I, Church

"It seems to me that God's richest blessing would be your own financial ruin.
That way you'd know what it means to rely on God alone."
-Matt Chandler-

On my mind lately has been this idea of God's blessing in our lives. The $100-haircut preacher reminds me that God wants me to have more money. . . .if only I'd send in a pledge offering. The best selling books convince me that if I just wait 30 days I'll be given what God has been wanting to give me all along. . . .he was just waiting for me to ask.


I wonder about our fluffy lives in America. We rattle off huge dollar amounts for holiday gifts, while an image of God starves to death. The man himself told us we'd always have the poor with us, but I'm sure he didn't mean that as justification.

Our plague is a nasty vile called sin. And don't get me wrong, sin isn't something you do and it's not something that can be stifled by following a set of rules. It's our disease. We live with it and we live in it. We are racked by how it eats at our consciences. Our thoughts are consumed by it. In some ways we are it. But our theology tells us not to use such words. Often we think we can pack it away and suffocate it by hiding it in a closet. But it eventually oozes out. We try to wash it off by entering a so-called sacred space and dancing for a time. But somewhere in our heads, the disease is just resting. We've tried filling our lives and our time with activities to keep our minds off our plague. But we've grown bored with ourselves. No activity has ever fully pleased, and no amount of pleasure has done anything but mask, for a time, our lonely hearts. And this leads us to our current scenario. Our place in history. . .

Our disease has allowed us to grow callused to a world outside our sterilized view of creation. Our Jesus-words are packaged like a big mac. Ready to be consumed and digested for a quick boost, but never life implicating. We dance on Sunday mornings and forget the steps during the week. This is how we can look upon the dying and feel no sorrow.


What would our lives look like if we began to realize God has not packaged himself into an hour on Sunday. What if we looked at each other and saw a person worth the very death of God? What if we got rid of the dance altogether? What would we become if we became the church?

Which God do you Love?

(As overheard at the Village Church)

-The Policeman God-
You know this God by the way he always has a clear answer for every life-situation. You can easily appease this God by following his rules. He's an easy God to love because he outlines life in a clear manner. We do all the rights and avoid all the wrongs. I'm going to do this this and this, I'm not going to do this this and this. This is a really safe God to love because we should always be able find somebody worse than us. His truths are summed up in neat little doctrines, packaged into clear-cut books with fancy titles like 'The Law of God' and 'Systematic Theology'. Every circumstance comes with a clear answer for what God would do, were he in the same situation, and we tally our answers on a scoresheet.


-The Church God-
This God is appeased through church attendance. He cares nothing for life change or life implication. He just needs butts in the pews on Sunday morning. This God is also easy to appease, as his outpourance of blessing corresponds directly with checks on the attendance sheets.

Keeping Score

So yesterday, at the request of my coaching wife, I ran the clock for a 5th and 6th grade basketball game. She kept appologizing for having to ask me, but I enjoyed it. It gave me a sense of power over the court that I'll never have while actually playing the game.

The best part about my time was having parents ask me over and over about the score. This particular league doesn't keep score, at least, on the scoreboard. They want the kids to focus on playing/learning the game, so they choose not to show the score with the time, yadda yadda yadda. Say what you will about kids and teaching fair play and all that jazz. It didn't bug me. But these parents were amazing. As a dad a few rows back yelled, "how are we supposed to know who wins if we don't keep score?" And the lady sitting directly behind me who was about to pounce on me for not putting her baby's two points on the board at the beginning of the game. I tried to play it off like I didn't know what had happened, just to be funny. (Which tends to happen when I forget that my life isn't a TV show)

Lady: Didn't we just score? (Loud enough to be sure I could hear, but not directed at me. Keep in mind she's sitting 2 feet behind me.)

Me: No response.

Lady: I think our team just scored.

Me: Nothing

Lady: Did anyone else see that? I think we just scored. What's wrong with the scoreboard?

Me: (Slowly turning around) Huh?

Lady: Didn't the visitors just score? I think we scored already.

Me: Oh yeah the visitors scored already. (Turning back to the game)

Lady: Well how come it's not on the scoreboard?

Me: (Turning around again) Well this league doesn't keep score.

Lady: They don't keep score? (With a look on her face like I told her I just ate a live puppy.)

Me: No, they don't. (turning back to the game)

The lady then spreads the news to the crowd, and you can hear the muffled sounds of parents unsure of how this atrocity could be. What's the point if you're not keeping score? Where's the motivation to play if there's no chance of dominating another person? (Say what you will about little kids and learning to win and lose. All that fair play talk. Whatever. I'm not taking a side, just making the observation.)

It reminded me of a camp moment several years ago when I was working with a family doing some group building activities. The Dad had a ring from A&M, and a sweatshirt to match. When our time was up on an activity, which they weren't able to accomplish, the Dad had this to say. (with a smile) "We failed. We didn't accomplish the objective. We failed." I promptly asked what kind of engineer he was, to which he responded with a puzzled look; "Civil. . .how'd you know I was an engineer."

Me: "Lucky guess."

56 Years

I saw 56 years of marriage end on wednesday. . .

I guess it really ended on Saturday evening. But we celebrated the life wednesday. I sat in a pew with 30 other people and heard a persuasive speech about how a woman was in a better place. I saw pictures taken before color was invented.

I barely knew this woman. In fact I’m not sure I had ever talked with her. Nevertheless, she was a part of our community.

Wednesday I saw an old man who lived a life we only read about in history books. His wife has been slowly dying for quite some time now. He was in the pictures. His glasses are as thick as his skin is tough, but his blood pressure rivals most teenagers. He talks of years that most of us only imagine.

A part of me wants my wife to pass before I do so she never has to suffer that kind of loss. . . .but like Willie sings, there’s a jealous side of me that “hopes you outlive me, so I’m never alone.”