “victim’s families have every right to the normal, valid, human response of rage.” She believes, however, that to let those emotions devolve into “blood-thirsty revenge” is disastrous for everyone.

She believes this, because, as she states, “We violate and demean our own honor and dignity by taking on the same mindset as the person who caused our grief.” Which makes me wonder. When we raise our hands in the air and cheer when a person has been killed, do we begin to resemble that person? Do we stoop down to their level and like them end up only desiring blood-shed and the loss of life?

Jaeger-Lane believes this is the case. In her understanding, justice for the life of victims does not and should not come by way of killing those who have killed.

She says, “Concerning the claim of ‘justice for the victims’ family’, there is no number of retaliatory deaths which will compensate to me the inestimable value of my daughter’s life … In truth, to claim that the execution of any offender will be ‘just retribution’ is to insult the immeasurable and irreplaceable worth of the victim.”

Lest one think that she has gone soft on perpetrators of violent crime she adds, “I am not advocating forgiveness for violent people and then release to the streets ... there are people who should be separated from the community in a humanely-secured manner for the protection of all.”

While her ideas may seem like nonsense to some; she is able to speak this way because of her understanding of justice. Justice is not about retribution but about restoration.

She says, “I believe that real justice is not punishment but restoration, not necessarily how things used to be but how they should be. In both the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, from where my belief and values come, the God who rises up from them is a God of mercy and compassion. A God who seeks not to punish, destroy, or put us to death, but a God who works unceasingly to help and heal us, rehabilitate and reconcile us, restore us to the richness and fullness of life for which we have been created.”

It has now been a few hours since I finished that burrito and have learned of Bin Laden’s death. As I consider the events of today, and reflect on the words of Marietta Jaeger-Lane I wonder if we are celebrating restorative justice or if we are simply drunk on revenge.

I wonder if the killing of an evil man is in any way “just retribution” for the lives of fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters that were slaughtered by him.

I wonder if in cheering at the news of his death we are in some way believing that his death will in some way compensate to us the immeasurable worth of lives lost.

Perhaps we ought not waste our energy celebrating the death of the one who ended their life. For we must always remember, no death of any human being should ever be cause for celebration. Maybe a proper response would be to honor the memory of those whose lives were ended because of this man, not by cheering his death, but by honoring their life.

The Other Half of the Psalms

The Book of Psalms is the essential prayer book for those of Jewish faith, and mostly central for those of Christian faith too. I say “mostly” central because, in my experience, the other half of the Psalms have rarely been talked about. Those being the Psalms that are referred to as "laments."

During this Lenten Season at Denver Community Church we have been focusing our attention on the Psalms of Lament. We have focused our attention on the God who is intimate with grief and our denial of pain. We discussed the realities of anger, doubt, sorrow, and asked the question, “What do we do when God has left the building?”

These Psalms are filled with questions, doubts, anger, vengeful language, accusations, pain, sorrow, and grief. Is it any wonder we don’t spend much time talking about these? Talking about these psalms sound as depressing as listening to Depeche Mode. However, as we have learned over the last several weeks – we desperately need to study these Psalms.

A few Sundays ago we invited people to voice their doubts as we participated together in the Eucharist. The response was overwhelming.

“God I just don’t believe you love me because of my mistakes.”

“All of this prayer and he still decided to leave? Why?”

“His dad lived through cancer and you let my dad die.”

“Why did my baby have to die?”

And there were hundreds like this.

Pain, heartache, sorrow, and significant questions are lying in the hearts of those who gather together every Sunday in churches across the country.

This reality struck me in a deep way yesterday, the final Sunday of Lent, when Crossroads Bible Church (a church that I and many others planted together in 2004) gathered together. However, it was not their typical gathering. This is because on Thursday night their youth pastor, Derek Taatjes, and his infant son, Dylan, died in a house fire leaving behind a wife and two daughters. This awful, seemingly senseless tragedy has caused deep pain in the life of this local church.

If you knew Derek you knew that he had a heart the size of his head in his chest. To hear of his and Dylan’s death just does not make any sense. Why them? Why now? This raises all sorts of questions and difficult emotions.

I have spent a lot of time mourning with, reflecting on, and praying for the Taatjes family and the Crossroads family in these days. Much of my reflection has come out of the time we at Denver Community Church have spent in the psalms. In reading these Psalms I have begun to see that in moments like this, there is no right way to feel.

The emotions expressed in the Psalms are all over the map. One Psalm even concludes with the words, “… darkness is my closest friend.”

The questions asked of God in a posture of doubt and confusion sounds more like accusations than questions. The psalmist asks, “Why are you so far from my cries of anguish?” The question assumes that God is, in fact, far from his cries. The psalmist does not write, “It seems like you are far away …” He simply states it unapologetically, and in this accuses God.

We should not shy away from this kind of praying; rather we should embrace it. For in these prayers there is profound faith and deep intimacy. The psalmists know that the best place to go with the most difficult questions, the greatest wounds, the most violent anger, and with agonizing sorrow is to God. Why? Because they believe that God can handle it.

God can handle the questions, he can take the punches, and he can heal the pain. He can take all of this, because he has gone through it all himself. He is not detached from us, nor is he an unmoved mover somewhere out there.

He is the God who hung on the cross, and took the words of the Psalmist onto his lips, when he asked his dad, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

He is the God who took our pain and carried our suffering. He is the God who was beaten, bruised, pierced, and punished so that we can experience peace and healing.

God can take whatever we lay on him because he, like us, is a God who asked questions, received wounds, and went through agony too. He sits with us in this pain. He weeps alongside us.

Yesterday when Crossroads gathered together they opened up space to mourn, grieve, and weep. And what better place to do this than when you are with your brothers and sisters? They showed us what it means to gather together to weep with the God who weeps.

So, may you, the Taatjes family, and my brothers and sisters who are a part of the Crossroads community, lean into the God who is intimate with grief and pain knowing he weeps with you. And in your moments of doubt, may you reach out like Thomas and touch Jesus' wounds, knowing that by them you can be healed.

Grief and Wrath

Regardless of what caricature we wish to paint of God, any serious consideration must always include the reality of his wrath and judgment. This is the “dark side” of his mercy and compassion, and it is quite real.

Much has been made about God’s wrath throughout the history of the Church. Sometimes it is used as a spiritual (or literal) club for beating the wayward. Other times it is used as a looming threat for those who may reject Jesus.

Often there is a certain level of sadism in those who bear the message of God’s wrath. Which is perplexing for me, because God himself does not seem to take as much pleasure in wrath as many who claim his name do.

We defy Newton’s Law of Motion. Rather than every action having an equal an opposite reaction, we tend to live out the notion that every action has a greater and more punishing reaction. From the angry yelling and frantic gesturing that occurs when one driver negligently cuts off another; to the absolute and total destruction we collectively wish on those who do violence to us – we want wrath.

This desire, deep inside many of us, is rooted in how we are hardwired. Something inside us longs for things to be right. We have a desire to fix the thing that is broken. We have a desire to restore something that is missing.

The problem with this is that we see ourselves as faultless, and we see the other as faulty. With this belief in mind we believe that we are dispensers of justice, and have some innate authority to punish the wrongdoer. As we dispense our brand of justice we too often root it in vengeance, hatred, anger, and fear.

In the midst of this earthly reality, we interpret God’s wrath to be like our wrath. We assume that he operates in the same way we do. When he sees wrong, particularly wrong done against him, he violently lashes out and destroys. For years, many in the Church have defended, promoted, and claimed God’s wrath, seeing it as similar to the wrath that we perpetuate in our broken world.

The conflict is that the way wrath is often approached is in contrast to the heart of God.

Yes, the wrath of God is real, but it is never done out of spirit of anything other than love. This is why when wrath is dispensed there is a measure of grief in the heart of God. In Genesis 6, God sees how wicked humanity has become and that “every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time.”

It is this that causes God to regret his decision to create humans. In this, God was not angry, mad, or ready to rumble. God was deeply troubled. The Hebrew, literally translated, says, “He grieved himself, in his heart.” God sees people who are wicked, and he grieves. It is out of his grief that he sends the floodwaters over the entire earth.

After the flood, Noah makes a sacrifice to God. God says, ““Never again will I curse the ground because of humans, even though every inclination of the human heart is evil from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures, as I have done.” (Genesis 8.21) I find this interesting. Humans have not changed, but it seems that God makes a departure from the way he chooses to operate in the affairs of humankind.

Walter Brueggeman says in his book Praying the Psalms that what occurred “is a change wrought in the heart of God, who will no longer take vengeance. The move in God’s heart from Genesis 6.5-7 to 8.21 suggests that instead of humankind suffering, God takes the suffering as his own. God resolves to turn the grief in on himself rather than to rage against his creation.”

It is this reality that enables us then to leave wrath, vengeance, and reaction in the hands of God. Brueggeman goes on to reflect that the “possibility of a vengeance-free ethic is rooted in the staggering reality of God. And so we are driven to the crucifixion, in which God has decisively dealt with the reality of evil which must be judged.”

God’s wrath then, comes out of his grief, and ultimately it is turned upon himself as seen in Jesus hanging on a Roman instrument of torture. Which causes me to wonder about the way that we approach wrath, live out wrath, and preach about wrath.

If we, as the people of God, are to speak honestly of God’s wrath we need to hit the pause button and look first at ourselves. We must ask, “Are we grieved for the other?” More importantly we must ask, “Am I willing to take this wrath upon myself?”

It is this way of thinking that allows Paul to speak of blessing those who persecute you. It is this way of thinking that caused Peter to speak of repaying evil with blessing. This is unthinkable for many of us. Which is why we are reminded to not pursue vengeance or wrath on our own. God says, "It's my job to repay and dispense vengeance and wrath, not yours." (Deuteronomy 32.35, my paraphrase)

Perhaps when we speak of the wrath of God we should do so in imitation of God. Rather than speak of the reality of God’s wrath as something coming to the other, we should speak of the reality of wrath as something we are willing to take on ourselves for the liberation of the other.

Rather than speak of God’s wrath as a looming threat directed to _______________________ (put the group that you most despise in the blank) stemming out of his deep reserves of anger, we should speak of wrath as something that comes out of the grief stirred up within our hearts.

I wonder, how would this shape our conversations of God, judgment, wrath, and punishment?

Defending Whose Faith?

We are a people who are constantly ready to fight, argue, and defend what we believe are our rights, beliefs, and liberties. Americans especially always seem on edge.

Think about it: When was the last time you were flipped off in traffic? When was the last time you watched two adults argue (red in the face) their viewpoint on a “news” show? When was the last time you had a polite conversation about politics where neither side was getting agitated (and I don’t mean faking like everything is okay)?

This kind of “readiness to fight” often takes center stage in the Church as well. We are told that we need to “defend the faith,” and this command is undertaken with vigor. Far too often it begins with name-calling and labeling. At this point the conversation cannot go forward with any honesty. Because once someone has been made anything less than an image-bearer of God the conversation gets lopsided.

Most times both sides stop listening. No one wants to be called a name, and those calling the names are not interested in hearing anything more from the person that is now something other than a person. In the minds of many, this is okay, because they are just “defending the faith.” Which at this point causes me to ask, “When did God (or the Bible) ever ask us to defend the faith?

In Genesis 1, the writer starts his narrative by saying, “In the beginning God …” In Hebrew, God is the second word of the Scripture. The Scriptural narrative does not take a long time to simply state the reality of God. This is in contrast to other ancient creation narratives, in which there was always a back-story to the gods. However, for the God of Israel, no explanation was needed. He was and is and will always be.

Not much defense there. Throughout the Scriptures God speaks unapologetically to humanity. And what about Jesus? He always sought to affirm what was true, even though it went against the popular religious and political systems of his day. He did this all without a defensive attitude. Even when he stood before those who wanted him dead he exhibited grace, love, forgiveness that has proven elusive to most people throughout history. He did not defend; he simply affirmed what was true.

It was those who believed they were the guardians of religion that wanted him dead. It was the religious elite who defended the faith. It was the religious who were angry at his assertions. It becomes apparent in the Gospels that the religious were not so much interested in defending the faith as they were in defending their faith.

Has anything changed today? Many religious leaders make bold claims about their inside track to the truth of the Scriptures. They go on attack, they label, they attempt to destroy reputations, and chalk it all up to “defending their faith.” Maybe it’s that they are defending their faith. Maybe this explains the anger, vitriol, and unnecessary jabs that are taken at those who think differently.

Many times those who are truly representing Jesus do so with much more love and humility than those who have influential platforms today. How many martyrs have died with words of love on their lips? How many have been imprisoned only to sing hymns? Yet today, men and women living free lives cloaked in privilege and wealth get angry when someone disagrees with their theology? A little odd isn’t it?

Many may want to quote Peter who says in 1 Peter 3:15, “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” This has been the clarion call for defenders to step up and defend. But this is only the first part of the verse. The rest says, “… do this with gentleness and respect.”

In the verses preceding this, Peter instructs his recipients to do good in the face of evil. He tells them to “repay evil with blessing.” He tells them to be compassionate and tells them to “love one another.” The assumption is that if we, as the people of God, do these things that people may want to know what makes us tick. Then, when they ask, tell them why you have hope.

Is it possible that when those who are not a part of the church see God’s people yelling names at each other, shouting accusations, and sounding more like political adversaries than brothers and sisters that they have no desire to ask us anything, much less about the hope we have?

In his letter to Timothy, Paul gives him firm instructions. He tells him to command others to stop teaching false doctrines. Once again the defenders mount up and are ready to ride. Remember, Paul is giving instructions to a young pastor who is leading a young, fragile community who has been inundated with teaching from Gnostics and Pagans. There were all sorts of teaching that were not consistent with Jesus. They needed more instruction.

Paul does not tell Timothy to “defend the faith.” No he tells him how to handle his leadership of those in his care. Paul then tells Timothy that “The goal of this command is love …” (1 Timothy 1:3-7). Even in explaining what we believe then, it is not to be done in a posture of defensiveness, which is the norm today, but with gentleness, respect, and the goal should be love.

Perhaps our defensive attitude comes from the American culture which we are all much too steeped in. The attitude of America going back to the Rebellion (that was for my British friends) has been one of defensiveness. This is one of the legacies that has been given to us – the legacy of fighting and violence. There are even those who identify themselves as Christians who carry a flag around that says, “Don’t tread on me!” We carry on this cultural legacy quite well.

We so often carry our American culture and our religion closer to our heart than the loving, liberating, freeing good news of Jesus. Maybe this is why we are so defensive, because we have been influenced more by a nation and religion than by a loving God. Maybe we are not defending God, the Bible, or even the Gospel at all. Perhaps we are more on the offensive than defense because we are interested in building our kingdoms. Few things are more powerful than ego, and few things are more defended than our false self.

Whenever people become angry enough to start calling names, labeling others, and making bold accusations I always wonder, “What are they hiding? What are they scared of?” After all, if it’s true it will be what lasts. If those who are defensive are right, then why get so defensive? If you must respond, do it well. If you are asked why you have hope, give and answer, but always with gentleness and respect, and may our goal always and forever be love.

Winners Without Losers

Tonight is the eve of the release of the new book Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived by Rob Bell. Many have already taken their places in the debate. The battle lines have been drawn and shots have already been fired from both sides.

However, both sides have already lost. This is because they are taking one side or the other. It is so engrained in us to be “either/or” thinkers. We automatically think in terms of “win/lose” or “right/wrong.” Is it possible that there is another way? I struggled, and still struggle, with this question. Perhaps it’s my pedigree.

I was recently asked if I was “competitive.” I chuckled. This person obviously does not know me well. I’m half Cuban and half-Irish – some cocktails should never be mixed. I like to fight and I like to tell tall tales. Asking me if I am competitive is like asking the Pope if he is Catholic.

Over the years I have grown to be okay with admitting it and living with it. Thankfully it is less defining of who I am, but make no mistake, I am competitive. I write this knowing that many of you who read this will know where I am coming from, for you too are competitive. We just can’t seem to help it.

And it’s not just winning is it? It’s also wanting the other team, the other side, or the other person to lose. We want to reign victorious and want our opponent suffer humiliating defeat. While this is overstated (only slightly for some), this mentality is nearly everywhere today. We live in a very divided, binary, and defended way toward most everyone and everything. In our minds we cannot have a winner without a loser.

It is high time for us to step back, pause, and consider together if there is another way. Can we move beyond “either/or” and learn how to embrace “both/and” thinking? Is there a third way?

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. understood the third way. In a 1967 sermon, he spoke of loving those who perpetrated violence against African Americans. He concluded by saying, “… one day we will win our freedom. We will not only win freedom for ourselves; we will so appeal to your heart and conscience that we will win you in the process, and our victory will be a double victory.”

King knew something that still very few have learned. There does not always have to be a loser for their to be winner. This way of thinking goes to who God is.

In Exodus 3, Moses asked about God’s name. God replied, “I am.” In saying this God was communicating, “I don’t need to be compared or defined by or against anything to be who I am. I simply am who I am.”

Notice he did not say, “I am not like that god of that god …” Nor did he say, “I am because there was this one time when …” He is God. One God. Undivided. He is not a God who lives in an “either/or” kind of way. He does not need anything to be what he is.

Which makes me wonder about how we think and love. We tend to define things by their opposites. We understand light in terms of darkness, and darkness in terms of light. But God does not need dark to be light. He just is light, without need to compare it to anything. God is love. He does not need hate, indifference, or prejudice to contrast his love. He just is love. God does not need the opposite to exist for him to be what he is. God does not need the other so we can better understand him. God does not need there to be a loser if he is the winner.

This reality is quite freeing. If this is true, and I believe it is, we can let go of fear, competition and the incessant need to be right. Instead of building arguments and crafting counterpoints, we can give our mind and hearts over toward knowing God intimately. Instead of preparing fine tuned point-by-point categorical responses to things with which we disagree, we can dedicate ourselves to be being faithful. And shouldn’t intimacy and faithfulness be our truest desire? After all we are talking about our relationship with God.

When it comes to my closest human relationships, I do not sit around trying be the one who is the most right. I am not interested in being the winner, or the one who wins all the arguments. My truest desire is to know those I love, and to be known by them. My deepest longing is to have faithful friends and to be a faithful friend in response.

It is this kind of living that is praised in Hebrews 11. Those who are on the list of “faith heroes” are not praised because they were right. They are not better than those who were wrong. No, they were considered righteous because they were faithful.

Because in the end it’s faithfulness that will lead us to what is right. In the end, it is deep intimacy with God that will lead us to what is true. In the end, we will be caught up into the love of God. Which is good news, for this God, the God who is love, will win.