“Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their
brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom
they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen.”
- 1 John 4:20
Hating
people would be a lot easier if it wasn’t for the details.
Think
about someone you can’t stand—a celebrity you’re sick of hearing about, or a
politician who stands against everything you believe in, or someone closer to
home who gets on your last nerve, whether a boss or a neighbor or even a family
member. When you are reminded of that person, whether it’s when they show up on
TV or when they post on social media or when they wave at you from across the
street, your gut reaction may be to mutter to yourself, “Ugh, I hate him.”
That’s an easy way to feel so long as you keep your distance, knowing just
enough about them to be sure you loathe them. As long as they remain a rough collage
of things you dislike, devoid of nuance, it’s easy to hate them.
But
when you choose to learn a few details, it gets harder. It’s easy to hate The
Politician, harder to hate the father of three who ran for office hoping to
make his demanding parents proud of him. It’s easy to hate Your Boss, harder to
hate the man who wanted to retire years ago but can’t afford his sick wife’s
medical bills without staying at work. Even someone like Your Abusive Uncle, so
easily reviled for the way he treats his family, is harder to hate when you
learn that he was abused himself as a boy, that he is both a perpetrator and a victim of the cycle of violence.
The
details of a person’s life don’t excuse their sins, but they do change how you
look at the person committing those sins. As easy as it is to look at a person
and see only their sinfulness, the details help you to also see the image of
God they bear. They remind you that while all you may be able to see is an
enemy, God sees a lost child needing to come home.
To
love God is to also love people, and for a follower of Christ there can be no
exceptions to that rule. Jesus loved both Samaritans and Sadducees, both John
and Judas, and so as his disciple you are called to resist the temptation of
hatred, of harshly judging the ugly broad brushes of a person’s life while
ignoring the details that bring the picture into focus. Instead of being
seduced by the easy temptation of hating those you cannot imagine loving, remember
that there is more to them than what you can see, and err on the side of
forgiveness and love.
Friday, June 24, 2016
Friday, June 17, 2016
Different But Not Definitive (Friday Devotional)
“As
many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.
There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no
longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”
- Galatians 3:27-28
If you were to see them right next to one another, a California redwood and a crepe myrtle would seem to have about as much in common as an elephant and an airplane. The top of the redwood is hundreds of feet beyond your reach; the crepe myrtle’s top can be reached by standing on your tiptoes. The rough, thick bark of a redwood is spongy to the touch; the crepe myrtle’s bark is so thin and papery that it routinely peels off, leaving branches so smooth they seem sanded down. And while the redwood bears simple evergreen needles, crepe myrtles are distinguished by their bright, beautiful flowers that bloom every summer.
The redwood and the crepe myrtle are a study in contrast, with few characteristics you could point to as similar, much less identical. But despite all their differences in size and shape, ultimately both are still trees. Both start as seeds, both grow through photosynthesis, both have roots and trunks and branches. You may be able to count one thousand distinguishing features when you see a redwood and a crepe myrtle side by side, but at the most basic level, you are still looking at two trees. Their differences highlight the beautiful diversity of trees; they do not make one any less a tree than the other.
Just like with the redwood and the crepe myrtle, we tend to quickly identify the differences between two people. He’s black, she white. He’s a Republican, she’s a Democrat. He’s got a PhD, she’s got a GED. He’s rich, she’s poor. These differences are important; they remind us of the uniqueness of each individual. But in an age of polarization, those differences not only distinguish us from one another, they divide us. To be different is to be alien, to be an outsider is to be an enemy.
This is a trap the church cannot and must not fall into, because despite all the diversity present in God’s people, all believers are ultimately one in Christ Jesus. Galatians 3:28 says, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female”—in other words, those differences which divide us are rendered ultimately irrelevant in Christ. They do not vanish the moment you become a Christian, they are simply overruled by what matters most, faith in Christ.
We can look at a redwood and a crepe myrtle and, despite all their differences, still see two trees, inextricably grouped together—as Christians, we must be able to do the same with one another, recognizing our differences while also acknowledging that they are never as definitive as what unites us. In a time when it is fashionable to hunker down with the group where you feel most comfortable and ignore or mock all the other groups, may the church reject niche Christianity and instead embrace that what binds us together is far more powerful, far more beautiful, and far more definitive than what pushes us apart.
- Galatians 3:27-28
If you were to see them right next to one another, a California redwood and a crepe myrtle would seem to have about as much in common as an elephant and an airplane. The top of the redwood is hundreds of feet beyond your reach; the crepe myrtle’s top can be reached by standing on your tiptoes. The rough, thick bark of a redwood is spongy to the touch; the crepe myrtle’s bark is so thin and papery that it routinely peels off, leaving branches so smooth they seem sanded down. And while the redwood bears simple evergreen needles, crepe myrtles are distinguished by their bright, beautiful flowers that bloom every summer.
The redwood and the crepe myrtle are a study in contrast, with few characteristics you could point to as similar, much less identical. But despite all their differences in size and shape, ultimately both are still trees. Both start as seeds, both grow through photosynthesis, both have roots and trunks and branches. You may be able to count one thousand distinguishing features when you see a redwood and a crepe myrtle side by side, but at the most basic level, you are still looking at two trees. Their differences highlight the beautiful diversity of trees; they do not make one any less a tree than the other.
Just like with the redwood and the crepe myrtle, we tend to quickly identify the differences between two people. He’s black, she white. He’s a Republican, she’s a Democrat. He’s got a PhD, she’s got a GED. He’s rich, she’s poor. These differences are important; they remind us of the uniqueness of each individual. But in an age of polarization, those differences not only distinguish us from one another, they divide us. To be different is to be alien, to be an outsider is to be an enemy.
This is a trap the church cannot and must not fall into, because despite all the diversity present in God’s people, all believers are ultimately one in Christ Jesus. Galatians 3:28 says, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female”—in other words, those differences which divide us are rendered ultimately irrelevant in Christ. They do not vanish the moment you become a Christian, they are simply overruled by what matters most, faith in Christ.
We can look at a redwood and a crepe myrtle and, despite all their differences, still see two trees, inextricably grouped together—as Christians, we must be able to do the same with one another, recognizing our differences while also acknowledging that they are never as definitive as what unites us. In a time when it is fashionable to hunker down with the group where you feel most comfortable and ignore or mock all the other groups, may the church reject niche Christianity and instead embrace that what binds us together is far more powerful, far more beautiful, and far more definitive than what pushes us apart.
Thursday, June 9, 2016
My Way or the Highway (Friday Devotional)
“It
is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now
live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave
himself for me.”
- Galatians 2:20
As Lindsey and I waited for the eighteen-wheeler in front of our car to move forward just an inch—something we’d been waiting on for twenty minutes now—our individual reactions to the predicament were markedly different. Here we sat in the mother of all traffic jams, all three lanes of the interstate blocked, and while she fumed to my right, biting her tongue to keep from saying “I told you so,” all I really felt was embarrassment and regret. After all, she had told me so.
We were traveling to a family reunion in Arkansas and had gotten a call from her parents, who had a headstart on us. They had warned us about a big accident they’d just witnessed, one that had shut down every lane of traffic. If you exit now and follow the service road, they told us, you can probably avoid the whole thing.
Lindsey and I were grateful for the warning, but we had differing ideas of how to heed it. According to Lindsey’s parents, the accident was 4 miles ahead—plenty of time, in my mind, to continue before exiting. We’d be able to pass at least one more exit, maybe two, before we needed to take one of them onto the service road. Lindsey thought differently: wouldn’t it be simpler to take the first available exit just to be safe?
As the driver, the final decision was mine, and I kept going, passing the next available exit. Three miles and zero exits later, we were sitting still, staring at the back of an eighteen-wheeler. It would be over an hour before my foot even touched the gas pedal again.
Whether you call it stubbornness, arrogance, or independence, most of us go through life convinced our way is the best way. You might be willing to listen to suggestions, to draw from the ideas of others, even to be persuaded from time to time, but ultimately it is you who makes the final decision. And like me on that interstate, far too often it is not until you’re brought to a sudden stop that you realize your way may not be best after all.
That is one of the key realizations that leads a person to faith in Christ—you understand that you are a sinner in need of salvation, so you place your trust in Christ, believing that his cross can accomplish what your good works cannot. Unfortunately, for many people the understanding that they need to repent is a onetime realization, enough to get them into baptismal waters but not enough to change anything afterwards. Too many Christians have faith in Christ, but are not faithful to Christ.
In Galatians 2:20, Paul gives a beautiful description of what life in Christ is meant to look like: “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” To paraphrase, “I’m no longer living my way, I’m following the way of Jesus!” Having faith in Christ means more than trusting what Jesus did once on a cross, it means trusting him now—even and especially when he is pointing you in a different direction than you would go on your own. May you have the humility to reject a “my way or the highway” mentality and instead follow his way.
- Galatians 2:20
As Lindsey and I waited for the eighteen-wheeler in front of our car to move forward just an inch—something we’d been waiting on for twenty minutes now—our individual reactions to the predicament were markedly different. Here we sat in the mother of all traffic jams, all three lanes of the interstate blocked, and while she fumed to my right, biting her tongue to keep from saying “I told you so,” all I really felt was embarrassment and regret. After all, she had told me so.
We were traveling to a family reunion in Arkansas and had gotten a call from her parents, who had a headstart on us. They had warned us about a big accident they’d just witnessed, one that had shut down every lane of traffic. If you exit now and follow the service road, they told us, you can probably avoid the whole thing.
Lindsey and I were grateful for the warning, but we had differing ideas of how to heed it. According to Lindsey’s parents, the accident was 4 miles ahead—plenty of time, in my mind, to continue before exiting. We’d be able to pass at least one more exit, maybe two, before we needed to take one of them onto the service road. Lindsey thought differently: wouldn’t it be simpler to take the first available exit just to be safe?
As the driver, the final decision was mine, and I kept going, passing the next available exit. Three miles and zero exits later, we were sitting still, staring at the back of an eighteen-wheeler. It would be over an hour before my foot even touched the gas pedal again.
Whether you call it stubbornness, arrogance, or independence, most of us go through life convinced our way is the best way. You might be willing to listen to suggestions, to draw from the ideas of others, even to be persuaded from time to time, but ultimately it is you who makes the final decision. And like me on that interstate, far too often it is not until you’re brought to a sudden stop that you realize your way may not be best after all.
That is one of the key realizations that leads a person to faith in Christ—you understand that you are a sinner in need of salvation, so you place your trust in Christ, believing that his cross can accomplish what your good works cannot. Unfortunately, for many people the understanding that they need to repent is a onetime realization, enough to get them into baptismal waters but not enough to change anything afterwards. Too many Christians have faith in Christ, but are not faithful to Christ.
In Galatians 2:20, Paul gives a beautiful description of what life in Christ is meant to look like: “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” To paraphrase, “I’m no longer living my way, I’m following the way of Jesus!” Having faith in Christ means more than trusting what Jesus did once on a cross, it means trusting him now—even and especially when he is pointing you in a different direction than you would go on your own. May you have the humility to reject a “my way or the highway” mentality and instead follow his way.
Friday, June 3, 2016
Hero Worship (Friday Devotional)
“Do
not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help. When their
breath departs, they return to the earth; on that very day their plans perish. Happy
are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God, who
made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them; who keeps faith
forever; who executes justice for the oppressed; who gives food to the hungry. The
Lord sets the prisoners free; the Lord opens the eyes of the blind. The Lord lifts
up those who are bowed down; the Lord loves the righteous.”
- Psalm 146:3-8
As the 8th inning drew to a close, my 10-year old body fidgeted nervously in the uncomfortable stadium seat even as my eyes locked in on the Texas Rangers bullpen. The Rangers had scored 3 runs in the 8th, staking them to a narrow 9-8 lead with three outs to go in the game, a save situation. This was a job for only one man: John Wetteland, my greatest hero.
Wetteland had been my favorite Ranger ever since I’d started following baseball two years earlier. One of the premier closers in the game, he had a flair for the dramatic that endeared him to me, often struggling with the first few hitters and putting them on base only to strike out the next three with ease. His laid back, fan-friendly demeanor off the field contrasted with his intensity on the mound, and his status as Most Valuable Player of the 1996 World Series (when he had been the New York Yankees’ closer) gave the Rangers some postseason bona fides—much needed for a team with one playoff win in franchise history. Simply put, I thought John Wetteland was the coolest man on earth.
So when he trotted in from the bullpen, I was already anxious to watch him work his magic, but an announcement over the P.A. system only increased my eagerness—a save here would give Wetteland 300 for his career, a milestone that only six closers in baseball history had reached at that point. As his biggest fan, I now had the chance to watch him make history right before my eyes.
So when Miguel Tejada grounded a base hit past the third baseman, I wasn’t concerned—it was just Wetteland being Wetteland, adding some extra excitement to what was soon to be a special occasion. When Jason Giambi, one of the best sluggers in the game, strode to the plate, I still wasn’t worried. I was certain he would be no match for my hero—not on this night, not with me in the ballpark rooting for history. So you can imagine my horror when Giambi belted the fifth pitch of that at-bat over the right field stands for a home run. The lead was lost, the save blown. There would be no milestone that night.
Blinking back tears of disappointment, I told my dad I didn’t want to stay for the rest of the game (which the Rangers actually ended up coming back to win). I just wanted to get out of there. For the first time, I was furious with John Wetteland. How could he have failed on such a special night, with his biggest fan in the ballpark and history on the line? How could he let me down like that?
That’s the trouble with hero worship—even heroes are fallible. That’s part of why Psalm 146 cautions against giving your wholehearted devotion to people, no matter how famous or impressive or powerful they are. Ultimately, even the most inspiring heroes are merely mortal, full of their own flaws and agendas and unfulfilled promises.
So the psalmist encourages believers to instead worship the Lord, to place your ultimate trust in Him. While people are mortal, He is Alpha and Omega, Creator of heaven and earth. While people inevitably break promises and fail to meet expectations, God offers truth that does not disappoint. While people look out for their own interests first, God cares even for the most vulnerable and forgotten segments of society—the oppressed, the hungry, the prisoners.
In our sinfulness, we are prone to idolatry; we have a bad habit of lifting up people higher than they should ever go, exalting their abilities and ignoring their faults. It’s no wonder that we find ourselves perpetually disappointed in these public idols—we expect a kind of perfection they were never created to reach! But where hero worship inevitably disappoints, holy worship satisfies. So rather than settling for the mortal princes of this world—whether politicians, athletes, movie stars, or millionaires—may you place your faith instead in the God whose powers and purposes transcend theirs.
- Psalm 146:3-8
As the 8th inning drew to a close, my 10-year old body fidgeted nervously in the uncomfortable stadium seat even as my eyes locked in on the Texas Rangers bullpen. The Rangers had scored 3 runs in the 8th, staking them to a narrow 9-8 lead with three outs to go in the game, a save situation. This was a job for only one man: John Wetteland, my greatest hero.
Wetteland had been my favorite Ranger ever since I’d started following baseball two years earlier. One of the premier closers in the game, he had a flair for the dramatic that endeared him to me, often struggling with the first few hitters and putting them on base only to strike out the next three with ease. His laid back, fan-friendly demeanor off the field contrasted with his intensity on the mound, and his status as Most Valuable Player of the 1996 World Series (when he had been the New York Yankees’ closer) gave the Rangers some postseason bona fides—much needed for a team with one playoff win in franchise history. Simply put, I thought John Wetteland was the coolest man on earth.
So when he trotted in from the bullpen, I was already anxious to watch him work his magic, but an announcement over the P.A. system only increased my eagerness—a save here would give Wetteland 300 for his career, a milestone that only six closers in baseball history had reached at that point. As his biggest fan, I now had the chance to watch him make history right before my eyes.
So when Miguel Tejada grounded a base hit past the third baseman, I wasn’t concerned—it was just Wetteland being Wetteland, adding some extra excitement to what was soon to be a special occasion. When Jason Giambi, one of the best sluggers in the game, strode to the plate, I still wasn’t worried. I was certain he would be no match for my hero—not on this night, not with me in the ballpark rooting for history. So you can imagine my horror when Giambi belted the fifth pitch of that at-bat over the right field stands for a home run. The lead was lost, the save blown. There would be no milestone that night.
Blinking back tears of disappointment, I told my dad I didn’t want to stay for the rest of the game (which the Rangers actually ended up coming back to win). I just wanted to get out of there. For the first time, I was furious with John Wetteland. How could he have failed on such a special night, with his biggest fan in the ballpark and history on the line? How could he let me down like that?
That’s the trouble with hero worship—even heroes are fallible. That’s part of why Psalm 146 cautions against giving your wholehearted devotion to people, no matter how famous or impressive or powerful they are. Ultimately, even the most inspiring heroes are merely mortal, full of their own flaws and agendas and unfulfilled promises.
So the psalmist encourages believers to instead worship the Lord, to place your ultimate trust in Him. While people are mortal, He is Alpha and Omega, Creator of heaven and earth. While people inevitably break promises and fail to meet expectations, God offers truth that does not disappoint. While people look out for their own interests first, God cares even for the most vulnerable and forgotten segments of society—the oppressed, the hungry, the prisoners.
In our sinfulness, we are prone to idolatry; we have a bad habit of lifting up people higher than they should ever go, exalting their abilities and ignoring their faults. It’s no wonder that we find ourselves perpetually disappointed in these public idols—we expect a kind of perfection they were never created to reach! But where hero worship inevitably disappoints, holy worship satisfies. So rather than settling for the mortal princes of this world—whether politicians, athletes, movie stars, or millionaires—may you place your faith instead in the God whose powers and purposes transcend theirs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)