And A Light Comes On

A light came on early this morning – not in the way you might expect. It was around 5 a.m. when I began reading. As many of you know, I haven’t really read/finished a book since 2006. A few days ago, I went out and purchased Seeing is Believing – Experience Jesus through Imaginative Prayer by Greg Boyd. I’ve referred to him on occasion because he is one of my favorite authors. I’ve read most of his works. In fact, it is because of my interest in his ministry that I have connected with so many of you.

It was pitch dark outside as I began reading. To make matters worse, the lighting in the living room was terrible. Last month the bulb in the ceiling fixture went out. My roommate added a low-watt bulb; for whatever reason, he didn’t take the old one down. He just left it in the other socket. Well, that is a little annoying, as I am kind of picky about things like that. Still, I didn’t want to get a chair; reach up and unscrew the light fixture; remove the defective bulb; only to throw it away and replace the fixture, so I left it alone. We try to conserve on power, being good environmental stewards. But I’ve got to admit, this new bulb was extraordinarily dim and equally vexing.

As I lay on the couch, I struggled to read the text in those shadowy surroundings. What I was reading was really good, but I found myself getting increasingly irritated as I was trying to focus on some things I found particularly important. I said to myself, “I really wish there was more light so I could see better.” Within milliseconds of my having “said” that, the old bulb – the one that has not lit up in over a month – suddenly kicked in and cast its radiant beams all over the room. The whole room shone with white brilliance. That, in and of itself, is miraculous to me.

But what I want to share with you is the passage I was reading when this illuminating event occurred. “The Father does nothing less than place the believer ‘in Christ Jesus’ (Rom. 8:1; 1 Cor. 1:30; 2 Cor. 5:17; Gal. 3:28; Eph. 1:3). If we understand what this entails, we’ll see that there is in truth nothing greater God the Father could ever do for us than what he has already done for us by placing us in Christ” (27; emphasis mine).

This early section of the book takes up the theme of who we actually are in Jesus Christ. I have “preached” this topic to others for years. I know it is important to understand and realize these in-Christ realities. But what happened this morning has challenged me to revisit this truth. The above-italicized words are something I know God has spoken afresh to me. He wants me to chew on these things like cuds. God literally elucidated these words as I read them. The light literally came on in both the room and in my head.

I will not pretend to know the fullness of what God is trying to teach me here. I could wax long on the many things I think I know about these words. But I realize in my heart, whatever I know, it is deficient. Right now, the only thing I can do is ruminate on these things until God gives me a revelation. I need to contemplate them. Somehow, I know this is what God wants me to do. He literally had to flip the light on so that I would not miss this. He is marvelously gracious.

Keep praying for me.

The Balaam Syndrome

If you send in your love offering of $100, then we will send you this “free” gift, a packet of mustard seeds. If you plant them in this special soil from the Holy Land (yours free with your $125 love offering), then they will produce a glorious plant that will bear miraculous fruit. If you give $200 dollars, then we will provide you with a personal prophecy that you can speak over your mustard seeds that will ensure that they grow both faster and taller (cause we know you’re in a hurry and need results now).

We now have the opportunity to buy free things from ministries that will change our lives, heal us, make us rich, and save our loved ones. After all, it is God’s will that we all be billionaires living extravagant lives in excess. If you are not walking in such divine prosperity, then, obviously, something is wrong with your spirituality, your faith, well . . . you.

The Balaam Syndrome is an increasingly common blight plaguing the contemporary Church. Material wealth is now proudly worn as a badge confirming one’s “genuine” spirituality and faith. If you don’t own one of these badges yet, don’t fret. You can purchase a free prophecy that will, eventually, if you keep giving and believing, impart one to you. Then, you can be part of this elite spiritual club – well, if you really believe.

Something is strangely amiss here. To be sure, the Bible has a lot to say about giving and finances; there’s no argument there. Christians should be taught what the Bible has to say about such matters. There is a lot of wisdom there to be gleaned. But where does the Bible establish wealth as the deciding gauge of someone’s spirituality?

It seems that if material wealth necessarily indicates one’s piety and commitment to Christ, then Bill Gates would be America’s most faithful pastor and we’d all be worshipping weekly at our local Wal-Mart SuperCenters. Come to think of it, maybe he is, and maybe we do?

But I’m not completely convinced yet. I mean that I’m not so sure that I can say Chinese Christians, faithfully living under religious persecution, and earning around $40 per week for working exceedingly long hours, are somehow less spiritually adept than wealthy American Christians. Well, maybe they don’t pray enough? Or maybe they don’t believe strongly enough? Or maybe they just aren’t “true” believers?

Surely, it could have nothing to do with the economic climate of America versus China. I mean, if a true American Christian had been born in China, surely he or she would be wealthy by now. Right?

Wealth and health doctrine, because it is often accompanied by power and popularity, can be an extremely enticing message. Who doesn’t want to be healthy and wealthy? And by the way, I believe in divine healing and in the notion God wants us to prosper (although I detest that so many construe this in only materialistic terms). And what can even be more enticing is that genuine spiritual gifts are often prostituted for financial gain. Gifted pastors, prophets and teachers misuse their gifts to gain money, power and popularity. Well-meaning, but misled followers recklessly throw their sparse finances at these dazzling displays of signs and wonders. Again, I am not speaking against generosity, miracles, signs & wonders, or spiritual gifts; I’m speaking against their abuse.

The rub comes in when people naively equate spiritual gifts with spiritual character. It is just as erroneous as equating material wealth and genuine faith. People, then, blindly follow these “spectacular” ministers and buy into a lie because they believe that gifts and money is God’s stamp of approval on these prophetic peddlers.

This is the Balaam Syndrome – merchandising ministry. The Bible uses Balaam to illustrate this deceptive doctrine in reference to false teachers:

“By abandoning the straight path, they have gone astray and have followed the path of Balaam, the son of Bosor, who loved the wages of unrighteousness . . . Woe to them! For they have traveled in the way of Cain, have abandoned themselves to the error of Balaam for profit, and have perished in Korah's rebellion” ( 2 Pet 2:15; Jude 11).

Balaam had pimped out his gifts to the highest bidder (see Num 22-31). Because of his “spectacular ministry,” people were willing to pay him for his services. The Moabite king, Balak, had hired Balaam to curse the children of Israel. Of course, it backfired. But the lesson is obvious. People, even kings, are often attracted to gifted people because of greed and power. And too often these gifted individuals are willing to prostitute their gifts because of the love of money. Money is simply appealing and motivating.

Paul said we should be nothing like those kinds of people. “For we are not like so many others, hucksters who peddle the word of God for profit, but we are speaking in Christ before God as persons of sincerity, as persons sent from God” (2 Cor 2:17). He goes on to warn that “those who want to be rich fall into temptation, a trap, and many foolish and harmful desires, which plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and by craving it, some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains” (1 Tim 6:9-10).

This inordinate fascination with money and material prosperity is leading many astray, displacing the (one, genuine) faith. It appeals to our fallen nature, our greed. And because it is sweetened with cleverly-skewed Scripture, it becomes an easy poison to swallow.

Please hear me. I am NOT saying that God wants us impoverished or sick, nor am I suggesting the Bible has nothing good to say about giving, sharing, financial prudence, or miracles. I am simply saying that contemporary Christianity – particularly the American flavor – has become so enamored and misled by materialism dressed up in spiritual garb, that it has become detrimental and something entirely different than what is described as godly in the Bible.

A lot more could be said regarding this important subject. For further reading I suggest Merchandising The Anointing by Rick Renner and Thus Saith the Lord? by John Bevere.* I want to thank my dear friend Tammy for being bold enough to bring it into our little blogosphere; she inspired this tirade (er, I mean discussion).

Material prosperity should never be the gauge by which we measure someone’s Christian walk. Selling what God has freely given should never be named among God’s people. Money should never be put forth as the panacea for all problems. Enough said.

*It should be noted that by listing these books as suggested reading, I am in no way categorically endorsing everything they teach. I do think there are elements in them that would be informative though. There are some things in them with which I would take exception, however.

Do You Feel Me?

“Do you feel me?” I’ve always had some strange attraction towards words – especially the hidden meaning behind them. It’s rarely been enough for me to just let them hang in the air without reflection or analysis. Do you feel me? is no exception. Why do people say that? Why do I say that? Why not just ask, “Do you understand what I mean?”

Today’s blog has been inspired by some new friends I made today: Terri, Di, Christianne, and Chloe. That’s four, count ‘em 4!, friends in twenty-four hours. That’s gotta be some kind of record. Uncovering these new friends has helped me better understand that question about Do you feel me? in a way that I don’t think could’ve been done otherwise. [By the way, Hi guys. (Hope I can call you ‘guys’ cause it’s kosher where I grew up). Thanks for all of the kind words; they helped.]

People want to be more than understood; they want to be felt. There is some legitimate nuance of meaning here. It might be best understood by contrasting the subtle differences between sympathy and empathy. For me, sympathy means you can visualize with great intensity the feelings and experiences of another; empathy means you have actually experienced and shared the feelings and experiences of another. It’s the difference between watching on television an exhausted Olympic marathoner desperately throw herself across the finish line, completely exsanguinated of energy, and actually running one yourself and having to care for your blistered feet and tattered carcass afterwards. On paper the definitions seem subtle, but in real life, they are painfully palpable.

A person who really feels you literally shares your pathos, those intensely deep feelings that encompass our joys and pains; our losses and gains; our ups and downs; our smiles and frowns. A person who feels you is also one who shares your passions – whether that be reading, writing, music or teaching. It could be the passion you feel when you warmly embrace your child or the passion you feel when you are tightly held by your significant other. If it is shared, it’s called compassion. Compassion literally means to share passion!

I think we all desire this kind of shared intimacy: empathy and compassion. We unconsciously seek it out, and we do so desperately when we feel alone and disheartened. Maybe that’s how I met my new friends? I wanted someone to feel me. And from what I read on their blogs, I felt that they might just have that capacity.

Can I get Biblical for a minute? I don’t do it much anymore because I feel so distant from God, but I’d like to give it a whirl for just a minute. Do you know why I’m a Christian (albeit backslidden)? I know there are a number of reasons I could give, but at the top of the list would be that God can feel me and I can touch Him. And that is only possible because of the Person of Jesus Christ.

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tested in every way as we are, yet without sin” (Heb 4:15). Jesus is that High Priest. The Greek word sumpatheo is translated sympathize but carries the force of empathize. It is a shared, fellow feeling. It is because Jesus can genuinely feel my pains and temptations that I am a Christian. A God that is so ethereal that He cannot touch me, nor be touched by me, offers little practical help or hope to me. I could find a deity like that in a number of other religions. Yes, an ethereal, impassible God like that might look good on theological/philosophical paper, but when life is painfully palpable, that “perfection” (if it could be construed that way) is utterly alienating, completely irrelevant, and almost certainly unconcerned with my needs. Doesn’t sound very loving, does it?

But God’s not like that. We know this because Jesus, God in flesh, is as palpable as the pain we experience. He, Himself, experienced this pain. He ran the marathon, and He felt the agonies of temptations and rejections, yet without sinning. Why do we create such an artificial ceiling between us and God? To be sure, God is holy and transcendent, and we have to be careful that we don’t, in self-deceptive pride, diminish His greatness, perfection and holiness in our minds (I think this is what Barth feared and reacted to accordingly). But if God was ever impassible, then Jesus Christ punctured holes into His floor/our ceiling of impassibility by becoming human. God can now be touched! In fact, it is the man, Christ Jesus who is continually making intercession on our behalf, precisely because He is so intimately acquainted with our pathos and shares our pains and passions. “For there is one God and one mediator between God and man, a man, Christ Jesus . . . Therefore He is always able to save those who come to God through Him, since He always lives to intercede for them” (1 Tim 2:5; Heb 7:25).

And did I mention He is full compassion? And because He shares our passions, it moves Him to do many things – intercession and healing to name just a couple. Somehow we have created this rigid, emotionless God completely devoid of compassion. He never really responds to anything. He is just pure action; a self-absorbed unmoved mover. And if per chance He does respond, it is only because of faith or some other manipulative “blessing lever” we can pull. But that is not how the Bible depicts God, certainly not in the Person of Jesus. “Moved with compassion, Jesus touched their eyes. Immediately they could see, and they followed Him” (Matt 20:34). And there are other examples where Jesus did something, not because of anyone’s faith (although He certainly responds to that as well), but because He is compassionate. God is more concerned with compassion than any religious levers we can pull. "But go and learn what this means: 'I DESIRE COMPASSION, AND NOT SACRIFICE,' for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners . . . But if you had known what this means, 'I DESIRE COMPASSION, AND NOT A SACRIFICE,' you would not have condemned the innocent” (Matt 9:13; 12:7). You could literally go on ad nauseum with Biblical examples of compassion. Just do a simple word search.

There’s something to this empathy and compassion thing. Old Testament prophets were able to tap into the pathos of the people through poetry, orations and other writings. They even illustrated these things by acting them out in dramatic ways at times. They did this because they wanted to correct social injustices and inequities, and because they knew that things like poetry and music can connect with people in a way that mere speech making cannot. The arts are many times subversive (literally, below the word). It is a way of injecting deep feeling into the hearts of people who otherwise would not receive anything. Today, music is a good example of this. It taps into our pathos. It moves our passions. And our passions move us. And when we share those passions – have compassion – a dynamic, potent force is generated that brings transformation. On a vertical dimension, we have that in Jesus. We have it in the Holy Spirit as He comes along side us and shares our burdens as the Parakletos. And on a horizontal plane, we have that in each other, as members of the same Body and through our shared experiences as humans. We can empathize and we can be compassionate. And through our passionate, subversive words – our poetry and stories – we can convey that life to people who desperately need it, and yet consciously are not willing to hear it. We can move beyond understanding someone’s needs and actually feel those needs.

Let me step away from the cyber-pulpit. Sorry, I feel a lot of passion about this subject. What I am trying to say is that I am grateful for a God who shares my passions, and I am grateful that He brought four new friends into my life to share those passions with me. Do you feel me?

Like My Next Breath . . .

It’s been about a month since my last blog. I am trying to be consistent in posting one each month. The one I am going to share with you today is extremely personal. I am a little nervous about letting others in on the thoughts of my heart; I felt this personal letter was appropriate since recently God has been convicting me about how I have allowed the enemy and circumstances strain and fracture some very important friendships. Let me set this up:

A few years ago a friend of mine was going through a lot of stuff. He felt like his life had come to a standstill, no one truly loved him, and was talking about suicide. He is like a brother to me and was often a source of comfort and confidence. We used to chat and talk for hours about the things of God. We talked about God’s hesed – that unfailing love that God offers to us, even when we’re unfaithful. It is the kind of love that remains “covenantally” committed even when we are not. The book of Hosea depicts this succinctly. We also talked about how unusual it was for two unrelated languages – Hebrew and Greek – to have words – ruach and pneuma – that could each mean three things: spirit, wind, or breath. In other words, the Old Testament and the New Testament each have a different word that has precisely the same meaning and number of meanings. This is extremely strange when you consider these languages are not from the same linguistic family. For me, it testifies to the unified voice of the Bible. We discussed many of these things as he was preparing for his first sermon and wanted my input. I was so honored and humbled to be a small part of that.

I have said all of this so that you can understand what is going on at times in this letter. My friend definitely understood it because we talked about it often. You see, inspiration, is simply to breathe in or inhale. Remember breath, wind, or spirit can be meant by this term in the Biblical languages. My friend and I talked about how God breathes life into us and how important it is for us to receive this. We must breathe His life in! The following letter was just a reminder at a time when he felt like circumstances were suffocating him. We often closed our communications with a familiar phrase: (I love you) Like My Next Breath . . .


My Dearest Brother….

I lack the ability to convey the warmth I feel in my heart towards you – the fondness, the utter love. You have been a constant source of strength and encouragement to my life; I only hope that perhaps now, I can be a fraction of that to you. You broke down walls in my life that I did not even know existed. The story of your life so pierced me that since that day, my life has been profoundly and irrevocably changed. The mere thought of you stirs my heart with hope and a passion for living. You inspire me . . . literally breathe life into the lungs of my soul. From our very first conversation, I knew that I had met someone with whom I would be a life long friend. And it is a true saying that friendships are forged in the fires of adversity. And this fire has truly crafted something that the gates of hell will not prevail against.

It is easy for one to grow weary after being tossed about on the harsh winds of life for what seems an eternity. Your wings grow tired, and even the thought of flight seems like a faint, almost hopeless dream. It is just so hard – especially when you can find nowhere to rest your weary wings. We all want to succeed – to fly high on the winds of life. We all want to be accepted and loved – unconditionally. We all want to impact others and transform their lives into something better and into something more than what they could have achieved alone. We all want some kind of redemption, some kind of enduring meaning to come from the pains and cruelties we have experienced in our lives. We don’t want the hurt to be completely meaningless. We hope that it would find significance – and perhaps, miraculously alter the destiny of another to the Glory of God.

But sometimes it just feels too hard – too overwhelming, and it is easy to lose our eternal perspectives – especially when the temporal is painted so large and vividly. The here and now screams for our attention. It almost drowns out the still small voice of the Holy Spirit – the Spirit of Peace. Ultimately, we can just become so tired we don’t want to try anymore; we just want peace. It may seem as though we are always failing, but remember, failure isn’t the worst thing in the world . . . quitting is.

God (and I to a limited degree) understands how easy it is to just want the cup to pass from us . . . for there to be another way, if possible . . . The daily battles of life can take such a heavy toll. This is especially true when it seems we are all alone and have no one to lean on. I often feel I fail you in this area. But I want you to know one thing my brother, I AM HERE FOR YOU! And I will fight for you on my knees; you will see.

I owe a debt to you my brother that I could never hope to repay. Your friendship . . . your fellowship . . . well, it’s priceless. Had you not been there for me at the time you were – who knows? But God has a way of Divinely orchestrating things in such a beautiful way that the ultimate outcome produces a harmony and music that could only proceed from the Composer of Life – He produces a melody that brings life, where once only death seemed possible.

Life is here – and more on the way my brother. I am so humbled and deeply grateful that God would allow me to be a part of it – especially when that part might concern your life, the life of someone I love immeasurably. Your part is just to breathe deeply – inhale it; choose life! There is strength in the love of God. Do not forget the God Who called you and has been so faithful to you. His hesed will always abound to you. There is a powerful line in the “When You Believe” song: though hope is frail, it’s hard to kill. That is so powerful to me. Though vision is frail, it’s not that easily snuffed out. It may smolder faintly as a slight ember, but just when you think it’s about to go out, it ignites into a glorious flame that sets the lives of others ablaze with passion for Jesus.

I love you my brother. Do not underestimate this love! There is a day coming when you will feel its strength. More than that, do not underestimate the love of Christ! It will sustain you through this period, and I will be in agreement with it on my knees.

Like My Next Breath . . .

Nathan

About Me . . .

I am a Christian. I don’t say this to blatantly wave a red religious banner in the faces of my readers for effect, but rather to disclose that Christianity is such an integral part of who I am that I cannot simply compartmentalize my life in such a way as to leave it out any more than I could cease to be human, male or organic. Christianity is a comprehensive whole to me. It frames my worldview and ultimately I am subsumed under the weight of its love and shaped in every dimension of my life by the impact of its freedom.

Having said that, you shouldn’t be surprised that most of my thoughts are tempered, if not crafted, by this integral part of me. For me to do otherwise would be to splinter and fragment myself into something unintelligible and certainly disingenuous. Besides, does anyone really believe that someone can be absolutely objective and unbiased, uncolored by the sum of all the experiences he or she brings forward? Why not be honest and simply state your bias (meaning who you are) upfront? This way, others can intelligently sift through what you’re saying in an informed (even if disagreeable) way.

Today, June 16, 2006, in my first attempt at blogging. I suppose many first-time bloggers make this disclaimer. A friend has inspired me to set out on this endeavor. I suppose that it provides an outlet for one of the more basic desires of humanity: the desire to be heard. Why do we want to be heard? This is a legitimate question I think. I think it can begin to be understood by realizing that when we listen to someone, we are saying that they are worth being heard. Everyone wants to feel a sense of worth. When we pay attention to others – hear their voice – we are affirming their personhood and consequently their intrinsic value. We are saying that they, and by extension, what they are saying, are worth something; they have value. At the most fundamental level, we are saying “I love you.”

This brings me to my bottomline philosophy on life: We all want to be loved! The desire and need to be and feel loved makes the world go ‘round. It makes painters paint and poets poetic. It makes singers sing and philosophers philosophize. It scares the brave and makes weak the strong. It makes the wisest of us act foolish and even the foolish behave wisely at times. Almost everything we do in life, whether we know it or not, revolves around our desire to be loved. On that note, here is my first entry:

We All Wanna Be Loved