Simplicity

God’s Beauty Plan

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Edgar Degas - 'The Star'We’ve talked about issues in discipleship in the last ten days (though, honestly, this whole blog is about discipleship), but I wanted to say one more word.

Let’s step into Dan’s Magic Imagination Machine and consider what follows.

Scenario A: A proud father knows his daughter will be beautiful. He takes care of the child and allows her to develop slowly over years. Childhood is encouraged, outside play is cherished, friendships with other children are promoted, and time for rest and recuperation are given. When Dad realizes his daughter is mature enough, he enrolls her in charm school. When ready, the girl is given ballet lessons. Her father also oversees her education, adding one lesson at a time as the girl is ready to receive new knowledge. At eighteen, that young woman is revealed to the world. What a stunning beauty! A woman whose elegance, sophistication, and loveliness capture the hearts of all who meet her.

Scenario B: A proud father knows his daughter will be beautiful. To hasten that day, he has the girl pumped full of growth hormones, with bone stretching rods inserted into her limbs to make certain the girl grows tall. At five, the girl is subjected to calculus and physics classes, plus courses in three languages. The girl is only allowed five hours of sleep each night because her schedule is packed. And because Dad was never allowed to waste time in outdoor play, neither is his daughter. When the daughter doesn’t score well on her tests, Dad berates her, telling her how badly she’s failed and how she’ll never be the beauty queen she’s supposed to be. Then how will her Dad be perceived by the world? And on and on…

I’m sure that everyone reading this will agree that the Dad in Scenario B sounds like a psychopath. What normal person would treat a child that way?

Why is it, then, that Scenario B (the irrational one) is the way portions of the American Church try to make disciples?

And now for the NtBV, the “Not the Bible Version”:

He has made everything beautiful in our time…
— Not Ecclesiastes 3:11a

One word: Unlikely.

As we know, the real verse reads this way:

He has made everything beautiful in His time…
—Ecclesiastes 3:11a

As I’ve gotten older in the Lord, He’s taught a me an inescapable truth: if we try to make disciples in our time (or any other way that is ours and not His), we’ll only break them and make them less than useful to Him.

I see now that we must view disciplemaking with the following understandings:

1. The Lord builds the house. We do not build the house.

2. The Lord builds disciples on His timetable, not ours.

3. The Lord does not break reeds and quench smoldering wicks. We, however, do so with reckless, clumsy abandon.

4. The Lord has expectations. We do, too. Ours, however, do not matter.

5. The Lord sees the final, perfect end-product of discipleship and fully comprehends all the stages along the path of growth. We look in a temporal mirror and wonder why the end-product does not look exactly like we did at every stage of our own personal development.

6. The Lord disciples with love. We disciple with impatience.

7. The Lord disciples perfectly. (You can probably guess by now how we disciple.)

I don’t know how many times I’ve seen a “discipler”—typically loaded down with one agenda after another—run roughshod over a “disciplee.” I’ve lost track of how many people have walked away from the faith or turned irrevocably bitter because a discipler didn’t take the time to ask, “What is God doing in this person’s life?” Asking that question rather than stating, “And now, this is what I will be doing in this person’s life,” would have made a world of difference.

Some disciplers pump their disciplees with more knowledge than they’re fit to handle. Others get upset that the process of growth goes more slowly than they would like, so they ramrod truth down immature throats. Some disciplers are unwilling to be at peace when their disciplees occasionally feel discouraged because the disciplers believe “a true disciple always lives in victory.” Or—and this is one of the trickier ones—the disciplees are actually further along in an area of discipleship than the disciplers and the disciplers are unwittingly asking them to take a step backwards.

You can probably come up with you own “discipleship gone bad” stories. Sadly, those stories should be rare to non-existent.

The other day, I was in an odd position in a group of Christians when each of us was asked to share one area in which we might be disappointed with God. After no one said anything for a while, I volunteered a disappointment, hoping my vulnerability would encourage others to share on a deeper level. I related a tough situation that launched a series of tangential events that I still deal with today. Immediately, several others felt it necessary to tell me why I shouldn’t feel disappointed. (Talk about walking into a baited theological trap!) Needless to say, I was surprised that others felt my disappointment was somehow invalid. Oddly enough, only one other person volunteered to share and that sharing came with trepidations and qualifications to keep the others from repeating their disapproval.

That type of story happens too often in Christian circles today. I know I can handle that kind of response, but what about a more fragile person?

Anymore, I feel that my role in discipling consists of one thing: to be available for other people. Just to be there. When they struggle with an area of life, rather than me telling them, “Oh, you shouldn’t be struggling,” or “You should be doing this, this, this and this,” instead I’ll be asking , “How can I be there for you to help you become more like Jesus?”

Because when it all comes down to it, God makes disciples. And He makes them by His means, in His time, under His conditions. What He asks of me is that I be available for His use as a tool in other people’s lives. “Here am I, send me” is not just a call to the mission field, but the call of one person to walk alongside another.

This doesn’t mean that we don’t teach people the things they need to know. It doesn’t mean that we don’t reprove. Only that we do it in a way forged through that incalculably valuable question, “How can I be there for you to help you become more like Jesus?” I’ve got to believe that such a perspective on discipleship, that availability, that desire to love others no matter their issues, makes all the difference when it comes to making disciples.

Because when God makes all things beautiful, they are filled with a loveliness beyond our comprehension. And that’s how it should be.

Two Halves of the Whole Gospel

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Goin' nowhere fastDo you sometimes feel like we’re not hearing the whole Gospel? Hang around the Godblogosphere long enough and you get the eerie feeling that no one truly knows what the whole Gospel entails.

And it’s not just the Godblogosphere. I suspect that many of our churches can’t articulate the entirety of the Gospel.

As I see it, we’ve made this mistake of viewing the whole Gospel as two halves. The mistake—one of typical human nature— is to wrap the entirety of our brains around the one half that resonates with us the most, then act as if the other half doesn’t exist.

If we must delineate the error of the two halves, it’s best to look at the one passage of Scripture that defines those halves. We find both in Ephesians 2:8-10.

Half A:

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.
—Ephesians 2:8-9

Half B:

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.
—Ephesians 2:10

Those who cling to Half A are the folks I’ll call the Elect. They obsess about doctrine, detest even a whiff of works righteousness, and are enormously concerned with getting people saved. They got their marching orders at the Reformation and consider it the high point in modern history. And heaven help anyone who’s not in total agreement with them.

Those who adhere to Half B are the folks I’ll call the Fieldworkers. They obsess about  helping those in need, detest the hypocrisy of not walking the talk, and are enormously concerned with bettering the lives of everyone around them. They can’t point to any one point in time for their marching orders,  but earnestly believe that we need a new Reformation. And heaven help anyone who’s not in total agreement with them.

The problem with the Elect and the Fieldworkers is that they are so focused on their half of the whole Gospel, they simply can’t bring themselves to understand the other half. The blinders are on so tight that neither group  can even acknowledge the other side’s main propositions are just as Scriptural as theirs.

The Elect easily trash the loose theology of the Fieldworkers. The Fieldworkers quickly note the clean, uncalloused hands of the Elect. To the Elect, the Fieldworkers are false teachers and heretics. To the Fieldworkers, the Elect are uncaring, self-absorbed Pharisees. Both sides point to the other and claim, “You’re not living the Gospel. I doubt you’re truly saved!”

And you know what? On that claim, both sides may actually be right!

Worrying about how you come to Christ is great, but Elect, what are you supposed to do with the sixty or so years of discipleship you have staring you in the face afterwards? Worrying about the needy is great, but Fieldworkers, how do you receive the heart of God to do so if you can’t articulate how to know God at all?

The whole Gospel contains both the power to raise the dead in spirit to spiritual life in the name of Jesus AND the power to tenderize the human heart toward the service of others in the name of Jesus.

What baffles me is why this is so hard to understand.

Why do we slice the Gospel in half then whine about the half we don’t like? Why the venom between the Elect and the Fieldworkers? Why?

The whole Gospel is the whole Gospel. If we’re not concerned with seeing people saved through hearing the message of salvation, maintaining the integrity of our doctrine, and preaching that we can’t earn our way to heaven, then we’re blowing it. If we’re not concerned about taking care of those in need, living out the love of Christ in practical ways, and fighting for the betterment of everyone we meet, then we’re blowing it.

Please Church, it’s time to believe and live the whole Gospel!

Never Give Up

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I don’t always write my posts and upload them in “real time.” Last week, for instance, “Welcome to Jerkville, Population Me” was written and posted a few days before it actually appeared. WordPress allows me to post in advance, and while I don’t always use that feature, if I find downtime in my schedule, I may write a post and have it load at a future date. (I’m doing that with this post, too.)

The “Jerkville” post had already been uploaded when I received a subject-less e-mail. At first I thought it was spam (always include a subject, folks), so I let it sit while I attended to other work.

When I eventually opened that e-mail, it contained a sad story of dire need by a stranger who was reaching out to me for help. Winston Churchill said it...Always skeptical, I verified the e-mailer’s story with some third-parties. Once verified, I called every resource I knew to find a way to help. I talked with many charitable organizations, dropped e-mails to large churches in the area of this person in need, spoke on the phone with probably two dozen people, but I still have not found help.

I remember reading a story on the Web about a woman who suffered a stroke (or some other vascular accident) while online, but was able to type out a request for help. A doctor, fortuitously online in this chat room, engaged her. He was able to call an EMT to her place. She lived because of that help.

About five years ago, I decided to join an online forum on a well-known Christian site. Within a few weeks, I got sucked into a vicious conversation about singleness and money. One poster on the forum was a single guy who didn’t make much money, but wanted to get married. Several commenters continued to beat this guy up about how no Christian woman in her right mind would want to marry a guy who barely made more than the minimum wage. I could not believe the nasty things said to this poor man by supposed brothers and sisters in Christ (though I sure can now). The guy tried to defend himself, and I came to his defense several times. His posts seemed to get more frantic with time, and his online assailants just would not ease up.

Eventually, after about a week or so of this, he left a cryptic message. A few hours later, he wrote in that forum that he was committing suicide.

I came to his posted confession later that evening. Horrified, I spent hours trying to contact the forum Webmaster and the company that ran the forum. Eventually, I got patched into a hotline and directed people to the post. The response? “Sorry sir, there’s nothing we can do.”

I have no idea if that man killed himself. (He never posted again, though his assailants did. But not once did they comment on what had happened in that forum.) All I know is that no one else seemed to care. He was just some quasi-anonymous soul. Just another person. There are six-point-something billion of us on the planet, give or take a few.

It’s the “give or take a few” people out there whom I grieve for.

In talking about the plight of my e-mailer with various charities and churches, you could hear the flatness coming through the handset speaker. Just another person in need. One more family looking for a handout. I spoke with a pastor of a church in that e-mailer’s area and he said, “You gotta understand. Everyone’s poor down here.”

I spoke with a few benevolence ministries housed in suburban megachurches in the region of that person in need. They all understood the need because they’d heard it a thousand times before. But they said they couldn’t help. You could almost see the heads hanging low on the other end of the phone.

The charities, too, had people answering the phone with voices marinated in weariness. “If we help in that way, sir, we’ll set a precedent and 1,500 people will be lined up here tomorrow asking for the same thing,” one broken charity coordinator said with a sigh.

My copy of Lloyd-Jones’s Spiritual Depression, Its Causes and Its Cure stared back at me from my bookshelf, and I felt so sorry for everyone involved: the person in need, the charities, the churches, and even myself. Those people who face that kind of bottomless need…well, I don’t know how they drag themselves into work everyday. Knock out one tough case and two spring up in its place, a perpetual hydra of people saying, “Can you help me? Please, you’re my last hope.”

Compassion fatigue.

I haven’t heard back from some of the resources I contacted. The optimist in me says I will, but the typical Dan suspects the worst. “The poor will always be with you,” the Lord said. I think that’s one of the saddest set of words spoken in the Bible.

Here’s some words with more hope:

And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.
—Galatians 6:9-10

To the charity worker who lives every day knowing that the need is always greater than the resources, I say this: “Never give up.”

To the church minister who goes out every day into yet another home filled with more need than a dozen churches could manage, I say this: “Never give up.”

To other Christian bloggers out there who also receive needy e-mails, and who struggle immensely with that responsibility laid in their laps for no other reason than that they write Christ-filled words of light in a dark world, I say this: “Never give up.”

To you, if you’re a person in a crushing situation, a well of despair, that threatens to drown you and every person you hold dear, I say this: “Never give up.”

The great revivalist Leonard Ravenhill once said, “The only time you can really say that ‘Christ is all I need’ is when Christ is all you have.”

No matter who you are, no matter how tired, broken, or weary, no matter how empty your pantry, know this: when Christ is all you have, you have the greatest blessing of all.

If nothing else, take away another thought from Ravenhill: “We must do what we can do for God before He will give us the power to do what we can’t do.”

So please, please, please don’t ever give up.