It's not always about the soil

My best friend in junior high was Scott.  We went to school and church together, and would get together several afternoons a week to play ping pong.  We were good friends, and I thought I knew him well.  Then one day as we were walking home from school, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it up, and began to take a long drag.  I was shocked, and not just because we were friends, or because we were in the 8^th grade, but I thought I knew him.  As we began to talk about what I was seeing, I realized I didn’t know much about Scott at all.

Have you ever experienced something like that?  You thought you knew someone, or you thought you knew what was going on, only to find out you didn’t know much at all.  

The parable of the sower is an amazing story, complex and layered with meaning.  The traditional approach to reading this parable, and possibly the correct one, is to constantly examine the soil.  We cultivate it, tend to it, softening the hard places, removing rocks and thorns, making it ready to receive the seed.  We like to think we’re experts in soil, responsibly throwing seed where we think it has the best chance to grow.  We don’t believe in waste; we want to be productive making sure our seed has the best chance to grow.  There’s nothing wrong with that, right?  Here’s what I’m thinking.

We say we believe that God is active everywhere, all the time, seeking to redeem and restore everyone.  That is the message of our Gospel — that this is for everyone.  I wonder if I’ve always believed that.  The reason I say that is because I haven’t just been surprised over the years by friends like Scott, who I thought I knew only to find out there was this hidden part of his life that I knew very little about.  But I’ve been just as surprised by students and adults over the years who appear to be far from God, later to find myself surprised by how God was at work in their life.  I’ve slapped labels on them that I’ve had to remove because of a conversation around a kitchen table, or a response at a retreat, or an act of compassion on a missions trip.  I thought their hearts were hard, calloused and crusty, only to realize there was this soft place where God had been working.  I may not have seen it, but God was working in spite of me.  He had thrown some seed that had taken root and was helping to break up that hard, crusty exterior — pouring on the tenderizer, if I may.  I’m embarrassed to admit that from my perspective, I saw nothing.  How does that happen?

I think it’s because I like to be an expert on soil, and not so much on sowing.  One point to the story that I don’t hear talked about much, is that the sower wasn’t concerned about where the seed fell.  This is called the parable of the sower, not the soil.  The seed is thrown everywhere, almost wastefully — on the path, among the thorns, in the rocky places as well as the soft, believing that God is at work in all of them.  So maybe I need to throw off some labels that I’ve put on people.  Maybe I need to be grateful to realize that God’s activity isn’t limited by what I see going on.  Maybe I need to stop thinking I know what God is up to, and just throw some more seed.  Anybody else?

Text for the week:  Luke 8:4-10

Pouring on the tenderizer

I love to cook on our grill.  For Father’s Day last year, my family bought me a nice, stainless steel one that sits in the corner of our porch, and we use it at least twice a week.  I’ve gotten pretty good over the years, but the success of what happens on the grill is dependent on what happens to the meat before it’s grilled.  There is preparation that goes before the grilling.  You don’t just throw a nice steak, chicken breast, or hamburger on the grill without first seasoning it and pouring on the tenderizer.

Tenderizing beef is an art.  Some marinate it in a sauce.  Some pound it with a wood mallet.  Some add seasoning that works itself into the meat over time; all three making it ready for the grill.  The more tender the meat, the better it will cook and taste.  The key to a great barbeque isn’t just the grill — it starts with preparation.

This semester, we’re living into four phrases that will shape our conversation.  The four phrases are:  “I will sprinkle clean water on you;” “I will give you a new heart;” “I will remove your heart of stone;” “I will give you a heart of flesh.”  These are promises.  Like I shared yesterday in chapel, our rescue from the circumstances we find ourselves in isn’t dependent on us.  That is good news.  We can depend on God to do what He does best — rescuing and changing hearts.

At times, I have found myself turning this promise into a prayer.

I’ve prayed for students in my youth group whose hearts have grown hard, that God would change their hearts, chipping away the hard, crusty exterior, and giving them a soft, fleshy one.  I’ve prayed this for family members, and found myself praying for some of you this summer.  For some, you need a fresh sprinkling, assuring you that God is with you no matter what you face.  For others, you need a new heart, a fresh start, a new beginning.  And still for others, you need radical surgery done, removing a heart of stone, and replacing it with a heart of flesh. 

So as we begin this semester, I’m praying that God pour His “spiritual tenderizer” on us, softening our hearts, so when He speaks, we listen.

Text for the week:  Ezekiel 36:24-26

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 [PR1]

 [PR2]What does this mean?

Time flies

Ever heard the phrase, “Time flies when you’re having fun”?  Well often, time just flies.  Watching the seniors lead our chapel this past week and listening to some of them make statements like, “This has gone by really fast,” and, “Where has all the time has gone?” make us all realize that time waits for no one.  And that can be really scary.

Whether you are approaching the end of your time here at Olivet, or finishing your freshman year, you might find yourself reflecting on questions like those above.  Finishing can cause us to reflect, evaluate, and for some, wish we could have a do-over.  But you already know that can’t be done.

Now, I’m not a believer in living in fear, or wishing away today in hope for a better tomorrow.  We can spend our lives not being able to make any decision, worried it might be the wrong one, or wishing away every moment of every day.  But there is another way.

We are told in Matthew 6 not to worry about tomorrow — easier said than done.  Jesus goes on to say, “So let me tell you: don’t worry about your life — what to eat, what to drink; don’t worry about your body — what to wear. There’s more to life than food!  There’s more to the body than a suit of clothes.  Have a good look at the birds in the sky…And why worry about what to wear? Take a tip from the lilies in the countryside.” Matt. 6:25-26, 28 KNT

He goes on to say that we are to make his Kingdom priority, and when we do that, everything else takes care of itself.  So what can we know about the time we find ourselves in?  I believe that if we are making God’s Kingdom priority, we can move with confidence into our futures, knowing that God is in it with us.  The things that have happened to this point in our lives can be used by God for His glory.  He can redeem, and He can restore.  He doesn’t play games with our lives.  He knows what we need, right now. Period.

So I’m praying for you as you finish this semester.  I’m praying, of course, that you finish well — that you get that paper done, do well on that test, and finish your reading.  I’m also praying that you get a sense that God is with you, that He knows, and that He is even now preparing you for what’s next. 

The tension of the now and the not yet

I remember growing up. (We’ve talked about that a little this semester, and I guess for some, my “growing up” is open for debate.)  But, I do remember growing up.  One of the things I remember about it is always longing for what was coming.  I couldn’t wait for the next thing.  There certainly had to be something better than what this day was bringing, so let’s get on with this thing called life.  Not sure if you were like me, but it’s easy to find yourself wondering how the next phase of your life will look.

For instance, I remember the anticipation of my first day of school.  I rode our bus, which was a white station wagon carrying 13 students — far from legal!  First days of school are a big deal, especially when riding with 13 kids jam-packed in a station wagon made to seat nine.  But it didn’t end there.  I also couldn’t wait for junior high (still not sure why), then high school, the day I could drive, my first real date, graduation from high school, college, my second real date, graduation from college, my wedding, having kids, watching my kids grow up, my kids getting married, and now having kids of their own.  If you’re not careful, you can wish your entire life away.

When you get to be my age, you realize that you do this in big chunks, but we all do it in little ones too.  I play games almost every day — counting the minutes until the next meeting, class, lunch, until I can go home, until the game, until the news — only to find that the day is over. And at times, I’m not sure what I’ve done with it.

It makes me wonder why we do this.  What is it we’re moving toward?  What is it we’re longing for?  What is it we’re hoping for?  Where does this gaze into the future come from?  Everyone does it.  So what is going on?

This week, I’ve found myself thinking about that very subject.  This is the week we live in the tension of the now (what we have and are experiencing); and the not yet (things we long and hope for).  Where did that come from?                                                                                                                                            

I think for those calling themselves followers of Jesus, it was birthed this week almost 2000 years ago, when Jesus struggled with the same thing — the now and the not yet.  It was at the heart of the prayer in the garden.  It was felt in his abandonment and betrayal.  It culminates in the change that would take place from Friday to Sunday — the suffering Servant and the resurrected King; the man and the God.  It’s the tension of the now and the yet to be.

This is the week that sets us all up.  This is where the seed was planted for the longing.  This is why we hope, dream, die and live. This is why we are passionate and sacrificial, and why we are star gazers and other-world folk.  The resurrection makes us think about things we don’t see, longing for a day that is better than this one.

This Easter Sunday, Resurrection Sunday, let’s live into the hope that is provided for us in our resurrected Lord.  He is not dead!  In the midst of hunger, pain, sorrow, neglect, abuse, and sin, He gives us HOPE.  It’s what his humanity and his death was about. He knows the depth of our sorrow and pain.  But it’s also what His resurrection was about, because he provides a way through.  It is good news, the best news, our hope.

He is risen. . .

The greatest of these...

Can I be honest with you today?  I’ve never struggled with same-sex attraction.  Like Tim said Wednesday in chapel, I too thought girls in second grade had cooties, and didn’t want to have anything to do with them. But when puberty kicked in, my attraction was always for the girls.

That being said, let me be confessional as well, because I haven’t always treated the gay community as I should have.  I’ve made off color comments at their expense.  I’ve used language to describe a gay person that was inappropriate.  I’m glad things like Twitter and Facebook weren’t around when I was growing up because of some of the comments I might have posted. 


I grew up in an era when the church honestly didn’t know how to respond to the issue of homosexuality, so at times, we didn’t respond well.  I’m not apologizing for the church.  I am apologizing for the part I played in hurting people not like me.  I am also saying that the church isn’t perfect, and doesn’t always respond well to the situations it faces, just like me. 


I’m grateful that isn’t the end of the story.  There is hope in this journey we’re all on.  It begins with the fact that I can be more like Jesus today than I was “back then.”  And as I become more like Jesus, so does the church, because I am the church.                                                                                                                                           


And so are you.  We are the church.  Hearing and responding properly is something we all want to do — and do well, because the way we live matters.  So, we need to keep listening to each other.  We need to keep talking to each other.  We need to keep asking the Spirit of the One who created us to help us know what to do, so we can respond like Jesus would.  We also need the same Spirit to give us the courage to be loving, truthful, and charitable.  It is who Jesus was.  I want it to be who I am, too. So…


If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.  If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.


But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.  For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 


When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.  For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.


And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:1-4, 8-13

I’m in, how about you?

It's time

“All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah!  Father of all mercy!  God of all healing counsel!  He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us.”  2 Cor. 1:3-4 (The Message)                                                                                                                                           
This was the message we heard from Nicole this week.  She bravely shared with us how living through a past full of abuse enables her to share her story, “break the silence,” and come alongside others who are suffering.   Like Rachel Scott’s story, it’s a story of redemption.  It’s a story of not giving up.  It’s a story of believing that God does what He says He does.  It’s a story where we realize that regardless of what has happened in our past, God can and will redeem it, giving us a hope and a future.


I want to go someplace beyond the personal pain we carry at times, and speak to the men who may be reading this.  Nicole sent us all a not-so-subtle message concerning the role we play in the lives of the women we see every day.  The fact is, they see how we look at them, hear how we talk about them, and can sense what we expect from them.  Ladies, please know that I’m not saying you are helpless in how you respond — not at all.  What I am saying is this: In the day in which we live, we need men to be godly in the way they look at and treat women.


I don’t think we can get away from this, so I don’t want us to.  I want to say that one of the ways that we bring redemption and healing to our world is for the men of our world to stop objectifying women — to honor them as Christ honors the church.  To put it plainly, treat them like you would want another guy to treat your sister.  Lead them spiritually by honoring them for who they are, not what we can take from them.  It’s not a new message to men, but one that bears repeating, and one we heard from our sister in Christ this week.


It was the men she surrounded herself with during college that “redeemed” the idea that all guys weren’t creeps — that there are some good men out there that still treat women with dignity, honor and respect.  You don’t see that watching Jersey Shore or Three and a Half Men.   The fact that the Situation is now in rehab and a recovering alcoholic, and Charlie Sheen (who was living with two prostitutes) is now doing a Fiat commercial, making fun of his “house arrest,” should tell you that somewhere in the fabric of our society, we have gone astray.  I think it starts with us, guys.

My prayer for us is for the way we look at women to be redeemed, so we can all be whole again.  It’s God’s desire for us; may it be ours as well.  I say it’s time.

Redeem this?

As Darrell Scott shared with us the tragic story of his daughter Rachel’s untimely death, I couldn’t help but think, “What a waste!”  I’m the father of two daughters, and was wondering how he is able to relive her story over and over again, without it tearing him to pieces.  I also wondered what might have been for Rachel. What would Rachel look like today?  If she married, who would be her husband?  How many kids would they have?  How much of an impact could she have had in her high school if her life hadn’t been taken that early April afternoon?

It was in the middle of these thoughts, that I caught myself.  I caught myself thinking about God in ways that, frankly, I really don’t believe.  I caught myself in the midst of asking these questions, realizing that there were some unanswerable questions with this tragedy, like all tragedies.  But I also realized that in the midst of something so terrible, God was, and is still at work.

Do I think God willed the death of Rachel Joy Scott?  No, I don’t.  Do I think that God needed another flower in his heavenly garden, so he called Rachel on that day so heaven would be more beautiful?  Please.  Do I think he helped Dylan and Eric choose their victims that day, ordaining the death of those 12 students and teacher?  No.  Do I believe that this event surprised God?  No, I don’t believe that either. 

Here is what I do believe.  I believe that God was present in Columbine High School on April 20, giving Rachel and others the courage to face whatever came their way on that day.  I believe that God wept with the parents, family, and friends of the victims.  He longs for the day when “all things will be made new,” and when there will be “no more tears, pain, sorrow, or death.”   I believe that God redeemed, yes, even that!  And I believe that the same God who was present with them, is present with us.

But why do these things happen?  That’s a question way older than any of us, but I like what C.S. Lewis said while struggling with a similar question:  “God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality.  He knew it already.  It was I who didn’t.”

These tests that come are to reveal to us who we are, not who God is.  Lewis goes on to say:  “He always knew that my temple was a house of cards.  His only way to making me realize the fact was to knock it down.”  In that, we come to understand that “In all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, and are called according to His purpose,” making us who He wants to be because of, or even in spite of them.  This is the way we live. 

Eugene Peterson says it this way in his paraphrase of James 1:2-4:  “Consider it sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides.  You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors.  So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely.  Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.”  

So, what is being revealed about who you are?  How are you responding to what you are being shown?  To coin a phrase from this semester, “How’s your practice?”  My prayer for us now, as it has been this whole semester, is that we continue to practice well, so with God’s help, we can live well.