Whitewashed Christians

You want to be a winner, Without taking a loss You want to be a disciple, Without counting the cost
You want to follow Jesus, But you don't want to go to the cross. Everyone wants to get to heaven Lord, Nobody wants to die.
John Fischer

All of us like the fuzzy, comfortable, milquetoast Jesus that speaks of love and peace. We deny and shy away from the hard truths that require us to submit our minds and emotions to Jesus and do what the Bible says to do. This whitewashed Christianity reveals much about our shallow faith and little about the Jesus we claim to follow.


The last straw in my first marriage was the affair my ex-wife had with the guy that fixed the tile in our house. The entire situation tested my willingness to forgive and allow for reconciliation. I kept coming back to the person of Jesus and how He forgave. We are told to follow in His steps.

Christ’s wasn’t a half-hearted forgiveness nor a lack of willingness to suffer at the hands of His enemies. Many a Christian draws a line in the sand and says, “I will only forgive up to this point.” Oddly enough those that sin against them always pass that point. The same goes for other ways in which we follow the example of Christ; our work ethic, our praying for our leaders, our loving the homeless guy in the produce department.

Galatians tells us that “(we) were called to freedom, brethren; only do not turn your freedom into an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.” Our calling is not to live the easy, shiny-on-the-outside Christian life. Ours is to be willing to live life in the power of the Holy Spirit, dying to flesh and living fully for God.

Days of Play

I’m drop dead tired and shooting for a short blog post. Darryl and I drove down to the lower desert today to watch the Amgen Tour of California. We brought our bikes along and took a short twenty-mile ride in temperatures predicted to hit 108 (they hit 111). Following that we had breakfast and then found a place on a lawn at the base of the road up to the Palm Springs Aerial Tram. We didn’t work today. We didn’t solve the world’s problems. We just had fun.


We can feel guilty about work and getting stuff done. Even on a Sunday, after church, we feel guilty because we choose a nap rather than crossing something off our huge ‘to-do’ list. When Jesus returns what will He say? I suspect He’ll ask if we loved each other. Hot on the heels of that question He may ask about our joy---since the two are inter-connected, “This is my commandment that you love one another that your joy may be full.” Fun with friends and ministry to others is big on Jesus’ list. My getting through that list of ‘to-dos’----not so much.

Real Beauty: Perception Vs. Reality

There are days I look in the mirror and see only the scars on my forehead (including this big gash that runs at an angle like something a character would have in a Raiders of the Lost Ark or a pirate movie). It’s not a beautiful face but fortunately I’ve not let that drive my self image. What we see or perceive in the mirror doesn’t correspond with who we really are (H/t Valerie). People see us differently and God sees us differently.

The classic story regarding outward beauty is that of Samuel’s choosing King David. David’s dad parades all his brothers before Samuel. You can imagine the brothers with puffed out chests as they try to look impressive. At this point God tells Samuel, “Do not look at this appearance or at the height of his stature (at which point all 5’6” of me whoops), because I have rejected him; for God sees not as man sees for man looks at the outward appearance but the Lord looks at the heart.”

Our culture puts emphasis on exactly the opposite of what God looks at. Yet ‘charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting.’ The challenge for us is to see ourselves through God’s eyes and the eyes of those that love us. That is the true measure of who we are.

Mom Was Funny About Mother's Day

Mom was always funny about Mother’s Day, birthdays and any day that meant she was the center of attention. It was palpable; part of her would have been hurt if love wasn’t shown but she wasn’t comfortable being put on the spot. God’s not like that.

As God is the perfect Father, creator and giver He delights in praise. Like my mom He doesn’t force anyone to make a phone call, write Him a card or send up a soft-spoken, “Thank you.” When the sunset is perfect, when the music hits your heart just right and when you are reminded that there is a fullness you were created to walk in He is worthy of thanksgiving.

My mother is gone now. My attitude toward Mother’s Day was how I gave thanksgiving to God. Activities that I delight in now flow from who my mother was; growing plants, appreciating music and enjoying the rich textures and tastes of food from every culture. I could have (wish I would have) recognized these gifts of character earlier and praised my mom. I didn’t. Character traits and passions I have flow from whom Father God is too. I could go deeper and praise more. I don’t.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. I’ll take some time out this year to be purposeful and give thanks. I will give thanks for who my mother was and who my God is.

Why We Travel

What kind of traveler are you? In her book, Overbooked, the Exploding Business of Travel and Tourism (heard on a radio interview) Elizabeth Becker breaks our travel into 3 categories: Consumer, Culture and Nature. Consumers are those that go travel to purchase things. An example of this would be the women in my church that go on retreat and include shopping as part of the experience. Cultural travelers are those that go to experience and learn from different people groups.

As a rule I don’t purchase gifts and memorabilia when I travel. I enjoy learning about other people and other traditions. Most I enjoy hearing individual’s stories. Thinking about it my focus in travel isn’t extremely different from the way I am at home.

I am primarily a nature traveler. I seek to see the countryside and hope for some wildlife to wander into view. Most of all though I seek travel and vacations as week long Sabbaths to regain insight and refresh my soul.

It seems the question to ask ourselves in our travelling is; Why? What is our goal in going? How does it fit into the broader story we are writing for our life? In that regard our travel should flow from who we are and what we desire to have written in our eulogy. Is my vacation an escape from the rest of my life? Travel should be an experience that stimulates and integrates perspective so that we may more deeply live life upon returning home.

Advice For All Day Events

Rebecca Rusch (Bicycling, September 2011) on all day events states, “…No matter how good or how bad you feel, it won’t last. Knowing this keeps me in check when I feel great and helps me push when I feel terrible. You will feel both. And you won’t be the only one.”

This is good life advice as well. There are days when we feel great and days we are overwhelmingly worn. We have seasons of darkness and seasons of joy. We need to check our attitude. The need is to push through on the hard days and celebrate on the good days. Knowing that life is in flux that it is not permanent will help assure proper perspective.

Not to be simplistic or to pound the pulpit on this point but it provides incentive to keep pushing. At work it is easy for me to become negative or cynical along with my co-workers. Pushing to maintain joy seems a great effort and going along with the status-quo feels much easier. My legs and spirit are ready to quit on a long bicycle ride and then there often comes a second wind. Settling for status quo is the same as giving up. Choosing being positive and joy-filled will result in that refreshing second wind.

We’re not the only ones. So we keep pushing to encourage others along the way. Yes it’s a long day. There will come a finish line when we can enter into rest.

It Was Of The Lord

    When we walk with Christ we constantly place our faith over many things which seem true. We place faith over selfishness when ‘me’ seems crucial. We place faith over experience when the Bible says one thing and experience screams otherwise. When faith says forgive we do. When faith says pray we do. When faith says all things work together for good---they do.

In the story of Samson, recounted in Judges, Samson falls for a Philistine girl and says to his parents, “She’s a hottie. Get her for me. Yeah, baby (14:4).” Then the writer puts in this little note, “his father and mother did not know it was of the Lord.”

I’ve spent the last week wrestling with this concept for various reasons. Think about it. Did God authorize Samson to pursue a relationship outside his tribe? Outside his Jewishness? There is more active here than passive. The text indicates something beyond God’s knowledge of the event. No, somehow God allowed or caused the process for His own glory and the good of Israel. How do Samson’s lust for a hottie with a body and God’s calling Samson from the womb fit together? I’m still wrestling.

The greater concept here is that things that are happening and have happened to us are ‘of the Lord.’ Those terrible decisions and dark failures are working together (still) for good. The deep hurts and scars that we’ve only told God about; those are of the Lord too. The great joys we face and the rich blessings that are so good we feel guilty about them---those too.

Each of us walks through doubt and darkness that are unique to us alone. God has adopted us and loved us deeply. Misgivings rise up triggered in part by our own brokenness; fueled by an enemy that knows the buttons to push and the images to flash.

We walk by faith and not sight. Sight was the hottie in our youth. Sight is the way the dark closes in on us today. Faith is God saying, “Do not fear; for I am with you.” All of it is of the Lord and He will cause it to work for good if we are His.

The Mystery Of The Musician

My wife and I lay listening to Ravel’s Bolero one lazy morning last week. “Why is it famous,” she asked. So we spoke of the intricacies of composition. The amazing process whereby a composer is able to hear in his head the way a symphony will sound. We pondered how it is that a conductor can hear an orchestra play a piece and know that the woodwinds are flat or that the tuba came in an eighth of a beat to early. Incomprehensible wonders to me. I was reminded of my days in high school.

In high school orchestra there were musicians and there was me. The musicians in my class amazed me. Off the top of their heads they were able to play a melody in a different clef. They somehow could, by sight, rewrite a stanza ‘a half-step down’ or play it in a different key. My brain wasn’t able to hear the music apart from when it was played. They spoke a different language that I was not able to learn.

Still it is amazing that most of us can appreciate music in many forms. We are able to predict certain styles and we innately know basic rules that music follows. I continued to think about music. How it is that a brain can know when a note is perfect. How do some people have perfect pitch? It is not something one can see. A musician’s brain hears the correct note and somehow runs it through a grid then verifies that the note is correct. How can a deaf musician write symphonies knowing what it will sound like though not hearing it in real time. How beautiful the gift of music!

Most of us are common folk that say of music what the man said of art, “I don’t know anything about it but I know what I like.” In his mind Ravel heard a musical refrain and in humor or seriousness decided to echo that same refrain through each section of the orchestra. That he could do it and stir our hearts in the process is magic. That we can enjoy music like that on a slow lazy morning is enchantment as well.

Inspiration and The Writing Process

Resistance will tell you anything to keep you from doing your work.  It will perjure, fabricate, falsify; seduce, bully, cajole.  Resistance is protean.  It will assume any form, if that's what it takes to decieve you.  It will reason with you like a lawyer or jam a nime-millimeter in your face like a stickup man.....Steven Pressfield, The War Of Art

I’m going to let you in on an uncomfortable little secret. Before I sit down to blog I consider quitting. My mind and my emotion tell me I shouldn’t write. A little voice reels off a list of reasons, “Almost everybody writes better than you. You won’t say anything original. It doesn’t make a difference. Who are you anyway that you think you have something to say?” That voice is really good at presenting reasons not to write. Pressfield calls this Resistance. His exhortation is to show up anyway. So I do.

When I set my butt onto the beat up blue office chair at my desk something amazing happens. Often I sit down with no idea of what I’m going to write on. I’ve settled on a maxim from Hemingway and I write down one true thing (H/t Glenn). This usually gets me started. I type and words that scaffold the ‘true thing’ flow from someplace. I do not say they flow from my brain because that’s not how it seems. They do pop into my brain but they seem to show up out of nowhere. Pressfield calls this ‘the muse,’ most agree that it’s some intersect between talent and spirit. To me it makes sense that a superior Creator would allow for or give His people the ability to create on a much smaller scale, as we are created in His image. However it works ideas and images flow through me and onto a Word document.

The piece begins to come together and the ideas keep coming. There are junctures where a phrase or concept will percolate and in my gut I know it works but logically to my mind it seems not right. In these instances I go with my gut believing that to be, again, some interface between spirit, my subconscious and my rational processes all working together…which leads to a deeper thought….

What must it have been like for the writers of the Bible to write under inspiration? It would be like my experience but on steroids. In that case they wrote God breathed scripture attested to by the Holy Spirit and formed in them by each step and experience that God had led them through. Theirs wasn’t an interface with self or (small s) spirit but with the Living God Himself. I can not imagine.

With my butt still plopped down in the big blue chair the process culminates in lashing together all the pieces and ropes to make one sturdy concise piece. This too seems otherworldly since I often fail to see the whole while working on each little section. Even the ending seems to come from a center that isn’t mine; mine are just the hands that tie it together to strengthen the piece into one.

Tonight It All Seems Possible

Me and the wife pull up wood chairs to the kitchen table and pour a half glass of Napa Valley wine for each other. We laugh and talk over a simple salad, romaine lettuce, feta cheese and our favorite dressing. We open the screen door, finally fixed, to the back yard. The neighborhood cat, brown and striped, scampers away to a place without humans.

The wind roars through the valley announcing the coming storm. The plants are shaken back and forth like a man caught in a whirlpool. Yesterday summer shouted, “I am here,” ninety-five hot degrees forcing itself in upon all of us; we raise our hands to shield our faces---we aren’t ready. The wind runs like horses in battle forcing summer into retreat. Brisk refreshing air blows in through the screen door.

Need To Breathe singing from speakers, gospel and positive possibilities. Another glass of wine, the wind rattles the shades. Smoke from fires down the hill color the sky. Storm clouds compliment, creating a dark circle surrounded still by sunlight. The air cools, the wind blows.

Looking through the screen door it all looks beautiful. Zephyrs hint at revival to come. The smell of moisture in the air gives hope that the fires will abate. We throw our heads back and laugh. Tonight everything seems possible.