Cindy and Me by Ashley Harris on 07/01/2009 at 4:56 PM
I was appalled by the behavior of the female Bible Study leader Cindy in today's article. One of the "newcomers" came to Bible study just as she was, cigarette and all. She nor her smoke received a very warm welcome from Cindy.
"I can't stand cigarette smoke," said Cindy. "It's like I can feel cancer developing in my lungs —"
How snobby. How self-centered. How very much like me. I actually said something similar to this a couple weeks ago standing outside a Ruby Tuesdays. I was with a group of girlfriends and as we were talking I kept smelling smoke. "Why does it smell like smoke out here?" I asked with obvious disdain.
It was sort of a rhetorical question so it didn't bother me when none of my girlfriends answered. A few minutes later a friend on my left switched standing positions which gave me a clear view of a lady with a cigarette not 5 yards from us. My stomach sank. I knew she'd heard me.
When she went back into the restaurant I apologized to my friends for my comment. Well, I don't know if I actually apologized but I said something to the effect of, "Man, I feel like a jerk." One of my more honest friends said, "You are a jerk when you speak without thinking."
Ouch. That stuck with me for at least a week afterward. The kind of sticking with you that makes you cringe with every remembrance.
I really do have a problem with public smoking. A dear friend of mine has Cystic Fibrosis. Secondhand smoke isn't just a nuisance for her; it's a health risk. So I'm not minimizing the danger associated with secondhand smoke. But those risks don't justify blatant rudeness.
Cindy and I have a lot in common. We're both more worried about our preferences than the people God is putting around us. In my experience, when God puts people around me it's not because other parts of the planet were too crowded. It's because he wants to use them to teach me something or use me to extend His love to them. As a believer I want to lay down the things I think I'm entitled to (like fresh air) so that my personal preferences don't hide the light of Christ in me.
In what the authors describe as the "first major national survey of megachurch attenders," the study looks at three major themes:
Who attends a megachurch
Why they come
Why some stay (their italics, not mine)
In the first theme, "Who attends a megachurch?", the study found some similarities between the congregations of megachurches and those of smaller churches. Both congregations are "predominantly female, well-educated, middle class and married with children." But, the study states, "if one looks closer at the information, significant differences emerge."
Specifically, megachurch congregations are "considerably younger" and have "many more singles."
Considerably Younger: Nearly two-thirds of megachurch attenders are under 45 years old, while only a third are for the all-church sample. Megachurches also have a significantly higher percentage of 18- to 24-year-olds in their congregations (18%) compared to typical churches (5%).
Many More Singles: Single adults represent about 10% of a typical American church congregation. However, they represent almost one-third of a megachurch congregation. "Interestingly," the authors write, "these single attenders were twice as likely to be living with other singles when compared to churches of other sizes, but equal in percentage for those living alone. This suggests that perhaps a larger percentage of the megachurch singles are students, a perception confirmed in our visits to the megachurches."
That got me to wondering why young singles seem to prefer megachurches. According to the study, worship style is the strongest factor in initial attraction to a megachurch, followed by senior pastor, church reputation and music/arts. If that worship and teaching are biblically sound, then this trend could be a fine thing.
But I am concerned about the lack of older Christians, older marrieds and older parents in megachurches. Wouldn't it be difficult to benefit from the wisdom of mentors when there are so few? How can we learn from marriages that have stood the test of time if we're surrounded by those who are either aren't or are only recently married? How can we learn from parents who have brought up their children in fear and admonition of the Lord if we never actually see them?
Christian maturity is not limited by age but I've also learned over the past decade that I shouldn't discount the benefits of a life lived following the Lord. Perhaps your experience is different. But, when I'm honest, I realize that the best and most sound biblical advice I've received are from those who are able to look back at my life stage, not those who are participating in it with me.
What about you? Do you attend a megachurch or a smaller church? Do you see pros or cons to either?
Having trouble sleeping? Then read yesterday's Boundless article A Third of our Lives from Jenny Schroedel. She not only instructs how to get a good night's sleep, she explains why it's good for the soul.
Sleep is also a reminder of our mortality. The threshold of sleep is the very edge of life. "Sleep is a gift of death," Rossi said. "In sleep we have no more money, memory or consciousness. Each night, we experience a small death as a prelude to our ultimate death, and each morning we experience a small resurrection." George MacDonald echoed his sentiments, saying that in sleep our bodies are "sown in weakness, but raised in power."
Sleep is a daily reminder from God that we are not God. “He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 121:4). But Israel will. For we are not God. Once a day God sends us to bed like patients with a sickness. The sickness is a chronic tendency to think we are in control and that our work is indispensable. To cure us of this disease God turns us into helpless sacks of sand once a day. How humiliating to the self-made corporate executive that he has to give up all control and become as limp as a suckling infant every day.
"[H]elpless sacks of sand" and "suckling infant[s]." Awesome.
I’m editing a pre-marriage module for the Focus on the Family marriage subsite. One of the articles I'm trying to cut down is First Year Off by Jonathan Dodson. He wrote it for Boundless a couple years ago. I've had to take off my reading glasses and have a come to Jesus moment here in my cubical over this article.
That's the thing about working at a Christian webzine, if your heart's sensitive to the Holy Spirit the stuff you have to edit, read, and write can really be convicting. (I guess that's not so much the thing about working at a Christian webzine as just being sensitive to the Spirit. Which unfortunately, I'm often not.)
The first part of the article made me feel pretty warm and fuzzy about my upcoming nuptials but as I neared the last section Jonathan's words began to rub against one of my idols: efficiency.
Here was the conversation I had with Jonathan (in my head) as I read. The brackets are the things that Jonathan didn't actually say. Ted said that in real life Jonathan is a nice guy, so I'm sure he won't mind too much that I'm putting words in his mouth.
***
Jonathan Dodson: Time isn't money and efficiency isn't the highest virtue—
Ashley Harris: WHAT?! Who told you that? Well whoever it was…they lied. Efficiency most certainly is the highest virtue.
Jonathan Dodson: [Wait a minute now, let me finish.] Time isn't money and efficiency isn't the highest virtue — love is — and love can be very inefficient.
Ashley Harris: Have you been talking to Brian?
Jonathan Dodson: [Brian who? And…uh…couldn’t you just read the article and stop interrupting me.]
Ashley Harris: Brian. My fiancé. All this talk about love not being efficient sounds a lot like something he would say. He’s asks me to do stuff that’s completely inefficient in time and energy saying that it’s important to him and it makes him feel loved. Like waiting on him to fix his car so we can do errands together. Me watching him change oil doesn’t make sense when I could be picking up dry cleaning and buying groceries. Did he tell you to write this?
Jonathan Dodson: [No. I’m pretty sure I wrote this article long before you got engaged. Unless you’ve been engaged since 2007.]
Ashley Harris: Okay, then. Go on…
Jonathan Dodson: [Like I was saying in my article,] a few weeks ago we got a babysitter and took an entire weekend to ourselves. This weekend occurred just before I left for an overseas trip on Sunday night. I returned on Friday to preach my first Easter sermon. Over the next two weeks I had to finalize a master's thesis, fly to Texas for an interview, defend my thesis and prepare another sermon. Oh, and there was my other part-time job. I could have really used that weekend away to work on my thesis or sermon. From a productive standpoint it was a pretty inefficient weekend.
Ashley Harris: No kidding. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but think about all the stuff I had to get done. Like last night, I had a dress fitting that took wayyyyy longer than they said it would. There were invitations to work on, and I was packing to go out of town for my friend's wedding, and I was cooking dinner, and I had the worst attitude and barely managed to ask Brian about his day—
Jonathan Dodson: [Not to be rude, but this is my story.]
Ashley Harris: Oh, right. Sorry about that. Guess I’m still a little stressed about those invitations.
Jonathan Dodson: [Invites can be stressful. But like I was saying,] efficiency isn't my highest virtue. Well, at least I strive for it not to be. In choosing to take that time off, my wife and I had one of the most intimate, fun, and insightful times we've had in a while. By taking a step back from vocational and social responsibilities at work, church, and/or school, we were able to spend more time knowing and loving one another. In turn, that led to a greater relational intimacy and understanding, which fueled our marriage for the future.
Ashley Harris: Uh...I need to get back to editing your article.
***
As you can see I didn't have anything else to say to Jonathan. I was silenced by conviction. Deep down I believe that efficiency is the highest virtue even though I know it’s not. How can it be when scripture says that the greatest virtue is love?
I want to get to a place where I can choose to do seemingly inefficient things with the people I love instead of always doing what “makes sense.” I want their happiness to make more sense to me than getting things done my way.
It's easy to be self-deceived. I have a friend who has deceived himself into believing that his close relationship with a woman who is not his wife is honorable. When I ask him tough questions about their time together alone, whether or not he is attracted to her, etc., he responds with things like, "Show me in the Bible where I can't be good friends with another woman."
When I do, it's met with, "That's just your interpretation."
I was reminded of this when I read this portion of today's Boundless article "Being Seen":
J. Budziszewski in his book, Written on the Heart, explains how God has made Himself known to all mankind through general revelation, but that we have obscured that revelation through our own rebellion. He writes, "We hold down the truth -- we pretend to ourselves that we do not know what we really do know (see Romans 1:18-19)." He goes on to say that "the very heart on which God has written his law is estranged from itself."
Deep down, I believe my friend knows what is right. He knows that his relationship with the other woman is wrong. He's only pretending that he doesn't because he's enjoying it too much to give it up.
I wonder if there are areas in my life where I'm seeking to hide instead of seeking to be known.
Grace Land by Lisa Anderson on 06/05/2009 at 4:23 PM
If you're a Christian between the ages of two and 102, you probably have some shades of legalism in the way you live out your faith. If you've been a Christian most of your life, you're probably even more guilty of this than most. And if you grew up in a Christian home* with no drinking (the Devil's brew), dancing (vertical sex), movies (except Billy Graham flicks), cards (except UNO) or pants in church (except evening services), your name could be Lisa Anderson.
So imagine how I got blazed away this past quarter in Sunday school when our teacher, Navigators U.S. Deputy Director Bill Tell, gave us the scoop on overcoming a law-based faith to instead live out a grace-based one. He told us that Christian maturity is defined not by sinlessness (or "working toward" sinlessness), but on blamelessness. Not that we encourage sinful behavior, but we recognize the punishment for our sin has been taken once and for all by Christ, and if we really understand the magnitude of this, the trust we have in Him as a result leads to joyful obedience. Bill told us a bunch of other stuff that it will take the rest of the year for me to process, and the rest of my life to apply. Here's one example in summary:
Statement:
As a maturing Christian, I no longer define myself by my sin or the sin committed against me, but by who God says I am.
What does this mean?:
Sin and wounds are born out of a lie (John 8:44, Satan is the Father of Lies). We have layers and layers of lies around our hearts, many of which have solidified over years and years. These lies have caused us to make a vow that we won't let people or circumstances touch us if they will hurt or disrupt us, or find us out. To protect ourselves, we devise a well-oiled strategy for not getting hurt, or for feeding the lie. We have to get to a place where this strategy stops working. We must counter the lies with the truth about our identity. The only problem is, that truth is often much smaller than the lie in our own heads/hearts, and it can't compete. We must continue to saturate our minds/hearts with truth statements until that truth grows and can, with God's help and the help of other believers, begin to counteract the lies.
How can we identify a lie? Check our abnormal responses to something innocuous. When we're hurt, stop and ask, "What is underneath this that is causing me to feel this way?"
I realized during this study that one of my big lies is that "I'm only as valuable as I am useful." I have a huge burden to be competent**, and can't imagine why people would like me beyond what I can do for them. I recognized it because recently an issue came up where I, a normally rational and laid-back person, responded in a crazy and unbecoming manner. Boom! Lie. I had to uncover the reasons behind my response, and deal with them with humility and a healthy dose of reality.
Thankfully, I can go to Scripture and find many truths to counteract this lie. The love of my friends and family is a powerful example to me of my worth in their eyes. Most importantly, God's presence in my life proves that I'm already loved more than I can imagine, and none of His love is contingent on how smart, funny, helpful, interesting or popular I am. He doesn't reject me because I'm single, opinionated, prone to burn things in the kitchen, and/or possess an unhealthy attachment to Bill Gaither, Flo Rida or Trident Splash Strawberry/Lime Gum.
Bill talks a lot about grace. You can hear him talking about it here and here. What about you? Are you a recovering legalist? What trips you up most when it comes to countering the lies in your own life? Do you have a few people with whom you can be truly open and vulnerable? Hopefully we're all on a pilgrimage...one that leads to Grace Land.
*My fam is totally awesome, and don't worry, we recognize some of the patterns we lived in back in the day. And some of them were good, quite frankly. Nothing wrong with turning off the TV when you see trash. My mom and I still spar about a few things, but we usually settle our disputes by trying to outshout each other with Scripture references, then call a truce and go out for ice cream.
**I'm having Bill and his wife over for dinner tonight. I'm making a new chicken recipe. Major competency issues coming into play...
David Barshinger, the author of today's article, tells how he was transformed when a summer missions trip didn't measure up to his expectations:
As I had prepared over the months prior to arriving in Mexico, my vision for our team was to lead dozens of people to a saving knowledge of Christ. That was ministry. But this outreach in the orphanage didn't promise a revival in Monterrey — these kids couldn't even speak, not to mention understand the Gospel message. Yet this stripped-down, bare-bones love simply for the sake of love was what Jesus was all about....
The greatest lesson I learned from a short mission trip to transform the city at the foot of Saddleback Mountain was from a young girl whose mental capacity could never understand the truth she displayed to me. I, a drooling, cross-eyed spiritual cripple, am passionately loved by Jesus — not because of what I do, but simply because I exist.
Has there been a time when a service project or missions trip turned out drastically different than you expected? What did you learn? Did it change your definition of ministry?
I applaud Ted for overcoming his fears and serving at his church's VBS. I wrote about my experiences working at VBS last year here and here. My experience was immensely rewarding. Next week, I'll once again head up the sixth grade Counselor in Training (CIT) program for my church's VBS.
In my experience, there are few things more rewarding than nurturing the spiritual lives of children. Too often these little ones are overlooked and yet they are precious to God (Matthew 18:6; Matthew 18:10; Matthew 18:14; Mark 9:36-37). This weekend I heard a sermon preached on Josiah, the king of Israel who was crowned at age 8.
The pastor brought an 8-year-old boy onto the stage and asked us to imagine the little guy being the president of the United States. He asked the boy, "How would you feel to be the president of the United States?" and the lad replied: "I'd be depressed as all get out!" (I was in the south, mind you.)
The congregation erupted with laughter at the boy's honesty, but the point hit home when we looked at 2 Kings 23:25:
Neither before nor after Josiah was there a king like him who turned to the LORD as he did—with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his strength, in accordance with all the Law of Moses.
There is immense potential for God to raise up powerful spiritual leaders from among the youngest of us all. One of them may be in Ted's pack of 10 little ones. You may not be a kid person, but at least recognize the implications of investing in the lives of children. Props to Ted for stepping out of his comfort zone on this one. It's a step toward the heart of God.
So two weeks ago during announcements at church the pastor mentioned that they were still looking for people to help out at Vacation Bible School, something our church does two weeks per year.
In that moment I felt something I've felt before: a sense that settles into my thoughts that, yes, this is something I should do. So without mulling things over too deeply, without examining my qualifications or whether I really wanted to help at VBS, I quietly agreed to do it.
I asked Steve Watters if I could take mornings off from Boundless during one of the VBS weeks, filled out the volunteer application form at church, and that was that.
So here I am, obligated to be a VBS "crew leader" all next week from 8-something till noon. The reality of it hit me last night, during our orientation meeting: I'm going to be responsible for perhaps 10 kids, to help them engage in what's going on, to help get them from activity to activity, to walk them to the bathroom if they need to go potty, to model joyful Christian life for them.
To be honest, I found myself a bit scared last night. I'm unprepared, unsure what to do, not confident that I'll be in a happy mood, lost about the motions that accompany the songs.
Someone said something last night, though, that I think will help me through this. They said something like, "The Lord has called you to this."
Hm. And if He's called me to volunteer with VBS, to be a crew leader over 10 kids, then He'll enable me to carry out my responsibilities just fine. I'll be fine, and the Lord will bless these kids through the seemingly unqualified one He has called: me.
So here I am today, still a bit fearful about next week, kind of incredulous about what I've gotten myself into. But I do have a hope grounded in truth, that the Lord will enable me to serve these kids well. I believe that by the time Monday morning rolls around, my confidence will be in the One who called me to serve this way.
This is an affliction I suffered from for years. My "awkward stage" lasted from age 11 to my junior year of college. Yes, it was painful.
I suppose I don't regret those missed photo ops. After all, a dad who loves his camera ensured much of the awkwardness would be captured for posterity. But now when I look back, I realize my appearance was not as grim as I imagined at the time.
As Lisa pointed out, Facebook has a way of exposing (no pun intended) some of the worst moments captured on film. Google image, too. Take, for example, this photo from my junior year, that haunts me on google image. (To be honest, this photo is not as bad as the one I attempted to post. But legally I couldn't post a photo with other people in it.) I had those bangs for years. Now I wonder why I didn't grow them out sooner ... much sooner.
I'm reminded of these words from Ecclesiastes: "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven" (3:1). Me feeling insecure in front of the camera was reflective of a season of timidity as God was shaping my identity. I eventually grew into myself and became less worried about what others thought of me or looking bad in a photo. I've even been a model for some of my friends who are amateur photographers.
My photo journey reminds me of how far the Lord has brought me in the areas of security and finding my identity in Him. One thing I've realized is that as I become less self-conscious (self-focused), I have a greater capacity to reach out to others. I'm thankful for the ways I have changed in the almost 10 years since I graduated from college. Yes, I still occasionally cringe at a picture someone posts of me on Facebook. But I also know where my beauty comes from—God's work in my life.
Dr. Albert Mohler wrote a delineative article last week about Christians respecting other religions. It's something I struggle with, particularly regarding Islam.
There's a teacher in my church from Egypt who's a expert on Islam. He speaks with great passion about his love for Muslims and desire to see them come to know the Lord. He grieves about the events of 9/11, both the loss of innocent life and its effect on evangelizing the 10/40 window.
The stories he tells of Muslims loving Christians who work and live alongside them in Muslim countries are powerful. There's one testimony in particular that I'll always remember (though not in enough detail to recount here).
But even while he's providing me with a foundation of respect through the power of story, in the back of my mind, I can't help but also remember that large percentages (40-70 percent) of Muslims in Muslim countries agree with terrorism. And in the west, it's as high as one in five.
So how do I respect a religion whose followers want to kill me? Or the Muslims who support those that plot and plan to?
What's interesting about Dr. Mohler's article is that he never goes there. The fact that large percentages of Muslims may think it perfectly acceptable for someone to kill him seems perfectly beside the point. His sole focus is on their need for the gospel of Jesus Christ.
As for respect, Dr. Mohler says we should respect Muslims, but not Islam.
Thus, evangelical Christians may respect the sincerity with which Muslims hold their beliefs, but we cannot respect the beliefs themselves. We can respect Muslim people for their contributions to human welfare, scholarship, and culture. We can respect the brilliance of Muslim scholarship in the medieval era and the wonders of Islamic art and architecture. But we cannot respect a belief system that denies the truth of the gospel, insists that Jesus was not God's Son, and takes millions of souls captive.
It was Saturday afternoon, and I was driving home with two hungry kids. Despite my status as a thoroughly modern and enlightened father, I knew there was little chance of me preparing a healthy, balanced dinner for the three of us before we all fainted from starvation, so I naturally began the time-honored hunt for a quick meal that wouldn't deplete my retirement account.
I pulled in to the parking lot of the nearest strip mall, settled on a dining establishment we could all agree on, and quickly discovered that there wasn't an empty parking space within 200 feet of the entrance. Actually, there was one available space, but it wasn't fully available. You see, what we encountered that day was a case of, well, I can't use the popular term on a family friendly blog, but you've all seen it before: Someone who thinks their car is so nice, so new, so ... special ... that they deem it worthy of occupying not one but two parking spaces.
As I circled the lot one more time just to see if another spot opened up, another option came to me. Though the inconsiderate driver in question had obviously meant to occupy multiple parking spaces, I noticed that he or she was a bit lacking in execution. The driver had left just enough room on one side for me to squeeze in my modest sedan.
Sensing that it was my duty, my mission, to teach this lout a lesson in inconsideration, I carefully navigated my car into the available area, with barely enough room for us to actually exit our vehicle.
Needless to say, this did not go over well with all my passengers. My nine-year-old daughter was able to slither out easily enough, so she was fairly oblivious to the vital message being conveyed. Yet my oldest son, the one barely out of elementary school, knew exactly what was going on.
"Dad, what are you doing? Don't do this!"
I calmly explained through clenched teeth that people who intentionally occupy multiple parking spaces are akin to criminals and need to be shown the error of their ways. I'd had enough, and I wasn't going to take it anymore.
But my son knew better. Whether he was afraid of the offending car's owner or some other threat yet unseen, or whether he just thought I'd gone temporarily insane, I don't know, but he continued his protestations all the way to the door of the restaurant. Since he was just as hungry as the rest of us, I could tell that he felt very strongly. I could also hear the distress in his voice.
"Dad, no, please don't!"
"But I'm teaching them a lesson," I explained. "People just can't do this!"
My son was now almost in tears.
"But Dad, God can take care of him!"
Please forgive the cliche, but his words hit me like a ton of bricks. It was my turn to hold back tears, as I came to a sudden halt in the parking lot. I looked at this boy who rarely reads his Bible without prompting and who would rather sleep in rather than get up for church most Sundays, and I knew that God was speaking through him.
How many times had I taught my kids that revenge wasn't up to them, that they should resist the urge to tattle on their classmates and siblings, that God would make things right in the end? And now my son had shamed me with my own words, basically citing Romans 12:19-21 without even knowing it:
"Do not take revenge my friends ... for it is written: 'It is mine to avenge; I will repay,' says the Lord. On the contrary: 'If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.' Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."
I walked back to our car, slowly opened the doors to make sure we didn't scratch the vehicle next to us, and drove away. When I had calmed down sufficiently, after my seemingly righteous indignation had evaporated like so much hot air, I looked my son in the eye.
"You were right," I said. "God can take care of him."
Good for Her by Tom Neven on 05/15/2009 at 10:09 AM
It’s college commencement time, and in a normal year the president of the United States is invited to give the commencement address at hundreds of colleges. He usually accepts a few.
This weekend President Obama will be giving the address at Notre Dame, the grande dame of Roman Catholic universities in the U.S. A substantial portion of the Notre Dame community—including students, parents, and alumni—is not at all happy about this “honor.” They are upset that a premiere institution of the Catholic Church in America is giving a platform and honorary degree to a man who actively supports behavior that the church considers a gross evil, namely abortion and embryonic stem cell research.
The university tried to mollify objections by also inviting Mary Ann Glendon, a law professor at Harvard University, member of the editorial board of First Things who also served as the U.S. Ambassador to the Vatican from 2007 to 2009. Notre Dame planned to award Ambassador Glendon the prestigious Laetare Medal and, in a press-release’s talking points, tried to use this fact to silence those who think an abortion supporter has no business speaking at a Roman Catholic institution:
President Obama won’t be doing all the talking. Mary Ann Glendon, the former U.S. ambassador to the Vatican, will be speaking as the recipient of the Laetare Medal.
Only she wouldn’t cooperate. Ambassador Glendon turned down this honor as a matter of principle. In a letter to Notre Dame’s president, she said:
[A]s a longtime consultant to the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, I could not help but be dismayed by the news that Notre Dame also planned to award the president an honorary degree. This, as you must know, was in disregard of the U.S. bishops’ express request of 2004 that Catholic institutions “should not honor those who act in defiance of our fundamental moral principles” and that such persons “should not be given awards, honors or platforms which would suggest support for their actions.” ...
A commencement … is supposed to be a joyous day for the graduates and their families. It is not the right place, nor is a brief acceptance speech the right vehicle, for engagement with the very serious problems raised by Notre Dame’s decision—in disregard of the settled position of the U.S. bishops—to honor a prominent and uncompromising opponent of the Church’s position on issues involving fundamental principles of justice. ... It is with great sadness, therefore, that I have concluded that I
cannot accept the Laetare Medal or participate in the May 17 graduation
ceremony.
Good for her. She’s nobody’s fool and refused to be used as a foil against anyone who disagreed with the university’s policy. And good for the students and others who also will not allow protocol or politics to trump moral convictions.
PS. As an interesting postscript, a recent survey by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life found that objections to the president’s speaking at Notre Dame differed by how often the respondent attended Catholic services, which is, I think, good evidence that there really is a difference between merely claiming the name of Christ and actually living out that claim.
Becoming Mom by Suzanne Hadley on 05/09/2009 at 9:40 PM
In his play The Importance of Being Earnest, Oscar Wilde quipped, "All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his."
At one point in life, I think I feared becoming my mother. But now that I'm older — and realize that I have indeed become like her — I'm glad for the resemblance. In my article "Just Like Mom," I talk about the ways my mom has shaped the person I am today.
[Something] that has stuck with me is my mom's compassion for the
loner. In any group, she would see the outsider and draw him in.
Whether it meant inviting the single mom to stop by for coffee any time
or striking up a conversation with the person standing alone at church
or inviting a single to Easter dinner, Mom demonstrated extraordinary
sensitivity to the disconnected.
Psalm 68:6 says, "God sets the lonely in families," and my mom
embodied this as she invited the lonely into our family. I know that I
notice lonely people because of my mom's example. In fact, I believe it
is what gave me the courage to take a teenage girl into my home several
years ago.
Even an imperfect mother (and they all are) has a tremendous impact on her children.
Some women have had better role models than others when it comes to
moms. And I imagine this is where the joke, "Help, I'm becoming my
mother!" comes from. Because of their position of (sometimes unwanted)
authority in our lives, our moms can become targets of blame. But
despite their shortcomings, moms teach us things — at the very least, how
to be better mothers.
But perhaps one of their greatest legacies is the unique ways in
which they show us God. In Isaiah, God describes Himself as a mother:
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on
the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!"
(49:15). It is a mother who is the human example of God's unflagging
devotion to His people.
Her comfort reflects the tenderness of God. "As a mother comforts
her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over
Jerusalem" (66:13).
Because of these God-given attributes, mothers are worthy of honor.
Proverbs 31:28 says, "Her children arise and call her blessed; her
husband also, and he praises her." Our mothers, more than most people
in our lives, have shaped us into the [men and] women we have become.
How has your mother's influence shaped you? Be sure to give her a call and thank her this Mother's Day.
Today is the National Day of Prayer, an annual national reminder to reflect on our need for the Lord, and on His care for us. Its history is remarkable:
Since the first call to prayer in 1775, when the Continental Congress asked the colonies to pray for wisdom in forming a nation, the call to prayer has continued through our history, including President Lincoln's proclamation of a day of "humiliation, fasting, and prayer" in 1863. In 1952, a joint resolution by Congress, signed by President Truman, declared an annual, national day of prayer. In 1988, the law was amended and signed by President Reagan, permanently setting the day as the first Thursday of every May. Each year, the president signs a proclamation, encouraging all Americans to pray on this day. Last year, all 50 state governors plus the governors of several U.S. territories signed similar proclamations.
To be honest, I find prayer to be a mystery. On one hand, the One to whom we are praying is a loving and attentive Father, who cares for us and responds to our requests. On the other hand, He is all-wise and unchanging: the same yesterday, today and forever. Ultimately, I suppose, prayer is about communion with the Creator.
Back in 2001 we published a great conversation-starter of an article on prayer. Because you might overlook it, I'm republishing it tomorrow. I'm looking forward to keeping up with the conversation it starts....
Thanks to my good friend Leigh, I've been reading the Daily Light Devotional ever
since Anne Graham Lotz came to Colorado Springs in March. It's a pocket
sized collection of Scriptures; two pages of collected verses for each
day of the year divided into a page for morning and one for night. The
book, which was originally published in 1794 in the King James Version,
was recently brought back from its out-of-print status by Mrs. Lotz and
updated to the New King James Version.
I'm used to the NIV. It's what I've read since I was in grade school, and the familiarity of it is comforting. I've memorized a lot of the passages there and recognize even more. Reading that version every morning helps cement the Scriptures in my heart and head. That's a good thing.
The downside, however, is that familiarity can breed contempt. Or at least lend itself to the glazing-over phenomenon. You know the one, like when you've gotten up early to pray after a late night, and passages you've read multiple times before rush past your eyes? It's like you don't even see them.
Enter the Daily Light. I've loved reading old familiar verses in a new-to-me version of Scripture. Portions that I might otherwise have breezed past are leaping off the page as if they were penned with fresh ink.
In the NIV, Psalm 17:15 reads, "And I—in righteousness I will see your face; when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness."
In the NKJV, it's "As for me, I will see Your face in righteousness; I shall be satisfied when I awake in Your likeness."
Just when I needed some encouragement about my appearance, I was reminded, as if for the first time, that my goal should be to look like Christ. It was a nuance of translation that made a big difference.
And that's just one example. It occurred to me that reading the Bible in a version you're not used to can be very useful. What version is your regular go-to?
Could you give a clear gospel presentation in 140 characters or less on Twitter? Rob Bell can't. Or won't. At least those are the only two conclusions I can come up with after reading his answer to a similar question posed to him in a recent interview promoting his new book Jesus Wants to Save Christians.
I would say that history is headed somewhere. The thousands of little ways in which you are tempted to believe that hope might actually be a legitimate response to the insanity of the world actually can be trusted. And the Christian story is that a tomb is empty, and a movement has actually begun that has been present in a sense all along in creation. And all those times when your cynicism was at odds with an impulse within you that said that this little thing might be about something bigger—those tiny little slivers may in fact be connected to something really, really big.
Huh?
Bell is a creative fella' and typically leverages all forms of media very well. I've read testimonies of how the Lord has used these efforts to reach the lost (though reaching to what end is often in question). But sometimes the type of media demands a little more Truth and a little less ambiguity. Like Twitter.
It makes me wonder if Bell believes in the power of the creative more than the power of the gospel. Because whatever you want to say about his response, it wasn't a clear presentation of the gospel.
But maybe I'm being too hard on him. Maybe it's really difficult to compose the gospel in a 140 characters or less.
A while back Compassion asked Boundless if we'd like to send one or two staff members to India as part of a Compassion trip. Though we weren't able to be part of the trip, we're big fans of the bloggers who did go. Among them is Angie Smith (wife of Selah's Todd Smith and Boundless Show guest).
Yesterday she talked about the dismal conditions:
... the truth is that about 24 hours into the trip, I decided this was one
of the worst choices I had ever made. I sat on a rickety bed in a room
with no windows or door keys and I cried my eyes out while [my roommate] Anne told me
I was going to be okay. Somewhere between the 16
hour flight, no sleep, and facing the thought of what I was about to
experience, I really felt trapped.
But that's not all she talked about.
It's almost easier to ignore the water than to dip your toe in it. Because
as soon as you do, you become acutely aware of all the eyes that are
looking at you, needing help, and it feels impossible. I couldn't post
last night because I was so overwhelmed by it all. ...
It has been really easy for me to stay out of the water in a lot of
ways, and my own cynicism has kept me safe there. But today, as we
stood in a house made of bamboo and clay bricks and watched a woman
tell us how Compassion had changed their lives, something in my soul
settled.
Today she posted her second entry from inside one of the poorest places on the planet. Before you read it, you might want to put on your goggles. She's heading for the deep end and from the sound of things, the water there is fine.
It's not too late to sponsor a child in India. According to the Compassion India web page, 356 children in India are still awaiting help from Christians like you.
On Saturday I completed the Country Music Half-Marathon in Nashville, Tenn. Did any of you run it? I figure there's a good chance, considering there were some 35,000 runners between the marathon and half-marathon. I got almost exactly the same time as on my last half-marathon (2:36 if you must know). But considering the 80 degree temperatures (and one truly evil hill near the end), I'm not disappointed. Not to mention, I got to run with my good friend Krishana.
There was a wonderful moment near the end of the race. After running up the final hill, I noticed a group of people. They stood at the corner cheering, waving signs and ringing cowbells. "You're looking strong," they shouted. "You're almost there." "Around the corner is all downhill." "Keep going!"
It reminded me of the cloud of witnesses mentioned in Hebrews: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us" (12:1). The writers of Scripture knew what it was like to be in a race. At that point--when the heat and fatigue and pain are conspiring against you--you really want to give up (at least I do!). You're hot and tired and the effort begins to feel like it's not worth it. But that is when the witnesses remind you: "You're almost there. Don't give up. A prize is waiting for you!"
Completing the race was an accomplishment. (You know this if you read my previous running blog post.) And, for me, it was more remarkable than for some. In 2000, due to a debilitating illness, I could barely stand from a sitting position, let alone run. I wrote about it in "Giving My Dreams." At that time, I may not have dreamed of running a half-marathon, but I dreamed of being independent, finishing school, moving out of my parents' house, getting a good job, being healthy enough to be a wife and mom someday. Those were dreams that God asked me to relinquish:
That night as I lay in bed feeling so helpless, I prayed. I realized I had been ignoring God because I believed He might ask me to do the unthinkable—drop out of school. I didn't believe that God could possibly have anything better for me than what I desired for myself.
That night as my roommate lay sleeping across the room, I agonized before the Lord. I cried out to Him in anguish. This time the solution was not in my pocket. In fact, it seemed far beyond my reach.
As tears rushed down my face, I told my Abba, Daddy, that I would drop out of college if that was His will. This was my Isaac. I knew God wanted me to give Him my future, my hopes and my dreams.
I don't know what your dreams are. Right now you may be ready to quit the race, feeling it's not worth it. Maybe you're at the bottom of that hill, and can't see an end in sight. Keep running! The witnesses are cheering you on. They have been where you are and are waiting to see what God will do in your life as you run faithfully. My witnesses were right: It was all downhill to the finish line, and it felt good to cross it.
Police warily entered Columbine High School soon after the shooting, still on guard against more potential shooters.
One detective noted that in addition to the numerous backpacks and purses abandoned in the rush to get out of the building, the hallways were littered with shoes. The students had run in such fright and haste, they'd literally run right out of their footwear. Classrooms and hallways echoed with the forlorn ringing of abandoned cell phones, the calls likely coming from family members still trying to reach a loved one whose fate they did not yet know.
Based on the unexploded bombs left in the building as well as Harris and Klebold's writings and self-made videos, they intended to kill more than their 13 victims. They fantasized about blowing up the entire school and killing everyone in it. In fact Harris fantasized about destroying the entire city of Denver.
Where does such hatred come from? It's pretty clear now that Harris was a psychopath in the purest sense of the word. Klebold is the harder one to figure. According to author Dave Cullen, who spent a decade investigating the tragedy, Klebold was an unlikely killer. In a recent interview, he talks about seeing Klebold's diary for the first time:
[It] was just such a revelation. Eric's was what you would expect. It's "hate hate hate." It's all Eric. It sounds like a murderer in the works. Dylan's is — he's literally talking about love on almost every page, and he's growing up. You can take his journal, and just take your thumb and just flip through it and it will shock you. You see these hearts all the way. It's like, "What is this killer drawing hearts for?" And they were not ironic or anything like that. He has entire pages filled with hearts. He draws out, literally, the road to happiness, with a dotted line dug down the middle, with a big heart at the end.
But don't think Klebold was a reluctant killer. Based on ballistics evidence, police estimate that about half of the dead and wounded can be traced to Klebold's weapons.
The story does not end with this iniquity, however. God always brings good out of evil, and He did so with Columbine. Detective Diane Obbema related, "I was blessed that some survivors I interviewed, who did not know I was a Christian, voiced a renewed faith in God and a determination to make the most of the time God had given them to tell others about Jesus. They had come close to seeing eternity but were spared, and they felt it was for a purpose."
And there is the story of Rachel Scott, the killers' first victim, shot as she sat outside the school building eating lunch. The 17-year-old was motivated by her Christian faith to be kind to everyone and to reach out to the misfits and the shunned. In a school essay she had written, "I have this theory that if one person can go out of their way to show compassion then it will start a chain reaction of the same."
She had a tremendous sense of self-identity and purpose for someone so young. As a young girl, she had traced her hands on the back of her bedroom dresser — she apparently had a habit of writing notes in odd places — and wrote, "These hands belong to Rachel Joy Scott and will some day touch millions of people's hearts." But she also sensed that she did not have long to do that. In May 1998, 11 months before she was killed, she wrote in her diary, "This will be my last year, Lord. I have gotten what I can. Thank you."
Today, Rachel's story is indeed touching millions of hearts through Rachel's Challenge. Could Rachel have accomplished this without having to die? Perhaps, but as God's willing servant, Rachel left it up to Him as to how to fulfill what she sensed was her destiny.
In the end, that's what I take away from Columbine. God is sovereign. It's hard to fathom what can motivate an Eric Harris or Dylan Klebold other than to know that sin has tainted the world and darkened the human heart. Fortunately, God has provided the cure. Looking at events like Columbine and a world seemingly spinning out of control, is is easy to become dismayed. But we have his promise of peace.
Postscript: In yesterday's post several people asked for more information about Cassie Bernall and the myth of "she said yes." What the investigation revealed was that Cassie was hiding under a library table with another girl when Eric Harris slapped his hand on the tabletop twice. He bent down, said, "Peek-a-boo," and then immediately shot Bernall in the head. There was no indication that he heard her praying. There was no time for any conversation between them. That happened on the far west side of the library.
In the meantime on the far east side of the library, Dylan Klebold was stalking victims. He asked the question "Do you believe in God" of an already-wounded Valeen Schnurr, who answered yes. Strangely, Klebold did not shoot her after the answer but moved on. According to witnesses, this exchange happened after they heard Harris say "peek-a-boo" and shoot Bernall.
The initial report that Bernall answered the question came from Craig Scott, Rachel's brother, who knew Bernall was in the library and, knowing she was a Christian, simply assumed it was she who answered the question. (No other witness attributed the statement to Bernall.) Months later, when the students were taken on a walk-through of the library, Craig pointed to the east side of the room to indicate where he heard the exchange — exactly in the direction where Schnurr had been shot. Craig was stunned to learn that Cassie had been on the west side of the library, in fact very close to the table that Craig had been hiding behind.
That one misstatement, an understandably honest error in light of the violence and chaos, quickly morphed into the myth of Cassie Bernall's mythic martyrdom.
The facts were known pretty early on in the investigation. Today there is no excuse for passing on this urban legend as truth. Yes, God can use a lie to accomplish His purposes, but that does not mean He sanctions lying in order to serve Him.
Ten Years On by Tom Neven on 04/21/2009 at 8:32 AM
This week marks the 10th anniversary of the killings at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colo. Most are familiar with the story: Teen gunmen Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold went on a shooting rampage in the high school, killing 12 students and a beloved teacher and wounding dozens more.
Beyond that, there's a good chance that everything you "know" about Columbine is wrong. The myths arose quickly in the aftermath. The shooters were outcasts and members of a group of misfits called The Trenchcoat Mafia. Wrong.
They were bullied by jocks and therefore went out of their way to target athletes. Wrong. Nor is it true that they targeted blacks or Christians. They killed whoever was unfortunate enough to wind up in their sights.
What we do know now is that the killings were motivated by blind hate — of everyone and the world in general.
In talking about Columbine myths, I'd be remiss in not addressing perhaps the biggest myth out there: that of Cassie Bernall.
The story arose within hours of the shooting: One of the killers confronted Cassie in the school library and asked her if she believed in God. She said yes and was immediately shot dead. The story spread quickly, especially within the evangelical Christian subculture, and was accepted as gospel truth. Michael W. Smith wrote a song about Cassie Bernall. I commissioned an article in Focus on the Family magazine about Cassie and Smith's song.
The problem is, the story's wrong. The initial account was an honest case of mistaken identity in the confusion of all the shooting and killing. In fact, according to FBI and Jefferson County investigators, the question was asked of Valeen Schnurr, on the opposite side of the library from where Cassie was killed. (Schnurr survived her wounds.) This account is backed up by multiple witnesses and forensic evidence.
Some have dismissed this as the attempts of Christian-haters to denigrate a true martyr. But one of those investigators, Diane Obbema, is a friend of mine and a devout Christian, and she concurs that the Cassie Bernall story that so many want to believe is in fact wrong — an honest mistake, initially, but still wrong.
So why bring this up? Why rub salt in the wound? Trust me, I thought long and hard about doing this, and it gives me no pleasure to do so. But in the end, I think this myth has done damage to the cause of Christ. To some, it shows Christians as gullible fools willing to believe any myth that comes down the road, even against evidence to the contrary. Too many people already dismiss Christianity as a "comforting myth," and this story merely reinforces that prejudice.
Here is a sample one-star review from the book about Cassie, She Said Yes:
Christians would have us believe that decades after the events of the life of Jesus that the New Testament was written with perfect accuracy. But the Cassie Bernall story shows how in only a matter of months, an urban legend has grown to suit the mythology of christianity [sic].
The questions of whether Bernall said *anything at all* at the time of the shooting was known when the first stories broke. Now it's becoming more and more apparent that in the confusion of that tragic event, Bernall was confused with another girl.
Yet the christians [sic] want their martyr and the publisher is making money. Apparently "god" has blessed this story with cash and truth went to hell.
If christians [sic] can't even get a story right when the events are recent and have grown an urban myth to suit their beliefs, why should any of us believe the New Testament is accurate in the least?
This book is hype and myth with little to no substance. Even the Bernall family has issued an "apology" though they refuse to let go of this very profitable fiction.
Those words should sting all Christians. It's doubly painful when you read Cassie's truly inspiring story of how God took her from a life of rebellion and dabbling in witchcraft and the occult to the on-fire Christian she was when killed. That is all lost in the mythmaking.
We do not need to rely on myths or clever stories in preaching the truth of Christianity. There's power in the truth, and we should cling to that.
Several years ago, I saw a made-for-TV-movie about P.T. Barnum--the famed American showman from the 1800's who founded the circus that would later go on to become the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey circus. I remember very little of it, except for one particular scene.
In the movie, Barnum had heard of a famous Swedish opera singer, Jenny Lind, who had toured with amazing success throughout Europe. Barnum sank every penny he had (and some that was not his) to secure Lind to tour through America, though he'd never even seen her perform.
The scene I remember is when Barnum finally meets Lind backstage before one of her performances. She is small and she is plain and he is clearly shocked at her lack of, shall we say, charisma or star qualities. She recognizes the disappointment in his face and takes him a little bit to task on it. He should have more faith. Appearances aren't always what they seem.
Don't worry, she says finally with a wry, little smile, when I sing I become beautiful.
At that, she walks out on stage. Barnum watches closely and finds himself, like the audience, swept away by her amazing voice. He understands.
I thought of that scene yesterday, as I watched a video clip of Susan Boyle (you can see it here). Boyle is a 47-year-old unemployed woman who decided to compete in the television reality series, Britian's Got Talent.
As Boyle first stands on stage, you can see that the judges are clearly unimpressed. Simon Cowell even rolls his eyes. But, by the time she finishes her rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" from Les Miserables, the crowd is on its feet and Cowell is smiling from ear to ear.
I rather doubt if the scene between Barnum and Lind actually took place. But there was a piece of truth in it, I think. Even if we don't meet the world's threshold for physical beauty, we can become beautiful by what we do.
God's Word speaks to that, as well. In both 1 Peter 3 and 1 Timothy 2, Christian woman are encouraged to seek the inner beauty of a "gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight" and to "dress modestly ... with good deeds, appropriate for women who profess to worship God."
If that's the kind of beautiful that's of "great worth" to God, then I know where my focus should be. So, today, I will strive to be beautiful, and it has absolutely nothing to do with how I look.
"For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures."
This weekend we mark that nexus of history, the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It is the crucial, defining event of Christianity.
Yet despite this clear teaching of Scripture, there have been those through the ages who have reduced Christ to merely a great teacher and Christianity to a code of good works. The most recent example of this I’ve come across is Erik Reece’s essay “Save Jesus, Ignore Easter.” In it this son and grandson of Baptist preachers confesses that he does not share their faith. But, he adds, he still wants to follow Jesus. He writes:
American Christianity has historically been focused so obsessively on the Nicene Creed—which says Jesus was the son of God, who was crucified for our sins and rose from the grave three days later—that it never made much room for the actual teachings of this radical Jewish street preacher.
This is why I'm against Easter. It celebrates the death of Jesus nearly to the exclusion of his life. If the Easter miracle can save us from this life, then why bother with the harder work of enacting the kingdom of God here? It is, after all, much harder.
I’m always confused when I hear things like this. What “radical” teachings does he refer to? Perhaps this? Or maybe this? Or how about this? And there’s always this. To carry one’s cross was not just a great burden; under the Roman form of punishment, the condemned was forced to carry his cross as an acknowledgment of guilt. It was a way of saying that Rome was correct in meting out justice to this criminal. To carry one's cross is to acknowledge that you are guilty and that God is correct in meting out justice. That is the full import of that frequently misused verse.
The good news is that Christ carried the cross and endured God's justice for us. Knowing this adds special weight to Paul’s declaration that “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
Reece wants to do good works on this earth. Good for him. We can all learn from his example. But when he takes only a partial Jesus and ignores the full teaching of Scripture, he is not obeying Jesus.
Me, I want Jesus, too, but I want the Jesus of Good Friday and Easter morning. Without that Jesus, I’d be a pitiable fool.
While running through my blog roll this morning, I came across this link from Between Two Worlds of a video showing a Jewish passover sacrifice. It's unpleasant to watch, to say the least. But Professor Todd Bolen of BiblePlaces.com believes there's value in Christians seeing it. Here's why:
We talked about the appropriateness of putting this online. The 5-minute video is as graphic as it gets. More and more people today don't realize that meat doesn't originate at a grocery store. They have little concept of an animal being raised and then slaughtered. Furthermore, almost no one in the Western world has ever sacrificed an animal for religious purposes.
I think, however, that is precisely why this *graphic* video should be shown. We read about sacrifice in the Bible but we don't really understand what that means. We read passages that talk about the "life being in the blood," but those are just words that we don't really consider. We "know" that the wages of sin are high, but we don't get the life lesson that the ancient Israelites received every year.
The point of sacrifice was simply this: you deserve to die because of your sin. This animal is dying in your place. Watching the priest slice his throat and watching the blood drain out drove the point home much better than reading a chapter of Leviticus
I thought mostly of how much God hates sin. To require such a bloody, painful mess resulting in death from the Israelites on an annual basis is one thing. But that He required it from his own Son, our Lord, did make me reflect on the cost of my sin in a way I hadn't before. As Bolen says later in his post, forgiveness isn't cheap.
I'm a glass half empty kind of girl. In a recent devotion time here at Focus, the speaker asked the glass half empty people to raise their hands. I was the only one out of a group of thirty that raised my hand. Liars. (Did I mention I'm a little skeptical as well?)
Since these are people I respect, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps they truly are glass half full kind of people. Perhaps they have already learned a lesson I believe God is teaching me: Pessimism does not breed a heart of gratitude. In fact, it makes it virtually impossible for me to delight myself in the Lord.
Until now, I have justified my negativity by saying that it's just who I am or pointing out the positive side of seeing the glass as half empty. You may think there is no positive side, but there is. I can assess risks in plans and think through the possible ramifications of decisions. Every group needs someone to point out the blind spots. But that is where the benefits of being negative end. I believe God has gifted me to refine the ideas of others, but he has not gifted me to suck the life out of every good thing (which is what I tend to do).
Earlier this week I was reading GirlTalk where Carolyn Mahaney writes about an eighty/twenty split described by Lars Gren (Elisabeth Elliot's husband):
A wife, if she is very generous, may allow that her husband lives up to perhaps eighty percent of her expectations. There is always the other twenty percent that she would like to change, and she may chip away at it for the whole of their married life without reducing it by very much. She may, on the other hand, simply decide to enjoy the eighty percent, and both of them will be happy.
I do not have a husband, but I do have a fiance. And to my regret, I have spent more of our engagement focusing on the twenty percent than the eighty percent. As God tenderly brought this to my attention, I saw that pessimism was not only sucking the life blood out of my relationship with my fiance but over many years had also robbed the joy from my relationship with Him.
I won't wake up tomorrow and see my Splenda-free coffee cup as half full, but I'm asking the Lord to teach me how to cultivate a heart of thankfulness. Heaven forbid I take my God-given giftings and use them as excuses to indulge in sinful attitudes.
When is the last time you examined your tendencies to see if they are hindering your delight in the only One who is worthy?
I found this video over at Justin Taylor's Between Two Worlds. It's of Christian theologian J.I. Packer telling new believers how to begin a Christian life.
I loved his encouragement for new Christians to "get into the Bible." The older you are when the Lord calls, you'll find yourself literally "between two worlds," the one you are entering and the one you are leaving behind. And it's not always an easy transition. Your thinking, habits, relationships, etc., are changing. Some changes the Lord affects as He speaks to your spirit through his Word and through prayer. Other changes come through the benefit of Christian fellowship.
What's interesting is that the encouragement Packer gives -- reading through the Bible each year, keeping up a sense of being in God's presence through daily prayer, joining a church "team" to encourage each other to "play better" -- are all things which should describe seasoned Christians. Does it describe you?
Uh oh. Two convicting articles in a row. First, one on media discernment, and then today, Tim Sweetman's excellent article about Stalkerbook...er, Facebook. Here's the part that really got to me:
It's not my intention to write a 1,200-word article encouraging others to give up Facebook, social networking, or the Internet. I plan to continue updating my status with random trivialities such as "Tim is attempting to write ... Tim just ate bread with mold ... Tim is heading to the basketball game" and the like. I'm still going to post notes, write on walls, and chat with friends.
But if all of this continues at the expense of getting to know God better, I want to throw it all out. All of it. Drastic, yes, but I've got to be willing to do whatever it takes.
I'll admit it. I'm a little addicted to Facebook. I love to see what my friends are saying (i.e. saying about me). It's a reflection of sorts; a way to measure my place among people. Each day I receive feedback on myself. It's addictive.
I'm reminded of the verse about reflection in James 1:22-25:
Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it—he will be blessed in what he does.
While Facebook may not be the healthiest addiction, social networking is not the true issue. The real question is: What am I looking into? How am I measuring success or gaining identity? Is it by the number of comments on a photo or is it by greater desire for God in my life?
I see two issues at play in the realm of social networking and technology. One is lack of self-control. I should be writing a paper, but I'm online; I should be reading God's Word, but I'm online. The other is a little harder to perceive. It's a notion that holds the words of mere humans as much more interesting to follow than God's Word; the lives of mere humans as much more fun to get to know than God Himself.
How would my life be different if I pursued God's Word with the same intensity and interest as I check my Facebook page? Tim considers:
Scripture is not only profitable for me, but it's absolutely essential in order to be competent and to live my life well. Within those sacred pages I find everything that God has deemed necessary to tell me. There is so much depth and wisdom within those pages. Yet I somehow buy into the lie that the Bible is just boring and not worth my time. How would my life look if I poured myself into the pages of my Bible instead of pouring myself into the pages of Facebook? Radically different, I think.
So perhaps Facebook points us to something greater. I desire to look at something to feel significant, gain perspective on myself and find community. I believe if that thing were God's Word "we would all soon see a blessed change" (to quote Rachel Lynde). Face it: it's something worth thinking about.
In today's featured Boundless article "I, Legalist," Kimberly Eddy discusses coming to terms with her own legalism. She didn't seem like a candidate for legalism. In fact, early in her relationship with Christ, grace was a welcome discovery:
The day I realized that God loved me was a day that I was finally able to get free from a lifestyle that had me ensnared through the power of Christ. God's love didn't enable me in my sin; His love enabled me to break free from my sin.
Love, not striving, is the compelling factor behind a redeemed life. This motivation is what makes Christianity stand out:
Christian growth is not about us following rules, doing all of the right things, and avoiding the wrong. That's one of the main things that separates Christianity from other world religions. It's about a relationship with the living God through His Son. The Bible refers to Christian growth as fruit, and our character should reflect the fruit of the Spirit growing and developing in our lives.
Fruit isn't something that any branch can develop by sheer willpower. That's what I was trying to do for several years. Instead, fruit is a natural byproduct of a healthy plant; a natural byproduct in my life and yours, as we develop our relationship with Christ every day, over the long term. Genuine righteousness is different from self-righteousness, because Christ is at the center of it.
The point of the Christian life is to be a healthy plant -- to be green and thriving and safe from bug infestation. Lacking a green thumb, I know from experience you can take an unhealthy plant and nurse it back to health so that no one would ever know what it had been through. The goal is to live in Christ to an extent that His influence in our life changes everything. Eddy writes:
Throughout the Bible we see that the thread that binds it all together is God's plan of redemption, from His promise of a Redeemer in Genesis 3, to the return of the victorious Christ in Revelation. In the Old Testament, God set apart Israel to bring the Savior into the world, and He needed them to be wholly set apart for Him. In the New Testament, God calls us to be adopted into His family by grace through faith in Christ alone for our salvation (Ephesians 2:8-9).
The problem with the Pharisees was with their hearts more than their actions. They were doing many "good" things. However, the Pharisees were not obeying the Lord's commands out of love for Him, but to try to earn His love and the respect of others with their good works.
They didn't have the right heart attitudes. They didn't have a relationship with the Lord. They didn't have His love flowing through them to the lost and hurting souls around them. Instead they stood far off from those who needed the Lord the most, proud of their holiness by comparison.
Many times I have asked God to help me see people the way He does and keep my own sin and the sins of others in proper perspective. Apart from Christ every heart is sinful. Ditching a legalistic attitude demands a change of heart, not just a change of lifestyle. And focusing on aligning one's heart with Christ instead of simply striving for the correct actions produces the result God's looking for:
I've found that this freedom comes from being secure in God's love, and that operating out of love for Him in my life encourages me to do more for Him than if I were only doing things out of fear or self-righteousness. The liberty to serve by grace through faith has resulted in even more fruit, because of a right foundation.
No matter who you are or what you've done, God is a redeemer who offers you a life of freedom, forgiveness and love. And if you tend to be stingy with the grace you offer others, you may be denying yourself the full measure of God's grace and joy in your own life. Connect to the vine and let God take care of the rest.
According to a recent study, college women may drink to excess to impress men, but the men aren't impressed.
The participants, aged 18-25, filled out online surveys during the 2007 fall semester. The women answered questions relating to how many drinks they thought a typical college guy would like his female friends to drink as well as the maximum number of drinks he would prefer. The men then answered questions related to their preferences.
The results? The majority of women (71 percent) overestimated the men's actual preferences by an average of 1 1/2 drinks.
"There is a great, and risky, disconnect here between the sexes," lead author Joseph LaBrie said in a statement. "While not all women may be drinking simply to get a guy's attention, this may help explain why more women are drinking at dangerous levels."
Reading this article made me, quite frankly, just sad. The author is right -- probably not all of these young women are drinking simply to get a guy's attention. Maybe some of them, for some reason, enjoy knocking back five or more drinks. But my guess is that it's not very many.
I'm sure that not all women who dress provocatively do it for a guy's attention. But I really wonder if their idea of "these clothes make me feel pretty" isn't based at least somewhat on the power to turn a man's head.
And there may be those Sex in the City "Samantha" types who just want to have unattached, unencumbered sex. But I've comforted one too many college roommates who gave themselves to a man only to be dumped once again, to really believe that to be the norm.
For me, this study was just a reminder. A reminder that I am the Lord's but I am also living in a world saturated with "Girls Gone Wild" messages of how to attract a man. I need to intentionally face those messages and filter them through the Word of God. The world may tell me to sex it up. But my God tells me that He cherishes modesty. The world may encourage me to table dance for the party, but my God tells me that He cherishes a gentle and quiet spirit. The world may tell me that drunkenness is attractive. My God tells me that it's not.
One of the desires of my heart is for a man who loves the Lord to also love me. I need to understand that following the world's advice will not make that happen. And, in the end, I really don't want the world's advice. I don't want to be an object who loses her worth at the first sign of a root or a wrinkle. My God tells me that I am a fellow heir who is to be loved and respected. Girls, I'll take that every day of the week.
That was one of my favorite details Jason Boyett shared in today's featured article "So Humble." With frankness he talks about his own struggle to gain humility:
At that point in my life, almost everything I was doing was out of "vain conceit" and "selfish ambition," especially when it came to my spiritual life. Background: I grew up a church kid — I was there every Sunday and every Wednesday — and was as active in the youth group as a person could be. Furthermore, thanks to genetics or upbringing or the peculiar blessings of God, I was a talented teenager. Reasonably athletic. Good singing voice. Played the guitar. Artistic. Funny. Well-spoken. A natural performer. Also, I had a beautiful blond mullet.
He goes on to talk about how as a leader in his youth group he spent his time and energy trying to attract and keep attention, and "make sure everyone knew that I was talented and funny and cool and, well, really tight with Jesus."
I can relate. I want people to think well of me. And often I can't ward off the self-satisfied impression that I have a lot going for me. Humility is hard. Especially in a world that promotes self-glorification (think Facebook). As the author explains, adopting the attitude of Christ stated in Philippians 2:3-4 can seem impossible. Jason proposes three strategies:
Show genuine gratitude when praised.
Remember humility is an action.
Put others first.
Which of these suggestions do you find most difficult? For me, it is putting others first and considering their needs equal to my own. I like what Jason writes on this topic:
Philippians 2:3 says, "... consider others better than yourselves." The Message paraphrases this as "Put yourself aside and help others get ahead." The mindset here is a simple but profoundly countercultural one. At the center of it is the idea that you are more important than me. The results of this way of thinking — increased politeness, better understanding, patience and mercy and slowness to anger — are clearly reflective of Christ's love, and the kinds of virtues that improve any human relationship.
I don't have a beautiful blond mullet, but that doesn't mean I don't struggle with pride. Humility is about realizing where your talents come from and offering them back to God for His service. Jason offers some really solid advice for dealing with pride—including some cheeky footnotes you won't want to miss!
Cognitive dissonance is something I deal with, from time to time strongly. I can see how it could build to the point where I'd have to make a radical decision: change my mind or change my faith. Boundless author Suzanne Hadley keys in on this tension in today's featured articleover on Boundless Webzine:
Whether the result of intellectual struggles, disillusionment with fellow believers or tension created from a less-than-Christian lifestyle, spiritual dissonance is uncomfortable.
She goes on:
Eventually a person may alter his beliefs to match his lifestyle in order to relieve the pressure. Such an action may deliver an initial sense of relief because the person's beliefs and actions finally match. But giving up faith and choosing one's own way always leads to destruction.
The thing is, I don't think this internal conflict is necessarily a bad thing. Just as our sense of pain motivates us to address some malady, dissonance can drive us toward deeper relationship with our Savior Redeemer:
Dissonance exists to be resolved and turned to beauty. And God's purpose is to resolve it in such a way that the music created is a testimony to His power and grace.
Suzanne concludes:
Dissonance does not have to signal the end of faith in Christ. Harmony is one of the things God offers us through Christ. In the hands of an almighty, skilled Conductor, sour notes can be the beginning of a heavenly opus.
May the Lord be honored by this muddling Slater Opus. And may you find encouragement, at least occasionally, from its tones.
One of my favorite movies is The Karate Kid. Who can't identify in some way with Daniel Larusso, uprooted from all that is familiar by his single mom and plopped down in a new environment where he is the outsider, the new kid who becomes automatic bully bait for the tough guys at school?
A lot of people think the main lesson of the story is that perseverance and hard work pay off in the end. And while that's certainly true in this story—Daniel does win the big karate championship in the end—that's not the main point.
The key moment in the movie is when the inscrutable Miyagi tells Daniel to wax his car. Daniel has made a deal that if Miyagi will teach him karate, he must do what Miyagi wants, no questions asked.
Miyagi: First, wash all car. Then wax. Wax on … Daniel: Hey, why do I have to? … Miyagi: Ah, ah! Remember deal! No questions! Daniel: Yeah, but … Miyagi: Hai! [makes circular gestures with each hand] Miyagi: Wax on, right hand. Wax off, left hand. Wax on, wax off.
Daniel thought he was being taken advantage of, but as we learn later, Miyagi was teaching him karate. Daniel was learning an important skill while strengthening the muscles needed to practice that skill, all while doing something that seemed completely unrelated to what Daniel wanted. He was also learning something very important, something the wise Miyagi knew he wouldn't learn any other way: trust and self-discipline.
I think God takes us through similar wax-on, wax-off moments. I know I've had many in the nearly 30 years since I first trusted Him. God will put me through an experience or have me do something that seems completely unrelated to what I think I need to be doing to serve Him. (And usually it's something I just don't want to do, just as the last thing Daniel wanted to do was wash and wax a car.) In the end, the skill I learned in going through a hard time came in handy later. More often, the skill was simply learning to trust God and wait on His grace and provision.
How about you? Struggling with finances or job loss? Wax on. Wax off. Fighting loneliness? Worried you'll never find a husband or wife? Wax on. Wax off. As long as you're doing what God wants of you at the moment, consider it your chance to wash and wax the car.
Yes, it's easier said than done. But it needs to be done if you're to learn and grow. We do it, not for a cheap karate trophy, but for an everlasting crown.
Today is the beginning of the Lent season. I didn't grow up observing Lent. When I first heard someone use the phrase "observe Lent," I thought they meant they were studying something that came out of their dryer or that they found in their belly button (talk about navel gazing).
As I've been exposed to a larger variety of Christian traditions, I've grown more interested in this observance. For those who don't know much about Lent, here's a description from Wikipedia:
Lent, in some Christian denominations, is the forty-day-long liturgical season of fasting and prayer before Easter. The forty days represent the time Jesus spent in the desert, where according to the Bible he endured temptation by Satan.
The purpose of Lent is the preparation of the believer—through prayer, penitence, almsgiving and self-denial—for the annual commemoration during Holy Week of the Death and Resurrection of Jesus, which recalls the events linked to the Passion of Christ and culminates in Easter, the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.
The Wikipedia entry goes on to explain what that preparation looks like:
The three traditional practices to be taken up with renewed vigour during Lent are prayer (justice towards God), fasting (justice towards self), and almsgiving (justice towards neighbour). Today, some people give up a vice of theirs, add something that will bring them closer to God, and often give the time or money spent doing that to charitable purposes or organizations.
Earlier this week, uber-blogger Anne Jackson wrote on the Christianity Today blog that she was giving up online social networking for Lent. "During Lent, I am going to close my blog down" she said. "I am not going to Twitter, or update my Facebook profile. I'll still email people, and chat with my friends, but for those few weeks my social networking is getting put on hold."
Since beginning to explore this tradition, I've been able to give something up for at least one season of Lent. Other years, I gave up on my fast early and then tried to process what that failure meant in the spiritual scheme of things. I knew it wouldn't threaten my eternal salvation to give up on my self-imposed fast of dessert, but without knowing more about the nature of Lent, I didn't understand the significance. This insight from the Wikipedia post gives me a little more perspective and some fresh motivation to try to observe Lent this year:
Lent is a season of grief that necessarily ends with a great celebration of Easter. It is known in Eastern Orthodox circles as the season of "Bright Sadness." It is a season of sorrowful reflection which is punctuated by breaks in the fast on Sundays.
The Lenten semi-fast may have originated for practical reasons: during the era of subsistence agriculture in the West as food stored away in the previous autumn was running out or had to be used before it went bad in store, and little or no new food-crop was expected soon (compare the period in Spring which British gardeners call the "hungry gap").
The economic challenges pressing many of us this year may give us "hungry gaps" of our own as practical reasons to observe Lent. The promise of Easter and the power of resurrection at the end of this season are an annual reminder for us all that God is truly enough for us in all circumstances.
Yesterday I was saddened to hear that Dr. Joseph Aldrich (known as "Dr. Joe") the third president of my alma mater Multnomah University, went to be with the Lord after a 15 year battle with Parkinson's disease.
When I came to Multnomah (then called Multnomah Bible College) as a freshman, Dr. Joe was serving his final year as president. He taught my Spiritual Life class that year, and I had the privilege of witnessing a godly leader with an authentic passion for God and people. Some people, even if you only know them for a short time, leave a lasting impression on you. Dr. Joe was one of those people. The comments from students in response to his death is evidence of that.
Even after he ceased being president, he continued to keep office hours to meet with students. I interviewed him several times for my college newspaper and he was always extraordinarily humble and warm. Something about his demeanor screamed: I am nothing special; God is.
While Dr. Joe's leadership is a significant chapter in Multnomah's history, he also played a part in the formation of many other ministry endeavors. Multnomah Press grew into a prominent Christian publisher during his tenure and has since become Waterbrook Multnomah Publishing Group, a division of Random House Publishing.
The author of many works, his book Lifestyle Evangelism, though controversial when first published, became a classic. Through the book, Dr. Joe was able to have a lasting impact on the students who read it for his classes and thousands of others around the nation who began to think about evangelism as something they could do with joy.
Bringing pastors and leaders together from all over the world was never more evident than his significant role in bringing Billy Graham to Portland in 1992, Graham's final Crusade in the Pacific Northwest. Not satisfied to simply partner with Graham administratively, he canceled classes during the crusade days so that all students, faculty, and staff could assist in person.
That kind of regard for evangelism affected the students who attended Multnomah. This past Sunday I was teaching sixth graders about friendship evangelism. One of the other teachers commented on my passion for evangelism. I was surprised. Evangelism isn't high on my spiritual gifts list. But maybe the drive others see in me is due to Dr. Joe's belief that evangelism was for everyone. It's an everyday responsibility of believers. That was one of his greatest legacies.
I saw Dr. Joe for the last time about five years ago. I was visiting Portland, and he was sitting in a Starbucks. I went over to say hello and he remembered me. "What are you doing now?" he asked. I told him that I was working as a children's magazine editor in Colorado. "Why that's wonderful!" he said with his signature warmth.
Righteous men bear good fruit. Dr. Joe is evidence of that.
A brief word about Ethiopia before continuing with our story.
From my brief time there, I found the Ethiopian people kind, gracious and good willed. Despite the visible poverty -- people/families living under blankets or shacks made of tin every 50 feet for so throughout Addis -- we were never molested by beggars. And I never feared for my safety. As one of our drivers explained, "The crime rate is low here because most Ethiopians are very religious." I believe it.
Now back to part 2 of "How was it?"
We thanked God Olivia had survived the night. Though honestly our spirit of thankfulness was fleeting. We were too exhausted from travel, lack of sleep, sickness and caring for four children (one of whom was still extremely ill) in inconstant living conditions to sustain a grateful spirit by praying or reading God's Word. Or so we believed.
All we could think about was getting home.
Our return flight was just a day and half away. But we didn't know if Olivia would be well enough for the long journey home. So we took her to the hospital (the one that closes early and opens late) to confirm the "on call" doctor's diagnosis; and to ask about the risks of traveling with such a sick baby.
The X-rays confirmed three pneumonia spots clustered together in Olivia's right lung. But her breathing had improved and her fever was manageable. She was getting better. And the hospital doctor believed she would improve enough by the following evening to travel.
I really don't remember much about the rest of our stay in Ethiopia before we left for the airport the next day. Mostly I remember feeling sick to my stomach and worrying that we hadn't spent enough time with the two older kids to prepare them for such a long trip.
We left for Bole International Airport in Addis Ababa at 7:07 p.m. on Thursday, January 22nd. We arrived in Colorado Springs at 5:26 p.m. on Friday, January 23rd. We had traveled just over 32 grueling hours, 19 of which were spent on one flight from Addis to DC. I won't give a play by play. But here are a few highlights.
Olivia had severe diarrhea in reaction to the strong antibiotic we were giving her. Her bottom was raw and it seemed the Butt Paste Diaper Rash Ointment only made things worse. So unless she was sleeping, she was screaming because of the pain ... and probably because she had pneumonia. And since she needed to be changed about every hour or so, we ran out of diapers.
We also ran out of formula.
Olivia and Oliver were only given formula their entire lives in the orphanage. So they were hungry about every two hours. We ran out of formula four hours from landing in Washington DC and had to borrow a Wal-Mart brand from another adoptive family. Both kids rejected it and vomited all over us. All of us were soaked the rest of the flight.
We were delirious for most of the trip. Seriously, I mean out of it. We were extremely ill mannered toward one another and pretty much everyone around us. But I didn't care. I was empty. We both were.
For me, it culminated in a moment of pure exasperation at Dulles airport when I turned the diaper bag upside down, emptying all of it's contents on the terminal floor in front of masses waiting for our flight, looking for an alternative to the ineffective Butt Paste to sooth Olivia's inflamed bottom.
I was talking to myself out loud. And blaming my wife for not packing the right ointment, out loud. I'm pretty sure I used profanity. But I'm fuzzy on that detail.
Sensing I was losing it, my wife texted me, "You're scaring me. Are you OK?"
I know how all this must sound. And it's not like there weren't discernible blessings along the way. Like, for example, the fact that our two older adopted kids were mercifully well-behaved and self-reliant. A look, a gesture and a few Amharic words and phrases were all we needed with them. But even though we recognized it, we couldn't appreciate it.
I now wonder if our focus on salvaging what we could of our physical needs rather than depending on the supernatural is what did us in. Meaning, we craved sleep, health, good food, cleanliness, etc. And we spent most of our spare time -- time we weren't giving to the kids -- catering to those needs. I wish I hadn't. I wish I had forsaken the physical and attended to the spiritual.
I wonder if the power found there would have been sufficient for both.
My church is looking for a worship pastor. I've been asked to be on the team helping define this role and evaluate prospects.
Among other things, I've suggested that we shouldn't be looking for a "worship pastor," as all activity in church -- indeed all activity in our lives -- should be worship unto the Lord. I suggested that we instead go with the term "Pastor of Worship Arts."
A description of this person's responsibilities had included the following:
... we believe that spirit-led worship in a congregational setting is critical in welcoming the presence of God. We desire to see a prevailing atmosphere of the presence of His Holy Spirit through our corporate gatherings.
I'm recommending we scrap that wording (as it seems to downplay the Lord's omnipresence) and go with something like the following:
The arts provide the church special opportunities to engage the Lord in spirit and in truth. Music, in particular, can enable our spirits to resonate deeply with His truth, to reflect on who He is and what He's done and then to respond to that truth through corporate or individual expressions of praise.
Colossians 3:16 illustrates the role of music in corporate worship: "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God." Music at [our church] should therefore be characterized by gratefulness, doctrinal depth and accuracy, and the rich indwelling of the word of Christ.
The Worship Arts Pastor facilitates such opportunities/experiences primarily through music, though also through drama and other artistic expressions. In order to lead the congregation to such engagement, he should himself be engaged with the heart of God (1 Samuel 13:14; 1 Samuel 16; Psalm 27:4; Psalm 78:69-72) through a lifestyle of humility and ongoing spiritual growth.
I would also include as requirements the five qualifications Bob Kauflin identified in his excellent book, Worship Matters: humility, godly character, love for good theology, leadership gifting and musical skill.
We're still defining this role, even as we seek someone to fill it. While it's all still coming together, I'd love to hear what you think should be requirements for a "Pastor of Worship Arts."
Before we left for Ethiopia to adopt four children, I wrote about the predominate question we were asked leading up to the trip, "Are you ready?" This blog is about the question we've been getting on this side of our adoption, "How was it?"
So here's Part 1 of a 3-part answer.
Beth got the stomach flu three days before our travel date. It was a violent one; 24 hours of diarrhea and vomiting. We prayed that it would pass over the rest of the family given the task at hand. Our kids were spared. I was not.
And so began our adventure ... with me on my knees for three straight hours in a Boeing 767 toilet headed for Paris (our layover leg of the trip).
I know it's risky to begin a post-adoption series with such fleeting discomfort. But it's a fitting visual that represents the trip as a whole, though not the adoption. It seemed that everything that could go wrong, went wrong ... except death. And that, as much as my finite mind can discern, seemed pretty close as well.
The list of lousy things that happened is long. Here's a sample: Our travel companion who signed on to help with the flight back ditched us in Paris, the airline lost our luggage, we had less than ideal accommodations due to hotel restrictions for adoptive families (experiencing 12- to 24-hour power outages), and my stomach flu was followed by Giardia (I lost 12 pounds total).
But it was our first night with our new children that had us wondering why God was allowing Satan to sift us like wheat. We were sick, exhausted, dirty, living in cramped quarters. And though we were only moderately deprived of our health and comfort, we were given a very sick baby.
So began our doubts.
When we first met 9 month-old Olivia Konjit, she had a cough and seemed lethargic. The orphanage nurse assured us it was only a "little cold." So she gave us some adult cough medicine for mornings and evenings and sent us on our way.
As that first night wore on, however, we noticed that Olivia's breathing had became short, shallow and raspy; extremely labored. Unnerved, I stayed awake while she slept fearing it could get worse. It did. And when I reached down to pick her up about 1:00 a.m., she was burning with fever; hotter than I've ever felt someone feel.
When I put the digital thermometer under her arm, it shot up to 105 degrees within seconds. I took it out before it beeped because I was afraid of how high it would go. I knew we needed to get help immediately.
I banged on the "guest house" manager's door (who lived in the garage). I explained the emergency. He drove us to the main hospital in Addis Ababa at 1:30 a.m. It was closed until 9 o'clock the next morning. We then drove to a children's clinic where there was a doctor on call. The doctor took her temperature. It was over 106 degrees. He said Olivia had pneumonia and gave her an antibiotic and fever reducing medicine.
We got back to the guest house at 3:30 a.m. We spent the rest of the night giving her medicine and wrapping her in wet cloths by candle light. The power had been off for 12 hours.
Olivia didn't get better that night. At one point, her breathing was so labored and her fever was so high, I was certain she would die because I had nowhere to take her. I thought, This is how it happens in Ethiopia. People just die because they have nowhere to go.
But she didn't die. Her fever broke and her breathing improved the following day. I'm convinced God spared her life. When we got back to Colorado, we took Olivia to our pediatrician who said, "I'm glad you got there when you did."
With the benefit of hindsight, I now know I was too cavalier about the "Are you ready?" question. I expected it to be painful. But not so much that we would question the very decision we made to adopt.
That is where we were. And that is exactly where I believe Satan planned for us to be.
John Piper has a sermon on the power God allows Satan in this world.
The fact that Satan has such power in the world should give a kind of seriousness to our lives which unbelievers don't have. It ought not to make us paranoid or fearful, but sober and earnest in our prayers and persistently conscious of needing God's power. When the enemy is supernatural, so must the weapons be.
I now know with certainty that we were not ready. And we were heading for a crash.
To be a follower of Christ you need to be willing to be hated.
...Of course this does NOT mean being hateful. Nor does it mean seeking to be hated. Or having a persecution complex, so you think people don't like you because you're following Christ, when they actually don't like you because you're an idiot.
I am all for graciousness, kindness and servant-hearted love as we speak the truth. I seek to practice this with the nonchristians I’m around. But at some point the greatest kindness we can offer them, coming out of a life of humility and faithfulness to Christ, is the good news about Jesus...
We should certainly be nice, and it’s sad when Christians aren’t. But it’s also sad when we imagine “niceness” has greater impact than it really does. Niceness is not the gospel. Some modern concepts of evangelism are little more than being nice to your neighbor and loaning him your hedge clipper and hoping that somehow he will come to Christ without you actually having to say the WORDS of the gospel which would run the risk of him thinking you’re weird. Our good example is important, but it’s not sufficient. There are actual truths that must be grappled with in surrendering to Jesus (1 Cor 15:1-6). And these truths are expressed in words...
Our good example is important, but not sufficient. That's really challenging to me. Do I prefer the "living my life as a Christian witness" because it's the most effective way of communicating the Gospel or because I get to keep my mouth shut? Alcorn continued:
Among some believers the new definition of a good Christian is holding your beliefs privately, not challenging those who publicly share beliefs that dishonor Christ, and avoiding controversy at all costs lest we be perceived as “those kind of Christians” who hate gays, oppose abortion, favor inquisitions and live to burn witches. We so much want the world to like us that we end up distancing ourselves from the historic Christian faith, from biblical doctrine (including hell), and from churches (because they’re all hypocrites except us). We end up making ourselves indistinguishable from the world, and therefore have nothing to offer the world...
So, do we think we can be a "different" kind of Christian? One that leaves behind those divisive issues and beliefs for a more open faith? One that will show the world how really nice we are? Or, as Alcorn points out, by becoming palatable to the world, do we lose what we can offer the world?
I don't wish to be hated. Honestly, I would much prefer to be liked. But, if I am hated for sharing the gospel, I should just remember who the world hated first.
It happened again on recent Sunday. I was in church -- a congregation I've faithfully and contentedly attended for nearly a decade now -- and as we sang several songs of worship, I couldn't help but think of the book "In Christ Alone" by Sinclair Ferguson. In the foreword, the Rev. Alistair Begg writes about three things that concern him when it comes to the present generation of Christians.
First, Begg describes his experiences addressing students at Christian colleges across the country. "Their enthusiasm and creativity spur me on," he writes, "but an accompanying uncertainty and lack of definition in basic Christian doctrine are causes for genuine concern. Some cannot, for example, explain why Mormonism is not Christian because they are unsure of the doctrine of the Trinity. Many appear to be uncertain about the exclusive claims of Jesus" (especially considering what Begg calls "the prevailing emphasis on ecology and poverty").
Second, Begg considers the contemporary believer's favored reading material. "Books on self-improvement and 'how-to' texts on all matters earthly sell in abundance. We are reading about our bodies to the neglect of our souls ..."
Finally, Begg laments what he calls the loss of focus on the Gospel in our songs:
"This is no comment on musical styles and tastes, but simply an observation about the lyrical content of much that is being sung in churches today. In many cases, congregations unwittingly have begun to sing about themselves and how they are feeling rather than about God and His glory."
Sometimes I wish I had never read Begg's words, because that morning in church I could not get them out of my mind. I saw very clearly that he was right, that many evangelicals today have unwittingly embraced songs about themselves at the expense of those focusing their gaze upon Him.
Now, I want to make it clear that the church I attend is not overly "contemporary" or "seeker-sensitive" or any of the other words used to describe congregations that seem to favor (forgive the cliche') style over substance. No, my fellowship is known for its committment to expositional, systematic, verse-by-verse teaching. It's simply the case that we sing many of the same worship songs as thousands of other churches, and that the same theological vagueness Rev. Begg sees in Christian students and books is also apparent in our songs.
So what, then, is the antidote? Part of the answer, Begg concludes, is the need to consistently focus on Christ, the author and finisher of our faith.
"We are helped in the process by the work of Gospel-saturated hymn writers. Over the centuries, Isaac Watts, John Newton, William Cowper, and many others provided the church with biblical theology in memorable melodic form. Today, men such as Keith Getty and Stuart Townend are doing the same with compositions such as their contemporary hymn that shares its title with this book: 'In Christ Alone.' We should be encouraged by the fact that 'In Christ Alone' has become something of an anthem for the church in the first decade of this century. As Alex Motyer has rightly observed, 'When truth gets into a hymnbook, it becomes the confident possession of the whole church.' Perhaps all that is necessary to expose the shallowness of our songs and to cause us to praise God as we ought is for pastors and poets and musicians to drink from the same fountain. Then biblical exposition will issue in song and our hymns will be full of the Gospel."
In Christ alone my hope is found; He is my light, my strength, my song; This cornerstone, this solid ground, Firm through the fiercest drought and storm. What heights of love, what depths of peace, When fears are stilled, when strivings cease! My comforter, my all in all -- Here in the love of Christ I stand.
Tony Woodlief issued an important reminder that what we watch affects us. In his blog Sand in the Gears he wrote,
I posted over at World yesterday about recent horrific murders at a Belgian nursery. Now there are reports that the young killer made himself up in a fashion eerily similar to Heath Ledger’s Joker, and was obsessed with horror movies. Cultured people will cluck their tongues at such associations, however, because everyone knows movies and music and other popular entertainments don’t cause crimes. ... A wiser way of looking at things, it seems to me, is to ask whether we are nurturing the good or the evil that resides in each of us, in each of our children. Anyone who thinks he hasn’t the potential to become a monster doesn’t really know himself — or mankind — very well at all. Indeed, he is probably the one who is most likely to actually become a monster. Most of the worst creatures in history, after all, gave no indication that they ever considered themselves anything but avenging angels, up to and including Lucifer himself.
Trouble is, in our enlightened age, we don't even believe in the devil anymore. In his World column, Woodlief wrote,
... there’s no medication for evil, no policy change, no modification of machinery. The solution to the ravages of the devil is resistance in the presence of the Holy Spirit and within the protection of the one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. That’s a mouthful, and it’s indigestible for the modern materialist. Devil? The word’s so outdated that the Oxford Junior Dictionary recently deleted it. Children will find in its place words like “blog.” I suppose if the devil wants direct publicity in the future, he’ll have to open a Facebook account.
And what of the people of Belgium? As one mourner said, "We are broken." And Woodlief wrote,
We are broken. It is the truth of things, and embedded in it is the right question, which is: How might we be fixed? The answer is simple, and impossible for many, and grievous beyond that, because it doesn’t promise an end to murders and heartache, only salvation in the midst of them. But that, I suppose, is everything. It is certainly, in horrible moments like this, the only thing that brings hope. Pray with me that the parents of these little ones have such hope.
I was standing in the Chicago O'Hare Airport early one morning waiting to pick up a friend when I overheard two men chatting about Christians and the Bible.
They were standing with name placards waiting to transport some business travelers. One fellow was describing a group that still practiced the Old Testament laws, and he told his friend that they held rape victims accountable for sexual misconduct -- a misreading of Deut 22:13–30, which actually defends women who were innocently raped.
But his comment about this group was particularly striking: "Christians only read the nice parts of the Bible -- so they can finish it in 20 minutes."
In his article, David wrestles with how we see Scripture: Is it weighty in our lives, an authority in our lives? Or is it merely a book that accompanies our faith, like gravy on mashed potatoes?
I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts about the Bible. Is it central, or do you find yourself apathetic about it? Is it thoroughly true, something you turn to first, or is it passé?
Well, Ryan, you got your wish. Today on Boundless Answers, John Thomas sums up the devotion he gave several weeks ago here at Focus on the Family. (I blogged about it here.)
The question is: Do you treat Jesus like a Facebook friend? John provides the analogy of a marriage relationship where the partners are not actually married. In fact, one of the "spouses" has based his entire relationship with his "wife" on her Facebook page. Absurd, yes. But this concept can be eerily true of our Christian lives. John writes:
For so much of my Christian life, I must confess that I've had more of a "profile" knowledge about Jesus than a "personal" relationship with Him. I've been content to know about Jesus in my head by collecting facts and figures from Scripture and books and sermons and songs. I've been a card carrying member of the "industry" of Christianity — all that swirls around this Person — Christian radio, para-church ministries, local churches, seminary education, etc.
I had hoped that at some point all of that information would eventually tip the scales and result in transformation. "Maybe with the next book," I'd say. "Maybe a different study," I'd think. "Maybe a new Bible is what I need." A lot of information, but not much fruit of a real relationship.
Like the girl on the computer profile in my fictional story, I agreed with Jesus on things. He and I were on the same moral and intellectual page. But giving mental ascent to some truths is not the same as having a relationship with a real, present and powerful Person.
I don't know about you, but that is so where I'm at right now. Recently I've been convicted of my Martha tendencies. Richard Foster, in Celebration of Discipline, writes, "Activity is the enemy of adoration."
Jesus loved Martha. And she was attempting to love Jesus in the best way she knew how. Service out of love for God is precious to the Lord. However, if our energy and intellect are poured into everything but our personal relationship with Jesus, we make our spiritual activities the main thing instead of the person of Jesus Christ.
John ends with this poignant challenge:
Will you allow me an out-of-fashion altar call and invite you to join me in this passionate pursuit of the Person of God? Turn off this computer, find a quiet place or quiet yourself at your work desk, open the door to Him and let Him dine with you. He waits for your invitation. Maybe you could start with this prayer from Psalm 63:
O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and your glory. Because your love is better than life, my lips will praise you. So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands....
That's the kind of Christ follower I desire to be. The kind who thirsts for Him and takes time to look upon Him and behold His glory. When we have received love better than life, why settle for a Facebook version of friendship with Jesus?
I've been caught up in the "life will be better when" trap. You know the one.
Life will be better when I move out of my parents' basement.
Life will be better when I get a "real" job.
Life will be better when I pay off my student loans.
Life will be better when I'm in a relationship ... engaged ... married.
The last one, that's me. A few nights ago as I was making the third trip from my car to my kitchen lugging in groceries, I thought, "Life will be better when I'm married; then I'll have help carrying in groceries."
Unloading groceries is the absolute bane of my existence. A little silly? Sure, but these small, silly thoughts have been adding up and stealing my joy in the present. I'm dating a great guy and instead of enjoying where we are, I'm always thinking about how life will be better when we take the next step. God has been using little things like bags of flour and bagels to bring to light my sin of living in the future.
He has also been using a well-known Christian classic. C.S. Lewis makes an eye-opening point in The Screwtape Letters that illuminates the dangers of living in the future.
Our business is to get them away from the eternal, and from the Present.... It is far better to make them live in the Future. Biological necessity makes all their passions point in that direction already, so that thought about the Future inflames hope and fear. Also, it is unknown to them, so that in making them think about it we make them think of unrealities. In a word, the Future is, of all things, the thing least like eternity. it is the most completely temporal part of time -- for the Past is frozen and no longer flows, and Present is all lit up with eternal rays ... nearly all vices are rooted in the future. Gratitude looks to the past and love to the present; Fear, avarice, lust, and ambition look ahead.
It makes sense that Paul would admonish us to put on love above all other virtures as it looks to the present, the place "lit up with eternal rays." And so today I'm committing again to a life in the present, a life of love.
In what ways are you tempted to live in the Future? How does it steal your joy in the Present?
I love it when I see God's kingdom in everyday things — like high school football games. My friend Becky posted this story on her blog. "I think Kris Hogan makes God smile," she wrote. I agree. Consider this story on ESPN:
They played the oddest game in high school football history last month down in Grapevine, Texas.
It was Grapevine Faith vs. Gainesville State School and everything about it was upside down. For instance, when Gainesville came out to take the field, the Faith fans made a 40-yard spirit line for them to run through.
Did you hear that? The other team's fans?
They even made a banner for players to crash through at the end. It said, "Go Tornadoes!" Which is also weird, because Faith is the Lions.
It was rivers running uphill and cats petting dogs. More than 200 Faith fans sat on the Gainesville side and kept cheering the Gainesville players on—by name.
This unusual behavior took place at the request of Faith's head coach, Kris Hogan. You see, Gainesville is a maximum-security correctional facility and every game they play is on the road. Hogan wanted to do something kind for the team.
So Hogan had this idea. What if half of our fans — for one night only — cheered for the other team? He sent out an email asking the Faithful to do just that. "Here's the message I want you to send:" Hogan wrote. "You are just as valuable as any other person on planet Earth."
The parents agreed. And though Faith beat Gainesville 33-14, the Gainesville players acted like they'd just won state, giving their coach a celebratory squirt-bottle shower.
After the game, both teams gathered in the middle of the field to pray and that's when Isaiah [Gainesville's quarterback] surprised everybody by asking to lead. "We had no idea what the kid was going to say," remembers Coach Hogan. But Isaiah said this: "Lord, I don't know how this happened, so I don't know how to say thank You, but I never would've known there was so many people in the world that cared about us."
And it was a good thing everybody's heads were bowed because they might've seen Hogan wiping away tears.
John Thomas was visiting Focus yesterday. And he gave a killer devotion. I was a little late, admittedly, and he called me out. I slipped in after Steve's prayer and as I settled into my seat, John said: "Hi, Suzanne!" It was a little surprising considering we'd never met, and it might have freaked out some of my other coworkers.
Anyway, John's devo was about the difference between living a Christian life based on information about Jesus and living a Christian life that is transformed by a relationship with Jesus. Good stuff. He made a good observation about how we can get caught up in the Christian "industry" and look to manipulate the ways of Christianity to meet our own needs.
He used a marriage conference as an example. People go because they want to make their marriages better. While the end result may be God-glorifying, if you want a better marriage to make yourself feel better or happier, you're missing the deeper work God desires to do—and ultimately your efforts will fall flat.
John's words reminded me of this post I read on Stuff Christian's Like (HT: the Point). The author makes the point that the lines on the back of Christian books written for men and the blurbs on the front of secular men's magazines are virtually indistinguishable. He writes:
Am I that different from the world? I've got God, the very power of Christ inside of me, shouldn't my desires be different and not so interchangeable?
Do I ever go to God with a laundry list of better demands? Give me a better marriage, a better ministry, a better life, a better job, a better everything?
Do I chase the blessings of God sometimes more than the presence?
As John pointed out, these are very important questions. It's all too easy to simply "adapt" your belief in Christ to a lifestyle of wish fulfillment. Phew! Anyone else convicted?
Yes, it's a song title. But yesterday it was my life.
Honestly, I don't have a truly bad day very often. And so I didn't quite know what to do when I woke up feeling out of sorts and each event throughout the day made me crankier and more self-pitying. By the end of the day, the world seemed a very dark place and nothing "bad" had actually even happened.
Do you ever feel that way? I wondered if my bad mood came as an inevitable low following the high of the holidays. Perhaps it was even a chemical reaction as I reduced my intake of sugar and coffee. But what about this day had shifted my whole perspective to gloom and doom? I wondered. After all, nothing had really changed.
Last night as I drove home from a movie, I felt very battered. But the Lord was gently speaking to my heart. I realized the root of my unhappiness: a couple of relatively small let-downs. I felt a little ashamed that I had given in to self-pity so quickly. And I realized I had a choice. I could continue in the downward spiral of feeling persecuted, or I could purposefully shift my focus to my great God.
This is often what I see David doing in the Psalms. At the beginning of many Psalms he starts by expressing how persecuted and deserted he feels. Then he remembers something: He remembers how strong, mighty and loving his God is. Consider the last verse of the lamenting Psalm 73:
But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge; I will tell of all your deeds.
Similarly, the moment I was able to admit to the Lord that I was having a bad day but that I realized that He was both sovereign Lord and loving Father, I felt better. I still sniffled a bit, but I felt the Lord's compassion and quickness to comfort me. And that is what is great about being a child of God. Everyone has bad days, but the worst of days have the potential to be redeemed when you run to God.
And indeed mine was. After an hour of listening to worship music and reading a little from the Psalms, the metaphorical sun started to break through. And when my roommate came home from work we had a really great conversation after I told her about my bad day. It inspired her to open up about her life, too. It's human to have a bad day — or a season of bad days — but God is no less God when we struggle. In fact, His strength is made perfect in our frailty, which means on our worst days we may see His best.
"If I'm serious about keeping my New Year's resolutions in 2009, should I add another one? Should the to-do list include, 'Start going to church'?" asks John Tierney in yesterday's New York Times.
Although Tierney admits it's "an awkward question for the heathen to contemplate," he's asking it because of a recent report, reviewing eight decades of research, which concludes that religious belief and piety promote self-control.
But why, researchers (and Tierney) wondered, did religious people show more self-control?
Perhaps it was self-selecting. After all, Tierney writes, it takes a lot of self-control to sit through a church service or Sunday School. Maybe it's just those who have self-control who choose religion. But, no, "even after taking that self-selection bias into account, Dr. McCullough [a University of Miami psychologist] said there is still reason to believe that religion has a strong influence."
Okay, then, maybe it's just the "spirituality" aspect of religion? After all, if we just connect with the spirit, or the "force", or the oneness of humanity, wouldn't that help develop our self-control? No again. Strongly religious people score high in conscientiousness and self-control. Those who believe they are "directed by a spiritual force greater than human beings" or "felt a spiritual connection to other people" did not score high in those areas.
Well, maybe it's the spiritual disciplines learned at church. Maybe just participating in prayer, learning and worship will help. Nope, Tierney writes:
"But that probably wouldn’t work either, Dr. McCullough told me, because personality studies have identified a difference between true believers and others who attend services for extrinsic reasons, like wanting to impress people or make social connections. The intrinsically religious people have higher self-control, but the extrinsically religious do not."
So what does Dr. McCullough advise a self-described "heathen" like Tierney to do? Well, Dr. McCullough believes that, "Religious people ... are self-controlled not simply because they fear God's wrath, but because they've absorbed the ideals of their religion into their own system of values, and have thereby given their personal goals an aura of sacredness. He suggested that nonbelievers try a secular version of that strategy."
Just substitute some personal "sacred values" for all those religious people's "religious values." Then throw in a dash of private mediation (you know, to sub for all that prayer and worship) and then identify yourself with an organization with "strong ideals" (what makes them strong, McCullough doesn't say). And, poof, maybe that'll work.
Problem is, it won't. Ironically, our self-control is not of ourselves. It is not because we've "absorbed" ideals. It is not because our personal goals have an "aura." Self-control, as the Word states, is fruit of the Holy Spirit's work in our lives.
And there's simply no secular strategy that's going to match that.
Today's Boundless article, "Ignorant Christians" by Gary Thomas, takes off like a guided missile:
Ignorance is one charge I'd like to see the church vigorously refute by example. We need a generation of first-rate thinkers, but we also need a generation in which every Christian sees himself or herself as a scholar.
Not, mind you, as an academic, but as one who takes seriously Paul's charge to "watch your life and doctrine carefully; persevere in them because if you do, you will save both yourself and your hearers" (1 Tim. 3:16).
Thomas goes on to claim that, for a Christian, ignorance is sin (not bliss, as we've been told) and challenge readers to embrace their calling to submit their minds to spiritual transformation through the discipline of study. Thomas writes:
Christianity exalts the role of the mind as a necessary part of right living, but our faith is unique in stressing how our behavior and our minds influence and act upon each other. When our thinking goes, our behavior doesn't lag far behind. And when our behavior slips, our minds begin to slip as well.
To illustrate this point, he quotes Romans 12:1-2:
Offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God — which is your spiritual worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is — his good, pleasing, and perfect will.
This connection between thinking and behavior is one that is worth considering. If our minds need to be renewed in order for transformation to take place, then flawed thinking must be our natural default. That's nothing new, really, but I think (see, there I go!) that being aware that we begin at a point of wrong thinking may provide the motivation to consume truth. In fact, Thomas takes it a step further:
Is it possible to be a faithful disciple and not be a diligent student? No. How we study will differ according to our gifts, personality, and temperament. Whether we study should not. Contemplative prayer, social activism, fellowship, and enthusiastic worship all have their place; but if Paul says transformation includes the renewal of our minds, I don't believe it is possible for us to be serious disciples of Christ if we do not also become serious students of His truth.
In conclusion, Thomas offers this challenge:
The biblical instruction is clear: We need to take charge of our minds. On their own, our minds can be instruments of anxiety, doubt, worry, fear and romantic fallacies. Paul urges us to exert ourselves more strongly in the arena of our minds than in any other area of the spiritual life: "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things." (Phil. 4:8)
The campaign slogan of the United Negro College Fund has become familiar: "A mind is a terrible thing to waste." It's unfortunate when Christians waste theirs.
A few years back I was over at a friend's apartment, and she was confessing that she thought God did not love her. She was even fearful that she might find herself some day like Judas, outright conspiring against God.
I didn't know what to say. She was involved in her church, helped lead worship in a small group, and was studying at a Christian graduate university. Surely she was loved by God; surely she was saved.
But I didn't know how to help her.
Now I do.
I knew that she loved the Lord. This was evident in the songs she wrote and in her private devotional life. And that was the key to helping my friend understand that, yes, the Lord loved her. C.H. Spurgeon lays out the argument:
Once I knew a good woman who was the subject of many doubts and when I got to the bottom of her doubt it was this: she knew she loved Christ but she was afraid He did not love her. Oh, I said that is a doubt that will never trouble me, never by any possibility because I am sure of this: that the heart is so corrupt naturally that love to God never did get there without God putting it there. You may rest quite certain that if you love God it is a fruit and not a root. It is the fruit of God's love to you and it did not get there by the force of any goodness in you. You may therefore conclude with absolute certainty that God loves you if you love God.
Got that? We who are saved were at one time incapable of loving God. Why would we? We were "haters of God." Indeed, we were "dead" to Him, following the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience, by nature children of wrath.
We had nothing but antipathy toward God, and His justified wrath was positioned toward us.
Ah, but God, "being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ."
And now we who are saved are alive in Christ, and though often feebly, we love Him.
And if we've found ourselves loving Him, we can be assured that He loves us. Indeed, He first loved us, even in our unlovely state. His love is the root that produces within us the fruit of love. If there's fruit, then God's root of love toward us exists.
That's what I would tell my friend if I had the chance.
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