Promises

Thank God I'm Not...

Sunday, my rector preached from Luke 18:10-14

Then Jesus told this story to some who had great confidence in their own righteousness and scorned everyone else: “Two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a Pharisee, and the other was a despised tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed this prayer: ‘I thank you, God, that I am not like other people—cheaters, sinners, adulterers. I’m certainly not like that tax collector! I fast twice a week, and I give you a tenth of my income.’

“But the tax collector stood at a distance and dared not even lift his eyes to heaven as he prayed. Instead, he beat his chest in sorrow, saying, ‘O God, be merciful to me, for I am a sinner.’ I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home justified before God. For those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” (NLT)

My rector's sermon was much like Jesus' story. It caught me. I've preached from this exact text dozens of times. And yet, this Sunday, the Holy Spirit caught me. For my rector pointed out that whenever we hear this story we tend to identify with the tax collector, silently whispering, at least to ourselves, "Thank God I am not like the Pharisee in the sto..." Oops...

Why did he have to preach this sermon at this point of our election cycle? It hardly seems fair.

My Democratic supporting friends are clearly acting just like the Pharisee. I read their posts every day, and the drive me nuts! (My Rep leaning friend's posts make me laugh in their unintended silliness, but they know enough not to play the Moral Majority Card that the Dems stole from their playbook.)

As I see it, the only trouble with their position is that Hillary's election is deadly. According to a Huffington Post article, written to support her, she wants to buttress our defenses and make our military's presence in the world even more deadly. Additionally, she is outspoken in her support of partial birth abortion and Planned Parenthood, which (despite their claims to the contrary) was created as a way to control the African American population. Unfortunately, they are doing a better job than any of their eugenically inclined founders ever dreamed.

Because she is running against a morally inept patsy, her own moral bankruptcy is overlooked. "It is not nearly as bad as his... nothing has ever been proven..." the argument seems to go. "If she had Trump's history as a woman, she'd be crucified." They are right about that last bit. She would. But it needs to be said, because she is a woman, to some she can do no wrong. She is, in essence, in many ways, the twin of Margaret Thatcher.

Returning to my rector's sermon; my trouble is, as soon as I point my finger at the Dems for being pompous hypocrites who hide behind a wall of intellectual snobbery and dishonesty; I join them in at the bottom of the outhouse... I judge shit. Just like them, when I claim "to be better," I become the Pharisee in the story. As evidenced by my belief that I have taken the moral high ground.

What I need to be doing is beating my breast, looking up to heaven and asking for God's forgiveness for being too proud to love, and judging those who judge fiercely and without empathy.

I'm sorry. I am wrong in my reactions. I am grateful to have a rector who cares enough to catch me in my sin.

 

Looking Back... Looking Forward

Growing up the son of a missionary and gospel singer/evangelist who were committed to living, "by faith:" asking no one but God to meet the family's needs shaped me in some interesting and challenging ways. I grew up having visited many of the 48 contiguous states, and seeing many things my peers only dreamed of seeing. At the same time, Mom would drive up to the house with us in the car and there would be groceries on the front porch that she needed, hadn't asked for, and cooked with that night to feed us. We were always dirt-poor, and always had enough.

If Dad was called for meetings in East Texas or Florida, he'd always say yes, and then he'd pull out the Rolodex and begin calling churches and pastors along the way to build an itinerary so he could afford to get there. You see, Dad never required any payment and never knew what he was going to get (if anything) and so the idea of the church covering his expenses was foreign to him. We paid our own way and graciously accepted whatever was offered to us upon completion of our mission or crusade in the community. Nearly always, every weekend and every Wednesday night were booked and we'd simply travel from community to community in order to reach the place that first booked us. It could take weeks, but it is how we traveled. 

In today's world, I wonder what my parents' Facebook accounts would look like. Undoubtedly, they would post pictures of churches where they ministered and pictures of Dad singing or Mom telling a story or leading a Bible Study or women's meeting, but I imagine there would be a lot of pictures of Timothy and I swimming outside of Boonesborough, Kentucky in the Cumberland Gap where I spent my 10th birthday, or of us touring the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and Straight Street in Philly on the 4th of July 1976. Perhaps you'd see pictures of us playing at Niagara Falls or Fort Ticonderoga, looking at Mt Rushmore, Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons or the Grand Canyon. 

Maybe my parents would have been smart enough not to post those photos that family and friends wanted to see on their public pages so that people wouldn't get the wrong idea about the family and think that we were flush and simply playing all the time. Because that certainly wasn't the case. I don't know how they would have worked that out and I wish I did.

This summer has been a celebration summer for Paula and I. We spent the first two years of our marriage never qutie having enough to pay the bills, and spending at least one, or many times two or three nights each week apart, as I traveled to the Little Fishing Village to the North of Portland for School. Supporters stopped supporting Paula because they assumed, as a man, I'd take care of her financially. After all, isn't that my job? They don't realize that as a grad student, living on the edge, having betrayed my former ministry partners through my adultery, I simply couldn't. 

Like many couples, especially older-- poorer ones, blending our financial lives is one of our greatest challenges. In contrast to my background, Paula grew up in an affluent family who trained her how to manage money well. In some ways, we're good for each other and in others we sometimes want to kill each other. 

So this summer, in the wake of three life-changing years, we've chased beauty as we've lived, using many of the travel strategies I learned growing up. We've taken Dr. Dan Allender's advice and taken the time to connect to each other more tightly, and God in new and fresh ways. It is easier now that I don't have another book to read and paper to write. When we've gone somewhere for business, we combine it with a day or two to relax along the way.

In June I graduated in Seattle and took Thomas to check out a school in British Columbia. I combined the two because I couldn't afford to take him on this campus visit any other way. Since we were in BC, TL and I tagged on two days in Whistler that didn't cost us anything except for the gas to get there. We took our food and had a kitchen in which to cook. We had a brilliant time.

In July, Paula gave me a 50th birthday/graduation gift and we rode 1701 miles to Canmore, Alberta to see the Canadian Rockies. It was a vacation to be sure, and it cost money to do. We were celebrating major milestones. And our celebration was also an act of worship. Paula called it a Pilgrimage. The bonus was that we stopped along the way to develop new ministry partnerships and see people we'd never get a chance to see if we weren't making the trip.

August is Paula's birthday month and September is our anniversary month and so we planned to go to Bend on a working vacation/celebration to see and connect with people for the Kingdom. After that trip was planned friends gave us an actual real-life vacation at Depoe Bay. It caught us both off guard and was probably the best vacation ever, and yet, even then we spent our mornings reading, planning, and writing together before going to play in the afternoons.

So you can't imagine my disappointment when Paula told me that someone said to another of her friends,"It seems like all they do is vacation."

I teach, metaphorically, that there are three legs of the stool upon which I rest. One of those legs is that "what other people think of me is none of my business." I believe that wholeheartedly and I am also aware that this person's hurtful statement will lead us to make some changes, not to how we live, but how we portray the way we live.

The second leg of the stool is  "If you spot it you got it." The person thinking we're always on vacation has his/her own insecurities in regard to our actions. Regardless, we live in a world where perception matters. And as supported missionaries, we need to make sure that we are not harming our ability to develop kingdom partnerships with people who are called to support Kingdom work financially.

Unlike my parents, we can't post pictures of the people with whom we meet or even tell the stories of the lives that are changing when we meet with them. It isn't appropriate or ethical in our line of work. Those stories aren't "Facebookable." I thought the beauty we've chased along the way was, but that is apparently not so. APparently we need to limit that to a very few close friends. That is a sad reality we are going to have to face. I think you can expect some further changes to our Facebook feeds as we move forward. It might be that we need to cancel them altogether, creating other ways to communicate with our friends around the world. We'll see. We have some talking to do. 

Please feel free to chime in on this topic either in the comments below the blog or the Facebook post, or in a personal message on FB, or even in an email to Paula or me. On quite another note, I am sure that this is the reason that Allender doesn't use Facebook.

By the way. Here is the link that Paula's friend was sharing with Paula's other friend. It was this link that led to the discussion that has led to this post:

 

Chasing Beauty: Introduction

On Monday morning Paula and I will start a motorcycle trip that will take us to Coeur D' alene, ID. On Wednesday we will leave Coeur D' alene and head north to Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada. 

Amidst the insanity this country is creating right now, we've decided to search out beauty that neither of us has seen, so we can encounter it together, find refreshment, meet God together, and enjoy the hope that beauty creates.

For the next week or so this blog will become a travel blog of sorts. Some of the wonder of this trip is that the journey on the bikes together is as important as our destinations. We will be free to roam, saunter on our bikes and frolic along the way. We will get to spend time with longtime friends while lingering on the shores of a majestic Idaho Lake, hiking in the majesty of the Canadian Rockies, or traveling with the lazy Columbia River as it flows south through Washington. 

I hope as we post pictures you will get to enjoy our ride with us, as we celebrate life together, and revel in God's absolute delight with us, and you. I'll post again soon. Enjoy the ride. #livetoride #ridetolive #wiveswhoridearethebest #adventuretogether #saunterlingerfrolictogether #worshiptogether #transformedtogether 

Please help me get the 2 x 4 out of my eye

The new storyline that the Pulse killer was himself a closeted gay man changes this storyline drastically. It is wrong to call this a homophobic attack. Having said that, in some ways, it is much more devastatingly indicting of our current culture (I originally stated "American," but that is inaccurate. It is worldwide) or corporate psyche that pushes difference to the margins. Everyone pushes people away who are different (especially people that scare them or trigger their shame) to the margins of their psyches and physical lives. As we think about people who intimidate, frighten or repulse us, in our minds we have to make them small, ugly, repulsive,emasculated, and dehumanized. We make them "wholly other" to escape our shame and feel more powerful ourselves. For what we think we see in the one we hate is merely an image of our shattered selves that reveals the bits we or others broke off and would prefer stay hidden.

As a man, recognizing my tendencies to do this, and remembering doing it with homosexuals because of my insecurities, I relate to the above paragraph. All people do this, and not merely with sexual things (though sex is a powerful drive and it happens a lot in this arena). We do this with gender issues as well. Genesis 3 suggests that much of our misogyny is a result of this fear and is a resultant curse that drives men to "rule over" women.

Consequences and curses are nearly always connected to real life choices. Adam's chose to do nothing when the serpent tempted Eve. He was with her when she ate. The serpent didn't deceive him, and he still didn't say anything to try to stop her from eating. The only explanation I can find for his choices is that he was scared and so he froze -- a typical amygdalaian response. As men, we are famous for freezing. Our silence belies our fear. We are paralyzed by it and for a time, do not move or speak. When we ultimately do, if our amygdala is still in charge, we will most often act or speak violently. The level of our violence is directly related to the depth of the cortisol engulfing our amygdalas. At this point, we are hopelessly caught in a cycle that often becomes vicious and dangerous. I need to note here that though I am primarily speaking of men, women's brains are wired similarly, and though they may express violence differently, those acts are still sinister, kill, and destroy.

The reason the above conversation is vital to our understanding of this particular issue is that people live freely when fear is no longer a threat. What I realized this week is that as a 6'4" white male, who looks like he walked off the set of Sons of Anarchy, I don't know social fear like my gay friends. When I was much younger, I walked my dog Ashleigh -- a giant, gorgeous Gordan Setter -- down the north end of MLK in Portland late at night, greeting the prostitutes and drug dealers that used to hang out in my neighborhood. I was friendly to them, and they to me. Ashleigh made up her mind on a case by case basis. My lack of fear surprised those I encountered; many assumed I was a cop because I engaged them as humans who had worth without any fear. My wife never knew that freedom. I recently saw a meme about men fearing prison for the same reason women fear walking down the streets. My stature, my gender, and my race change the way that the world engages me. I have no fears about being physically attacked. My amygdala shoots into hyper-drive for entirely different reasons: creepy spiders and scary snakes, heights, or losing respect are what drive my amygdala crazy.

As a father of an attractive daughter, I'm aware that urban women live in a constant state of hyper-arousal and fear when they are alone on the streets. Fear accompanies them like a bad case of tinnitus. It is always in the background and never goes away. That is bad enough, but gays and transgendered people live not merely with a threat of physical harm, though this fear is all too real. They are forced to live with psychic fears surrounding their relationships as well, because who they are as people is not close enough to the center of other peoples' comfort zones. So they marginalize them. Not because they do or say anything; but merely because they've found freedom to embrace a part of themselves that scares others without that freedom to death. Ironically, their sexual freedom becomes their jailer.

My stature, gender, race change the way that the world engages with me. Police and authorities relate to me differently than they do people of smaller stature or people of color. My fears are not about being physically attacked. My amygdala shoots into hyper-drive for entirely different reasons. As a father of an attractive daughter, I've known that women live in a constant state of hyper-arousal and fear when they have to go out. Fear accompanies them like a bad case of tinnitus. That is bad enough, but gays and transgendered people live not merely with a threat of physical harm when they are out, though this fear is all too real. They are forced to live with psychic fear surrounding their relationships as well, because who they are as people is not close enough to the center of other peoples' comfort zones. They are marginalized, not because they do or say anything; but merely because they've found freedom to embrace a part of themselves that scares other (without that freedom) to death. Their sexual freedom, becomes their jailer, as others who do not know such freedom (because of their own shame)¹ push them out of the center to the edges -- away from what they consider normal.

Can you feel the bind? If one acknowledges this integral part of themselves, discovering the freedom that it brings, they place themselves in a societal jail of contempt; experiencing constant physical, emotional, and mental threats. On the other hand, if they don't acknowledge this core piece or drive, they are free societally --accepted and loved because they are part of the majority -- but they are bound internally, wasting away inside because they can't acknowledge a part of themselves that is very real and powerful.

Some people caught in this bind, are incapable of acknowledging it to themselves either because they believe their desire and their longings are morally wrong. If this is you, it is easy to understand why you get angry so quickly. Justin Torres poetically points out that, because of all these realities, the only place that the gay community experiences any true freedom is at the gay club. The club is the gay community's temple. It is the only place they know that they can go to be free together and play and release all the pent up tension that the hyper-vigilance of always protecting oneself creates. It is the only place for the gay community to release trauma together. He writes:

People talk about liberation as if it’s some kind of permanent state, as if you get liberated and that’s it, you get some rights and that’s it, you get some acknowledgment and that’s it, happy now? But you’re going back down into the muck of it every day; this world constricts. You know what the opposite of Latin Night at the Queer Club is? Another Day in Straight White America. So when you walk into the club, if you’re lucky, it feels expansive. “Safe space” is a cliche, overused and exhausted in our discourse, but the fact remains that a sense of safety transforms the body, transforms the spirit. So many of us walk through the world without it. So when you walk through the door and it’s a salsa beat, and brown bodies, queer bodies, all writhing in some fake smoke and strobing lights, no matter how cool, how detached, how over-it you think you are, Latin Night at the Queer Club breaks your cool. You can’t help but smile, this is for you, for us.

While that is an excruciatingly sad reality, It is the reality we've created (and by "we," I mean "us conservative type, white, apparently fearless males"). In so doing we have sinned greatly and owe a debt we can't repay. We can only ask how we can make it right; cause, the reality is we F**ked it up.

Jesus was clear that before we try to take the speck out of the other's eye, we need to take the 2x4 out of our eye. Because we like being at the center and holding the power, we keep refusing to do that. So before we about their "sin," we need to address our own first. We have put the gay community in an impossible situation, and we need to repent.

Dedicated to Jeffrey Tangeman, a college roommate that knew he could never be honest with me because of who I was rather than who he was. RIP, brother.

_________________________________________________

^{1 I am not suggesting that everyone is a homosexual. I am suggesting that a high percentage of people have unresolved sexual issues. Relatively few explore and address issues surrounding their sexuality and that the shame that inhabits it.} 

 

Roadtrip

I've driven the United States 47 times, visiting all 48 contiguous states. I can't count how many times I've travelled north and south. I remember going to AAA to get their "Triptiks." Triptiks were fantastic. I'd go into an AAA office and tell them where I was going. I'd sit down with a representative, and we'd plan out the route I wanted to take and create alternate routes to consider. We'd physically hi-light the route on both a national map and regional or state maps. Then the rep would find individual pages of maps that they would turn into an itinerary. Each page would
have whatever highway I was travelling. The page would include rest areas, restaurants, gas stations, and motels and hotels, along with the mileage and the time that it should take to drive. My family's game was to see how much more quickly we could complete the route than the page said it should take. One year, my brother and I travelled from Portland Oregon to Pensacola, FL in 48 hours and 34 minutes. That particular year we stopped and watched a movie in Amarillo, TX because a hurricane was rolling through the panhandle of Florida and we wanted to take our time getting there. 

Perhaps because of this upbringing, but I get wanderlust regularly. I get restless, and I need to explore and roam. The last three years inoculated me a bit. Every week I'd drive or ride to Seattle. And then for our honeymoon, Paula and I took a road trip to Lake Tahoe. 

Today we are leaving on a business/pleasure road trip to British Columbia (One of my favorite places.) We are going to see friends along the way and talk about A.C.T. Intl., reFresh, and Gracefall. I am looking forward to it. A friend is coming to take care of our animals, and though we will miss them a great deal, we know that they are being cared for. 

If you are the praying sort, would you pray for us for safety, courage, wisdom, and connection over the course of this week? We are in a season where we are actively seeking ministry partners to help us build the section of wall in the Kingdom of God to which we have been assigned. It is a daunting, humbling, frightening, and holy task. This is one of our moments to be faithful. 

If you'd like to partner with us, simply click here.

Please note that a copy of this is also being emailed to Gracefall's email list.

Thanks for help along the way

The past three years required me to spend over 40 days either in a cage (car) or on my bike commuting over 31,000 total miles to that little fishing village to the north of Portland to attend classes. I also spent over 100 nights with friends who allowed me to crash "at their pad." I owe a lot of thanks to a lot of people whose generosity made my degree affordable

Mary, Joel, River, Orien, Anna & Cannon, Maren & Ben, Alicia, Kevin, Cam and Kristen, Judy, Lori & Todd, Victoria, Maria, Jacqueline & Jack and Jay; I can't repay you guys. Your gifts of time and yourselves -- your apartments and homes -- food and fellowship. Wow... May you be richer in the Kingdom because of your faithfulness. May you know His smile, exercise His faith and know His joy. May all His blessings be yours. Thanks.

I also want to thank Rebecca and Nichole for the times we were able to carpool north together. Nic, who often kept me company when I was able to pick him up in Tacoma to ride north --  Buddy, our journey together at the Seattle School is truly a story to be told. I look forward to traveling with you a long way, wherever the Lord takes us to live and work in His Kingdom. I also need to thank the Washington State Patrol for only pulling me over and issuing me two tickets (both while I was driving a cage). And the City of Seattle who issued a lot of parking tickets but only got paid for one (wife's car).

And then yesterday, I didn't mention some important people at the school when I spoke of endings: Paul Steinke -- may I ever get to refer to you as my abbot. Your wisdom and love have empowered Paula and me to new paths and hopes. You are a gift to the Kingdom and those under your care. Cheryl Goodwin, I would have only passed half of my classes if it weren't for your patient work with me to teach me to research. You give librarians everywhere a good name. You made the library one of my favorite places to be. Your very presence gave me confidence. Presence matters -- you are living proof of that. Kristen Houston, thanks for helping me navigate courses, think through options and make wise choices. Thanks also for bites of chocolate whenever I came to see you. Dan Tidwell, you are a man I wish I knew better. I can't clearly identify all that you gave me. Somehow, as I heard your story, as I listened to your passions and poured out some of my questions and hurts, I knew you got it, and you get it. I could and should include you with the three early AI's I list below, but you get your own line item. Thanks for becoming my friend.

Vanessa, Tim & Chris: you are the heart and soul of teaching students your craft. You helped the soul artisan in me learn how to enter in, and experience and offer people freedom and voice. Borrowing from John Bowlby, you taught me how to, "Feel things, I was never given permission to feel, think things I was never given permission to think, and do things that I was never given permission to do." In so doing, you empowered me to do likewise. Without you three, I'd know a lot and not be able to do much of anything. Thank you. May your blessing of me be passed on to those I am privileged to serve.

There is a whole other group of people that often go unnamed. They are the Assistant Instructors -- the graders of the papers -- the sages of the classroom -- the answerers of all questions -- and the solvers of technological issues. 

Mallory, Hailey, and Dana -- the three of you made me better as I struggled to be an old man in graduate school. I write better because of you; I think better because of you; I have more confidence because of you. Those are beautiful gifts to be given. Carin, Joe, Mike, Elise, Phil, and Katie,  -- you took the work my early AI's began and pushed me further. I am grateful beyond words. And all of you entered into my story and blessed it and blessed me. 

I get to carry you each with me into what is now the back-half of my life, and I am grateful

A libertarian perspective

Ren,

 

This is taking the form of an open letter to you because you asked me a question the other week. I realized as I began sifting through my thoughts around the topic that this can’t be answered without a carefully outlined book, which I am unwilling to write. What you get instead is a loose hanging letter that is anecdotal. I am not sure if it answers your question, so much as it lays out how I see the political landscape. It is not tightly written, nor serious in tone. It is merely a letter from one friend to another. Please take it as such. I’m using my blog to make it an open letter for history’s sake. I want my kids to know my heart as it develops. I want them to know why I took the positions I took and did the things I did. That is now the purpose of my blog and you afforded me opportunity to add to the already existing catalog of thoughts. Also, it is not well edited. I am sorry about that. Enjoy my friend, I am so grateful for you.

 

I find myself in an interesting political situation. Let me explain. I am a long time Libertarian. In college, I was profoundly influenced by the writings of Frederick Bastiat, a French political theorist. He related a scenario in which 10 people found themselves in a community. One of the ten had $1000. two had $100 and the remaining seven only had $10 each. Seven of the ten voted to act as a democracy and then voted to distribute all the cash equally among the ten people. The man with $1000 objected. He had earned the money through hard work and he knew that at least two of the men with only $10 didn’t work at all. So the seven men set upon the man and took his money by force and divided it among themselves. Bastiat pointed out that such behavior was thievery.

 

That story still resonates with me but perhaps for different reasons than Bastiat’s. Let me explain what I mean before returning to the story and my conundrum. My political theory has to be tied to my theological theory. A few days ago, I posted a post simply entitled, “I Believe.” As I sifted through what I believed, I realized that central to my understanding of life is the belief that both humanity and individuals are made in the image of God. This one statement is at the vortex of my conundrum. For the image of God is a holy thing both in the individual and humanity. Part of my calling is to help individuals live into their Imago Dei; Calling forth glory from within them so that it can be offered as a gift to the rest of the creation.

 

What makes individuals possess the image of God is up for debate. I am incapable of listing them all here. I will limit this list to some of the teleological aspects of the Imago Dei. Theologians have listed: humanity’s capacity for agape and empathy, people's design for relationships, creativity, and freedom. This does not include the ontological aspects of the image of God in each of us.

 

I posit when we limit any one of these, we limit the Imago Dei in that individual. When we thwart creativity we actually thwart the Kingdom. When we limit or restrict freedom we do the same thing. And when we limit freedom or stifle creativity, we often limit peoples’ ability to love and live in relationship with others. I need to flesh that out using the story above. 

 

When the majority forced the rich man to share his wealth with them, they stole from him the ability to choose love. His act of giving his money to them was neither loving nor caring. It was coerced. What would have happened if they had offered an invitation instead of an ultimatumIn? They acted from a place of fear instead of relying on their Creator for their sustenance and survival, they trusted in their own power, limiting themselves to the world they could see rather than the world they could not.? 

 

Many argue that such a position is purely utopian. It cannot work in a broken world full of selfishness. I am surprised that many of my friends on the left who reject the very notion of original sin, hating “reformed theology” become very “reformed" on this point. They do nit trust people to be good. They do not trust people to choose love. People must be forced to take the actions of love to protect those who have no opportunity, and who could very well die without their aid.

 

Meanwhile, my conservative friends also take positions from a place of fear. They think we need to limit the freedom of people to make supposedly, "moral choices" (noneconomic moral choices.) They do not think we can allow people the freedom to choose drugs and addiction because too many will do so. We do not want to allow abortion because too many people will have them. We can’t allow gay marriage because it will promote a gay lifestyle and elevate homosexuals'  choices to be in a monogamous gay relationship to the same status as their choice to be in a heterosexual relationship (either monogamous or not).  We need to spend trillions on defense, because if we don’t our enemies will choose to destroy us. We can’t allow people to choose to come live in our country whenever they want! THE left doesn’t want to be forgotten here either. We need to outlaw guns because people choose to use them for bad things.

 

In all of these cases, we limit peoples’ freedom to choose the good because we are afraid. We take power over them to force them to behave in a way we think they should behave. Both my conservative and my liberal friends are guilty of taking power over people to shape their behavior. Whenever they do they limit peoples' freedom to live into their Imago Dei and choose love.

 

Love is so big it has two opposites. First is indifference. If I don’t care, I don’t love. Second is fear. When I act from  a "non-immediate" fear I cannot love. Immediate fear is a fear that yells for a person to stop or get run over by a train. It must be separated from the “what if” fear that all people tend to stew in. Both of these opposites come into play in this discussion.

 

Let’s talk about indifference. When anything is someone else’s responsibility people tend to grow indifferent about it. They no longer need to pay attention to it for it is assumed it has been addressed. I know that when I pass the person on the street holding a sign asking for help I have two responses. The first is skepticism, the second is to hand them a list of service agencies that will provide them the care they need. I have become indifferent because the job to take care of these sometimes unfortunate individuals is the collective’s responsibility. I’ve abdicated my personal responsibility to another. I’ve ceased loving. While it is my responsibility to love no matter what, our welfare state has wrongly created in me a sense that poverty and caring for those who have not, is not my problem. I fear that the move to create more agencies to care for unfortunates is simply an attempt to relinquish responsibility that we no longer want because we are tired of the hard work of loving.

 

Now let’s talk about fear. To the extent that we are scared that something won’t be accomplished unless we usurp power, we act from a place of idolatry, Usurping God’s role in ongoing creation. We don’t trust him to make things happen the way we want or expect and so we take power over. In the above example we steal, playing Robin Hood to make sure that the neediest in society have enough. Some might say that it is motivated from love, but I suggest it is because we really want to abdicate our responsibilities. 

 

How can we in good conscious ask others to give up their coats when we have not first chosen to give up our own? How can we ask another to give up their property when we have not offered our own? 

 

That is only one side of this argument. Libertarians (small “l” rather than large “L”) hold to the autonomy of the individual. They are wrong. Genesis 1.26-27 does not say that individuals are made in the image of God. It says that humanity is made int he image of God. No individual is autonomous. Science has disproven the myth of autonomy. And my experience has disproven the myth of autonomy. The choices you make have direct effects upon my life. If you own property up stream from me and choose to dam a stream that I rely upon, your actions steal my opportunity to live and thrive. A true libertarian would argue that it is tough on me, the one that “owns” the spring or the glacier from which the stream is born defect owns all the water in the stream. Rarely do you find such a pigheaded libertarian, however. Even libertarians admit limits to their theory. 

 

It is far easier to see autonomy on a continuum. The question becomes where do you end up landing on the continuum? That is a question that I have been wrestling with for the past few weeks. I think I want to suggest (without knowing how it works itself out fully) that instead of autonomy existing on a  two-dimensional continuum it must be seen at least three-dimensionally. For no one exists autonomously from God. There is no real autonomy in the world. We are all dependent upon our Creator for our very existence. He is the one that holds evil at bay. He is the one that unleashes and allows love to flow. He is the one that invites us to live in a Kingdom of his making rather than our own.

 

In Genesis 4 after Cain kills his brother, God curses him and sends him out to wander and never settle. Cain then goes out and starts a city. This is how we as humans typically respond to God. It is as if we give him the finger. I know that sometimes I have given him the finger. This is a picture of our attempt at autonomy. Autonomy and freedom are not equal; nor are they synonymous. The minute we claim freedom to hoard or exert power over another, we cease being free. I realize that this is more of a theological premise than a political one, and yet it has to come into play here.

 

When I worked at the University of Michigan I got to spend time hanging out with George Mavrodes. He told me the story of the sociologist friend of his that went to live with the Amish during the presidential campaign of 1951 when Adlai Stevenson ran against Dwight Eisenhower. The whole Amish community, though they would never vote, supported Eisenhower. This confounded the sociologist. He asked them about it and he was told that Stevenson was divorced and they would never trust a man of that questionable character in the White House and they wanted a strong General to run the country so that they could live in peace. This only served to confuse him more. And so he asked more questions. 

 

The Amish related that people are called to different things and that they were called to be a people of peace, much as a cobbler is called to be a cobbler or a blacksmith to be a blacksmith, but then they acknowledged that such a calling was not universal. All are not called to pacifism. God calls others to be carriers so that they could live in peace.

 

This enters into this conversation to say that though love demands I not take power over another, that does not mean that it is true for everyone. It is simply true for me. I am called to hold up a banner of invitation for people to give up their need to take power over in the name of love and invite others to join me. If I required it, I would violate my own calling.

Celebrating Faithfulness

I first met Carson in the fall of 1993. He was in the second Arrow Leadership Program cohort, a year behind me, and yet, at the same time, so far ahead of me. In those days he ministered alongside a spiritual hero of mine, Bruce Milne who had come to the Lord through my Dad’s ministry back in the UK, and who wrote the wonderful book, Know the Truth. Back then, all of us in Arrow were a lot younger and I, for one, was a lot cockier. Springsteen might as well of been referring to those heady times as the Glory Days. And indeed, from a corporate perspective, those were my glory days.

Our cohort’s president described our class’ first meeting in1992 as a time where we measured one another up, wondering what the others had that we didn’t; and wondering what we had that they didn’t. After all, each of us had been hand-picked, recognized as being leaders of the next generation of Christian leaders; and indeed, many of us would prove to be just that, while others of us fell by the wayside, caught up in narcissistic sin and idolatry that destroyed us as humans, as pastors, and as leaders. Leighton’s vision to bring to bear the resources of the Kingdom to personally raise up a new generation of leaders who would “lead more like Jesus and more to Jesus,” was up and running. Those wonderful days were life-changing for all of us in one way or another. Much of what I learned over those eighteen months twenty years ago is still a part of my practice and my faith.

Back then I didn’t know Carson well. He was one of many, and yet he was different too. He was completely unassuming, quiet, ponderous, peaceful, and yet possessed a unique inner structural integrity I wished I knew in my own life. Even then this unassuming and, in many ways, unremarkable strength invited those who knew him into the presence of Jesus in ways that are rare and beautiful.

As time went by and our lives changed, I watched him transition to lead Arrow Leadership Ministries; and then transition again to pastor in the local church again. When I sinned and ended up in rehab, many of those I loved were nowhere to be found. One of my staff wrote to me while I lay broken in rehab, informing me that he wouldn’t come down to eat with me in the pig’s trough. Yet Carson always took my calls. Occasionally he even called me. He was always kind, gracious, encouraging and inviting. Fairly soon after my fall into grace, he invited me to an Arrow Leadership family camp held at Barnabas Family Ministries. While we were there he sat with me and listened, probably to a lot of garbage, as well as much holy desire. He never gave up on me when others did. He never looked down on me even though it meant he had to get pretty low to look me in the eye. He was willing to come meet me at the pig trough, if that was what he needed to do. He embodied Leighton’s call to, “Lead more like Jesus and more to Jesus.” I was... no... I am grateful to call him friend.

This past winter, like many of their friends, I received an email letting me know that Brenda, his dear wife who is a extaordinarily remarkable lady in her own right, had been diagnosed with advanced stage lung cancer that had already spread to her brain and other parts of her body. I wept. Some things simply aren’t fair.

Many months have gone by and many of us who don’t live close enough get to walk with them via their Caring Bridge blog posts. Last month via a Facebook post and the First Baptist Church Vancouver’s website the news was published that Carson had stepped back from pastoring to care for Brenda. I wept again as I read, not because the church was losing a champion (It isn’t); but rather, because one of its champions was living faithfully in spite of an unfair world that is breaking his heart.

Carson is living out what Leighton called us to. Carson is being faithful. My faithlessness is not made up for in his faithfulness, and yet, his faithfulness calls and beckons me to redemption’s story.

Colin Gunton, the remarkable English theologian, reflected on the story of Abraham praying for Sodom. If you remember the story, Abraham gets God to promise that if there are ten good men in Sodom, He will hold back his wrath. Gunton goes onto suggest that perhaps our job as Christ followers is to stand for those who would encounter the wrath of God without their faithfulness.

I think, in many ways, Carson has done this for me. For while I will never be able to be faithful like Carson; I threw that opportunity away many years ago. I can live faithfully today because one of God’s champions is showing me how. Without knowing it, he is standing for me, so now I am able stand for others, who like me, need someone to stand for them.

Thanks for standing fast, Carson. Thanks for your faithfulness to Brenda – to you Lord, and to His Church. Brenda, thanks for standing with and for Carson over all these years I continue to pray for both of you. I love you both, and give thanks for you so very often.

Sex addiction recovery at its worst

When twelve step groups aren’t safe, what is? I’m angry and sad, and I don’t know what to do with my emotions. Since it is unsafe for me to carry them alone, I decided to write about it. Maybe it might do some good out here.

I just talked to a good friend who has historically struggled with sexual addiction. I called him because I heard he was back in the quicksand. As we talked, I heard part of the story I wish weren’t true. (Well, actually I wish none of the story was true, but it all is.)

In late summer, in the midst of some profound struggles and poor choices, he went to his sponsor to get some help. His sponsor felt incapable of “holding” his travails without putting his own sexual sobriety into jeopardy. So he “fired” my friend. My friend still hasn’t recovered. The actions of his sponsor sunk him even deeper into the cesspool of his challenged and warped perceptions.

In sexual addiction twelve step groups, members talk about their own sobriety being a priority. Newbies are encouraged by “old timers” to get rid of anything that gets in the way of staying sober (In SA that means "no sex with self or anyone other than a spouse"). New sponsors are encouraged to sponsor only insofar that their sponsoring another helps them stay sober-- not their sponsee. It is acknowledged that recovery is a selfish program.  This makes sense, if one’s life depends on sobriety (and for sex addicts it does) everyone needs to be cautious in holding or engaging things that may trigger their own personal demons to have authority in their lives once more.

The reality of what I just wrote leaves me wondering about my friend and recovery. Sexual recovery groups have power because members love one another not in spite of but because of their weaknesses – “It feels so good to know I am not the only one that struggles that way. I have someone to walk with who understands.” When groups can’t live out love, they fail in their purpose, laid out for them in the traditions: “Each group has but one primary purpose to carry its message to the sex addict that still suffers.”

Indeed, this should be the wonder of recovery(and I know I am “shoulding” on twelve step groups here): While a lone addict alone can’t make it. Together, they can. While one addict alone can’t contain and hold another addict's struggle, the community can. Together they are capable of far more than they think is possible. The majestic wonder here is that accepted weakness makes both the group and the individual stronger than they could possibly imagine so long as they walk together.

I just wish they had realized this in time to practice the twelfth step with my friend. He is in a world of hurt, and though he alone is responsible for his own choices and actions, the group must bear much of the responsibility for his current brokenness. I don't know if he will make it back from this one. It may be too late. I have to leave him in my heavenly Father's care (and that is easier said than done.)

I am angry that the system failed him. Though I want to blame his sponsor, I can’t. If I blame anyone, I blame his sponsor’s sponsor. He is the one who encouraged his sponsor to dump him (However, I want to fight this finger pointing tendency as I don’t think it is helpful at all). Whatever conclusions one reaches, it is a sad day for the recovery world, and an even sadder one for my friend, his wife and children. 

You Remember that time?

So you know that moment when you are totally drenched from rain that is hitting you like a thousand needles being driven into your face as you keep telling yourself, “If I ride a little faster, I can dodge the raindrops that aren’t supposed to be falling at all? Yeah that moment earlier tonight on my way home from Seattle to Portland…

God and I had a conversation as the rain came down and my body temperature dropped. I was not equipped for rain today. And I was asking him a couple of things:

1. That I would find a way to be grateful for my soaking. I ended up deciding that I was grateful for it because it was teaching me how to be grateful for the damndest things.
2. For the person I was trying to blame for my getting caught to find peace and love today. They were not the reason I was caught in the down pour. My own thoughtlessness was the reason I was caught in the down pour and I didn’t want to hold myself accountable. It felt easier to blame someone else. I had to give that up and so I prayed for them to have what I wanted. I prayed for them until I meant the words I prayed. This one wasn’t so difficult
3. And I apologized for trying to manipulate him by my choices to pray and, “surrender.” I realized I started my prayers not so much because I was trying to connect with God as much as I thought that maybe if I paid attention to Him, He’d turn off the faucet. I am grateful that I am aware of my attempts to manipulate God. I don’t think it really fazes him one way or the other. It is more a testimony of how I am, and want to be no longer… “I am now ready that you should have all of me, good and bad…”

And in the midst of these prayers I became incredibly grateful for the man who taught  me to pray in such a way; who called me to be the kind of man that could finish a year at The Seattle School; who taught me how to live in spite of my best efforts toward destruction. He and I don’t walk the same path any longer and I am sad about that, and I am eternally grateful that God would place this non-Trinitarian /non-Christian in my life to teach me about Jesus and what it means to follow Him. I still remember telling him, “David, I find it remarkable that God has chosen to use you to teach me more about Jesus than I ever learned in Sunday School or seminary; but then again, if He can use an ass to speak to the Israelites, I’m sure he can use you to speak to me.” I’m here in large part because David listened to God and then gave me what he had been given by another who went before him.

For too much of my life I limited God. He could only speak through approved channels: The Bible and/or a Bible believing (and by that someone that believes the Bible the way I do) pastor or friend. God was small and I was scared. I’m still learning that He is bigger than I can possibly imagine. (Kant was at least right about that.) He can speak through whatever means He chooses. He can even speak through a Unitarian/Universalist or King JAmes only fundamentalist. The trouble is not that He isn’t speaking, but that I don't listen because I don’t believe he speaks that way or through that medium. And so I miss out.

The rain didn’t stop, and God gave me one of the most glorious sunsets I have ever seen, complete with a rainbow on the other side of the freeway. I laughed so hard at His glory that I had to bring my speeding bike back under control. I have a strong feeling that He was laughing with me.