Trust

Finding Commitment in a Disposable Age

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I’ve spent most of the morning thinking about a man I haven’t talked to in eight years.

Jack Lee is one of the finest men I’ve ever known. He owned a company I once worked for. While any man can run a company of a few hundred employees, scant few run theirs like Jack.

Jack knew my wife’s name. A day before my birthday, Jack asked me if I had any plans for the day. Jack remembered my anniversary. In fact, Jack knew all those important names and dates in his employees lives, and not because some reminder software belched up the info in his planner that morning. He actually kept that info in his head because he considered it essential.

When a problem came up in the corporate health plan, Jack was there for every meeting and changed things so that our package was even better than before (in an age where health plans were getting worse). During my tenure with the company, he kept improving the retirement and investment plans till they were the envy of the industry.

Jack’s office was a hundred miles away from my location, but he routinely showed up in our office to check in with people. When my Mom got ill, and it was clear that I was going to have to move back to Ohio to care for her, Jack threw a going away party. In speaking about my contributions, he teared up. I’d worked for the company less than eighteen months.

Tearing up when losing an employee was common for Jack because his employees weren’t just ten-digit numbers on a folder stashed in an HR filing cabinet. They were flesh and blood people who had lives outside of work. And Jack was committed to his people.  I know that the company pocketed less money than was possible because Jack put people before profits. For him, that commitment meant everything.

I say this with regret, but I don’t know if Jack is a believer or not. What gets me is that if he’s not, he exemplified godly commitment better than many of the most vocal Christians I’ve known in my life.

In a disposable age, when everything is classified by a system of worth straight from hell itself, we need more people like Jack Lee. And more than anything, those people should be coming from our churches.

I hate to see people bail. They bail on their promises. They bail on other people. They even bail on their families. That lack of commitment sends one enormous message: nothing has inherent value.

When there is no commitment, our words lose all meaning.

When there is no commitment, we live for the moment and plan nothing.

When there is no commitment, we run after the inconsequential.

When there is no commitment, the least of these remain the least of these.

When there is no commitment, the pillars of society fail.

When there is no commitment, any evil can be justified.

When there is no commitment, it’s every man for himself.

In an age like that, the Church must offer something better.

Jesus Christ is committed to His Church. The question is, Just how committed are we to Him and to each other?

It scares me how paltry our commitment is. Times of uncertainty are not the moments for a gut check. The gut check should come before the battle, not in the midst of it. We are heading into dark times and are completely and utterly unprepared for them because we have not made the commitments needed to weather the storms.

Do we realize how close our economy is to collapse? The Big Three automakers are nearly bankrupt, and as they go, so goes a huge chunk of our economy through a massive domino effect. What happens when a third of the people in a church are out of work? What happens when your bank fails and FDIC can’t cover the loss? What happens when you lose your home?

You see, commitment is behind all those issues. Can we say, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him,” or do we gradually slip away? Do we help others in need even if it costs us everything? What do we do?

If the Church of Jesus Christ doesn’t embody commitment, if it doesn’t hurt us a little to follow Christ, and if we’re all talk with no real guts behind what we say we believe, then the world just got a lot more hopeless.

As for me, I’m not ready to walk away, no matter how much it hurts.

The Faith That Isn’t

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You can’t be a Christian very long before you must come to grips with the meaning of faith. And in America that faith will come down to either a naïve faith or a mature one.

Maturity, at least if the brochures are right, is the true hallmark of Christian enlightenment. It’s easy to spot someone with a mature faith. They have that knowing, philosophical smile whenever they spot some brand spankin’ new believer anxious to be about God’s work, that person with a naïve faith that hasn’t been around the block a time or two.

The person with a mature faith understands that very few people ever see real results in prayer. That mature person knows that it’s one thing to believe something and altogether a different thing to make it happen. Supplementing one’s wishes with a little elbow grease never hurt anyone. The mature person of faith knows that backup plans are needed when idealism falls through. Sure, God is ready to say yes to the faithful, but it’s smart to hedge one’s bets against failure.

When Joe Sixpack loses his job during the recession, the counselor with the mature faith readily advises Joe to immediately find another job, any job. “God can’t drive a parked car,” the counselor says—with a wink. Because there’s always a wink or a reassuring pat on the back when mature faith is involved.

No, the American Christian of mature faith comprehends what the person with the naïve faith doesn’t. And his church makes him an elder or a committee supervisor for his discernment. Because we need his common sense wisdom and leadership. We don’t want to make the mistakes of blindly following some starry-eyed dreamer with a naïve faith who wants to change the world for Christ.

So we hold up the person of mature faith. He’s the model. And his common sense faith is an example for us all.

Except, as I see it, that mature “faith” isn’t really faith at all.

The Lord makes it clear:

At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven….”
—Matthew 18:1-3

You see, it’s the person with the naïve faith, the one who believes there stands no impediment to the God of the Universe, who is the real warrior in the Kingdom of Heaven. This is the one who believes that nothing is impossible with God. This is the person who takes God’s word at…well, His word. This is the one who sends the devil scurrying back to hell.

I’d like to find a real Christian today who believes the following:

Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain.
—Psalms 127:1

Instead, we of “mature” faith like to force God’s hand. When we feel we’ve waited long enough, we build the house, we watch over the city. Because faith in God is nice, but if you’re going to build houses and protect cities, nothing beats the sweat of the brow. Yes, Jesus, I believe you...So leave the waiting in the prayer closet to the naïve, and let’s get the real men out there to do the job pronto. And for all our sakes, make sure we have a Plan B.

This is what passes for maturity today.

No, man’s common sense is just that, common. It takes a real naïf, a true fool, to think otherwise, to see with uncommon vision, to have God’s perspective.

Frankly, I’m a bit sick of all the people with supposedly mature faith who sit around saying, “Yes, but….” Those “buts” have a knack for getting in the way, stymieing the work of the Lord. Whenever those mature people bless us with their smarts, you can almost hear someone muttering along with them: “Isn’t that just Jesus, the carpenter’s son?”

You’ve got poor, uneducated nobodies in India leading thousands to Christ, laying their hands on the sick and watching them get healed. Meanwhile, you’ve got hyper-rationalists masquerading as the mature people in the church who raise their objections and quote from their science and philosophy books all the reasons why none of that can be happening.

Me? I’ll stick with Isaiah on this one:

…and a little child shall lead them.
—Isaiah 11:6b

Lord, Help My Unbelief!

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On our refrigerator, attached by a random series of accumulated fridge magnets, is this verse:

And the LORD will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.
—Isaiah 58:11

I stood in our kitchen today and stared at that small, yellow page. My handwriting. The encouragement I wrote for my wife during a tough time she faced. The Lord guided me to that passage and it sang in my soul that day so many months ago.

But times are even tougher now, not so much for her, but for me. And I look at that verse written in my own hand and I want to believe it, though I can’t see it.

That verse is just one of many things I want to believe.

I want to believe that a man can work a sixty-hour week, spend quality time with his wife and kids, be involved in his community, find time for leisure, and still be an effective disciple of Jesus Christ. He wants me to believe, too.The kind of man who prays big prayers and knows God intimately for those prayers. The kind of man who readily leads many others to his Savior and disciples those same people to maturity. I want to believe, but I don’t know any men like that.

I want to believe that it’s possible to drop into a majority of churches in any town in this country and find a thriving community of saints that not only loves God passionately but finds time for each other. And not just talk about community, but a church that meets more than a couple days a week in each other’s homes for meals, talk of Christ, prayer, fellowship, and simple fun. And when the times are not so fun, that this same group of people can find the time to comfort each other. I want to believe, but I don’t know any churches like that.

I want to believe that people who call themselves Christians and live in America could be deliriously happy in the Lord Jesus even if everything they owned was taken away from them. Not just refraining from buying the latest update of the iPod or Prius, but actually losing everything they owned.I want to believe, but it seems impossible to.

I want to believe that the Church of Jesus Christ still takes the Great Commission seriously. A Church made up of selfless people who would crawl over miles of broken glass to save one soul from hell. I want to believe, but it’s hard to do so.

I want to believe that things are getting better and not worse. That churches are vital, not impersonal museums or dog-and-pony shows. That the people I know who are Christians are growing closer to the Lord and more distant from the world, ready to be martyred for the faith if need be. People who love not their own lives, even unto death. I want to believe, but the evidence for that reality is so sparse.

I want to believe that it’s not too late. That the Lord will tarry and we’ll somehow get a reprieve, time enough to wake up and get serious about getting serious. I want to believe, but I also know the darkness is coming when no man can work.

I want to believe! Lord, help my unbelief!