What my magnolia teaches me about Christ

I saw an oriel today while riding my bike near Joyces Slough. It surprised me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one before, but I saw its distinctive orange and black coloring. I’m not much of a bird watcher, but I have to admit that it was an exciting moment. It was a quick moment of ordinary joy that I think twenty-year-old me would not have noticed or appreciated.

It reminds me that one aspect of joy in a fallen world is that it is fleeting. Just as quick as the bird flew in front of my view it was gone and out of sight. Like a bird, joy is fragile and elusive. And if we are moving too fast we won’t be able to capture it. 

It’s like my magnolia tree. Which seems to be a favorite perch for cardinals in my backyard. For most of the year the buds of the magnolia stay closed. It’s almost as if they are holding a tight lipped secret that only the birds know. And then almost overnight, the pedals relax and spread open, exposing their beautifully white and soft purple flowers to the sun and the bees. And also to our eyes. And then just as I’m beginning to enjoy the bloom the petals fall off. It’s like how C.S. Lewis described his experience with joy as a boy; it feels like a betrayal when it leaves. 

This magnolia tree is large. It’s probably 20’ high and 15’ wide. And it sits right off my back porch. So it is a highly visible, very familiar piece of landscape in my life. And yet, I did not notice it last year. In one sense I saw it last year. I even commented on its bloom. But I was not struck by its beauty like I was this year. And that got me thinking, what else am I missing? And then it got me thinking, you know what, there’s someone who does not miss this magnolia tree’s bloom. Christ Jesus does not miss it. 

Jesus made the magnolia after all. Colossians 1:16 says all things were created “through him and for him.” And in Genesis we discover that He declared all things good. This magnolia is good. And in Genesis it says that he made trees specifically that are “pleasant to the sight” (Gen 2:9). So apparently Jesus has an eye for aesthetic beauty. And so I am convinced that Jesus is both perfectly attentive to the blooming beauty of my magnolia tree in all the ways that I am not. He is like an artist who knows all the brushstrokes and proportions of his work better than anyone, and who is pleased with it. 

What this teaches me is that the fragile and fleeting blooms of creation are for Christ. It is for the good pleasure of Christ that the seen and unseen flowers open. Even when I do not notice the lavender blooming behind my garage in the alley, Christ Jesus notices and takes delight.

This helps me understand another facet of worship. It helps me understand that worship is not just found in the big crowds and lofty pulpits. It is not just found at a church gathering. Christ can be praised by simply slowing down and giving our attention to things that please God. I am not worshiping the magnolia by pausing and enjoying its beauty anymore than I am worshiping the oriel that flies by my bike. I am simply agreeing with God that his creation is good, and I am honoring him by enjoying what he enjoys. If Jesus enjoys the soft white bloom of a magnolia, well, so do I. 

I’m used to applying this to other things like marriage and church worship services. I know that it is pleasing to God to make a joyful noise with instruments on Sunday, rejoicing in the gospel of Christ crucified. And I know that Christ enjoys it when I lay my preferences aside in my marriage and love my wife well. But I am less aware of how Christ enjoys it when I simply stop and smell the daisies. Which indicates that I don’t really understand how to sabbath well. 

So my encouragement to anyone reading this is what I have been encouraged by this Spring. The heavens really do declare the glory of God (Ps 19:1). Let’s join in.

Worship Christ by simply being attentive and appreciative of his creative labor. He made it to share after-all. Take your kids on a walk on the riverfront or the spillway and point out to them what God declares good and is pleased in. It could be a toad or a gnarly looking piece of limestone. Or simply sit in your backyard and praise God for the robin waddling through your dandelions, or the smell of your neighbor Larry’s freshly cut grass.

There is the grace of Christ all around you. Just pause and notice it. 

Laying a few theology of work bricks

Let’s talk about work.

It’s really important to understand how work relates to God. That’s because, for one simple reason, you spend most of your life working. The lion's share of everyday life is dedicated to work. And so for the Christian it’s important to understand how you and your work relate to God. 

Some of you hate that you spend the majority of your life working. Others love their job and so they never feel like they work a day in their life, or so the saying goes. Some of you can’t work because of health issues. And others, maybe because of privilege, or maybe out of laziness, don't work at all. But no matter what your personal experience is with work you need to know what God thinks about work. Because when you see God’s design for work you have a shot at entering into good work. 

Growing up in Clinton I always saw myself cut from a blue collar cloth. I grew up listening to family members tell stories of working at Clinton Corn or hearing how grandpa was the son of a farm hand in Clearance Iowa where they lived in a house that literally had dirt floors. Work, especially hard work, is just something everybody does. And I came to appreciate the noble sacrifice it took to do it day in and day out.

This made me appreciate hard work. But I wanted to also discover what made hard work meaningful. That quest eventually led me to the Bible. I wanted to know if God had anything to say about work. I didn’t just want to work to feed my belly, I wanted to work to feed my soul. I wanted my work to matter. 

So I’m not going to attempt an exhaustive theology of work. I’m simply going to lay a couple theological bricks and then start spreading the mortar. You can use the theological principles as a starting point to build off of as you journey through the rest of the Bible with Jesus as you try and make sense of the work in your life. 

First, let’s define work. I believe it was Tim Keller who said work is bringing order out of chaos. I like this definition because it is biblical. The first couple chapters of Genesis we catch a glimpse of God at work. And what is he doing? He is ordering the universe. He is bringing oder out of chaos. He is separating and dividing light and dark, land and water, male and female. And he is ordering life on this planet according to his good design. And we see this good order everywhere. You see this in our DNA code, notes in a music scale, the predictability of seasons. As Jason Isbell says, God is a working man. 

The next brick of theology I want to lay is this: Because we were made in God’s image we too are working creatures. We are workers because God’s a worker. 

In Genesis 2:15 God explicitly says that the first humans are to work. This is one of the reasons they were created. 

So all this is before the fall, mind you. This is an important brick to lay in your understanding of work. Work was created before sin entered into the world. So the reality that every person has to work is not a product of sin. Work is a good thing fundamentally. You might say it is a God thing.

Well, what’s work’s purpose? Theologically speaking, the purpose of work is to bring glory to God and to create human flourishing. We see this in Genesis 1:28. The first humans were given a mandate by God to go and be fruitful and multiply. They were to fill the earth. They were to rule and subdue, to take dominion over the earth. They were essentially tasked by God to act like him and order the creation, cultivate the ground, and work to unearth its creative potential.

This is the point of all our ordering and organizing and rearranging of creation. You see this whenever two people make a marriage, make babies, make a home, and order their lives in such a way that brings glory to God and creates an abundance to be enjoyed by others. That could be an abundance of children. As any stay at home mom will tell you raising and nurturing children is hard work. And is a full time job in its own right. And out of the abundance of her womb the world is better for it. The mom is also joined by the banker, the lawyer, the boiler maker, the tin knocker, the teacher, the janitor, the police officers, all the vocations out there that work to produce something. Whether you're bringing order out of the chaos of a kids playroom, or ordering nails and wood together, or rotating crops in your fields, all work is to be done in a fashion that brings glory to God and flourishing to the community around us. 

The idea here is that God creates work and gives work its telos, which Fancy Nancy would say is a fancy word for purpose. Work, even small and humble factory work, can be done for the glory of God and for the flourishing of the world. And so the guy who works at ADM or the girl who stays at home with her kids both have an opportunity to labor in the dignity of being made in the image of God and labor in the confidence that as long as they are abiding in the design of God, even the lowliest tasks can become meaningful work. 

And I say abide in the design of God as an important caveat. There are some types of work that cannot be meaningful or done to the glory of God. Human trafficking is an obvious one. Prostitution, selling drugs, running a factory that uses slave or child labor, all are examples of work that must not be attempted from the start, let alone attempted to be done to the glory of God. 

This is where understanding our Bibles is helpful. God does give us a standard of morality that when applied to work becomes an ethic of work. And so there are forms of ethical and unethical work. I wouldn’t even try to list them all but just know that no work is neutral. No work is amoral. It is either moral and bringing glory to God or it is immoral and diminishing the glory of God. 

It’s also important to know that work has limitations. God worked for six days and then rested on the seventh. God then declared that that day is holy. There should be 6 days of labor and one day of rest. God has woven into the very design of creation that human beings need rest. We are creatures that need to stop for food and drink. We need sleep at the end of the day. We need a day of rest during the week. We need times where we stop our labor and toil and just rest in the fact that this world keeps on spinning because of the labor of God and not ours. 

This is hard in our current culture. Every piece of technology that we interact with on a daily basis lies to us that we are limitless. Lights that never turn off, social media feeds that never end, cities that never sleep. As a Christian it is very important to know that rest is a necessary component to human flourishing. A person, a community, the world cannot flourish if we do not rest. If we are unable to cease from our labors to the glory of God the world will languish. So do as Jesus did at times, go off on your own and take a nap. 

Genesis 2:15 teaches that not only do we have limitations, the creation has limitations. Adam and Eve were to not only work the Garden, they were to keep it. They were to honor the sacredness of God’s creation by watching over it, protecting it, preserving it. And so it would be bad work to use the creation as a raw material to plunder and destroy just to make a quick buck. To work in such a way that ruins your ability to keep and preserve the creation is to engage in bad work. 

Because to do bad work is to harm people. A farmer who destroys his land in the process of farming is not helping anyone in the long run. If all farmers did this we would literally starve because the land would not be able to produce. And so we see right from the start God knew that it would be a great temptation of sinful man that we would be tempted to burst the bounds of our creaturely limitations and try to become like God. We see that’s exactly what happened in the fall of man in Genesis 3. In a fallen world our appetites crave limitlessness. More money, more food, more resources, more more more until our own bodies and the creation are worn thinned and stripped to the bone. This sinful tendency to overwork ruins the possibility of good work.

So work is a good thing. Work is a God thing. Work is to be done as a way to create an abundance of flourishing for the world. And work is to be done within the limitations of God’s design. 

This isn’t everything to be said about work. But I hope it gets your imagination going in the right direction. I hope that it might inspire some of you to engage in your work with the creativity God gave you as an image bearer. You were endowed with brains and desire to go out into the world with a big vision for work. Some of you have started business, some of you will start business, some of you farm, administrate, nurture children, write sermons, push buttons, and the list could go on. My hope is that by seeing God’s design for work you will go out into the world with a vigor to work hard for the glory of God and the joy of your community.

Why I am not ‘pulling out all the stops’ this Easter

“How can we make this Easter stand out?” “What are some ways we can make this Easter service even more memorable than last?” “Anyone got any good ideas?”

Picture these questions thundering from an over caffeinated CEO standing at the head of a glass boardroom table enthusiastically waving his hands at a blank white board. And picture a staff team slouching around the table, bleary eyed, contemptuously chewing gum with their mouths open, looking at their CEO with a blank, exhausted look that would make BIllie Elish proud.

This caricature draws more than a little resemblance with many evangelical churches in America. Easter is a time when many ‘nominal Christians’ (Christians by name only) succumb to the cultural pressure to get out of bed and go to church. And so many church leadership teams recognize that Easter is a once a year opportunity to attract and potentially retain these cultural Christians seeking their obligatory religious experience. And so the staff teams of many of these churches hit the caffeine and fly to the white boards to brainstorm new and creative ways to attract these folks. 

Putting the snark aside, a virtuous church hits the easter season with a righteous sense of anticipation for what the Holy Spirit might do in and through their easter programing. God works through means after all. And a virtuous staff team rightly realizes that God may use their church’s easter programing to help people meet Jesus and grow in their personal relationship with Him. No problems here. Let’s invite the masses. Let’s stand on our stumps and loudly herald the gospel of Christ crucified, risen, and reigning. And let’s not spare the coffee, the skilled instruments and the loud singing (Ps 33:3) The world needs to hear about the best news after all. And how will they hear unless someone tells them (Rom 10:14). 

But not all staff teams are virtuous. Not all lead pastors are pastors. Not all meat is meat. Sometimes what you’re biting into is just pink slime. Some less than virtuous church leadership teams function less like ministers of the gospel and more like exterior construction salesmen at a trade show. No offense to the construction salesmen. But you know what I mean. There are Tin Men out there who care most about capturing leads and turning leads into customers. And when churches function this way around Easter time church leaders become like those annoying guys marketing to my instagram hollering about lead funnels and how they built a six figure business with nothing but a laptop and a stretchy pair of boxer briefs. 

A church that salivates over the chance at attracting the seeker for the purpose of growing their church, will be tempted to turn the Lord’s Day into a lead funnel circus. Now don’t get me wrong. I love a good carnival. I’ll be first in line when River Boat Days makes its glorious parousia here in Clinton. But the circus pedals a distinctively different product than the church. Anyone that has ever been to both knows exactly what I’m talking about.

Both the church and the circus fly the banner of “come and experience!” But the circus and the church have two different goals in mind. The circus experience is the goal. The entire point is that you are entertained. That’s the reason you pay money at the gate. The point is that you experience a show that entertains you. The church on the other hand, despite the presence of a t- shirt cannon, helicopter flyovers, food trucks, or lead pastor skits and antics, has an entirely different purpose. It is to call people to repentance and faith in Christ. The circus points people to itself. The church points people beyond itself to Christ. 

And since a church’s ultimate aim on Easter is not to entertain it often feels like a bait and switch to folks. It’s like “hey, we're just glad you're here! But, by the way, go and fill out that connection card, repent of your sins that are leading you to hell, surrender your entire life to King Jesus, get baptized, and become a member of this local church.” An astute seeker would pause and wonder if they were being sold something. If that really is the main message why not just say that. Why all the other fluff and fuss? Just tell me straight up that’s why you're doing this. 

That’s why I’m writing this little piece of snark. It’s not to be snarky. I love the local church and I love the passionate worship gatherings that will happen all over the country this time of year. But what I don’t like is the cheeeeeese. I don’t like the schmaltzy, stinky cheese man, song and dance churches think they need to do in order to “win” people. The gospel ought to be enthusiastically proclaimed and received like an expensive scotch—straight, and with no seven up to chase. Or if you’d like, a tall glass of unpasteurized milk. Whatever, you pick the metaphor for this one. 

Christian leaders also need to read the room. There are less and less folks going to church in America. To put it crudely, there are fewer and fewer people seeking the goods and services the evangelical church is offering. However there are churches that are growing in the sea of dead and dying ones. And what nobody wants to say out loud is that most of this church growth is transfer growth. A reshuffling of the deck. This is not necessarily immoral. Many churches need to die because they no longer preach the gospel or they have become so lethargic, and have abdicated their God given stewardship to the extent that they are no more than a social club drawing from the historic trust fund to keep the lights on so they can play bridge in the basement. Nevertheless, in a post Christian culture it’s important to recognize that each Easter it is becoming more like what Bilbo said to Gandalf: “I feel like not enough butter being spread over too much toast.” 

My point is that our Easter antics can come across as desperate to an increasingly cynical and bleary eyed world. But not the kind of desperation David had for God’s glorious presence in Psalm 63. The desperation I’m talking about is the, please come to my church… I'll do anything… just please come and serve and give money so we can stay financially solvent and pay the bills, kind of desperation. 

Both David and the American church on Easter are interested in self preservation. But one is interested in the right kind of self preservation. David’s obsession was like a starving man's obsession for food. Without God he would die. He was like Poo Bear searching for God as his honey to fill the God sized hole in his tummy. A church that has veered from this obsession with God is prone to self preservation in shallow ways. Which can lead to the bouncing Tigger-like easter performances we see each year. 

Our church will not be ‘pulling out all the stops’ this easter. You may say indignantly, “well, pastor, you're missing out on an opportunity to reach the lost.” And I would say, you're missing out on an opportunity to rest. Which I would argue is genuinely more attractive to the lost. The world we live in is buzzing with constant anxiety like an x brain yoyo. And I refuse to walk the dog. I’d much rather help people enter into the presence of our resurrected Christ and participate in the resurrection life; to live in the fullness of the freedom Jesus purchased by his finished work on the cross. 

This does not mean we won't gather enthusiastically on Sunday to sing, to proclaim, and to celebrate the Gospel. Lord willing I’ll be walking on tiptoe like an excited 4 year old anticipating what God may do through our church service. We will certainly tickle the ivories and plunk on those electric guitar strings. But we will seek to do it in a way that embraces our limitations as human beings. 

One of the sludgy by-products of the post Christian age we live in is epidemic levels of burnout. Church members are just bone weary. But despite this bone wariness there persists in church leadership a foolhardy attitude that acts like the show must go on, despite the fact that people are tired of the antics. And I honestly feel like every church leadership team is facing a Rehoboam moment (1 Kings 12). The people are tired from all their burdens. They are wanting the load lightened and to be freed from their task masters. But the leadership, in their pride, refuses to lighten the load. Instead they increase it. And like Rehoboam's actions, the consequences inevitably lead to a divided kingdom, where families tap out and go home. 

But what if there was another way? I think there is. What if the church embraced an ordinary easter in order to highlight the extraordinary savior?

There are times and seasons when the church bears witness to the miraculous, to the sensational, to the incredible power of the Spirit. And indeed the very power that rose Christ from the dead lives inside each and every one of us who put our faith in Christ. But what if this power revealed itself to you over breakfast? 

This is what Jesus did with the disciples (John 21:12). What if instead of searching for circus Jesus we were surprised to find table Jesus. What if this year Jesus calmed your anxieties like your best friend's mom used to do when she invited you over for supper and laid out a nice spread of pigs and a blanket. Wouldn’t that be nice.

The resurrected Christ did after all make a point to proclaim peace to those who he appeared to. This peace means wholeness. The resurrected Christ brings a Spirit wrought wholeness to those who find him. And so it’s worth asking yourself: Do I find peace in the way I celebrate Easter? Do my unbelieving neighbors find peace in our Easter practices? When you strike the bell of the gospel does it ring out sweet and melodious. Or is it like hitting concrete with an aluminum bat, leaving your hands feeling all tingly. 

I guess what I'm saying is that Jesus can stand on his own two legs. And that’s good news. He doesn’t need our circus. He doesn’t need our fuss. He doesn’t need our anxiety. None of those things moved the stone and emptied the tomb. God did that all by himself. 

The good news is that by faith in the resurrected Christ you are free from burn out. You won't ultimately die tired and weary from a life of cursed toil. By faith in Christ your destinies are intertwined. Just as Jesus rose bodily you will rise bodily. And just as Jesus lived in the power of the Spirit you will live in the power of the Spirit. And he has promised that one day he will return to bring peace and renew the entire world. And we will live with him in sweet fellowship in the New Creation forever. So let’s give people a foretaste of that now.

So let the gospel shape your practice. Yes, go to church and praise the King with the body of Christ. But leave some gas in the tank to get up early with your wife and have a mimosa. Have lunch with your family. Spend the evening on the porch with your neighbors lingering in conversation. Lean into practices that send a clear message to the world what Easter is for. It is for pointing people to the presence of Christ where they will experience wholeness and joy. 

Until we learn that the Spirit of God empowers us to be witnesses to the resurrection at the breakfast table, and not just at the church program, we will feel like something is missing. But brothers and sisters, in Christ nothing is missing.

Peace be with you. 

How can I turn back?

… how can you turn back…? 

This was Paul’s question to the struggling Galatian Christians (Gal 4:9). And it is a question I ask myself from time to time when I’m struggling. Life in a fallen and bent world is so hard. And following Jesus through it is a pilgrimage full of difficulties. But how can I turn back?

I’ll never forget when Jesus asked me to follow him. I’ll never forget the season of life that I was in. I’ll always remember the gnawing loneliness I felt my sophomore year of college at UNI. I’ll never forget the cold tile floors and block walls of my dorm. There was a stillness to that room. There was a quiet desperation imprisoned within those walls. I knew I was alone. It was a loneliness that filled me with unbearable dread. I wanted to be free from it. 

And I’ll never forget the car I drove in those days. It was a 1999 Ford Taurus. That bubbly old family sedan. It was my first car. Aside from discovering it topped out at a clean 99mph, the strongest memory I have in that car is when I knew I was no longer alone. 

Driving down 23rd street in Cedar Falls I was about to turn on to Hudson road. And as I was turning a thought that was growing at me for weeks had suddenly broken through, as if some great cosmic truth had passed through and penetrated my soul. The thought was this: I am no longer alone. 

What overcame me in that moment behind the wheel was a spiritual awakening. The pneuma had broken through. The Spirit of God had taken up residence in my body at some point in that season of my life. And the result was an undeniable sense that I was now in a relationship with a being that could really know me. At one point I “did not know God” (Gal 4:8). But after I began to follow Jesus I “came to know God, or rather to be known by God” (4:9). It was with Jesus that I actually began to discover a real relationship of knowing and being known. 

But since this awakening I still trip on the path with Jesus. I sometimes stumble over some poky thing laying over the path, smack my forehead in the dirt, and experience the dizziness of doubt and I ask, is this worth it? Is this cross bearing, narrow way walking, self denying journey through the wilderness worth it? The answer is yes. Because how can I turn back? There is nothing to turn back to. There is only emptiness. Turning back would be to slink into the void. It would be to enter into the interminable loneliness I escaped from years ago. Turning back would be to sever myself from Christ (5:4). 

And that is something that cannot be done. Even as I write this I sense the quakes and groanings of the Spirit (Rom 8:26)  oozing from the fault lines of my personal struggles. I sense the breeze of fresh air the Holy Spirit brings, even as He causes the dead boughs to creak in the wind. I know his hand is on my shoulder while the other is lifted up in prayer, asking the Father to persevere me to the end (Jude 24). I know this because I know Him. And He knows me.

There is a solidarity I feel with the disciples when I experience a twinge of doubt. The question of Jesus rings in my ears like spiritual tinnitus. “Do you want to go away as well” (Jn 6:67). The ringing of this question seems to linger longer because of the intensity of the battle in our culture. The grenades of ridicule, misunderstanding, and denial that are thrown by our unbelieving culture seem to be exploding more frequently and with more intensity. And even when I discover that I’d been sitting on a live one, I recover with the same answer. “Lord, to whom shall [I] go” (Jn 6:68)?  

How can I turn back? I know that turning back is turning away. And I cannot turn my face from Jesus, my faithful friend. He is my true and better Samwise. He has been my companion through the land of shadow. He has been the burden bearer when my knees buckle under the weight. He has been the bringer of renewed hope when the fires of doom cough. And he has been the one to swing the sword and hold the light when Satan, the adversary, seeks to strike me in my wearisome sleep. 

So I will not turn back. And I don’t believe any of the friends of Jesus will either. Because he is a true friend. He will never leave or forsake you (Joshua 1:5). 

And so the only direction on this journey with Jesus is forward. Onward Christian. Go with the confidence of one who is in an unbreakable bond of love. No matter the darkness of the valley. No matter the loneliness of the landscape around you. Christ will always be your light and he will always be your friend. 

Christian, take courage like a hobbit

The God who said “let there be light” (Gen 1:3), who himself dwells in “unapproachable light” (1 Tim 6:16), who is drawing those in darkness to his light (Jn 8:12), transforming them into children of light (1 Thess 5:5), gives us the armor of light to pierce a frightfully dark world (Rom 13:12). 

I’m currently reading through the Lord of the Rings. And one thing that has struck me over and over is the theme of courage. Tolkien’s story is full of courage. And as a Christ follower I can’t help but think of how courage relates to my faith.

I’m convinced we as Christ followers are called to a courageous faith. Like the Hobbits it takes courage to leave what’s comfortable and embrace the Spirit of adventure. It takes courage to overcome doubt, weakness, and fear in the face of real danger. It takes courage to stare down enemies much stronger and much craftier than us. But this is the faith that Christ calls us to. 

But a courageous faith is a gift given to those who are unlikely recipients. Hobbits are not creatures associated with hero lore and tales of battle. They are not known for being warrior folk. They are gardeners, homemakers, song singers, conversationalists, and much more practiced in the craft of food and drink than the craft of war. But I think this is exactly why Tolkien chose them as the people to produce the hero. 

They demonstrate a theme present in Christianity: God calls the unlikely to participate in a great adventure that will lead through wilderness and war, darkness and despair, to emerge in the end victorious over the powers of evil that shroud the world in darkness. Those who have faith in Christ are like the hobbits called on an unlikely adventure. One that will require great courage. 

But the thing about Christian courage, like Hobbit courage, is that it seems to come out of nowhere. For example, whether it’s Bilbo saving the warrior dwarfs from man-eating spiders, or facing down Smaug the Dragon, or Sam taking up Frodo’s sword in the pitch darkness of  Shelob's lair, you see courage well up in the hours of greatest need. When all hope seems lost the faithful are supplied with a strength of resolve beyond what they are normally capable of. You could say that faith in Christ means we will be surprised by courage. 

This source of courage in the life of the believer is the Holy Spirit. It’s something we see implied in the Lord of the Rings, but it is explicit in the Bible. It is God who is light and it is God who pierces the dark world. And it is through faith in Christ we gain access to the light of God. And it is the light of God that shines through us in moments of great darkness. The courage we muster is not from any reserve we possess on our own. The courage that comes to the faithful comes from God himself.

The Holy Spirit supplying our courage is good news for those who find themselves in moments or seasons of thick darkness. Whether it’s an economic darkness of rising inflation that threatens your ability to put food on the table; whether it’s an emotional darkness of constant anxiety threatening to cripple your life; whether it’s online trolls slandering you and all that you hold dear; whether it’s family members bent on making your life a living hell; whether it’s war abroad or at home; whatever it may be, God will supply courage to those who have faith. 

By faith in Christ you put on the armor of light, making you invulnerable to the attacks of the enemy. And by faith in Christ you can muster the courage necessary to meet life’s challenges and emerge victorious. After all, it is Jesus himself who went before us on this journey. His end was resurrection. We too press on toward this end. Resurrection is our destiny. And so we take courage in the face of this present darkness. No matter how dark it all seems. 

Children of light, have faith, and be surprised at the courage only God can supply. 

Beliefs about the Bible that keep my foundation grounded.

If I had more room to write a longer title to this post I would have said something like this: What I am convinced a person who follows Jesus needs to believe about the Bible in order to keep their lives on a solid foundation, and to keep the forces of deconstruction at bay. I suppose it’s a bit of a mouthful, but it gets my point across well enough. 

The Bible is where I find and hear the words of Jesus that keep me steady in the chaos of a fallen world (Mat 7:24-27). And I also believe it has been the source of sanity that has kept me from being colonized by the insanity of the surrounding culture. What Paul describes as escaping the captivity of the world and staying firm in the faith (Col 2:7-8). Whether it’s the desire for cultural acceptance, political division, general cynicism and apathy, or any other spirit that seeks to take us captive, the Bible has been like a beefed up defense system that keeps sweaty Uruk-hai ladders off my walls and steels the spine of the coward within. 

So here’s what I believe about the Bible, and it’s what I also think you should believe too. And just so we’re clear, this is not something I came up with. This is what most Christians throughout church history have believed about the Bible. This is dusty old truck doctrine. Nothing new or fancy going on here. 

First, the Bible is authoritative. It is the very Word of God. Thus saith the Lord is the old school way of phrasing it. Contained in the 66 books of the Bible, written by men inspired by the Holy Spirit, is the prophetic voice of God revealing himself and his will to humanity (2 Pt 1:19-21). 

Believing in the authority of scripture necessarily knocks over another domino. Affirming that the Bible has an authority outside of myself means I also must affirm that it is true outside myself. The bible does not have authority over our lives because we decide it does. Just like truth doesn’t exist because we agree it exists. It just exists. And so we are either in submission to the truth of scripture or we are in rebellion to it. It’s like tripping over a tree root on a hike. It does me no good to deny the tree root exists. 

This is not offensive to the Jesus follower because his words are the words of life (Jn 6:63). Jesus’ words may be hard and challenging. I might stumble over them at times. But following the voice of the Great Shepherd always leads to green pastures and still waters (Ps 23).

The Bible is also inherent and infalible. This means that there is no mistake or misspeak in the scriptures. The Bible is without error. That means there are no contradictions or dissonant notes in the Bible, only harmonies we’ve yet to hear clearly. 

This is ultimately rooted in the doctrine of God, that he is perfect and without error. And so if I get up and preach an egg of a  sermon that contains an erroneous interpretation of the text, the problem is not with the text, it’s with me. It’s not that the word is fallible. It’s that I am fallible. 

The Bible is sufficient. This is a big one. This means that the Bible contains sufficient knowledge of salvation and is able to make us wise and complete servants of God. We don’t need other sources of human wisdom to know God and obey his will. We just need the Bible. This isn’t to say you shouldn’t read other things, like the manual to your string trimmer. But the belief in the sufficiency of scripture does mean that you don’t need Bill Nye the science guy to fact check the Bible’s claim that God made the world in 6 days. 

The Bible is also alive (Heb 4:12). The Bible is not simply ink on a thinned out dead tree written by old dead men. The Bible contains the living word of God that when read produces an effect on the listeners (Is 55:11). God’s Spirit makes the words, in a sense, jump off the page. And its effect is either repulsive to those perishing or enchanting to those being saved (2 Cor 2:16). 

There’s a lot more that could be said about the Bible. And I bet you could list out a few more important beliefs about God’s word. But at the end of the day I believe the most important truth about the Bible is that it communicates the love of God. As the old children's song says, “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” That’s what I want my daughters to take away from the Bible, and that’s what I want you to as well. 

Will death find us living?

Sometimes it’s difficult to come to terms with hard realities. You know, those pesky inevitables of life. Like needing to brush your teeth. Those cookie dough bites aren’t going to unstick themselves. Or the fact that no matter how virtuous your  dental hygiene habits are one day you will die. 

Everyone living honestly must prepare for their taxes as well as their funeral. We must recognize the fragility of life, the fleeting illusion of safety. This usually happens in a person's life when we have a so-called ‘brush with death.’ However, this  doesn’t just include that few weeks of teaching your teenager how to drive. Every person eventually realizes that they have an expiration date only the Maker knows (Heb 9:27). 

Something interesting happens when we become aware of death. We feel fragile, naked, exposed. This ends up becoming the defining feature of our lives. Confronted with our own mortality life begins to take on a distinct shape. Some  respond in fear of death’s looming shadow by bending inward, cultivating a life of safety and isolation. Others respond by grabbing a lantern and a walking stick, moving toward death's dark shadow with the resolve to live.

Modern life and all it’s toys have already encouraged our lives to take a certain shape. A great inward bending has already been years in the making. The conduit has been kinked and there's no bending it back. But something else has happened. The pandemic has served as a giant metal break in our lives, encouraging our lives to further bend and turn inward. The pandemic has done what wars, famines, and plain old hard living has done in generations past. It has made us all painfully aware of our mortality.

This leaves us with life’s most important question. Will death find you living? Or will death find you cowering in fear, sipping a 5 dollar latte, ordered by remote control? (Just to be clear, it’s not the latte that’s the problem. It’s the fear.) 

The great wisdom traditions of the past have answered this with the thunderous cry—live! The preacher in the book of Ecclesiastes put it this way. “There is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; [13] also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God’s gift to man” (Ecclesiastes 3:12–13). Confronted with death the call is to create, enjoy, and pursue life. 

The only way that can truly be possible is if death loses its sting. Which is what the hope of the resurrection of Christ brings.“Death is swallowed up in victory… O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:54–55). Hope brings life to a present full of death.  Because death  is not the end. As the old blues folk song puts it, “there ain't no grave, can hold my body down.”  So  for those who have hope, when death does come, it will find us living.

What is a pastor?

There is so much confusion today as to what a pastor actually is. Is he a brand manager, a personality, a fundraiser, a teacher, a counselor, a CEO, a thought leader, a movement maker? The confusion mostly has to do with the lack of familiarity with what God’s word says about pastors. The confusion is also due to the average church goer's lack of familiarity with an actual pastor. As many people walk away from the church and deconstruct the faith in our post-Christian culture, people are less and less likely to have had any real experience with biblically formed, biblically qualified pastor.  And despite the challenges that plague the pastoral vocation, I am as convinced as ever that there is a great need for the local church pastor. 

Contemporary culture has been hard on the pastor. The surveys show it. In 2021 38% of pastors declared that they were seriously thinking of leaving their vocation all together. Feminism, egalitarianism, distorted masculinity, political divisiveness, the pandemic, are all issues amplifying the difficulties for churches and pastors that want to stick close to the Bible’s definitions and way of doing things.  And still the local church needs to take seriously the immense importance Jesus placed on pastoring in the local church. 

But to truly understand what a pastor is we have to look to God’s Word rather than thinking through this purely based on intuition and cultural preference. Rather than simply asking what leadership structure is practical, or will achieve the greatest financial and numerical results, we need to be asking what’s biblical. 

The Bible provides a clear portrait of what a pastor is. The main way the biblical writers describe a pastor is by using the metaphor of a shepherd. This is what the word pastor literally means. Pastor means shepherd. A pastor is a shepherd. 

But before describing any further the biblical portrait of a pastor we need to clarify some terms. Anyone familiar with reading the New Testament passages on leadership recognizes that the leaders of the church are not always referred to with the same words. Elders, shepherds, and overseers, are used to describe overlapping roles of leadership in the local church. So what do we make of it? 

Also, the word elder calls to mind board elders for many. Board elders at your modern evangelical church and what the New Testament refers to as elders are not the same thing. So here’s the important thing to keep in mind. When the Bible refers to elder they are referring to pastor elders. So we use the words interchangeably. A pastor is an elder. An elder is a pastor. An elder is a shepherd, overseeing and caring for the flock that Jesus has entrusted to their care. 

Note that from here on out I will refer to pastor/elder as pastor. I prefer the term pastor because it suggests shepherding and careful presence. At least it does to me. The word elder too often suggests a board director who is aloof from the spiritual needs and relational life of the flock and is simply serving a position of accountability and administration. So it is worth noting that I will refer to elders as pastors but it means the same thing.

So let’s fill out the word pastor a little more. As I said the Bible paints a portrait of a pastor that is a shepherd. For example in 1 Peter 5:1-2 we find the Apostle Peter, a pastor, charging and encouraging fellow pastors in the church to “shepherd the flock of God.” 

To fill this image out here is what theologian Alexander Strach wrote: “The biblical image of a Shepherd caring for his flock – standing long hours ensuring its safety, leading it to fresh pasture and clear water, carrying the week, seeking the lost, healing the wounded and sick is precious.  The whole image of the Palestinian Shepherd is characterized by intimacy, tenderness, concern, skill, hard work, suffering, and love. It is as former London Bible college professor Derek J. Tidball remarks in his book, Skillful Shepherds, “a subtle blend of authority and care,” and “as much toughness as tenderness, as much courage as comfort.”

This is a beautiful portrait of a pastor. But sadly most people have never experienced this. Many mainstream evangelical churches are too preoccupied with church growth philosophies that bend the role of a pastor to that of a sexy evangelist and organizational leadership guru. And since the whole church experience is often only geared toward attracting the outsiders, always tweaking itself for more growth, catering to those not there, the actual flock gets neglected and they functionally become the outsiders.

This leads to what the primary role of the shepherd is. He is to feed the sheep. Jesus makes this clear with Peter in John 21:15-19. So it is very bizarre to hear ministry leaders complain about their congregation when the congregation desires to be fed. And when people leave churches because they aren’t being fed it is common to hear the leaders of those churches say, ‘well they should know how to feed themselves by now.’ While it is very true that a pastor can not follow Jesus for their congregation, they are undeniably charged by the Great Shepherd with the sacred duty of feeding the sheep.

This raises the question, what exactly is feeding the sheep? Great question. The answer is really pretty simple. Jesus is the bread of life (Jn 6:48). And Jesus himself, when tempted in the wilderness while fasting, told the devil that man can’t be sustained by bread alone, but instead must be nourished by the word that comes from the mouth of God (Mt 4:4). And Jesus also says that as the Great Shepherd the sheep will hear his voice. So what Peter was charged with when Jesus told him to feed the sheep was to teach them the Word of God, the Scriptures. Because in doing so the sheep will hear the Shepherd's voice. And in particular, Peter was to proclaim the gospel, which is the power of God for salvation (Rom 1:16). So to put it as simply as I can; a pastor is responsible for rightly explaining and proclaiming the gospel of Jesus, from the Bible, to his congregation. 

In addition to feeding the sheep John 21 teaches us that a pastor is to love Jesus. Peter is repeatedly asked by Jesus if he loves him. There is great emphasis on the pastor to love Jesus above all else. Wouldn’t it be amazing if pastors were renown more for their love for Jesus than they were for their public speaking skills, their leadership styles, their personalities, or their gifts. This is my prayer as your pastor. I want people to walk away from conversations and encounters with me with a great sense that “that guy loves Jesus.” 

But there is another thing even more important that John 21 teaches us about pastors. Pastors must trust the Good Shepherd. Peter’s conversation with Jesus undoubtedly provoked the memory of his failure in denying Jesus three times. What failure would have been more egregious as a pastor than denying the Christ in his hour of greatest need. And so when Jesus asks Peter if he loves him three times I’m sure it would have wrecked him. And what Jesus did with Peter is shocking, but consistent with his grace and mercy. Despite Peter’s mistakes and imperfections, Jesus restores Peter to his role as a pastor. And what this demonstrates about pastors in general is that they are not Jesus. They are a fallible, mediocre folk when compared to pastor Jesus. There are certainly character qualifications that a pastor must meet, however, pastors are to trust in the grace of Jesus, and remember the gospel themselves. They cannot be the savior. They can only point people to the savior. 

This reminds me of something I read from another pastor. He said that pastors are simply errand boys for Jesus. They bring Jesus  to people and people to Jesus. And this is certainly what a pastor does if he is pastoring well. He is bringing the sheep to the real source of nourishment, which is never himself and always the presence of Jesus.

This requires pastors to see the congregation as souls. And no I don’t mean disembodied spirits floating around the room or tucked into some lock box in the deep recesses of a person's heart. When I say souls I mean what the Bible means when it says souls. A person does not have a soul. A person is a soul. A soul is someone made in the image of God. And so the state of someone's soul (that’s pastor speak) is a phrase that describes a person's relationship to God. This is why Hebrews 13:17 refers to pastors as overseers of souls, as ones keeping watch. And as ones entrusted by Jesus to watch attentively to the flock in order to make sure that when they stray from Jesus the pastor lovingly guides them back. 

So to summarize: A pastor is a shepherd. But he is not the chief shepherd. That is Jesus. And yet the pastor is one who is charged by Jesus with a great responsibility to watch over, care for, nourish, guide, protect, comfort, bring back, and see to the flourishing of his flock with vested authority from Jesus. 

To put even more meat on the bones to this image lets unpack the protection role of a pastor. In Acts 20 Paul charges the pastors to guard the flock from false teachers. To keep the shepherding metaphor up these false teachers would be wolves. The passage refers to pastors as having empowerment from the Holy Spirit to recognize and resist the damaging influence of false teachers that would draw the flock away from Jesus and his true teaching. So even though a pastor should not be combative (1 Tim 3:3), he should be ready for combat. He should be willing to defend sound doctrine, resist manipulation, see through lies, and champion the cause of truth by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

This requires a great deal of vigilance from a pastor. He can be no slouch. And it is not for the faint of heart. There also has to be a great deal of trust built between the pastor and the congregation. Because in order for the pastor to be watchful and attentive he will need to be in many homes and in many conversations, and in many stories of heartbreak. If defending the flock from wolves were only about being a keyboard warrior online, then the pastor could fulfill his responsibility without much knowledge of the comings and goings of his own flock. But because we know that what Paul had in mind when he urged the pastor to play defense was more than defending his people from tweets and viral tiktok videos. A pastor needs to be one that has the tough conversations, and is willing to draw the sword of the Word of God when the lying wolves bare their teeth. 

Another piece of the biblical portrait of the pastor is that he is to lead. “Let the elders who rule well be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in preaching and teaching” (1 Tim 5:17). And in Titus 1:7 pastors are referred to as “God’s stewards.” The word steward there means household manager. This is someone who oversees and manages the affairs of their household. This is someone who has authority and responsibility to rule well.

To understand the leadership role of the pastor you need to understand the larger biblical framework of household leadership. From Genesis onward the portrait of a biblical family is one of God honoring male headship. The husband and father of the family is charged with the responsibility and given authority to lead his family to life and flourishing. These biblical texts clearly teach this kind of household design.

Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. (Eph 5:22)

Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands. (Eph 5:24)

For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior. (Eph 5:23)

Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord. (Col 3:18)

But as for you, teach what accords with sound doctrine…and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, [5] to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.  (Titus 2:1,4,5)

Authority can often make people uncomfortable. And that’s because authority is often abused and rulers often abuse their positions of power. But good and Godly authority is designed to lead people to life. Jesus himself submitted to the authority of the Father. He obeyed the will of the Father to go to the cross and endure its suffering and shame. And yet the Bible says that Jesus gladly submitted to the Fathers authority and endured the cross for the joy that was set before him (Heb 12:2). So it is possible that modern feminism and the overall cynicism of our surrounding culture has primed us to fill words like submission, authority, and rule with meanings foreign to the biblical writers. If Jesus submitted without any diminishment in opportunity to flourish, and without any diminishment in value, then it is possible that a congregation can submit to a pastor's leadership for the flourishing and wellbeing of the entire flock. 

This is what makes pastors different from chaplains. Despite what is modeled in many churches the pastor is not simply a soft spoken man of suggestion. He is not merely a guy who sits off to the side while others “run the church”  just waiting to pray before a meal. A pastor is an elder. An elder is one who rules. And so the biblical portrait of a pastor is someone who rules the household of the church much like a father is charged with ruling his family. 

I know this has fallen out of popularity but this is the definition of patriarchy which literally means father-rule. Patriarchy is baked into the design of God. A father leading his family well, bearing the primary responsibility for its wellbeing has been the design of God since Adam and Eve. And it has been the norm among God’s people for thousands of years. It is only a recent phenomenon that the patriarchy has been condemned and looked at with almost universal suspicion by popular culture. So if we’re talking about biblical pastoral ministry we have to talk about biblical patriarchy. It’s not a matter of whether we are in some kind of patriarchy, it's a matter of which patriarchy we are going to submit to. Is it the distorted caricature of Satan’s patriarchy? Or is the beautiful patriarchy modeled in God’s own Fatherly character and benevolent goodness shown toward the world. Is it the chauvinistic, toxic, wife exasperating, finger pointing, lazy masculinity of the culture or the life laying down patriarchy that Jesus demonstrates through the laying down of his own life for our flourishing and wellbeing us. 

God’s design for male pastoral leadership is to be modeled after Christ. It is to be sacrificial, responsible, and loving. A pastor ruling well will result in the flourishing of those entrusted to his care. This is why one of the qualifications of being a pastor is that he must be a man that is able to manage his own household well (1 Tim 3:4,5). If the gospel is not good news to his wife and kids how can it be good news to his congregants. If his pattern of decision making is erratic and inconsistent with his family, how can it go well with the local church. If a pastor is domineering, harsh, and impatient with his family how will he shepherd the flock of God? Pastoring a local church in many ways parallels the fathers leadership in the home. And so the pastor must be distinctly and biblically masculine. And his masculinity must be framed and formed by the mascuilne example of Jesus. 

At risk of beating the skins off this drum, I want to say a brief word on masculinity in general here. Because this whole topic rife with landmines I’m plodding through for the sake of clarity. The best definition of masculinity that I have ever heard is the glad assumption of responsibility. And this is what Jesus demonstrated when he gladly assumed the responsibility to lay his life down on the cross. And so I don’t want you to miss the parallel here. A pastor leading the church in a Christ exalting masculine way, will gladly assume the responsibility to lay his life down for the flourishing of others, just as a husband is called to do in a family. He will be a man who digs the trenches and is in them with his people. He will be the kind of man that stands in the elements, exposed and cold in order to watch over his sheep. He will be at bedsides and gravesides with as much eagerness as he gives to being in the pulpit. He will be the first to do the hard things. His leadership will not look like a pyramid scheme. His leadership will look like an upside down pyramid. Leadership is about carrying weight. And the pastor is responsible for carrying the weight of the wellbeing of the souls entrusted to his care by Jesus. And it is to Jesus that he will ultimately have to give an account on the last days. 

If a pastor leads in this manner the biblical call for the congregation to submit to this pastor’s leadership will not be answered begrudging. The call to obey a pastor (Heb 13:17) will be done in gladness and in trust, just as a wife gladly submits to her husband who leads in a Christ-like manner (1 Peter 3:1; Eph 5:22). This is all to be done in such a way that reflects the way of Jesus, the great shepherd, who calls all his followers to submit and obey his righteous rule. 

And so this portrait of a pastor, ruling the church with a fatherly authority, should induce reverence in young men not arrogance. Young men aspiring to become pastors should buckle at the knees and shake in their boots at the thought of this immense privilege and responsibility that it is to lead sheep that are not ultimately his. Much like a young man should be properly terrified with the prospect of marriage. The mingling of souls should not be taken lightly. And neither should the shepherding of souls. 

This is why there is a detailed list of qualifications for a pastor to meet in order to be qualified to pastor the people of God. These qualifications fall into three main categories—character, competency, and calling. The clearest detailed lists of the qualifications are found in 1 Timothy 3:1-7; Titus 1:6-9; and 1 Peter 5:1-4. 

Alexander Strauch is worth quoting again here. 

The overriding concern of the New Testament in relation to church leadership is for the right kind of men to serve as elders and deacons. The offices of God's church are not honorary positions bestowed on individuals who have attended church faithfully or who are senior in years. Nor are they board positions to be filled by good friends, Rich donors, or charismatic personalities. Nor are they positions that only graduate Seminary students can fill. The church offices, both eldership and deaconship, are open to all who meet the apostolic, biblical requirements.

Biblical pastors must possess the distinctly Christ-like character that the Bible outlines. A pastor must be able to teach the word of God, applying the gospel to people’s lives. He must be able to defend sound doctrine against the heresies of the culture. He must be called by God and recognized by man. If a pastor does not meet these basic qualifications outlined in the Bible he must be seen as disqualified or not yet fit for pastoral ministry. 

The last thing I’ll say about pastoring, which is certainly not the least important, is that it must not be done alone, or in our context of church planting, it must not be done alone for long. The New Testament pattern is that in each place a new church is established, pastors are identified, trained, and installed (Titus 1:5). And so we learn that pastoring is to be done in the context of a team. Each local church should have a plurality of pastors overseeing the flock. The solo pastor may be necessarily for a season, but it is not healthy in the long term. 

This is why I want to end this piece of writing on pastors with a commitment to you. In addition to Jesus charging me with the task of preaching and teaching the word. In addition to being present with you in care and counsel. In addition to governing the church with gentle fatherly affection. And in addition to praying for your souls eagerly and often. I am charged with the responsibility to identify, train, and appoint called and qualified men to join me in pastoring this church. Even now Jesus is speaking this noble call into the hearts of men in our congregation. And as your pastor it is my privilege to fan into flame the call of Christ in the life of other men. 

Ichabod—A Christmas Eve Homily

Behold, God is with us. This is the great announcement of Christmas. God is with us.

And for centuries this announcement has echoed into the darkness of this world. It has reverberated off the rubble. It has bounced off the brokenness of our fallen landscape. Maybe this evening this ancient announcement lands on you. Maybe it falls like a thud on your broken heart.

In Norway they have very long winters. It is dark for many months. And one thing Norwegians do to escape from the dark, lonely, winter depression is something they call koselig. 

Koselig is a word that doesn’t translate well into English. It describes a feeling, a vibe, a warm coziness. Think of those warm patterned sweaters Norwegians wear. Think of candle light. Or the Edison bulb vibe that some of these old relics put off. Think of hot cups of coffee. But koselig also describes a relational nearness. Think of the rich conversations you’re about to have with friends and family over a warm cup of soup. koselig describes the escape from the dark loneliness of winter and into the warm embrace of relationship. 

The reason I bring this word up is because it is the dark isolation of their context that makes the warm light of relationships that much more beautiful. So much so that they have their own word for it.

In a similar way the beauty of Christmas is enhanced by the dark brokenness that surrounds us. The light of Christ glows in our darkness. The nearness of Christ warms our cold hearts. Immanuel—our true and better koselig. 

1000 years before the birth of Christ there was a brith of another child. The story is preserved in 1 Samuel 4. Here’s the context of this birth. This child was born in a time of war. The Hebrew people were in conflict with a people group called the Philistines. A fierce battle had just been fought, and the Hebrews were crushed in defeat. They lost nearly 30,000 men. And to throw insult on injury, they lost the ark of the covenant, which was the symbol that God was with them. Not only did they lose life. They lost their God. They were utterly defeated. 

It was on the heels of this battle that back at camp a woman gave birth. She had just received the news that there was a great slaughter, the ark was captured, and her husband had been killed in battle. Grief overwhelmed her like cold black water. All of this loss and heartache was too much for her to bear. It was while drowning in grief that she gave birth to a son. And despite the beauty of her child entering the world she did not even look at him. Not even a glance. She simply hung her head in defeat. All she did was give him the name Ichabod. Which means “the glory has departed.” 

“I can’t even look at you right now.” That’s one of the worst things a person can hear. It’s especially hard when a Father speaks this to a child, a husband to a wife. The lack of face to face intimacy leaves a person feeling forsaken, abandoned, alone. It’s too much for our hearts to bear. The turning of our faces from one another is the strongest hurt we can inflict. And the turning of the face of God is a curse. 

Ever since Adam and Eve separation has been the defining feature of humanities curse. Estranged from the Garden. Alienated from the tree of life. Sleeping in separate beds. Under the same roof and yet miles apart. Lack of intimacy. These are the contours of the curse. This is the brokenness of an Ichabod world. You and I are all born into this world as spiritual Ichabods. 

And yet there has been one who was not. There was one born with a different name. “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel.” God with us. The glory has returned. 

Immanuel. This is the name of the child that has been born to draw the Ichabod’s. This is the child that was born to take away the sin that separates the Ichabods from the love of the Father. This is because God loves the Ichabods. To show you he sent his only Son to die on the cross and remove the cursed isolation we live under. On the cross Jesus became the Ichabod on our behalf so that all we would ever know is the steadfast attentive love of God. Because of Christ God will never hide his face from you. 

This announcement still rings out even now in the darkness of this old church. This announcement still echoes into your hearts 2000 years later. This message is for you. For all who are far off and broken hearted, Behold, your God is near. 

As the Psalmist said, the Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in Spirit. All you who are crushed, broken, lonely, worn out, and lost, hear the Gospel this Christmas. Christ has come to save you from your sin and bring you into the loving presence of God. Respond this night in faith. By faith alone, not by your effort, not by your striving, not by anything else, by faith alone God draws near to you. Behold, God is with you. 

It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past. No matter how bad you think you’ve been. No matter your church attendance, your giving record, your report card. No matter what you’ve done or left undone in the past God is not hiding his face from you. Look at him. Behold your God has come near. By faith alone look to Christ. He is here. He has come to you to embrace you. There is no cold shoulder from God for those who are in Christ. 

It is in the presence of Christ that we find peace and rest for our weary souls. By faith in Christ you have peace with God. It is finished. Christ has done it. You and God are good. This is called reconciliation. The relationship is restored through faith. And not only that, through faith in Christ you are restored to one another. No matter how many nights you’ve spent on the couch, no matter how many nights spent alone and unhappy. No matter how many years have gone by, no matter how much pain and anger has been kneaded into the dough of your relationships, isolation and loneliness is not your destiny. This is because Christ has drawn near in love. And he has placed his spirit in you to make possible the drawing near to one another. What you could never do on your own Christ has done and will do. Behold, God is with you. 

And so this Christmas Eve, go in peace. Go in the peace only the Spirit of God can provide. And may your households be filled with the presence of Christ this Christmas. 

Amen.

Her Who Was Called Barren

Deferred gratification is only satisfying if the gratification comes. 

Many people in this world wait for something to happen in their lives only to find themselves passing the time in constant frustration that everyone around them is getting something while they wait. It’s like being at one of those pizza places that sets the plates down way too early before they bring out the pizza. I don’t know if it’s just me but I can’t stand it. We place our order. A few minutes later the plates arrive at our table. Which makes my heart flutter with glee. I think yippie our food is coming. And then my dreams are crushed repeatedly as table after table beside us gets their pizzas first. Why set the plates out if I have to sit and stare at them empty. 

This is what waiting on the Lord feels like at times. Many of us are in a hard booth shoulder slumped season of life waiting on some mediocre pizza. We don’t really like the place but it was what sounded good at the time. And we’ve been pretty good boys and girls waiting patiently for the server to serve us. But the plates should have been filled by now. You paid for that slice of joy. You put in the work with God. You should be blessed by now. Others are stuffing their faces with blessing. They’ve been served. Why not you? AND their crust is stuffed? Does he even see you anymore? Who’s back in that kitchen anyway? Did He forget about your desires? Is your plate to remain barren?

These questions, excluding the pizza hut metaphors, would have been on the mind of Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist. 

One day Elizabeth’s husband, Zechariah, left the house to go to work as he always did. He entered his workplace to perform his familiar duties of his vocation. He was a priest, advanced in years the Bible says. In other words he was old, and had been on the job for a while. He entered the Temple with the familiarity of an old worker. And on this day he did what he always did, he prayed. 

We can imagine he prayed a lot like you and I pray. He probably prayed for his own relationship with God. He would have prayed for peace and prosperity. He would have prayed for the wellbeing and the flourishing of his family, his wife at home. And we can also imagine his prayers were full of familiar heartache. He and his wife Elizabeth had no child. And she greatly desired one. Many years Zechariah would have interceded on behalf of his wife. Many years he would have yearned for the Lord to bless them with the ordinary, yet extraordinary joy of a child. And for many years they had to watch others around them get served before them. Despite their faithfulness in the waiting, year after year he would have had to watch, would have had to preside a blessing over other people's plates being filled while his wife sat staring at hers empty. 

This may be you? “Her who was called barren” could be you right now (Lk 1:36). Despite your righteous pursuits, you're not getting the righteous reward. What’s the problem?

Maybe there’s not a problem. Well at least not like what you think. You may not have sinned and stopped God’s blessing. That’s such a crude way of looking at the world. God is not some vending machine we throw the hips of our good works into and wait for a loose candy bar to fall. God is a master chef preparing for us hearty delights and sweet treats for eternity. And just because the sizzling plate of hot goodness has not hit your plate does not mean it isn’t coming. Maybe He’s still cooking.

Let Elizabeth teach you a lesson. The years of our baroness will give way to delight. But this delight comes through the lackluster humdrum of a life of long obedience in the same direction. And it does not come without years of grief. But the good news is that the bitter disappointment of years of prolonged hope will finally give way to the fulfillment of that hope. Our disgrace, our reproach, our disappointment, our embarrassment, our bitterness, will all be taken away (1:25). It will be taken away at the appearance of the Lord.

It was in old age and humility that Elizabeth saw her plate finally filled. And there was no denying it. It was not by the force of her youth, the will of her body, it was by faith alone that she was blessed by God. “For nothing will be impossible with God” (Lk 1:37). God met Elizabeth in her lowly waiting and demonstrated his great power to satisfy her desire.

And of course Elizabeth's miracle points us to the greater miracle of Jesus. The cousin of Elizabeth's baby, born of miraculous cause in the womb of the virgin Mary. As the world was waiting for many years in impatient darkness God was cooking, readying his main course, waiting for it to be served in the fullness of time. Christ is that main course. He has come to the waiting world as the bread of life, the satisfaction of our souls. The incarnation is that great demonstration of God’s steadfast commitment to come near to the barren, to fulfill the desires of the hungry. And 2000 years later the invitation still extends to the barren among us. Have faith. Draw near to the Lord, and he will draw near to you. He will satisfy the desires of your heart. 

Hope in the Brownfields

Some of you are old enough to remember the old Allied Steel plant that was along the riverfront here in Clinton. For those of you who don’t remember, picture two very long, very obviously industrial buildings that sprawled north and south near the heart of our downtown. They sat right behind our municipal pool. 

One nugget of history is that these plants provided the steel for the highway 30 Illinois/Iowa bridge. Local manufacturing for local projects. What a novel thing. Because it is so rare to see now I’m always shocked at the thought. I live in an old enough house here in town that I often stumble across the signatures of local factories and shops stamped on metal, brick, and wood throughout the home. Clinton Lock Co. is on my old doors. Lyons foundry is on the metal doors to my fireplace clean-out. It’s a nice reminder of our rich legacy of making things here in town.

I’m not old enough to remember the Allied buildings as a functioning steel plant. But I do remember the broken glass and how haggard they looked down there. When I reach into my childhood memory I imagine dark and dirty factory brick, nestled into a nest of weeds and dusty rock, and all along the side were windows, lots of windows. The windows are what I remember. Green and broken. There was so much broken glass. I often wondered if kids just lined up there and threw rocks into the hundreds of green windows. 

Well now the buildings have since been torn down. And the only thing that remains is green space. And that’s all that will ever be there. That’s because the area is classified as a ‘brownfield site.’ Which means the ground is poisoned. 

Years before Allied Steel built on that ground there used to be a power plant called Interstate Power. Like most old power plants, generating power was a dirty business. And over the years the ground became poisoned with coal tar.

This was all discovered because a developer wanted to use the land. Technically speaking the land was purchased in order to be Redeemed. That’s the technical definition of redemption—buying back something previously discarded to be set to good purpose again. But it can’t ever be used for productive purposes again. What a disappointment. 

The whole thing is an all too common story to industrial communities like ours. I once had a conversation with a friend about this. He grew up in Russia as a missionary kid. And he told me that Clinton felt like Eastern Europe. I asked why is that? He said it felt dark and full of postindustrial blight. Sadness hung heavy in the air like a looming cloud of coal dust. Places like Clinton feel pregnant with disappointment. A sense of hopelessness penetrates the hearts of many who live here. 

That’s the heartbreak Jesus wants to transform. This is what Jesus has been doing with his people for centuries. In the midst of a broken world, full of loss and disappointment, God is bringing us hope through Christ Jesus. 

Hope is not wishful thinking. Instead, real hope is longing for something with all our heart with the assurance that we will get it. By faith in Christ you will receive Christ. And he will cause your life to flourish. You can bank on it.

The reason Christians are so confident with our hope is because we are confident in our Gospel. The Apostle Peter wrote to the church centuries ago reminding them of this hope. 

1 Peter 1:3–5

[3] Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, [4] to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, [5] who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. 

This is good news for those who live in a brownfield town, a brownfield season, a brownfield life. The Gospel is for the broken naysayers in the world. The Gospel rattles our hearts and transforms our perspective. Instead of seeing the sadness and disappointment that surrounds us in this fallen world and drawing the conclusion that “it’ll never come here,” “it’ll never work here,” or “It’ll never stay here.” Instead of this heart posture the Gospel gives us real hope. The final outcome, despite what our circumstances may suggest, is flourishing and renewal. This is what faith in the Gospel produces. Faith in the Gospel means we are actually pregnant with hope.

So for those of you who battle with the hopelessness that surrounds you, remember the resurrection. The resurrection is that great reality that dead things will really come back to life because Christ came back to life. And all who have faith in Christ are given the Spirit of Christ. Quite literally, if you have faith in Christ, you are impregnated with the Sprit of God, that in due time, will birth a redeemed and restored life in the New Creation. And in the New Creation there will not be a single brownfield site. All lives and all land will be redeemed. 

But until that final day, remember that you still have the seed of this hope. And that seed has already cracked open and started to bloom. The hope inside you is alive. And so you are alive. Even when the wood around you rots, the metal rusts, the jobs offshore, the people die, know this: The Holy Spirit is transforming and renewing you from the inside out. You are alive on the inside. And so when circumstances on the outside threaten to disappoint you, you will be unmoved. The indomitable hope of Christ cannot be polluted, cannot be lost, and cannot be destroyed.

Why Confessional Liturgy?

I once met a guy who told me that his father read from the family Bible each night at the dinner table. He was of dutch reformed stock so this didn’t surprise me much. But he also told me that his father read whole chapters at a time. His appetite for a stout textual unit seemed to surpass even his mashed taters. I had no category for this. Growing up, my greatest hope at the dinner table was for my mom to allow us to keep the Simpsons on while we ate. She never let us, but my mom’s puritanical TV rules are beside the point. Curious, I asked my friend what happened when his father came across a large chapter in the Bible; let's say Psalm 119. To my utter amazement he said he read the whole thing. Ooof. I feel my own family wince when I initiate “let’s pray” because they all know my 4 year old is going to pray for every individual item on the table. But even if she itemizes each piece of steamed broccoli our prayers still clock in well ahead of a reverent reading of all 176 verses of Psalm 119. At least the taters stay hot. I can’t even imagine. And I’m a pastor for Calvin’s sake. 

But that had me thinking about the peculiar practice of confessional liturgy. Or of anything traditionally Christian for that matter. Why would a gathered congregation subject itself to the soul crushing boredom of a pre-written prayer, the humdrum of an old song (older than the Gettys), or the awkwardness of a creed, particularly the one that makes protestant sphincters constrict at the word “catholic.” Why are we doing this to ourselves? 

After all, coming of age during the heat of the church growth movement I always assumed that doing anything traditional was to be avoided at all costs. Not just avoided. It seemed to me that you ought not do anything old and boring unless you want people to stop tithing and go across the street to the other less boring church. Nobody actually said that. But in the name of something less boring and more “authentic,” I’ve seen well worn pews thrown away, light catching stained glass covered with blackout curtains, and 1000 year old liturgies replaced with 5 songs and a message sandwich. I’m not saying this is all bad. Sometimes this is a genuine improvement to the fussy architectural styles of the past. But sometimes it’s just not helpful. All I’m saying is the desire for something less boring and more “authentic” has a tendency to be a fraudulent justifier for whimsical behavior. And my own whimsical behavior is proof enough. I used to think Ovation guitars were cool. However, when I was 20 I just wasn’t at all concerned with approaching this stuff with wisdom. I just thought you had to unhitch from the past to have life in the future. But over the years of throwing out the old bathwater of tradition, I suspect there have been some babies in our pails.

And yet, here I am. Planting a new church. And finding myself regularly digging into grandpa's old tool chest and dusting off 1000 year old hymns and 2000 year old prayers. Yeesh. Won’t people checking out our new church bump off down the road in search of something, say, fresher, if they hear us read a prayer off the screen? Maybe. But I’m not planting a career as a Tik Tok influencer. I’m organizing a Christian congregation. There’s a fidelity to the guild I sense is required of me; a sense of being connected to an ancient root; a continuationist mindset that I cannot shake as I go about my business of starting a new congregation. I can’t seem to shake the traditional remnants of the faith. So I constantly find myself asking why? Why am I self consciously steering into tradition.

I guess I’m writing this because I feel a bit defensive. Not that I feel attacked by others. We’re still in the honeymoon season of planting. People aren’t arguing about the color of the drapes just yet. If I feel the need to take up arms it's against my own modern bias toward novelty.  

I recognize that I am a product of my generation. I’m one of the weirdos that self consciously scrutinizes that. And one of the hallmark’s of my generation, rather, scourges of my generation, is the abject refusal to recognize our historical inheritance—our Christian tradition. As Chesterton once put it, “Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about.” And submit we have, and arrogant we are. 

This of course is partly fueled by our technology. Why ask grandpa how to change a spark-plug when you can pull father google out of your back pocket and have a look. Technology alienates. As Wendell Berry put it, the highway brought people who were farther apart closer together, but people who were close together the highway brought farther apart. Think how that analogy relates to the internet. Much of the technology we use on a daily basis encourages a kind of disposition that alienates us, cuts us off from a sense of historical continuity. 

And as it relates to congregational alienation just take hymns as an example. The church has all but completely alienated itself from 2000 years of hymnody, largely because we’ve rushed for the accessibility of top 40 CCM. But like all other consumer driven products, they become quickly obsolete and we are encouraged to discard the old and reach for the brand new.

And hear me. I’m not saying popular always means bad. I’ll bang a Maverick City or Bethel track. Man, I’ll still bang some DC talk if push comes to shove. But I am saying that as a worship leader I recognize that I reach for new songs over old hymns largely because they are more accessible to me and the congregation. And because I can’t read music. 

And here’s my point. For a variety of reasons, mostly related to the convenience of consuming popular music, I have been alienated from much of Christian hymnody. To the point that if I wanted to teach my congregation hymns from the hymnal I would either need to learn how to read music, create my own melodies, or befriend a Lutheran. Only two of those sound appealing to me. 

Hymns are just one example of a piece of the Christian tradition that has been ejected from modern church practice. And look, I’m not at all interested in tradition for tradition’s sake. I’m interested in tradition like a sea captain is interested in the tradition of cartography. I doubt the captain is interested in what font family the map is written in. He just wants to know that when the seas rage he’s not going to die needlessly in uncharted waters. I want this ship and all those on it to live. If it really is true what the old preacher said, that there is “nothing new under the sun” (Ecc 1:9), than there seems to be a great deal of wisdom and experience that we are leaving behind when we pull our anchor from tradition.

The way I see it is that the ancient practice of confessional liturgy is a particular form of tradition that we would be wise to maintain in some form fitting to our time. At risk of sounding like a grumpy old presbyterian (no offense to grumpies. Or old presbyterians) I’d like to continue to prattle on and offer two specific reasons why I am committee to some form of confessional liturgy during our Sunday morning worship service. 

And just as a reminder, when I say confessional I mean written statements of our common confession of faith in Christ Jesus. The stuff we all should be unified on. Like the virgin birth. The incarnation of the Son of God. The salvation of sinners through the substitutionary death of Christ. The bodily resurrection. That kind of stuff. 

First, I think confession liturgy trains our affections to love the Jesus of the Bible. I say train with the verse from 1 Timothy 4:8 in mind. The Greek word for train is where we get our English word “gymnasium” from. Christian worship is a discipline a lot like going to the gym. And I don’t know many people who walk into a gym and in the name of authenticity wait for a spontaneous impulse to punish their body. Instead, I see a lot of people, at least the ones who get results, going to the gym and intentionally submitting their bodies to the habits and disciplines of bodily formation. In a similar way the Bible encourages us to enter the Christian worship service with a posture of eager submission to offer our bodies as a living sacrifice. The shape of the liturgy helps give concrete texture to our worship by putting prayers on the lips of people who desperately need help to remember the gospel and to be transformed by the power of God’s grace.  

And I say that this disciplined practice helps us love the Jesus of the Bible because oftentimes what passes for Christian worship is just vague superstition. The measure of faithful Christian worship is not how hard the bridge dropped during the third song and how high it made our hair stand up on the back of our head. The most accurate measure of faithful Christian worship is to know God. And we can only know God by understanding the word of God, which is his authoritative self revelation. So accuracy in our prayers, our songs, our sermons, all matter. We can’t just say things like “well my God doesn’t act like that.” Or, “my God would never say that.” Frankly, that’s not for us to decide. So we stick close to the Word of God in worship. Confessional liturgy helps us to do that. 

Along these lines I have been very influenced by the writings of James K.A. Smith. One of the ideas that I have found especially helpful over the years is what he calls “thick practices.” Thick practices are habits that train our deepest longings, our deepest loves. So think about brushing your teeth. That is a habit, but not a thick practice. Probably not a lot of soul formation going on while you scrub Crest on those gums. But think of a habit like watching pornography on your phone every time you go to the bathroom. That might have made you wince, but it illustrates the point. That habit reroutes pleasure pathways in your brain and shapes, rather distorts, the longings of your hearts into a deeply perverted shape. That habit is going to affect you to the core of who you are and it will bend the shape of your daily life. 

Or think of a woman who has muttered the Lord’s Prayer every Sunday of her entire life. She is now in her 90’s, and even as the horrors of dementia ravage her mind she is still able to pray ‘Lord Jesus deliver us from evil.’

This is a thick practice. And this is what a thick practice is for. To use an old traditional word, a thick practice is a habit that cultivates virtue in a person. And a virtuous person acts in a virtuous way when they face adversity. That’s the point. So in a similar way Christian worship serves the purpose of cultivating habits in Christ followers that shape them to be steadfast Christ followers in the face of adversity. Christian worship should train resilient disciples. I see this as confession liturgy's main function. To shape the souls of Christ followers to be Christ followers on the battlefield of a hostile world. 

It’s also important to recognize that in a fallen world the default mode of every heart is unbelief. That means confessional liturgy is an act of counter formation. It is an act of protest. Confessing the Apostles' Creed or praying the Lord’s prayer is punk rock. It rages against the devil’s machine. 

The second reason I am committed to confessional liturgy is admittedly a selfish one. I like the practice because the liturgy gets the attention off my personality. Maybe it has something to do with being an introvert. Or maybe it demonstrates some insecurities on my part. But regardless I know my place in the worship service. It’s to get out of the way and point the congregation to Christ. 

This is needed in a day when churches act less like families and more like brands; when pastors act more like instagram influencers and less like soul shepherds. I recognize that one of the most powerful tools in the church planters tool box is his personality. After all, there is only one of me. So I should hammer my strengths and win friends and influence people with my charisma (the little I have). I should play to my idiosyncrasies as a leader and build a unique church based on that. But that’s brand thinking. If I were Elon Musk that might work. But I have a sacred responsibility to roll up my sleeves and not only build an organization; I am to join my congregation in building Christ’s church, and he is the cornerstone not me. 

So it is just downright comforting to see someone muddle through our statement of faith on Sunday morning. Or fire into “Be Thou My Vision” for the second time this month. I can breathe a little easier knowing that I am simply leading people down the well worn path to the river of covenantal continuity. Christ promised to build his church. He’s doing it just fine. He doesn’t need another financially anxious, egotistical pastor flailing his arms acting as an air traffic controller directing people to himself. 

And there really is no solid ground in that method anyway. The personality of the preacher is important and beautiful, just as the personality of the congregants are important and beautiful. But a lost world does not need another church grounding their identity in the personality of their pastor. What a fragile position that is. Moral failure, job change, stylistic differences, any number of things can knock that church off its fragile foundation. But a church that roots itself in the word of God, in the historical orthodoxy passed down through the ages, what Jude called “the faith,” won’t be easily toppled by our increasingly secular age. Christ promised to build his church on the solid rock and the gates of hell won’t stand against it (Mt 16:18). And I think confessional liturgy is one goodly sized brick mortared into that foundation. At least, traditionally that has been the case. 

Disillusionment—The Cultural Christians Looming Catastrophe

dissillusion (noun)

: the condition of being disenchanted : the condition of being dissatisfied or defeated in expectation or hope

How can we possibly commit to the missional life of Christ when we are in the midst of soul crushing disillusionment?

About 10 years ago my wife and I were looking to buy our first house. And since we were first time home buyers we were a bit rosy in the eyes. Ok, we had on red romantic welding goggles. Our romantic vision led us to ask our realtor to take us through a charming old two story house. It was about 100 years old. It wasn’t terrible, but it needed some updating. But we were smitten with it. Nice corner lot. Walking distance to the coffee shop. It was nice. We wanted to buy it.

But we recognized we were inexperienced so we called in an expert to walk through it with us. My wife’s friend's dad was a former contractor. He was a good one. Real detail oriented kind of guy. And he agreed to be our home buying sage. He would walk through the house with us and let us know what he thought. The naked truth. And boy did we get more than we bargained for. The walkthrough ended with an impassioned plea from him not to buy. Speaking to us with wide eyes wet with tears he warned us of the impending doom that would certainly befall us if we purchased this home. One project would lead to another, and to another, and to another, and before long we would be house-broke, anxiety riddled slaves to this cute little fixer upper.

We bought the house anyway, it turned out ok. But that meeting has always stuck with me. And actually that wasn’t the last time we were to be warned like that. We must either be really romantic, really stupid, or have really wound tight friends (probably a combination of all of that). I began to discern a theme. I noticed that any time I stepped out in my life and took a risk there was someone, somewhere who came out like a town crier warning me of the terrible trouble that would come upon me if I took the risk. Each time I have prepared to set sail on a risky voyage I have bumped into some tortured soul at the port saloon, torn clothes, smelling of sea salt, eager to shove his crooked finger into my chest and cry, “ye beware! There is danger in those waters!” 

That’s a little dramatic I know. And to be clear, I recognize that I haven’t arrived. I have not achieved the fullness of wisdom. I quite often set sail straight into cliffs. I have a lot left to learn. And so I recognize I have youthful blindspots and still seek to keep my ears perked to listen for the voice of Wisdom crying aloud in the streets (Prov 1:20). But what I’m trying to point out to you is that anywhere there is a call, a risk, an ambition, a desire to change something, there will be people who have gone that path before you and have met trouble. Our ships are always navigating waters that others have shipwrecked on. And knowing that storms and troubles await all who desire a life at sea, the question becomes how do we maintain our vision for the sea in the midst of the storm? What happens to your life when you encounter trouble yourself?  What happens when you meet the inevitable—you find you have become that tortured soul. 

I take this question right into the realm of the church and relate it to the call of Christ that is on every Christian to go and make disciples. It’s a hard call. It’s tough to live with the missional vigilance that the gospel requires. And it's even harder when we are in a hard season of life. But it is the good life and the sea most exhilarating to sail on.

One thing that I am convinced of is that one of the greatest roadblocks that stands in the way of the missional church is personal disillusionment. I have watched so many Christians, especially those in my age range (millennials), set sail with great energy and intention just to shipwreck their faith on the rocks. And then many of them resign to a life of screaming and hurling rocks at any christian ship passing them by. 

Let me give you a concrete example. I was in a Christian metalcore band. And from 2005-2013ish I noticed something weird. Almost every band in the metalcore scene claimed to be a Christian band or adjacent to Christianity in some way. There were so many bands that made it their priority to write lyrics about Jesus, tell people about Jesus, and preach Jesus from the stage. And then it was like overnight I saw something shift. People who were in these bands just all of a sudden changed their tune. 

I won’t speculate all the reasons why this happened. But I can say with confidence that there was a significant pressure within the metalcore scene to claim that you were in a Christian band because it would get you stuff. Many of the largest festivals were “Chrisitian” festivals. Many of the venues around the country that would host metalcore shows were at churches or youth groups. And some of the most popular record labels were “Christian” labels with an audience of eager Christian consumers. So the name of Jesus became a means to an end. Christianity was just a label people used to get what they really wanted. This set these young Christians up for disaster.

And many of you know, biblical Christianity has become more unpopular and unpalatable by the day. So it reached a point when so many of the folks in the scene just broke and gave up. And they ditched the whole Christian thing. Life got hard. Their band wasn’t making it. Their girlfriend broke up with them. Their friends moved. Whatever it was many people realized that Jesus just didn’t work for them. It was a broke pursuit. And that’s when the soul crushing disillusionment set in for many. And I’ve been watching the root of bitterness grow deeper into their hearts ever sense. 

The way this relates to life on mission in the local church is that we must keep Jesus as the end, not the means to the end. In Acts 1 the Apostles learned this lesson. They asked the resurrected Jesus if now was the time when He would finally restore Israel (1:6). They wanted to know if this was when they would see the change they so desperately wanted to see. They wanted to use the gospel and see change. Not a bad thing right? Especially when the ends they wanted were good ends. They wanted good change. They wanted to see their city flourish, families grow, business thrive, and shalom permeate the world. But what Jesus tells them is so underwhelming it’s often missed. But it is so necessary to keep us from the spiritual shipwreck of disillusionment. He told them to wait. Wait on what? He told them to wait for the presence of God. They were told to wait patiently for the personal presence of God through the presence of the Holy Spirit. God is the gospel.

This is the whole deal. The whole point of the gospel is that we get God. God is the end. He’s not the means. And when we realize this it paradoxically gives our mission power. You see that as the story in Acts progresses. Their missional life is animated by an intimate relationship with the presence and power of God. So it’s not a bad thing to want God to change things and give you stuff. But it goes off the rails when you use God like a tool or an object of raw transaction. God transforms your life as the overflow of a joyful life in his presence. And that’s attractive.

The temptation to treat God as a tool to get what we really want is particularly intense in Christian cultures. This is because Christian values and practice become the norm. Which is good. But then what happens is what Jesus warned us about in his Sermon on the Mount. People start to practice their faith “in order to be seen” (Mt 6) instead of in order to be with God. And this sets people up for massive disillusionment because when the outcomes and benefits they are after, that they are acting like a Christian in order to get don’t come their way, they abandon acting like a Christian in order to find some other way to act that gets them what they want. This would be like going into a job interview and highlighting how you are a ‘good Christian’ only to find that this employer thinks all forms of Christianity are toxic and therefore does not hire you. (I know this is illegal discrimination but biblical Christianity is considered backwards and bigoted to many people now.) And so after that interview you determine to actually abandon the practice of your faith because it is costing you a good job. This abandonment of Christian practice in order to achieve some worldly benefit, even if it is a good thing like being liked and accepted, demonstrates Christianity is being treated as a means to an end. It also demonstrates that Christianity is merely a fashion of thought. And you know what happens to fashions. They get dropped when they are no longer useful or cool. And when that happens you can be certain there is no strength to persevere when trials come. Rock the boat and the sailors will jump ship. 

This is the perils of sailing on the waters of cultural Christianity. They are rocky and the boat is flimsy. Being a cultural Christian is like sailing the icy Atlantic in a paddle boat. 

And I’m no prophet, but I would say that this is the looming catastrophe in my area here in the Clinton community and is the greatest obstacle facing the local churches here. It’s easy to think that the biggest looming threat to the strength of the local Christian church here is the growing secular culture. It’s really not. Any reading of church history will show you that wherever the surrounding culture is darkest the church stands out in stronger contrast. Contrast is good. Light in darkness is good. The darker the surroundings the more pronounced the flame. But what I believe we are living through is what other larger cities have already lived through, what my fellow Christian metalcore mates lived through—the great disillusionment with cultural Christianity. 

As it becomes less and less popular and advantageous to claim the name of Christ people will eventually stop. If it aint cool it aint worth it. As Christian opposition heats up nominal Christians fall away. And in our area the cultural Christian capital is almost gone. Means to and end Christianity is like trying to write a check that bounces. There's no money left in the bank because cultural Christianity is bankrupt. 

So what do we do? I think the missional focus of the local church, especially in this area, has to shift from ‘come to church because you get awesome stuff and experiences’ to ‘hear the gospel, the good news that you get God.’ And because we are itchy with sinful cravings for idols, false Gods, God leads us into the wilderness to test us, to purify us. And that wilderness testing looks like an awful lot of waiting. 

So it would not surprise me at all if even you, the one reading this blog, are on the precipice of disillusionment. You’ve tried church for it’s concert music, it’s comfy feel good messages, it’s free gifts, it’s programs tailored to you, it’s coffee (God forbid). You’ve tried using church to find a spouse, a best friend, clients for your network marketing scheme (I mean business). All the ends you have been pursuing using Jesus as a means are revealing themselves to be dead ends. Their breaking down. If this is you, my prayer is that you see this as a kindness from God, because he wants to lead you to the real sauce, the good stuff. He wants you to see that the whole time it was always about a personal relationship with him. And when you return to your first love, don’t be surprised when you begin to see the world with rosy eyes once again. 

Draw near to God and he will draw near to you (James 4:8).

We want to renew Clinton

At Hope City Church we value local renewal. This is because God values local renewal. The good news of the gospel itself is a joyful exclamation and proclamation that in Christ change is possible. People can change, families can change, this city can change, all for the better. 

As you probably have noticed, it’s not just us Christians that want this place to change. The greater Clinton community is obsessed with local renewal. Whether it’s a facebook group rehearsing the bygone glory days, whether it's folks organizing to clean up the forgotten nooks and crannies of our town, or whether it’s a holiday conversation around the meal table where the talk drifts to ‘what Clinton really needs...’ Throw a rock in any direction and chances are you will hit a conversation about how Clinton can be renewed. 

And out of all people Christians should be leading the renewal. This is because we have a gospel that is big enough to give real hope in the midst of very complex, very emotionally exhausting, and very long standing problems in this community. God helps us transform our vague sense of ‘somethings wrong here and somebody out to do something about’ to “on earth as it is in heaven.” The gospel produces hope filled prayer, because we know the living God who gives living hope who has the power to make dead bones live. 

The church should care about local renewal because it is woven into the way we were made. God’s word paints a picture in Genesis 1 and 2 of humans as gardeners and caretakers of their local place. God commissioned Adam and Eve to work and keep the ground. He commissioned them to take the stuff of creation and cultivate a culture that glorifies him. This was their vocation. And this vocation has never been revoked. It is also our vocation. This means that we were made to work alongside God to tend the Garden here in Clinton and labor to see to it that this city may flourish for the glory of Jesus and the joy of all people. 

And no nook or cranny of local life is off limits to our care. No garden is too secular, no soil too ordinary to be tilled and planted with the seeds of the gospel. This is because Jesus is King over everything. Colossians 1 says all things were made through Him and for Him. And he is reconciling all things he made to himself. He is reconciling people to God, people to one another, and people to the rest of creation. And so all things means all things. Jesus is renewing Clinton’s churches, businesses, arts, families, and all of our common life in this place. Nothing in Clinton will escape the renewing presence of Jesus. And as a church we want to be a part of that. And because we have his Spirit in us we are part of that. We are priests for Clinton’s renewal.

But what happens when it's hard? What if people don’t want us to seek Clinton’s flourishing? What if we meet opposition. God says do it anyway. Jeremiah 29 says we ought to seek the welfare of even the most inhospitable places. And that our welfare is found in its welfare. This is because God loves this place. He loves his world. And so we commit ourselves to loving Clinton as God loves Clinton. Praying and working for its renewal. 

Boomers and Stickers in Church

When the West was being settled in our country there were basically two types of people. One type we can call the Boomers (no not the ones who put linoleum over hardwood), and the others we can call Stickers. 

The Boomers were the starters, the pioneers, the apostles if you will. They went wherever there was opportunity and they built whatever was necessary in order to get the job done and get the reward. The Boomers went to wherever was booming until the booming was done. Then they went on to the next boom town to start over. These frontiersmen were the folks who planted America. 

The Stickers were the ones who stuck around after the Boomers left. They were the ones that decided this is far enough. Ma and Paw are gunna set up shop right here. These were the folks who decided they would labor long and plant their roots deep. In and out of season, through boom and bust, the stickers stuck it out. 

Church planting is the same way. Like every town in Iowa, every church was started by a group of Boomers. These Boomers, following in the footsteps of our father Abraham, deliberately left their Sticker communities behind, tied their belongings to the wagon, and hit the dusty trail, seeking the reward of a spiritual harvest. And like any Iowa town, the Stickers decided to stick around and stake out their claim to the promised land. 

My wife is from a small town here in Iowa called Britt. And I’ve always liked their town motto: “Founded by the rail; sustained by the plow.” It sounds so tough. Like a sturdy lyric in a Johnny Cash song. But I also like it because it should be the motto of every church.

Here’s what I mean. Britt started, like a lot of midwestern towns do, as a train depot. And I think this is just a great metaphor for a church. A healthy church ought to be like a train depot. It should be a community that receives and sends people on mission to go and make disciples of all nations, from Britt, to Hancock County, and to the world. A church that is a train depot is a sending church. It is a church that has a vision and a pathway to send the gospel across the land. 

But a train depot is an empty place when there are no trains coming and going. It’s not a place you’d like to call home. Unless you're that kid from the movie Hugo. In that case, you kinda have to. This is why every church should also be a Sticker church. A church needs to also be a community of family farms. There needs to be a multigenerational stability and a long history of forbearance; that is, there needs to be a long history of bearing with one another in long suffering. There needs to be a living memory of seasons of drought and plenty, war and peace, winter and springtime; as James says, an intimate knowledge that God sends the “early and the late rains”, and that we are called to wait for them. Stickers are responsible for husbanding the land and the community, that by their good care and good work over a long period of time, the full potential of the place would come to bloom. 

But there are problems when a church only has one of these types of people present. If a church has only Stickers the culture tends to become too Eeyore-ish. Yes, the mopey donkey from Winnie the Pooh. The church tends to become too risk averse, set in their ways, and provincial. Challenges to the status quo are often answered with ‘this is the way we’ve always done it’ kind of responses. The spark of fresh ideas, the outward focus and the innovation the Boomers tend to bring is lost. The Stickers care well for one another, but without the growth the Boomers bring they care for one another into the grave. 

But a church full of nothing but Boomers is no better. Again, I'm not talking about people who wear white Air Monarchs while grilling. But I know you're thinking about those guys every time you read the word ‘Boomer.’ You’re not? Anyway, where was I? Yes, a Boomer church. A Boomer church is a Tigger church. There’s a lot of bounce, but not a lot of stick. Boomer churches age like a fine bottle of grape juice. You got about a week on that bad boy before the whole thing needs to be thrown out. Boomers are always looking for the next hill to climb and they always have their ear to the ground wanting to know where the getting is good. Boomers have a hard time waiting. They have a hard time farming the ground once the barns are built and the fences are up. And this is why a church full of Boomers has a tendency to burn people out and bounce all over them. The Tigger churches disrupt the Stickers culture but without genuine Stickers in their midst they just end up destroying Rabbit's garden. Without the plodding patience of the Stickers, the Boomers tend to use people to get ministry done instead of using ministry to get people done.

This is why we need a church that is both a train depot for mission and a generational farm for community. When these two things are in place, I believe people flourish. We need this balance to survive. 

Gossip has no home in this place

Nothing is more toxic to a group of people than the poison of the mouth. I’m talking about gossip. We’ve all tasted it. We’ve all passed around that brown bag of conversational good-good. We’ve all been caught wiping away it’s drizzle from the corner of our mouths. The label on the bottle may say “prayer requests,” “accountability,” or “conspiracy.” And no matter how open concept your community house is, there is always a small defined space, not well lit, where the distilled secrets are enjoyed with a hush, a murmur, and a gurgle. 

But the toxicity of gossip is old news, ancient news even. The Bible contains stern warnings against its indulgence. Paul writes in Romans that those who gossip demonstrate an evil and debased mind (1:29). James calls the tongue a “restless evil, full of deadly poison” (3:8). A stiff and deadly drink. Don’t let the little toothpick umbrella fool you. The drink’s been roofied.

Gossip is toxic and poisons all attempts at authentic community. This is because gossip divides. And a community divided will not stand long. It becomes an easy target to the Enemy of our souls who wants to divide and conquer. So even if it’s right there on the old man's liquor shelf, avoid it. 

But don’t just avoid it because it poisons your relationship with the community. Avoid it because it poisons your relationship with God. At the heart of gossip is lying; either willful lying or ignorant lying. You don’t know the whole story. You don't see the whole tapestry being woven on the loom. But you know who does? The Weaver does. God knows the whole story. And it is before God alone that our speech stands naked and exposed for what it is. It’s either true or false. And out of the six things the Bible says God hates, lying makes the list twice (Pr 6).

So avoid gossip. However, I’m not naive. Whether it’s your church community, your family, or D&D group, the train of gossip will inevitably pull into your station. But when that day comes you have a choice. You’re the station master. Decline the load. Actually, pull the pin and drain the tanks. Declare before God and the world that gossip will have no home in this place. 

Yet this is not enough. The train is now empty, and in this world full of evil that train will fill up by the time it reaches the next station. So finish your work of sabotage and subterfuge on the gossip train. Drain the dregs and apply the gospel. Yes, fill the train with barrels and barrels of pure distilled grace. Give ‘em the good stuff. Because it is the gospel that says that my heart is evil beyond the worst rumors, but I am also loved and forgiven in Christ beyond my wildest speculation. Now the train is no longer a gossip train. It’s a grace train. How delightfully surprised will the next station be?

Abortion and sacrificing principles for the sake of expediency

You’re probably aware that abortion is back in the current events spotlight. That is, unless you’ve just emerged from a dandy of a camping trip backpacking off grid through the north woods with nothing but your tackle box, a pocket New Testament, some beef jerky, and an aggressive ambition to prove the existence of Sasquatch. But that’s neither here nor there. Regardless, if you’ve been listening to your talk radio in a box, or your podcasts with a fox, you're probably pretty fired up right now. And if you're not fired up I’m guessing you're either the Christ himself dwelling in perfect peace, or you’ve completely given over to apathy. My guess is the latter.

People act like abortion is a big deal. That’s because it is a big deal. At the very least, and I mean very least, abortion cuts short the formation of a human life in it’s beginning stages of development. Properly speaking, abortion ends human life no matter how you spin it. And this is of course why even the pro choice folks admit that abortion is a solemn undertaking not to be trifled with. It’s a weighty matter. But we’re not after the very least or the bare minimum; we are after the truth. 

And the truth is abortion is the killing of innocent children who have not had the chance to exit their mothers womb; an opportunity you and I thankfully had. And the killing of the innocent is great wickedness in the sight of God (Ex 23:7). And as Christians we are called to avoid wickedness as an abomination (Pr 8:7). And as we are called to fear God and obey his commands, the writer in proverbs reminds us that fear of the Lord is also hatred of evil (Pr 8:13). So to put it bluntly, bible clinging Christians are called to hate the practice of abortion. Abortion is stuck in our craw because it’s stuck in God’s.

But what really has my attention during this round of the abortion fight is how deeply unpopular the biblical pro life position is in the mainstream of popular culture and popular politics. And just like any other issue that is deeply divisive, holding to principles can be costly. This is especially the case when we’re dealing with principles as wooden as the sanctity of human life. The biblical position is pretty firm, like that trailer hitch you keep banging your shins on. It’s not going anywhere. And when applied to abortion, the popular culture is torching our principles, and remember they’re wood, so they’re on fire, and fire is hot and hard to hold. You get it.

It was Jesus who made the very ominous statement that whoever denies God before men will be denied by God as they stand before his throne in heaven (Mt 10:33). If I’m honest this makes me sweat a little bit. Because I know the weakness and sin in my own heart that tempts me to take the path of least resistance. I don’t want to hold to biblical principles when they're on fire. Unlike my union boilermaker grandpa who had ‘asbestos hands’ as my Uncle put it, I’d rather just drop the smoking thing and leave it on the table like the sizzling fajitas I get when the wife and I go out for Mexican. 

And this raises my main issue—political and social expediency. Joe Biden perfectly illustrates this for us. For decades, Biden has consistently voted and supported pro life legislation. According to him this was based on principle that life begins at conception. Because, as you know, Joe is a self identified “devout Catholic.” And the official teaching of the Catholic church is the official teaching of the Bible on the matter. Abortion is morally wrong. But over the years Biden has capitulated on the issue of abortion for the sake of political expediency. And recently he has been quoted in saying that he no longer believes life begins at conception, and that abortion is a fundamental human right because it is healthcare, and access to healthcare is a right every human should possess. He is singing the familiar chorus of the popular secular progressives because if he doesn’t he wont get invited back to keep playing in their band.

I draw your attention to this because it is the loudest example of a temptation every Christian faces frequently. Whether it’s in the House of Representatives or on the playground at recess, every person must face the inevitable moment when holding to biblical convictions and principles are at odds with winning popularity and social approval. Practicing the way of Jesus leaves no room for playing fast and loose with the truth for the sake of gaining popularity or votes. This is true for the teenager who is faced with the decision to stick by a friend even when that friend is ‘uncool’ and is being laughed at by the popular friends, and to be seen with them is to commit social suicide in the halls of the high school. And it is also true for the politician who is faced with being caught on the ‘wrong side of history.’ 

There is no room for political or social expediency as we follow Jesus because he calls us to consistency. Practicing the way of Jesus means practicing ‘whole person righteousness.’ Jesus calls us to “be perfect” as God is perfect (Mt 5:48). That word perfect means 'whole '. We are called to be whole followers of Jesus. The idea is that God is the same person on the inside as he is on the outside. God does not hold to personal religious convictions in his heart and then act publicly in a way that contradicts those convictions. That would be to act hypocritically. And God is not a hypocrite. Therefore, followers of Jesus are called to put hypocritical ways behind them and seek to live out their beliefs consistent in all of life. This is ultimately because Jesus is really King not just over our hearts, but our heads and our hands as well. 

Another way of saying this would be to say worship God with all your heart. Or as the Psalmist says, “Unite my heart to fear your name” (Ps 86:11). Following God with a united and whole heart leaves no room for political or social expediency because it demands consistency, and it leaves no room for religious compartmentalization. The idea that it is wrong to bring our religious beliefs to the school board or the governor's desk because it is “imposing” them becomes ridiculous. God calls us to impose our beliefs everywhere we go. Because if we are truly seeking to bring God glory in all that we do, then our entire life becomes an imposition of God’s glory. You might then say, well Nick, that sounds an awful lot like the Taliban. Sure it does. In the basic sense that they are striving to live all their life consistently out of an all encompassing worldview. That’s why their evil is so difficult to snuff out. They are consistently evil. The key difference is in the way we Christians go about imposing our beliefs. And fortunately for us Jesus is the way and the truth. And his way of imposing was to lay his life down in self sacrificial love. He never shrank back from proclaiming truth and he quite literally took his principles to the grave. 

So my take on the abortion drama is that it is highlighting yet again another fork in the road for the Biblical Christian. Will we follow the popular culture of death because we don’t want to die to ourselves? Or will we follow the culture of life, the life of Jesus, even if it costs us popularity, status, or even someday our own life?

Church planting is town planting

I was having a conversation the other night with a group of friends when our talk turned to homeschooling vs. public schooling. Now, by no means was it an argument. I actually don’t have a big dog in that fight; that is, unless your public school is actively crusading against biblical christianity. My dog gets a little bigger then, or I at the very least, I’d put on one of those spiky collars, just for effect. 

The conversation was actually quite funny. I think at one point I made the remark that public school gave me a solid lesson in shame management. If I remember correctly I said the phrase “tons of shame” to describe the vibe at school with a heavy emphasis on tUHns. Yeah, I said it like that. My mom also happened to be in the room during this conversation. She didn’t appreciate my analyses of her educational decision. What was good for the goose shamed the gander, or something like that, er whatever. 

This post actually has nothing to do with homeschooling, at least directly. What I am trying to illustrate is the human proclivity towards bashfulness. As a shy kid walking the halls at a decent size high school I learned what it was like to blush. I’m not talking about showing up to the first day of school in last year's style kind of blushing. Like being the last kid to finally work up the nerve to frost his tips during the summer just to find out that all his friends are rocking a buzz cut with a nike swoosh in the back. I’m talking about getting picked last for dodgeball, sitting by yourself at lunch, having no one to go to the dance with kind of blushing. You know, doing something that makes those cheeks rose up like the conceited man from Saint-Exupéry’s Little Prince. Now, don’t read too much into that. I wasn’t picked last for dodgeball. But I did learn a thing or two about my own insecurities and how an environment like public school inflames them. School, like anything else that gets tUHns of hormones together in one building, serves an important social function as a kind of industrial shame factory, teaching kids how to deal with deep and shallow issues of belonging. What I’m trying to say is that nobody wants to find out that they don’t belong. And so we work hard to belong.

Many Christians are blushing right now in our culture. There is a heavy sense of shame that I discern as I navigate the halls of the Church. It’s not just that our worship leaders are still wearing skinnies when the rest of the world is rockin’ those mom jeans; you know, the ones that sit at the hips. Get 'em up where they belong! Eeesh, I slipped into a dark memory of back to school shopping at Kohls. Anyways, Christians are blushing. We’re blushing because we’ve been so used to hanging with the cool kids and now we’ve come to school and were treated like the smelly kid who wears a trenchcoat in the middle of spring. But the problem is our moms dressed us and we are feeling kinda awkward about it. Christians are blushing because as the culture shifts around us we are realizing that it’s not so much the poor coffee or the bad music that is making us uncool, it’s actually just plan ol’ us that people find disgusting. Is that too harsh? I don’t think so. We’ve showed up to class thinking that the biggest issue for us to fit in was our style when in reality it’s our savior. Our boy Jesus is making us look bad. It’s like the difference between Tim Tebow getting razzed by his locker room buddies for being a ‘Jesus freak’ and Tim Tebow getting hate mail and death threats for being a Bible believing Christian. The church is now the latter.

What happens next is important. What happens when you're walking the halls of your high school and you suddenly realize the rules changed on you? Your face flushes. What do you do next? 

Here’s how it’s been going down for many Christians. You show up to class in a respectable polo from JCPenney and your I Am Second bracelet, eager to be a good little boy, and are astonished to discover you’ve been seated next to a guy wearing a horn hat. You know the hat I’m talking about. He looks like if Daniel Boone were a marauding Viking, war paint and all. And to your horror the entire class, including the teacher, is chastising him for his seditious political activity and his propensity for civil unrest. And you know what, you realize you want nothing to do with that shame. So you distance yourself from this guy. So when civics class comes around and the class discusses political philosophy and action you want nothing to do with it because your ‘conservative’ principles sound a little too close to horn-hat guy’s for comfort. So you tap out.

This is what’s happening with a variety of issues in the church. Politics is just one of the most obvious to point out. To be a little more concrete. The issue of abortion is a slam dunk no brainer political issue that Christians everywhere should be absolutely loud and clear on. Abortion is murder. And a culture that believes murder is health care and is a fundamental human right is a dangerous culture of death. As Christians we should vigorously oppose this culture and actively work toward building a counter culture that actually upholds the dignity and sanctity of human life. This will inevitably include fighting in the realm of politics to see real change on this matter. This is just one example. And Christians everywhere shy away from taking a strong public stance on the issue, presumably because it seems a little too ‘evangelical’ or too much like the ‘moral majority’ or too ‘Republican’ or whatever label is unpopular in pop culture. And this creates a leadership vacuum. And instead of solid Christians filling the vacuum, the vacuum is filled by more people who are building a culture that is anti human flourishing, because Christians everywhere are abdicating. But where are the Christians going if they are not going to the cultural frontlines? I believe Christians that realize they are losing cultural ground are retreating. But where too?

Many, not all, are retreating to the church. Instead of marching toward the frontlines of the culture war many Christians are retreating to the home front, to paint fences, to oil the pews, and polish up our sermons on the theories of the atonement—all good stuff here. But the problem is that we are in the midst of a war that we can’t claim neutrality on. Actual lives are at stake. If we retreat we risk neutering our gospel witness. And this is because the scope of the Christian gospel is farm more expansive than the narrowness of personal salvation and building the institution of the church, eternally important as those are. Our Christian mission is to broad to simply tidy up the church while the neighborhood burns around us.

In his book Gospel Culture, Joseph Boot wrote this about the scope of the gospel. It’s worth quoting in full.

The gospel knows nothing of escape from the world, but only of our service as priests of renewal. The gospel is therefore not simply that we are saved from our sins, but that we are delivered into the kingdom of righteousness, now to serve God’s purpose of righteous dominion as his image and office-bearers in Jesus Christ. The gospel sweeps up into its great symphony every movement of our daily work, our marriage and family, our vocations and callings. Everything that has been dominated by sin is now being transformed by the gospel. This gives the gospel a limitless application.

I love that. Christians are “priests of renewal.” This has “limitless application.” But the problem is that many Christians, out of fear and shame, have neutered the gospel by limiting its application to the realm of the institutional church. This is wrong. It’s not wrong because Boot says it’s wrong. It’s wrong because God says its wrong.

Genesis 1 teaches us that God created humans with a special endowment as his vice regents, his princes and princesses of His creation. ‘And he gave them a commission. His commission is often called the cultural mandate. He told humans to fill the earth, be fruitful, subdue and exercise dominion over it. Simply put, we were created to take the stuff of God’s creation and make and establish a God glorifying culture. We were charged with ruling the world to the glory of God and for the flourishing of all people. That commission was never taken back. This is still our job to do. 

So when we talk about being Christians we have to talk about engaging the world around us to the glory of God. More specifically, when we talk about following Christ we have to talk about Christ as King. And as Colossians 1 says, Christ is really King, ruling and reigning over everything. And he is actively reconciling all things to himself. This means that the risen ruling and reigning Jesus Christ is actually renewing the entire creation that he made, not just saving the souls of the faithful, but redeeming the entirety of His created world. And as Paul says in 2 Corinthians 5, Jesus is reconciling the world through us. So to say we are Christians and then to retreat from broader cultural engagement is quite contrarian. We are called into a priesthood of cultural renewal. This is going to actually require us to grab dad’s shovel from the shed and move some dirt around.

So here’s one way the all encompassing scope of the gospel makes a specific point of contact. The work of church planting in Clinton is not just limited to saving souls and gathering the faithful on Sunday mornings. Church planting in Clinton is town planting. This is because all around us is an unreconciled, unrenewed, broken landscape, eager to be redeemed by the risen Christ through his called out people, the church. The stones crumbling off our buildings, the children languishing in broken families, the lost souls searching for hope, all groan for the revealing of the sons of God to pick up a shovel (Rom 8). Seeing it this way thrusts the big fat finger of the gospel straight into our chests and begs us for a response. Will you obey the call of Christ to go, to tell, to build, to seek the renewal of this place; for the glory Jesus and the Joy of Clinton. 

Clinton is out of shape. Let’s shape it.

Many of you have seen the recent release of some census data that confirms what most of us already knew; some folks have been leaving Clinton. Actually, a lot of folks have been leaving Clinton. We have seen nearly a 10% decrease in population in 10 years. That puts our civic membership at about 24,000. And that lands us the unhappy participation medal of being the fastest declining population in Iowa.

But nobody’s pulling the fire alarm; well, some are but nobody’s moving real quick off the recliner. The folks here have heard this cry of despair before. In fact, it’s actually not that bad compared to the exodus inspired by the plague of the 1980’s farm crises. That debacle laid waste to tens of thousands of manufacturing jobs in this area. The disruption back than was biblical. It was like the ghost of Tom Hanks drove the polar express right up to everyones doorstep, swiftly punched their tickets and time clocks, and chugged south to the enchanted land of gainful employment. The old joke back then was “last one out turns off the lights.”

But the lights stayed on. Not everyone bought the one way U-Haul to Texas. Despite dad’s insistence on plugging the free flow of electricity to uninhabited rooms, those left at home were unwilling or forgot to turn off the lights; and they’ve been eating a lot of pizza and energy drinks in the basement. And like teenagers looking up from a 5 hour binge of Halo, some of them are just now noticing they’re alone.

The above illustration is ridiculous, I know. But it sets up the right question: What happens when a people in decline recognize they are in decline and set out to do something about it? And as they set out to do something about it they will inevitably ask, is there something missing here? What’s the missing piece? Is there some shape or form that dots my landscape that should or shouldn’t be here that is causing this malady. And to answer that question requires vision.

‘Where there is no vision the people perish.’ That’s an old saying that comes from Proverbs 29:18. To flip that saying to its positive—where there is vision people flourish. That means that a people who possess vision is a people who sees the pathway to flourishing; they see the discernible shape of The Good Life. But of coarse, the present situation in Clinton is not The Good Life. And I don’t need to trot out anymore statistics to convince anyone of that. That’s not to say there aren’t people in Clinton who are living A good life; there are plenty of Jeep Wranglers on lift kits to prove that. But what I’m saying is last time I checked creamy Anderson Erickson milk wasn’t bubbling up out of the Eagle Point fountain and honey wasn’t flowing down the thousands stairs. Ok, maybe your heaven is vegan, but you get the point. We’re not exactly living in heaven.

But that raises the next point. To really have vision we have to see the shape of The Good Life and work toward it as an ideal. To have progress we need a model. We need to see the plans for the New Jerusalem. We need a shape to point at. G.K. Chesterton preferred to call this reform because “reform implies form.” He said, “it implies that we are trying to shape the world in a particular image; to make it something that we see already in our minds… reform is a metaphor for reasonable and determined men [and women of coarse]: it means that we see a certain thing out of shape and we mean to put it into shape. And we know what shape.”

What Clinton needs are reformers; men and woman of imagination who recognize Clinton is out of shape, see the shape of the real Good Life, and work for it. Another way to put it is to say we need a clear vision for the Kingdom. And fortunately for us there is only one King and one true Kingdom. That helpfully limits our options. Jesus is that King and heaven is his Kingdom (Col 1:13). And fortunate still we are given clear instruction on how to pray and work for earth to take the shape of heaven. He has given us, as his followers, the power and prerogative to grab our shovels and get to work.

The really cool thing about doing dirt work in Clinton is that it has been thoroughly composted. And I’m talking about that awful nasty stuff that really makes the garden grow. No, I’m not talking about the rendering plant. I’m talking about the spiritual compost of failed expectations, knee buckling disillusionment, and decades of hope put to shame that has fertilized the soil of our hearts for the seeds of the gospel. It’s amazing how spreading decaying excrement on the soil of a place prepares for growth. And I don’t need Iowa State to tell me that our soil is primed for gospel growth.

The question really comes down to this: Where are the Lord’s reformers? The soil is ready. The clay is on the potters wheel. The tools are oiled and hanging in the shed. The plans and patterns are in the King’s Holy Scriptures. Where are the reformers who are willing to roll up their sleeves, plant the seeds, and pray for God to give the growth?

Some thoughts on baptism

Ben and I were having coffee this morning, reading through Ephesians 1, and something struck me in Paul’s writing. In verse 22 Paul refers to the church of Jesus Christ as his body. And not only does he call the church the body of Christ, he writes that the church is the fullness of Christ. Whoa. The body metaphor has always been strikingly provocative for me but this is on another level. I know the church isn’t the same as Jesus, but Paul seems to be implying that the local church (remember he’s writing a local church in Ephesus) is a robust portrait of who Jesus is, what he’s like, and what he does. Wherever the local church plants its flag it seems the flag of Christ is planted. What an incredible privilege that is. And what a great and weighty responsibility to steward.

Declaring and demonstrating Christ through baptism.

This Sunday we will be doing a baptism! This will make our service feel distinct from our other services. Baptism is worth the service distinction. Not only is baptism a significant symbol for the individual being baptized—a demonstration of their spiritual rebirth, their new life in Christ, and profession of believing loyalty to King Jesus; baptism is also significant for the whole church. It is significant in two ways.

1. Baptism as community celebration.

Baptism is a profoundly communal expression. It symbolizes membership. No, I don’t mean we require it in order to be a member at our church. That’s small potatoes. That’s not the membership I primarily have in mind. I’m talking about membership into the spiritual covenant community of God. That’s a membership that only God can bring a person into. And that membership requirement is not something any person can satisfy on their own. The requirement is the shed blood of Jesus. The membership cost is the costly life of God’s only son. This makes Baptism a profoundly redemptive symbol and a precious time of communal celebration. Because once brought into the spiritual family of God there is true membership, true belonging. The belonging baptism symbolizes is a belonging to God first and foremost, and to one another as a result. And that reality is wrought by God, by his grace alone. This is why we don’t haze new members like a slap happy frat house. We celebrate new members with a warm welcome and enthusiastic affirmation. If they have faith in the finished work of Christ they have nothing to prove and we have everything to celebrate.

2. Baptism as community protest.

Baptism is also a public declaration that there is no other King that we will bow the knee to other than King Jesus. We are baptized into the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Our membership is first and foremost a citizenship to God’s country, and subordinate to that is our citizenship to whatever earthly lands we pitch our proverbial tent. This has historically made the Christian people a pesky threat to tyrants, dictators, and demagogues, not least of which is Satan himself. A baptized people is a truly free people. This is why we pose a clear and present danger to the kingdom of darkness. This is because our identity is firmly carved into the stone-sure identity of Christ. No one can take that from us, no matter how antsy for power they get.

So we enter into another baptism Sunday as so many other churches have and will continue to do. But we don’t knuckle drag into a humdrum observation of the ‘same old thing.’ With wide eyed wonder we eagerly anticipate the moment when out of the waters our friend will burst, reminding us of the day when out of the grave we all will fly, meeting the Lord in the air to be brought to eternal life.