christmas 2011

Christmas is the greatest story ever told.

Well... at least, it is the middle of the greatest story ever told.

I mean, it certainly is not the beginning of the story. Christmas is the climax that grows from thousands of years of waiting and expectation. If you listen to the narrative of Scripture, God seeks communion from the very beginning. He walks with his people in the garden, makes covenant with them in spite of their failure, frees them from slavery, walks them through the desert, gives them a home, visits them when they won't call him, and calls them through his prophets to give their hearts back to him so that he can be their God and they can be his people. And then... Christmas happens.

And it certainly is not the end of the story. It's more like the beginning of the end of the story. The story ends in the wonderful glorious day when all of reality is consumed by the more real reality of the kingdom of God. Heaven. This is the final victory of life--no more tears, no more death, no more mourning. In place of death is life and light. And God is with his people and they are with him, and he is their God.  Communion.

But the middle--that is the Christmas story. The story of encounter. God with us--Communion. One of the things I love most about the Christmas story is that it is the end of the story folded over into the middle. Jesus who is eternal communion with the Father and Spirit is given to us as a baby so that we can be given back to the God in the end.

The beginning is communion. The end is communion. The middle is communion.

And what story do I tell? Uh-oh. My story seems more about personal gain, personal space, personal comfort, and personal advancement to be a story of communion. My story is a story of selfishness. I have lost the plot. I have a suspicion that I am not alone...

May God give us eyes to see the beautiful story he is telling, hearts to cherish others as Christ himself, and miracle of grace to tell this story with him. Communion.

a note to myself

Dear Adam,

You know that sometimes we pastors have no right to complain. We have a great job that we certainly do not deserve serving a great God whose love and character and goodness cannot be exaggerated. We get a front row seat to watching God work miracles and reshape people's broken lives into vessels carrying his life, love, and gospel to places that have been completely renewed by its presence.

But you also know that sometimes being a pastor is hard. We often work amidst the darkest of human circumstances dealing with the parts of people's lives that are drowned in secret sin and hurt that has been devastating them. And we get a front row seat to hurts and pains like divorces, death, and sin that has crippled lives and given death dominance.

But regardless of circumstances, you must remember that your calling has not changed. Somehow, God has chosen you to proclaim the reality of his kingdom. So believe this--especially in the hard weeks like this one:

As a pastor, I must remind myself at all times that my goal is to challenge myself and those with whom I walk that:

the gospel is bigger than what I am struggling with most, 

God loves us more than we can hate ourselves or him, 

Life conquers death always.

 In Christ,

Adam

Black Friday

It is easy for me to fool myself with regard to Black Friday. I like to think that the Black Friday shoppers are consumeristic, and I who only goes shopping during normal business hours am not consumeristic. Being a Black Friday shopper does not make you a consumeristic person, being American pretty much took care of that... Being a Black Friday shopper makes you a strange mix of courageous and stupid. I am all too ready to trot out statistics about global lack and poverty to attack shoppers after i have just finished consuming what couldn't have been much shy of the American average of 4000 calories at thanksgiving. Saying they are consumeristic but I am not is like saying rich people are the ones with three cars, not people with two cars like me. I must be honest with myself and remember that consumerism is not a rash that easily is treated and goes away with an ointment; it is a cancer and we all have it at varying stages. Consumerism is infectious and deadly because it appeals to my selfishness and I am heavily addicted to myself. I have to stop throwing rocks at others so that I can assuage my own doubts and inconsistencies. But guilt changes almost nothing, love changes us--therefore let us encourage one another to love and good deeds instead of berating each other for our failures, as if somehow we can criticize the hell out of each other.

thankful

A woefully incomplete, somewhat disorganized, yet completely honest list of what I am thankful for...

• my wife, Kelly, who is the most amazing woman I can imagine... whose smile and laugh still captivate me and whose faith and integrity inspires me and whose love and support remind me of how much my God loves me. You are my perfect match and God’s richest gift to me.
• my son who is so beautiful, precious, kind, wild, sweet, and good that I cannot imagine a happy life that does not include him. I pray that he is better than me and that I do not break him, because he is so very amazing. Cooper, you are my beloved son, and a wonderfully forgiving friend. You make my life full.
• my family whose love in spite of its faults teaches me about grace every day. It is not the idyllic thought of family that I am thankful for; it is my real family that has made me part of who I am today, and I thank God for my family.
• my mother whose love and faithful practice of grace and joy has taught me that nothing will ever separate us from the love of Christ. You forgive too well, love to freely, and endure hardship to faithfully... and this is your gift. And you live in such a way that your gift touches all who know you. You inspire me.
• my brother Jeremy--I never would have thought that our sibling rivalry/disgust would have birthed such a genuine and genuinely empowering relationship. Thank you for caring for me and being there when I need support and prayer. Your presence is humbling and at times still infuriating, but I love you. Your wife is incredible and better than you deserve. Your kids are kind and patient and godly. You win.
• my cousin James whose laughter is still one of my favorite things. I grew up getting in trouble in church with you and still manage to get in trouble in church with you despite our living more than 500 miles apart from each other. Thank you for loving sports as much as I do—it is a sickness and we are not well, but at least we have each other and our terrible opinions. I am thankful you are as bad at fantasy sports as I am. I am thankful for our brain trust that is short on brains but long on trust—this is true friendship. I pray for you and your wife every day that you will be happy and fulfilled in every way... you deserve it... most of the time.
• my father. It is not perfection that makes us worthy of love. Although our relationship is scarred, it is healed and still healing, and I am thankful to have you in my life... at least more often than not.
• my grandparents who taught me most of what I know about being a man and being a Christian. I am indebted to your devoted love and earnest care and instruction. You taught me to love God and his church. If I am honest, disappointing you is my greatest fear. I know that you will love me no matter what, but I dare not give you cause for grief and pain because you have loved me too richly. I pray that those parts of me you would frown on will never separate us, and as we walk together in God forever we find a love that is even half as real as it has been thus far.
• my church--not just the ideal universal church for which I am certainly thankful; rather, I mean the local church at Rochester Church of Christ. You are an honest, courageous, creative, and gifted church. In your authentic humanity and your faithful love you show me God.
• my job--notice this is different than the prior entry. The opportunity to work with such a phenomenal group of believers in unbelievable. Even more, the opportunity to work with my co-workers--Jim, Karen, Jason, Darren, Brian, Trudy, Susie, Laura, Sara, Betty, Beth, and Stephanie. I realize that when I was invited to be a minister at such an amazing church, I was born on third base (I never hit a triple)... and I am so very very blessed.
• my shepherds whose faithful and thoughtful leadership is admirable and easy to work alongside. I could not ask for leaders who care more about serving God faithfully and boldly, loving people fiercely and authentically, and walking courageously in faith.
• my friends who accept me for who I am, love me in spite of my imperfect love that I return to them, and graciously laugh with me, cry with me, and walk with me. I do not deserve you all and cannot mention you all by name, but I am so very thankful for you.
• my friend Steve whose patience, steadfast love, and trust is more than I deserve. I love laughing with you friend, and look forward to days when our laughter once again trumps our tears. And if that never happens, I am simply thankful to go through it all with you.
• my friend Chris whose heart is perpetually open and whose passion is a reminder of God's joyful love for me. I am thankful for sharing life with you in random reconnections in places neither of us would have predicted, and I cannot wait until God's providence brings us together again.
• my friend Tate, I do not deserve your friendship. You have too much energy and too little filter, but your heart is as big as the universe and I long to learn how to love life like you do. Thank you friend.
• my friend Brian C. whose thoughtful conversation and laughter reminds me that life is bigger than the day to day busy-ness, and whose true friendship helps me remember that I am not alone in this world, and it is okay to be my real self. Thank you for the space to be who I really am.
• my friend Josh whose ability and expertise exceeds mine, whose graciousness and humility exceeds mine, and whose creativity and courage exceeds mine. I learn from you daily friend. I miss times when we spoke more and really talked more. I love you , though, and pray life will once again bring us back to that closeness. I love your incredible wife who is a perfect match for you. That is rare. May God bless you and Kara and your beautiful children.
• my friend Brian B. whose candor catches me off guard and whose way-too-big-for-his-face smile gives me comfort and welcome that I do not deserve. I am praying for you that you are richly blessed.
• my friend Jason whose love of bad puns and Amy Grant still baffles me and troubles me greatly, but whose devotion top loving God and loving others is powerful testimony to me that faith looks like something. Jason, your wife is amazing too, even though she is the world's greatest sympathy crier. Love you guys.
• my friend Patrick whose support and trust is precious to me. Some relationships seem like they are natural no matter how much distance or time passes, and you, friend, feel like this kind of friend to me. I pray God's richest blessings on you and your amazing wife. You are an example and a mentor whose grace is tangible. Thank you.
• my friend Keith. You are smarter and wiser than me, and that makes me jealous. You are also a better person than me, but that is less impressive. Still, your guidance and faithfulness to a practice-able theology means more than I ever let on. I love teaching with you and learning from you. God grant you and your wife and children peace in its richest meaning.
• music. Honest music is the voice of God speaking into the deepest parts of us. Somehow the rhythm and drama of notes and chords and weak yet real words combine to lift us to a beatific vision that we can find in no other way. Thank you for soothing me, calling me, challenging me, lifting me, felling me, breaking me, and healing me.
• my home which even though it feels like a money pit at times is still a very beautiful (leaky) roof over our head, and shelter from the cold, and comfort to my life. My happiest place has always been lying in bed next to my wife (and now my son in there too) as the sun pours through the window. Wherever that happens is home. 
• football… primarily college football. I am also surprised at how high on the list this is. Roll Tide Roll!!!
• baseball. You are my second love after college football. You have never loved me back, but I still love you.
• words. Stories, sentences, poems, and phrases… the sacred power of words to express, illuminate, educate, transform, build, and destroy is more than I could ever ask for. Without communication there can be no relationship, and without relationship there is no real life.
• My God. I no longer wonder where you are, but rather where you are not. I see you present everywhere at all times and I am humbled by your transforming love. I feel you nearer to me than blood and bone, and I am not deserving, but I am fiercely thankful. I praise you forever and ever with all that I am. I surrender to you and you give me life in return. Thank you God of life.

one year later

It was 12:17a when I found out that Jeremy King had died. I spent over an hour in shock unable to sleep. Around 2:00a I medicated with some benedryl to make myself sleep--it hardly worked. At 5:02a, I jolted awake with my mind racing knowing that I had to do something--if I stayed there, I would break apart. So I got up, got dressed, and got into my car to go be with my friends. This is the song that was playing in my car as I drove to the King's house. It was so fitting... it is a song about loss and memory and pain and grief--just wanting to hibernate and hide from the pain of a deep loss.

It still is one of my favorites, but it is so hard to listen to without great sadness. This song is for you, Jeremy.

life wins

I am convinced that what our church is experiencing is not normal. I am not saying that it is unhealthy, I am simply saying that it is abnormal. And I do not mean that it is unfair or too much or the worst possible thing. I simply mean that the last year has not been normal.

We are in a season of abnormal grief. In the last thirteen months, our church has been enduring a seemingly endless string of tragic losses. A 51 year old mother of four with a brain tumor, a 31 year old father of three to a freak heart attack, a 7 year old boy in a sledding accident, a 23 year old father to a boating accident, and now a 21 year old young husband to a car accident. This in addition to those who have died of natural causes reveals something of what I mean by abnormal. We have had a year now covered in the grief of losing too many people too young.

And it hurts like hell.

As I relayed the news of the latest tragedy to my wife she complained outloud (more to God than to me, I think), "This is not normal. This is too much grief and loss." She is right. So I began tot hink about what it could possibly mean. All kinds of things came to mind--was this punishment from God, abandonment by God, caused by God, etc.?

I do not believe that this is punishment from God. Most people are okay with this statement--the idea that God punishes his people by killing them is reserved for extremists, occasional bits of the Old Testament we don't enjoy, and the 700 club. (Sorry... sort of, some of that is true). Still, while it is possible that we have some hidden sin in our church, I cannot shake thinking that we are probably not the only church with hidden sins. I know that it is not impossible, so I hate to admit that I am playing the odds that God has not singled us out among all other churches as his unfaithful "Israel." He very well may have, but that seems a bit too conceited for me to say right now.

I do not believe that this is abandonment by God. I know that no one really has a problem with this. Our God is faithful and present. We abandon him... not the other way around.

I do not believe that this is caused by God. And here we may find a rub with many fellow believers. There are large traditions within Christianity that would say that all things are prescribed and authored by God who steers the world through his providence. I readily admit that I am not a believer in meticulous providence. But I am going farther than this. I am saying that sometimes--even often--life and death just happen. Not because God wants another angel. Not because God decided time was up. Not because God has a lesson to teach to the people around someone. Can God not teach someone that they should love him except by killing their husband?

And I know, I know... who am I to question God? I hope you understand that I am actually not questioning God. I am trying to trust him. The point is not debating destiny, sovereignty, foreknowledge, or openness. The point is that I want earnestly to trust God through this season.

You see, I have decided that this season of grief is not a gift from God or a curse. It simply is. For some unforeseen and unknowable reason, our community of faith is bearing through this painful time of loss. And this is where we are. So this is where we will be... until we are not.

I am through searching for answers to the question "why?"... I am now searching for answers to the question "how?" I believe that if this is our season, then we will learn how to grow and be faithful and live in this season. We will learn how to glorify God who is to be praised above all else no matter what. We will learn how to bear witness to the God of Life even in the face of death after death after death. Because in spite of our season, we know that God is the God of life.

And life wins.

death of a hero

Yesterday we received the news that Steve Jobs, long standing CEO and engine of perpetual genius at Apple, had died. I learned of his death on my iPad and received texts about it on my iPhone--things he had made possible. Perhaps this is a fine testimony to his creative genius and fearless leadership. He was a hero for many. I am thankful for Steve Jobs, and his wonderful creations. He will be missed.

But he was not the only hero that we lost yesterday.

On Wednesday, October 5, 2011, Rev. Fred Shuttlesworth died.

You probably do not know that name. But you should. We all should. We owe a great deal to him and his courageous leadership and tenacity. You see, Shuttlesworth was one of the three influential leaders of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference in 1957. Here he is pictured (center) beside the other two leaders: Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Rev. Ralph D. Abernathy.

Shuttlesworth was one of the most influential leaders during the civil rights movement. By most recollections and accounts, Shuttlesworth was the blunt-speaking, righteously angered activism that served as a wonderful compliment to Dr. King's passionate peaceful cooperation. Shuttlesworth stood directly in the line of fire and challenged Eugene "Bull" Connor, the racist police chief of Birmingham, AL. While his confrontational approach led not only to his being bombed, beaten, and jailed more than 35 times, it also created tension between himself and Dr. King; however, it is not an overstatement to say that without Shuttlesworth, the civil rights movement would not have been as effective as it was. He was the last surviving member of the big three who founded the SCLC.

We mourn the loss of a true American and Christian hero.

Rev. Shuttlesworth, May God receive you and welcome you home to the fullness of his kingdom, which we can see more tangibly because you lived. Thank you.

For more information on his passing and legacy, see this link from the LA Times.

serve

Just yesterday I was lamenting the fact that the "escape key" on my computer is a real let down--it never delivers on the precious promises it makes. We laughingly dreamed of ways to develop worm holes that could be activated so that we could escape with the press of a button from any circumstance, conflict, or problem that we no longer wanted to be around.

Then I got to thinking how often I do use my escape key in real life. When confronted with a need that I know I should address but just don't want to give the effort, I escape. I find ways to no longer see the problem or issue, and with an out-of-sight out-of-mind flourish, I magically escape. I avoid talking to people that I know will reveal a need to me. I dodge hard conversations with humor. I stay in the nice parts of town to avoid those who lack essential goods.

The easiest way I have found to rationalize my behavior is by saying I want to make sure my family is safe. Safety is an almost unparalleled virtue in my world. We live in a beautiful neighborhood very far from the trouble spots in town... we lock all of our doors... we lock our car doors... even when the car is in the closed garage I lock the doors. I am so safe. I want to escape from difficult things because I love being safe.

I wonder if I value my safety a whole lot more than God does.

I find it tumultuously vexing (inside joke for my church family) that in Matthew 25 as God paints the picture of those who are going to spend eternity in his kingdom, he mentions that they fed, nurtured, cared for, visited, and clothed those in need. And then he says this amazing thing in Matthew 25:40...

...whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.

As I read this text, I was amazed to see that this text wasn't just saying that Jesus loved the poor and hungry and thirsty and imprisoned; this text says that Jesus WAS the poor and hungry and thirsty and imprisoned. He isn't merely saying he likes those in need; he says he is WITH those in need--and not just in spirit... he is there! And if he is there, then why am I so seldom there with those in need. I say I am his follower, but my actions tell a different story.

But it isn't safe there... I think.

But, if being safe means more to me than being faithful, then I am not a disciple of Jesus.

I am learning that you do not need an escape key from serving others, because...

the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.

grow

I want to be a follower of Jesus. I want to be like Peter and step out on faith and walk like my master. But unlike Peter who stepped onto the water, all too often I am like the other guys that night... I sit in the boat and simply hope I am looking at Jesus.

It was Soren Kierkegaard who first put into words just how much difference there is between admiring Jesus and following Jesus. For instance... I admire Jesus love of his enemies, but I can be so petty when people criticize me. I admire Jesus' concern for those in need, but I spend so much time focusing on me and my comfort. I admire Jesus' welcoming attitude toward strangers, but my first thought is always safety.

1 John 2:6 says:

 Whoever claims to live in him must live as Jesus did.

So if I want to wear the name of Jesus, I need to be walking the way he walks--I have to live like him. In other words, I am the follower and he is the Lord.

You see, this is why I need other people with me on this journey in the footsteps of Jesus.

I need--we all need--a community of disciples in which we can be welcomed and loved--and be loved enough to be challenged when we fall into the trap of admiring Jesus instead of following him. Churches can focus on a lot of things that have no real substance (such as the Sunday morning show being as polished and glitzy as Hollywood could make it). But if the community of faith that you have found cannot provide for you a healthy call to actively follow Jesus in your life, then the community of faith you are in is missing the point. Churches are only healthy if they are focused on being a community where people experience an encounter with Jesus Christ. A church that is more connected to its cultural appeal than it is to Jesus is decapitated (Jesus is the head of the church). We don't need anymore decapitated churches--they hurt people. Find a group of believers who will not give up on you and will not settle for less than God's best in your life--that is a healthy church.

Discipleship is a communal process that can be difficult but is transformational and rewarding. It is about growing. And most usually it is not about being comfortable or casually entertained. It is about following Jesus because we need him more than we need anything else.

connect

Are you familiar with the story of Narcissus?

Narcissus was a hunter who was renowned not as a hunter but for his beauty. He looked good and he knew he looked good. His vanity was so great that whoever would try to pursue him with romantic interests would be pushed away because they were not as beautiful as he was. As the story goes, one day his bitter enemy who just happened to be named Nemesis, lured into the woods to a small lake where Narcissus saw his reflection. He became so enamored with the image of himself--even though it wasn't real--that he stayed there beside the pool gazing at himself until he died.

I wonder if this is a parable that our churches should know...

Sometimes churches can be so narcissistic (the word comes from the name of the character you surely noticed), that they fall in love with themselves to the point that no one is worthy of their presence and accompaniment. Instead of being a place where people experience deep connection, churches can sometimes flee from all "others" as if we were afraid the ugly of their lives would rub off on beautiful us.

Is your local church a place where people can truly connect and find acceptance? Is your local church a place the lives into the call of Romans 15:7:

 ⁷ Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.

 God himself is an eternal community, and he has created us as his community to share community with others. This is our calling that is rooted in his nature. May we find ways to be places of honest, authentic, loving connection.

who we are

I remember the first time I heard it—every time I have heard it since then, I still hear it the way she originally said it to me. Her name was Elizabeth, and we were working together. I was in college and married and had become the assistant manager at a store in the mall, and Elizabeth was a very bright, but troubled sophomore in high school who worked part time. Elizabeth and her mom had been abandoned by her dad, and she had to work to help her mom pay the bills on their apartment. Elizabeth’s boyfriend was in and out of rehab and kept her in various emotional states of disarray. But Elizabeth was honest, and she was a true seeker—she had good spiritual questions and never had to be goaded into asking the,, especially when she found out that I was studying theology.

One day she had asked me about why I choose to go to church and be a Christian exclusively in a world full of so many other worthy religions and philosophies. I told her in my own words about Jesus and what it meant to me to be a follower of his. She interrupted me and said it: “The way you talk about Jesus is different… it’s beautiful… like you know him and he is your friend… I want to know him like that. When you say it, I can tell it is beautiful and right and true. But when you talk about the church, I simply can’t believe you. Jesus is beautiful and right and true, but the church is so… so… so… static. And judgmental, and hypocritical too. And the church is so irrelevant that it doesn’t even deserve to have Jesus as its leader.”

Have you ever wondered what we (the church) are doing here? 

Have you ever asked yourself whether or not we are missing the point? 

Have you ever been angry at the church? 

Have you ever thought that the church seems to be so busy, but so off-focus that it hurts? 

Have you ever wondered if we are missing the whole point?

I think the problem is not so much our activities (although a lot of church activities are harmful and unhelpful); rather, I think the odd or misguided activities are the symptoms... but the sickness is that we don't know our IDENTITY. 

I think many of our churches have forgotten who they (we) are... so they (we) live like we don't know who we are. They (we) lose the plot.

And we don't find the plot by finding new strategies, programs, methods, or models. We find the plot by finding the author. Because deep down, our identity is rooted not in something we have done, but in something that God has done. 

We are whose we are. We are what God has made us. God created us and will recreate us. 

And we do what we are. Identity precedes activity. Because of God's work, we know what we are supposed to do--and we do it as creatively, courageously, and boldly as possible. Because it is right, and beautiful and true.

Thank God for grace.

the new guy

Well... this is it... this Sunday is my first week as the new preacher at Rochester Church of Christ.

I am excited. I am terrified. I am anxious. I am thrilled. I am thankful. I am learning. I am blessed.


I am blessed to be part of such a patient, forgiving, daring, bold, and faithful community.

I am blessed with a God so great that my words and actions can never exaggerate or exhaust his goodness, love, and grace.

I am blessed to be in the company of those who have been given an opportunity to call upon the name of God before the open hearts and minds of his people. I am blessed to be a preacher.

But still, I am scared.

Interestingly, it is not the art of preaching that scares me. I love preaching. I am certainly not the best at it, but I enjoy it. I like the feel and shape of the words, the rhythm and meter of delivery, the parry and thrust of rhetoric. It is intoxicating to feel the presence of the Spirit and the Word as the Father takes my human words and breathes life into them.

No... it is the act of preaching that scares me. It is the fact that I am so inadequate and unqualified to stand before a group of believers and proclaim "this is the word of the Lord to his people." As Haddon Robinson began nearly every sermon in his life:

"God, if these people knew about me what you know about me, they wouldn't listen to a word I said."

But, I remind myself of this: GRACE.

This is not a thinly veiled plea for reassurance. This is not a begging for forgiveness before I even open my mouth. This is simply a reminder to myself that I am what God has made me, not because I ever qualify myself for such things, but because God is gracious and loving to me. God believes in me much more than I believe in me. And any preacher who sees his role otherwise shouldn't be preaching.

And just as he whispered to Paul so long ago, God now whispers to me:
 

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

as big as the universe

Most every night, for his entire life, when I put my (now four year old) son to bed, I tell him the same thing:

I love you as big as the whole world.

Once he is excited about just how much I love him, I continue:

God loves you as big as the universe.

I hug him. I kiss him. And he goes to sleep.
Honestly, I think this is perhaps the most important statement I will ever make. I think this is what everyone needs to hear. There may be more to say, but it is just not as important as this.
So this is where we start… God loves you as big as the universe.