Grace

I have twins that are 3-and-a-half and one of them is named Josiah. He is an adorable little kid, remarkably articulate for a toddler, and he can tend to be a bit steadfast. (That was a just a euphemism for stubborn). There are a lot of people without opinions, without clear objectives or the capacity to make decisions... let's just say Josiah isn't one of those people. Like most boogers his age, he enjoys anything with sugar and, in fact, he demands it at times. His approach to this is characteristically unbecoming and I find myself repeating the phrase, "maybe after you eat your food..." more frequently than any man ever should. 

But Josiah seems to have a firm belief in attrition regardless of how little support he finds for his methods. Picture this... a child being deliberately disobedient to his parents, desiring a reward or blessing as the outcome. His belief is that his open defiance will evoke a grace response. Rebellion should be overlooked and enabled. 

This is how a child sees the world. I want this thing, therefore I should have it... and the louder I scream and the more forcefully I demand, the more likely it is I will get what I want. This is a core conviction of most children... and it is why God gave us discipline. 

I bring this up because I think we often see God's grace this way. I know this is a controversial issue for many because it's pretty cozy to think God works this way... it affords me my lazy way of living. But think about this... when I emphasize obedience to my children so much that it becomes my dominant focus, they start to understand that my love and affection is the result of their obedience. They end up thinking they have to earn my love. However, when all I do is tell them that I love them and I always will and I fail to emphasize obedience, they feel completely free to do as they please and nothing is required of them. Both are out of balance and both are death to a child. 

This is not an original thought of course. Dietrich Bonhoeffer was writing about this 70 years ago but I think you will find his words eerily accurate about our culture... if you take the time to look inside yourself, you may even find that he is speaking to you.

"Cheap grace is preaching forgiveness without repentance; it is baptism without the discipline of community; it is the Lord's Supper without confession of sin; it is absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without the living, incarnate Jesus Christ."

"Costly grace is the hidden treasure in the field, for the sake of which people go and sell with joy everything they have... It is costly, because it calls to discipleship; it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly, because it costs people their lives; it is grace, because it thereby makes them live. It is costly, because it condemns sin; it is grace, because it justifies the sinner. Above all, grace is costly, because it was costly to God, because it costs God the life of God's Son and because nothing can be cheap to us which was costly to God."

I am wrestling through this complex dichotomy of grace being a gift and unearned but still requiring something of me and of you. I fear that the church has so emphasized God's unconditional love and grace which is intended to change us, that we have unintentionally blessed people everywhere to receive this grace and remain exactly as they are. 

My former pastor used to say that the cruelest thing you can do to a person is give them a false assurance of salvation. As I consider the state of the church at large, the church I attend, indeed my own self, I have to believe that I and we are guilty of this offense. The justification of the sinner in the world has become the justification of sin and the world. Bonhoeffer goes on to say this: "Everything remains as before, and I can be sure that God's grace takes care of me. The whole world has become "Christian" under this grace." YIKES!

The purpose of grace has never been a conversion experience. The purpose of grace has always been a compelling call to come and follow. My friend Mike, who is more economical with words than me, always says "you do what you believe." If he's right, and I think he is, then don't many of us believe in this thing Bonhoeffer calls cheap grace. Essentially, aren't we children who believe that our Father sees our open rebellion, our deliberate defiance, shrugs His massive shoulders, and says "oh well", proceeding to release us from any pain, any struggle and grant our every desire. Is this the kind of parent God is? Is grace a weak enabling? Is grace the avenue by which God raises up spoiled, rotten children? Or is grace a powerful force that beckons us to follow Jesus, certain that we cannot, but guaranteeing that if we would just give our best shot... if we would genuinely, honestly and brokenly pursue the Christ, it would be the thing that carries us. What do you believe about grace? And yes, it matters... because you do what you believe.

I am the spiritual covering for a group of teenagers. I will have give an account for what I teach them and how I lead them. I have three children with a fourth on the way and I will be responsible for what I teach them too. I tell you those are heavy realities which make me want to believe the right thing. 

May God give us the wisdom to believe that a grace costing him everything requires the same of me. May we have the courage to believe that following him requires action, requires moving, requires energy and requires leaving things behind... sometimes people, sometimes habits, sometimes stuff. May we come to believe that to follow him anywhere we can't stay here. And may we have the guts to be an echo of this call to a world and a to a church that believes grace invites them to cling to their seats and waive as He passes by.

P.S. please share your thoughts on this subject.

Footlong

I don't know if everybody else has recognized this too, but the price of fast food has soared through the roof... in fact, while the entire country was preoccupied a few months ago bemoaning the high cost of gas, grocery chains have been conducting a clandestine sort of operation, hiking the price of things like cheese, cereal and soda through the proverbial roof. As a coca-cola addict this has become problematic for me because a 2-liter bottle is costing around $1.79 now... Cinnamon Toast Crunch (I have the three kids of course) was $5.50 a box last week. 

This has mostly happened under the radar because of the divergence created by big oil, who incidentally, is also to blame if you were to ask retail execs because of their soaring cost to deliver goods. But while gas prices have leveled off food is climbing higher still... Pause for moment...

... see just now, a 1 pound box of angel hair pasta just went $1.29... and that is the Publix brand, which a couple months ago was 89 cents. The point is, what gas was doing so arrogantly and blatantly, food is doing more strategically and covertly... and when you isolate a small item like pasta, it seems inexpensive at this price. Multiply each item in the cart of a family of five by 30-40 percent, however, and... well... you do the math.

That's why when you read the subject line of this post you can't help but think of Subway's famous $5 footlong subs. Truth be told, that isn't what this post is supposed to be about, it's just that when I read the heading, I too thought of Subway and the image of Jared's little squirrely face. I have to be honest here... I am a Publix guy and a Baldino's guy when it comes to subs... but Subway has weaseled their way back into my life on the strength of an adequate sandwich with a stellar price. The bread may be hit or miss, the amount of meat varies with location and sandwich artist, but that $5 price tag remains fixed, not to mention even with all that mayonnaise it is still better for you than french fries with chicken tenders or a cheeseburger, which are costing in the real world today what it used to cost inside an amusement park or stadium. 

So, now that I have given Subway an unintended plug, I will move on to the real namesake of the post. You can't trust 3-and-a-half-year-old twins to be effective and efficient at wiping after a number two. I know this from experience, so if part of you is questioning just wipe that quizzical expression off your face and just let this be a given. As a result, it isn't uncommon to have your life interrupted periodically as a parent by the faint screams from down the hall... "mommy, I go poopy". 

Hearing that very declaration on Saturday morning evoked no laughter or even smiles from Betsy and I... Josiah had done his part, and he did it in the right place so mommy got up to do her part. Me? I went about my business as dads tend to do. Nothing new under the sun, this is a scene that has played out a million times, and there was no reason I should give this situation a second thought. But then... something unpredictable... something new... something unforeseen and... well, I don't know how to describe it...

"Hey honey", came the call, not from Josiah, but rather the sweet, soft voice of my beloved bride. "You have to come check this out..." Simultaneously, my head tilted, eyebrows (or what's left of them if you know me) furrowed and uncertainty seized me... the conclusion of her invitation I think was intended to provide the impetus to make my way to bathroom... "It's like a footlong in here." She wasn't talking about the famous $5 kind.

"Nah, I'm good." I said it with the meaning of a statement but with the inflection of a question. 

"Seriously," she yelled, "you gotta see this thing."

Life is too funny to take too seriously. Marriage is a serious thing and I know we put a lot of stock in romance, love, honesty, quality time and sharing feelings... but show me a good marriage and I will show you people who laugh together. If you are married, you know what i am talking about, and if you're not, know this: while that other stuff is important, being married and having a family is less about gazing into each other's eyes and buying nice gifts and eating at nice restaurants... and it's more about the high cost of gas, food and... 

well...

footlongs.

I tell you, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.  

Koinonia

I was leaving the office yesterday to go pick up lunch for some folks who were in an all day meeting. On my way down the stairs I ran into a guy who looked the part of someone in need of some help. I introduced myself to a man named Dominique and asked if i could help.

Working at a church in a highly congested area this is a common occurrence. Situations vary and it is always hard to discern what my response ought to be. I have a friend who works a lot with people in need and he says that "must be moved by compassion but we can't be led by compassion." He has some wisdom on the subject and so that statement has informed my thinking. 

Another friend of mine has told me to be quick to give a hand up but cautious about handouts. I guess what they mean is that if we are just giving a handout then we perpetuating a much bigger cycle and we aren't helping much. I think there is wisdom in that too. But when you look a guy like Dominique in the eye it is tough to know which of those he is looking for and, quite frankly, it is difficult to care.

If you live in Atlanta like me then you know that these last couple days are colder than other winter days in the south. When Dominique told me he needed somewhere to stay for the next two nights before he got his social security check I knew enough to know this was not the first time he had been in this position. I found out later, in our search to meet his need, that he had exhausted resources available to him through the local organizations involved in such affairs. But man, it was going to be cold and you don't look a guy like Dominique in the eye and send him back into the cold. Dominique has a wife and 2 children, one of them only 5 months old... They were staying with his wife's parents where he was apparently not welcome. He said he was from around here but had no money, no job, no other friends he could call. What he didn't say that I heard him say, was that he had no hope. 

We always talk about the poor, the homeless, the disenfranchised or marginalized as if their great need is money. We say they need to get jobs and work, earn a living and contribute to society. I think those are really good ideas and very helpful to one's livelihood. A couple of other people at the office helped me and we got a burrito from Willy's for Dominique and called some shelters and places that were better equipped to help him out. Like I said, it was cold. They were mostly full. We found one place downtown that said if he could there in an hour and half then he could have a bed for the night and food for the next day and they would give him a chance to work and stick around for a while. It was pretty good option from my vantage point. I offered him a ride or to get him on marta but he said no thanks... he would just try to get his wife's family stay there. 

I don't know if he was telling the truth or lying or looking for booze or a job or a place to stay. I don't know if he was looking for handout or a hand up. What I do know is that his lack of money, employment, shelter wasn't his biggest problem. The temperatures last night are nowhere near as cold as it is in Dominique's soul. His real lack was lack of hope... lack of relationships. I was thinking last night that if I was out of money, had no job, lost my house and my wife and kids, what would I do? Wasn't a tough question... if i was desperate or in real need, I realized that I had dozens and dozens of friends I could call. Even if i had made a mess of life with bad choices I literally have a hundred people in an instant that would offer their help. 

I am praying for Dominique today, not so much for shelter, a job or money, but for a person... that another person he meets today would look him in the eye, ask his name and communicate speak some kind of value over him. I think some of those other things will happen for him, but real poverty and lack, at it's darkest and most raw level, is isolation. 

Koinonia is the greek word for "fellowship", which Luke uses to express the shared experiences of those people in the very first church community. Koinonia is about relationship and sharing life with people, which is central to emotional and spiritual health. Without it, regardless of your success or what you possess, you are in poverty. My prayer today is that someone, somewhere will have a divine encounter with Dominique, and something in their spirit will reach out from deep inside and breathe light and warmth into his cold, darkened soul. Because if you stumble into hope enough times, it is increasingly difficult to overlook her. And once she catches your gaze, well, it's a whole new ball game.

Lament

I was reading some of the reports of the on-going conflict between Israel and Hamas earlier and I am trying to do what we do. Read about it, shake my head in disbelief, and then forget about it like it isn't real life. Only I seem to be a bit stuck on the shaking my head in disbelief part, unable to forget about it. 257 children have been killed now, 1,080 more wounded... the things we do to each other. 

I remember what it was like when I could distance myself from reports like this, from stories of wars and violence and general suffering. I remember having the strange capacity to flip through channels and ignore such reports, the ability to be unaffected by things. I remember saying and thinking things like "let's just blow them up" as an appropriate response to 9/11 and other armed conflicts involving the United States and some villain dictator or nation. I remember feeling and thinking so cavalierly about war and suffering. And it hasn't been all that long ago truthfully. 

Maybe it is as simple as having children that changes a man's ideology in so many ways. Maybe it is more complicated than that, but it is honestly difficult to say why I can't just forget it anymore. My whole life I have been aware of violence, injustice, war and suffering. My whole life I managed to distance myself from those realities and to lay my head down at night without giving it a second thought. 

But now, I read stories and reports like this one:

"Sayed, Mohammed and Raida Abu Aisheh — ages 12, 8 and 7 — were at home with their parents when they were all killed in an Israeli airstrike before dawn Monday."

It is hard for me as a dad not to read that sentence and imagine the names of my own sons appearing. It is hard as a youth pastor not to read it and imagine the name of three students in the place of Sayed, Mohammed and Raida. I don't them, but I imagine they didn't have anything to do with this conflict other than the family and place they were born into. I imagine that those three kids had hopes and dreams of their own... maybe dreams of a career, dreams of their own family, maybe even dreams of peace. Maybe they weren't unlike my kids and they loved stories about super heroes, playing with their toys, building puzzles and reading books. Maybe they loved to crawl up into the lap of their dad and tell jokes. Maybe they got on their dad's nerves at times and he had to tell them go away and be quiet. Maybe he disciplined them. Maybe he got really angry because they were disobedient. Maybe he and their mom occasionally argued over the consequences for their bad behavior or bad attitudes. Maybe he also liked being their dad and maybe he loved them quite a lot. Maybe he taught them things and believed in them. Maybe they had a sense of destiny and he encouraged that, blessed it, promoted it. Maybe they had bright futures ahead of them. 

I'm just saying, shaking my head and forgetting about it is harder these days. I remember watching a movie called Blood Diamond, a violent, rough, brilliant, moving film... There is a line the main character says as he reflects on the atrocities his countrymen afflict on one another... he says "Sometimes, I look around and I wonder if God will ever forgive us for what we have done to each other."

That line sometimes haunts me. Maybe one day we will have the grace to reach inside of us and find some creativity tucked away in the depths of our souls that might move us in a different direction than violence. It's all so predictable... so lazy... so inhumane. Maybe one day, the way of Jesus, the way of loving those who persecute you, the way of compassion for those who hate you, the way of combatting a system of violence, power and aggression with love will win the day. Maybe one day we will read the story and it will start the same but have a twist, like the great stories always do, and the ending will be different. 

Of course we know that it ultimately will end differently.... and what a day that will be. For now, while we wait for it patiently, I am going home to my wife and three sons... I am going to be less annoyed with them tonight... I may let them stay up late and watch a football game while they snuggle with me. I am going to love on them and be grateful that no bomb shells are going off outside the house and be grateful that they don't live in fear... indeed, grateful that they have the privilege to live at all.

May we never grow so comfortable, so numb, so detached, so distant and so out of touch with our own humanity, that we bear witness to the suffering of our fellow man, shake our heads, and forget about it. May we remember... and may our hearts break for those precious lives that are lost because of the prevailing belief in the myth of redemptive violence.