JESUS

What characterizes Christianity in the modern world is its odd-ness. Christianity is home for people who are out of step, unfashionable, unconventional and counter-cultural. As Peter says, »strangers and aliens.«

I pastor the slowest growing church in America. We started twelve years ago with 90 members and have un-grown to 30. We’re about as far as you can get from a »user friendly« church—not because our congregation is unfriendly, but because our services are unpredictable, unpolished and inconsistent.

We’re an »odd-friendly« church, attracting unique and different followers of Christ who make every service a surprise. We refuse to edit oddness and incompetence from our services. We believe our oddness matters. We want our service filled with mistakes and surprises, because life is full of mistakes and surprises.

One Sunday morning, during the time for prayer requests, a member began describing the critical illness of her father. Because she was close to her father, her request for prayer was frequently interrupted by tears. Those around her reached out a hand or nodded with sadness. Some found their eyes filling with tears as well. The woman finished her request as best as she could.

Seated in the front row was Sadie—a young woman with Down’s syndrome. Sadie stood and walked up the aisle until she saw the woman in the middle of her row. Stepping over the feet of other people in the aisle, Sadie reached the woman, bent down on her knees, laid her head on the woman’s lap, and cried with her.

Sadie »inconvenienced« an entire row of people, stepped on their shoes, and forced them to make room for her … but none of us will ever forget that moment. Sadie is still teaching the rest of us what the odd compassion of Christ’s church looks like.

Someone said »you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you odd.« Whoever made that statement understood what it means to be a follower of Christ. Followers of Christ are odd. Oddness is important because it’s the quality that adds color, texture, variety, and beauty to the human condition. Christ doesn’t make us the same. What He does is affirm our differentness.

Oddness is important because the most dangerous word in Western culture is »sameness.« Sameness is a virus that infects members of industrialized nations and causes an allergic reaction to anyone who’s different. This virus affects the decision-making part of our brain, resulting in an obsession with making the identical choices that everyone else is making.

Sameness is a disease with disastrous consequences—differences are ignored, uniqueness is not listened to, our gifts are cancelled out, and the place where life, passion, and joy reside are snuffed out.

Sameness is the result of sin. Sin does much more than infect us with lust and greed; it flattens the human race, franchises us, attempts to make us all homogenous. Sameness is the cemetery where our distinctiveness dies. In a sea of sameness, no one has an identity.

But Christians do have an identity. Aliens! We’re the odd ones, the strange ones, the misfits, the outsiders, the incompatibles. Oddness is a gift of God that sits dormant until God’s spirit gives it life and shape. Oddness is the consequence of following the One who made us unique, different … and in His image!

One of my son’s friends (I’ll call him Greg), recently celebrated his 28th birthday. Greg’s parents weren’t happy with his life choices, especially his decision to live with his girlfriend. Knowing his parents’ displeasure, Greg and his girlfriend decided to get married, and they called his parents to give them the good news. »We want to be married in Minnesota, so the entire family can come.« Greg’s parents were happy, but restrained.

While they were planning the wedding, Greg’s girlfriend discovered she was pregnant. Realizing the coming pregnancy would upset his parents, Greg decided to call off the wedding and use the money they were going to spend on the wedding for their new baby instead.

Greg and Diane opted for a courthouse wedding with a justice of the peace presiding. Only my son and his girlfriend witnessed the union.

A couple of weeks after the »wedding,« my son and his girlfriend were with some friends, and the subject of Greg’s marriage came up. Everyone concluded that it was more like a »non-wedding«—impersonal and isolated. As Greg and Diane’s friends talked, their conviction grew. No wedding should be an impersonal, isolated, bureaucratic, legal transaction. Weddings should be celebrated. The couple should be surrounded with the support and care of family and friends.

The group looked at each other and almost in unison said the same thing: »Why don’t we give Greg and Diane the wedding they never had?« As soon as the words left their mouths, they knew what had to be done. Even though Greg and Diane were legally married, the group decided to gift them with a »real« wedding. The date was set, both families were called, and, surprisingly, all agreed to come to the surprise wedding at their own expense. Sixty friends and family were involved in a conspiracy of grace.

To ensure that the couple was available on their new wedding day, Greg and Diane were invited to my son’s home for a »dress up« dinner on the day of the wedding conspiracy. When the couple arrived for dinner, a group of Diane and Greg’s friends kidnapped each of them separately and each was given the bachelor and bachelorette party they’d never had. The »bride« and »groom« were separately driven to a secluded place where, seated in a circle with their same-gender friends, they were asked a series of questions like, »Now that you have been married for three months, what mistakes have you made? How can we help you in your marriage?« Both the young husband and wife were given a picture of their spouse and asked to write on the back of the photo all the reasons they loved that person.

When the individual parties were finished, Greg and Diane thought that the surprise was over. You can imagine their shock when they were returned to the house, only to discover 60 of their family and friends waiting for them, laughing, yelling »Surprise!!!« The hugging and the crying began. It took Greg and Diane a long time to stop crying and after they regained their composure, the entire group moved into the back yard surrounded with flowers where a minister was waiting. The couple exchanged vows, each parent vowed their support, and each friend walked by and whispered a blessing to the couple. When the service was completed, there wasn’t a dry eye anywhere. Everyone left knowing they had participated in a moment of grace. This wedding had »Jesus« written all over it.

Please tell me why God allowed over 6000 innocent people to be murdered on September 11, 2001?

Answer?

I don’t know.

Where was God?

I don’t know.

When Leslie Weatherhead, a minister in London during the Second World War, was asked by a member in his congregation where God was when his son was killed in a bombing raid, Weatherhead replied, »I guess he was where he was when his son was killed.«

And where was that?

I don’t know.

Isn’t »I don’t know« too ambiguous? Isn’t »I don’t know« an unconvincing way to convince young people Christianity is true?

Actually, »I don’t know« confirms one critical truth about Christianity…it’s a mystery!

Jesus loves us, right?

Of course.

So if he loves us, he protects us, right?

If he loves us…he is with us.

Jesus can heal, can’t he? And perform miracles?

Of course. Just not very often.

Why?

I don’t know.

What about God’s will?

My youth director says we’re supposed to seek God’s will. There are lots of verses in the Bible that tell us to do God’s will, aren’t there? God does have a will, right?

Absolutely.

Trouble is God’s will is not like a to-do list. It’s more like an undecipherable code. The Bible definitely gives us some clues about the code of God’s will, which means we can figure out part of it; but, because it’s God, we will never crack the code.

Clues?

Yeah, like, follow me, serve me, love me, live by my commandments, point people to me.

That’s it? Just follow me, serve me, love me and trust me?

That’s about it.

What do you mean »that’s about it?«

You don’t want to know.

Yes I do.

We get a cross.

Cross????? What does that mean?

I don’t know.

But God does heal people, doesn’t he?

Certainly.

And miracles do happen, don’t they.

Right.

So we can count on God helping us, can’t we?

We can count on God being God.

Which means…??

I don’t know.

And what does that mean?

It means we can trust God if we lost someone in the WTC or if they survived.

It means we can trust God when we have cancer and when we’re healed.

We can trust God if we survive a natural disaster or if we don’t.

We can trust God when we get a glimpse of Divine will and when we don’t.

We can trust God in the answers and the questions, in the good and the bad, in the light and the dark, when we’re winning and when we’re losing.

We can trust God even when the Truth doesn’t answer all our questions or leaves us with even more questions.

And, most importantly, just beyond our »I don’t know’s,« Jesus is waiting with open arms to snuggle us in the mystery of his love.

In his famous book Mere Christianity, Lewis makes this statement, »A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic – on the level with a man who says he is a poached egg – or he would be the devil of hell. You must take your choice. Either this was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us.«
Who is Jesus of Nazareth to you? Your life on this earth and for all of eternity is affected by your answer to this question.

All other religions [such as Hinduism, Buddhism. Confucianism, Shintoism, and Islam] were founded by human beings and are based on man-made philosophies, rules and norms for behavior. Take the founders of these religions out of both their disciplines and practices of worship and little would change.

But take Jesus Christ out of Christianity, and there would be nothing left. Biblical Christianity is not just a philosophy of life, nor an ethical standard, nor obedience to religious ritual. True Christianity is based on a vital, personal relationship with a Risen Founder who is our living Savior and Lord

Godly people don't often feel godly, and followers of Christ don't often feel like followers of Christ.

I was talking with a friend of mine this week. She talks to people about God. Every day she is talking, writing, reading, and counseling about Christianity and spirituality. She said to me, »I am sick of God, sick of religion, sick of talking to people about God. Even while I am talking to someone about their faith, even while I am listening to someone through their tears tell me how much I have helped them, all I can think about is getting out of here and watching mindless television.«

Is this person a hypocrite? A phony? I don’t think so.

There is the »seen self« and the »secret self.« Although the secret self in her is very real, she cannot reveal it to the people she ministers with.

My wife and I were watching a movie a few weeks ago. Truthfully, my wife was watching, and I was desperately trying to stay awake. When the movie was over, I immediately said, »Let’s go to bed.« Silence. I looked over and her face was covered with tears. She was an emotional basketcase. When she could find the words, she told me that the movie had moved her on so many levels she didn’t know where to begin. What was going on? My wife, obviously, had no idea.

Clearly, her secret self was responding to that movie.

One of the members of my family shocked everyone one night by saying something like, »I am so tired of everyone thinking I am so strong and independent. I am not strong. I am weak. I am afraid. I am alone. My independence is my hiding place so the real me can’t be seen.« This family member was talking about that part of them that had been kept a secret.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer is known for his martyrdom at the hands of SS during the Second World War. The author of The Cost Of Discipleship. Bonhoeffer is held up as a model of courage and spirituality. But was he as courageous as he appeared? He wrote a poem about that very question titled »Who Am I?«

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which
other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself
know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick,
like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though
hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colors, for flowers,
for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness,
for neighborliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends
at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying,
at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Apparently Bonhoeffer faced the same dilemma we face. There was the part of him that everyone saw and admired, and there was the secret part of him that only Bonhoeffer and God knew about. I believe all of us face that same dilemma. Whatever people believe about us, we all are cursed with a secret self—a self no one knows, a self who can only be revealed to the closest of friends, if even to them.

Somewhere in the side streets of the soul is a place where this secret self lives. It is a place where our fear and loneliness congregate, where our insecurities run wild.

It is the home of the exhausted self, the burnt-out self, the sick-and-tired self, the angry self, the hurt self, the abandoned self. It is the part of us that is so fresh, so current, so tentative, so fragile that we cannot allow that self to be seen, except by the most trusted of friends, because its raw reality is just too much for others to see. It is the alone part of us that is meant to be alone because it’s too fragile, too unstable. It is the self that is present when we don’t feel worthy to take communion, the self that visits in the midst of depression.

I have decided that the secret self is where Jesus is. Conversion does not get rid of the secret self; instead, Jesus becomes a friend to it. We can live fully and honestly in the presence of the real tension between both selves.

It is important to recognize this because, often, the Church tries to make us believe that real Christians don’t have secret selves, that genuine believers don’t have parts of them which disbelieve, that mature Christians never get angry at God or regret their decision to follow Christ, and that godly people don’t get sick of God.

None of this is true. Godly people don’t often feel godly, and followers of Christ don’t often feel like followers of Christ.

This is the glory of genuine faith: In the presence of doubts, we believe; taunted by our fears, we act fearlessly; surrounded by our weaknesses, we still stand; weary, burned-out, exhausted to the point of betrayal, we cling to faith.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, martyr, »restless, longing, sick, struggling for breath, trembling, weary and empty,« faces death with dignity and courage, strength and honor, and walks confidently into the open arms of his God who, it turns out, is a friend to Bonhoeffer’s secret self... as well as to the self everyone admired.

What happens when people like you and me no longer believe in God? When the reality of God is not reality in our everyday lives? When the decisions I make are not affected by the presence of God? Does my practical atheism cause me to become an alcoholic, drug-soaked, pornographic, adulterous leacher? Or does the absence of God cause something far more sinister, far more frightening? Does God’s absence make me sin, or does it make me...dull, lifeless, passionless? Does it rob me of the joy and wonder of meaningful work?

I would like to suggest that what a pagan culture does first is steal the wonder and mystery from life. A pagan culture methodically takes away risk, danger, spontaneity, intuition, passion, chance, threat, and peril. We become the slaves of predictability, rules, policies, uniformity, and sameness. We learn how to teach, but we are not really teachers. We learn how to be ministers, but we are not really ministers. We train ourselves to be manicurists, doctors, engineers, athletes, but we are not any of those things. We have the training. We have the title. We have the credentials. But what is gone is the passion, the sense of belonging, the pleasure, the joy that comes from knowing you are called.

Jesus died on the cross to save us from our sin, sure. But I would suggest that more than Jesus saving us from our sins, He saved us from meaningless, boring, predictable, shallow, empty, dehumanizing work. I am convinced that what characterizes people who know Jesus is not their lack of sin, but the presence of a radical, wild, mysterious calling from God.

I am embarrassed to say that until a couple of years ago, I had never seen a book by Arthur Gordon, A Touch Of Wonder. From the moment it was given to me, it has been a rare friend, a lingual mentor—a treasure I keep returning to. (I hope we all have books like that—cover faded and worn, the pages brown and cluttered with markings and hilighter, sprinkled with folded corners to mark those passages that have marked our souls.)

Where was I? Oh, yes. In A Touch of Wonder, there is a wonderful dialogue between Arthur Gordon and an old man he meets on the tawny marshes of the Georgia coast. The man is somewhat mysterious, shaman-like. There is magnetism about him, a gentle authority, an attractive strangeness, a holy knowledge about life. The old man is a teacher, and Gordon asks him what he teaches. »In the school catalog they call it English,« the old man says. »But I like to think of it as a course in magic—in the mystery and magic of words...Words—just little black marks on paper. Just sounds in the empty air. But think of the power they have! They can make you laugh or cry, love or hate, fight or run away. They can heal or hurt.«

Oh, for an English teacher for whom words are magic, filled with mystery and power—an English teacher whose love of words overflows into his or her heart and soul, and whose students are not taught, they are caught, captured by words, intrigued by syntax, entranced by grammar, seduced into the mysterious land of sounds and meanings.

Arthur Gordon’s teacher/friend had found his calling. Teaching, for this teacher, was not a job. He was doing what he was made to do, what he was born to do—the only thing he could do.

The mission of the church in America is not only saving souls, it is saving people from a life without calling. The Church, through Jesus, must save its people from a life of meaningless, unfulfilling empty work.

A member of my church does women’s nails. I doubt if there are many manicurists better than Elaine. Elaine recently told me, »Mike, I don’t do nails. Doing nails is nothing more than putting stuff on the ends of women’s fingers and painting it. What I do is listen to women talk. I cry. I laugh. I share in their pain. And I talk, too. After all, the women can’t go anywhere. Their hands are stuck in front of me for two hours. In fact, if I have a customer who doesn’t like to talk, I suggest that she go somewhere else, because I don’t just do nails.« Elaine is a minister—ministering with acrylic and polish—becoming a friend, confidant, listener, affirmer, counselor, advice-giver, evangelist. Elaine is the Minister of Manicures. What a calling!

The Door’s accountant is also a Vice President of Youth Specialties. Steve is a CPA with a master’s degree in accounting from UCLA. Most accountants have allowed what they do to shape who they are. As a result, most accountants look like accountants: glasses, suit and tie, conservative, afraid to move outside the world of numbers, taxes, and financial policies.

Not Steve. He looks more like a camp counsellor. Steve may be a CPA, but he is not like any CPA you’ve ever met. Steve is a Tamer Of Numbers. He doesn’t allow numbers to control and frighten all the employees. Rather than net profits and account payables being allowed to run wild, Steve captures them and tames them, so that the employees feel comfortable around them. Steve has managed to make the numbers of our company an adventure—a story that he tells with wonder and excitement. He is the Storyteller Of Numbers.

A friend of mine spends his weekends and summers directing a junior high camp in the mountains. I asked him one day to describe his job. He replied, »I am a Memory Maker. I make memories for kids. In a world where good memories for children—memories that will live with them the rest of their lives.« A Memory Maker. You won’t find that on any list of approved classes for recreation majors. But that is because this friend doesn’t have a »job.« Rather, he is living in the calling of God.

I am always amazed when I read the story of Matthew, the wealthy tax collector—a man who had it made. Sure, Matthew was hated and feared by many, but he had it all—power, great wealth, and the support of the state. Jesus walked by and casually said to Matthew, »Follow me.« Ridiculous. Who in Matthew’s position would respond to some vagabond? But Matthew does exactly that! He immediately left his wealth and power and followed Jesus. What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. Matthew was called. Every bone in his body, every part of his being stood on tiptoe when the master spoke those words. »Follow Me!« Matthew’s ears tingled with excitement, his heart thundered with anticipation, his mind was filled with electricity. He had been called. He didn’t know it until that moment, but he had been waiting all his life to hear those words.

May God capture our unspoken dreams. May Jesus speak those words that cause our souls to stand on tiptoe. May each of us find our calling in Jesus.