When We Can’t Forgive

I have a friend who has been deeply hurt by someone important in his life.  And knowing what happened to him it is very easy to sympathize with his pain.  What she did was very hurtful and his anger was justified in some ways in the beginning. I think anger is a very important and necessary part of the grieving and healing process, for a time being.

But lately we’ve had some conversations about it and he’s still angry.  It been several years in fact since the original events happened.  And now every encounter with her is colored by the original events.  I recently asked him when he would let it go and he said several times, “I just can’t forgive her.”

When someone says, “I can’t forgive that person,” it’s easy to assume that they mean, “I won’t forgive.”  And sometimes this is true.  But I was thinking about times in my life that I have felt that way.  And I now wonder if the statement is more often a truly ironic statement.  I wonder if at these moments when I was essentially saying I won’t, I was really meaning I can’t.

Because how often do we really practice forgiveness?  Even as a church?  When a leader falls aren’t we more likely to crucify him than restore him?  When someone “falls” do we really take Jesus at his word when he said, forgive seventy times seven?

Forgiveness is just not a paradigm in which the world (and often the church) lives in.  We practice saying, “I’m sorry,” but how often is this for expediency because we need something from the other person or we don’t like people being mad at us.  And when the offense is high enough, thus seriously jeopardizing our reputation, it is just as easy to abandon the relationship.

Forgiveness essentially means, “to leave behind.”  But to leave offense behind means abandoning the very thing that allows us to be angry in the first place.  And the anger just feeds our desire to strike back harder the original offense.  And if we’ve never practiced forgiveness, how are we going to be able to do it when it is really required in our lives.  So without the understanding of how to forgive, we are essentially locked in a state of oppression…of our own free will.

Forgiveness requires love.  It requires stepping into our own humanity and seeing with eyes of compassion.  It means letting go of our right to remain wounded for the sake of sympathy.  It means stepping into our own maturity as human beings and seeing the person who hurt us as infinitely more valuable than any harm they could do to us.

And it is so easy for us to say, “Come on. Isn’t that a little hyperbole?  Isn’t that stretching it a little too far? But this is exactly what Jesus did on the cross.  He took the posture that no matter what we could do to him, we were still worth it.

I use to always get bent out of shape when I would read the way Jesus approached forgiveness.  He said things like:

14For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. 15But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. (Matthew 6:14-15)

That’s just harsh. But what if Jesus understood that if we can’t forgive others we’re creating a standard that we will then use on ourselves.  Or that the standard we are using on others is indicative of the standard we are already using on ourselves.  Doesn’t forgiveness then essentially mean to release the very thing that is killing us?

And so when someone says, “I can’t, is it more restorative to approach them with an understanding that they are truly stuck, that the statement is indicative of something deeply troubling in their life?

Interested in your thoughts.

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The Brilliance of Forgiveness

What if part of our own restoration really lies in the palm of our hands?

I had a very deep conversation with a friend of mine recently about forgiveness.  He was wrestling with the squabbles he and his wife were having.  It was nothing major, but the minor stuff was building into something major.  And I asked him if he could own his stuff first.  Instantly he retorted back, “Not until she owns her stuff first.”

And for several weeks the issues continued to build.  In fact, he wasn’t just conscious of the squabbles.  He was now fully aware that she wasn’t doing anything about them. His anger was continuing to grow as he recognized her lack of action.

You can easily see where this is going, can’t you.

We met for coffee because he was suffering some of the consequences of his own anger.  They seemed to constantly get into fights.  And I asked him, “Have you dealt with your own stuff first?”  I could see his mind twirl, consciously processing a new reality that had not crossed his mind.

“No,” he said.  “I want her to take care of her stuff first.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he responded.

I sat across the table from him recognizing that I knew that moment so clearly in my life.  The child in me wants others to act first.  I refuse to move even at the expense of my own restoration.  My pride wells up inside of me asking the world to bow at my feet.  I didn’t say anything after that because my friend was lost in his thoughts.  We sipped coffee and then had to go.

About two weeks later I ran into my friend and he had this big smile on his face.  He was standing with his wife and his arm was tightly wrapped around her.  Something had changed.  I walked up to him and gave him a big hug and whispered in his ear, “What happened?”

“I chose to seek her forgiveness,” came the reply.  Turns out my friend had turned a corner at the coffee shop.  He went home and sat his wife down and sought out her forgiveness, nothing more.  He owned his stuff.  And what surprised him was that the moment he opened the door for himself, he inadvertently opened it for her.  She instantly sought out his forgiveness.  The moment he gave up his own stuff, he got what he wanted.  It was for my friend a reunion of sorts for his marriage.

What is it about showing the other person the third way, the way of Jesus that is so restorative?  And why is it so hard to make the first move?  I hate that.  It never ceases to surprise me when we seek forgiveness, we almost instantly releases the other person to do the same.  We hold in our hands the capacity to bring restoration to the world around us, yet we hold on thinking it protects us. But when we let go, owning our own stuff, we seem to gain so much more than we ever imagined.

Listening to: Love Remains The Same by Gavin Rossdale

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A Distinct Aroma

Is what makes us unique as followers of Jesus our capacity to be perfect or that we are the first to forgive?

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The Limits Of My Love

This post is probably going to push your buttons.  And in some respects I want it to.

What is that one thing that, that one situation you could find yourself in that you would not respond in love?  It’s called the exception.  We all have our exceptions, our limits.  And they usually involve people.

Jamie Arpin-Ricci asks a really important question. “How Do We Love The “Worst Of Sinners”?  His example is the pedophile living in the midst of his community.  The pedophile is that one example our minds run to as an common example of when it instinctively makes sense to choose protection or punitive justice over love.  “These people” need to be kept in check.  It’s just easier to push away the pedophile, to the outskirts of town where he can’t do any harm.  It’s easy to understand the natural inclination to want to protect our children from further harm.  I get this feeling deeply as a father of three children.

And I’m not just speaking this from the outside.  I actually know two men who were pedophiles.  When I was a young teen, I was the active target (unknowingly) of not one but two pedophiles.  One was a man who discipled me and a group of boys in our church and one was my coach.  Both were Christians. Neither got to me and both were caught after having molested a boy.

And I look back now and ask, what does restoration look like for these men?  Is it isolation and punishment? Is it an island? Is my own restoration found in becoming judge, jury and even executioner? And it’s not just about the exception.  It’s never really about the worst case is it?  Each moment I encounter someone who has hurt me, or someone around me, I am faced with a possibility of being their judge.  And there is an almost universally, natural inclination we picked up in the Garden to push those who do harm away or worse to strike back.  Neither answer brings restoration.

What if the exception is the problem?  What if when we hold out for that one exception we unknowingly create one for ourselves, that we then allow others to use against us.  Jesus said:

Matthew 7:2 – For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

What if this was to protect us as much as restore us?  What if Jesus was trying to tell us, “Don’t create that exception because your own restoration is found just beyond the exception”?  To love, which I hold is the best expression of our design as humans and the reflection of our own wholeness comes on the other side of the cross.  And the cross had no exception.  If it did, it would first apply to us.  And do we really want an exception for ourselves?  To hold onto an exception was to hold onto the very thing that kept us from being restored.

I find the tension lies not just in what pedophiles (or anyone) have done but that what they have done reveals the limits of our own willingness to love, which then reveals the gap between who we are designed to be and what we currently are. And we don’t like this awareness, do we?  We don’t like seeing our own brokenness.  And the question then becomes for me, what is the real problem: that they have done something I will likely not suffer the consequences for…or, that I will not love to the extent that God loved me.

One of my favorite verses in Scripture is Hosea 11:9:

“I will not carry out my fierce anger, nor will I turn and devastate Ephraim.
For I am God, and not man—the Holy One among you. I will not come in wrath.

I love it because God reveals something deeply important about wholeness.  The whole response was always to choose love and restoration.  This is the cross, the willingness to choose forgiveness over retribution.  The cross revealed that there were no limits to love, that it would go all the way.  Wholeness was to choose love in any given circumstance, even the exception.

Love sees beyond what the person has done, essentially our depravity, and helps uncover the person’s dignity.  And a lot of times this meant suffering.  It meant standing with the saints and sinners, the tax collectors and adulterers, the child molesters and pedophiles and say, “What you have done does not define who you are.”

What if every moment, every encounter with brokenness is an opportunity to forgive and show them the love that looks like the cross, to reveal a kingdom that has no exception?  And the truth is, I want to be part of that kingdom.

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Resurrect Me

This is the story of my ongoing resurrection.  And sometimes I don’t like it.

“I do not believe Christians are called to believe in the resurrection of Christ.  I believe we are called to be the resurrection of Christ.  To be the site where resurrection takes place.”

This quote, from an interview with Peter Rollins, has been sitting in the back of my mind since I read it.

The truth is, I want to be done.  I don’t want to be in process.  I don’t want to be reminded tomorrow by a still, small voice of how I am participating in my own destruction.  I want to be complete and whole.

Sometimes I “feel His pleasure” and I sit back reveling in his grace.  I bask in the glory of love and the fruit of when I participate.  I sit back and enjoy His hand in my life, shaping me, molding me, producing wonderful fruit that is so enjoyable and tasty.  This is the life I was designed for.  This is the life I want to lead.

And then I go and screw it all up.  I bite right into the temptation to strike back at my neighbor or brother.  I lose site of who I am.  And these moments invite me to judge myself, to take His place on the judgment seat and crucify myself.  Each moment that my brokenness rears its ugly head, I am invited to wonder if He still loves me.  The voices inside my head shout very loudly, “How can you still love me?”  Because grace is such an unnatural thing.  Its stupid good.

And at that moment, the second temptation is to fake it.  It’s just easier to put on a happy face and pretend that everything is fine, to hold onto the condemnation that destroys my heart.  On the outside everything is fine.  On the inside my heart feels like it is being crushed.  And what is really funny, or sad depending on your point of view, is that everyone around me can see it.  They can see the stale aftertaste of a life fermenting in its own crap.  It’s just so obvious.

This is the moment of resurrection.  This is the moment when my Father calls me to the road less traveled, to participate with him in my restoration.  This is the moment of trust when I need, no want, to believe that grace really is the rule of life.  And as I take the risk, He then he gently takes my hand and leads me to the mercy seat, reminding me that the cross is still reigning supreme.  He reminds me that to harm others is to harm myself.  To love others is to love myself.  Which one do I choose to participate in?

And this is the thing.  Resurrection is an ongoing process.  It’s didn’t just happen but is happening in my life.    I’m still a work in progress.  It requires me to admit that I’m broken, that I don’t have it all together, that I still have work to do.  I can’t hide.  I can’t fake it.  I have to trust that He establishes me, not my neighbor.

So resurrect me Father, so that I may reveal your glory.

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Why We Don’t Like Grace

I have come to the conclusion that a lot of people within the church don’t really like grace. It calls us to wrestle with stuff we don’t like, stuff like control and forgiveness. Let me explain.

A while ago, I had someone really hurt me. And the moment it happened something inside of me screamed out for justice. I wanted to rail back at this person and lash out. I wanted to rain down on this person the justice that his action demanded. And then this person did something that I really didn’t like. They asked for forgiveness. At that very moment I was staring the Gospel in the face. Something inside of me didn’t want to. I wanted to be mad.

And yet at that moment, I heard God’s still small voice say, “This is your moment. This is what will redefine who you are. To forgive is to become who you are.” I was holding onto a judgment that ultimately I was not really prepared to hold. And love was calling me to look beyond the hurt and to see the human.

And the reality is that its just so much easier to hold onto the pain. But isn’t the pain killing us? Isn’t the poison pill that we wanted to give someone else get instantly ingested into our own system?

We don’t like grace because it takes away our right to be angry. When God forgives me He’s revealing the standard of His kingdom. And I am called reciprocate. And we don’t want to do that. We want to be angry. We want justice. We want God to rain down fury on those who hurt us.

Grace levels the playing field in ways we don’t like. It takes away our ability to control others because we no longer get to use the idea of justice in a way that can control people. Grace redefines justice. It says that mercy is the more restorative approach. It takes away our command to God to end those who hurt us. God simply points to the cross and says, “Am I really mad? You decide. I can’t give you any more than that.”

And we’re left with this strange reality that the problem is really us. We don’t want to let go of our condemnation because it has become this strange tool to control the world around us. It feeds our sense of justice when someone hurts us. It fuels our sense of fury when we contemplate the abandonment, the rape, the molestation, the beating, the lies, the divorce, and the rejection. It allows us to play god.

Grace chucks all of that. It turns the tables on us takes away our defenses. It says, “You are worth more to me than your own sense of justice. You are worth more to me than condemnation.” Because when we judge, we’re really judging ourselves, which always leads to condemnation.

But to embrace that statement requires letting go of our own wounds. To embrace grace means applying it to everyone, not just us. And we simply don’t like that.

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This post is part of a Community Synchroblog

Alan @ The Assembling of the Church: Community Is Unnatural Today

Jason @ Godfidence.org: Community:A Synchroblog

Jeff @ Loosing My Religion: Thoughts On Building Authentic Christian Community

Glenn @ Re-Dreaming The Dream: Community: The Dilemma

Kathy @ The Carnival In My Head: Equality Is An Action Word

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The Other Son

One of my favorite stories in Scripture is the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Some call it the parable of the Loving Father. And easily missed is the story of other son.

I don’t think the story is complete without the other son. He provides so much emotion and context for how people can feel when God exhibits profound mercy. The other son is the good son, the son that did it right, the son that did what he was supposed to do. The other son has truth on his side.

And I realized while reading this that grace and mercy are an offense to religion. They are offensive to my carefully constructed attempts to please God on my own. Mercy doesn’t make sense. It requires me to think outside of what I assume is justice.

And this is the journey within the kingdom. Which son do we connect with? Which son do we most feel like?

The other son makes me ask a question. Will we be surprised IF God chooses to restore all of His kingdom in the latter days? Will we be disappointed or even angry if His grace extends beyond our measure, the one that we have constructed? Will we respond, “How could you forgive so and so? How could you let HIM enter?”

And will we have any leg to stand on if He doesn’t do it our way?

BTW: After I wrote this I found this from Tracy.

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Luke 15:11-32

The Parable of the Lost Son

11Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. 12The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.

13“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. 14After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.

17“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.’ 20So he got up and went to his father.
“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

21“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

22“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

25“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’

28“The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

31” ‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ “

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Restorative Spiritual Healing

JR Woodward posted a great post on the subject of brokenness and healing and it got me all stirred up…in a good way. Much of the “work” we do in Thrive groups is restorative. We’re not just filling up on truth but we’re also removing the obstacles to truth. And Good Will Hunting is for me on the best examples of this simple spiritual formation practice.

In the beginning of the movie we meet Will Hunting. He’s a math genius with a penchant for destroying himself. And his genius attracts the attention of Professor Lambeau who want to use his gift for their agenda. But as a condition of the courts, to “use” him, Lambeau must help him. And so he sends Will to all of the “best” psychiatrists around Boston, hoping that he will get “fixed”. Each of these professionals focuses on “fixing” Will, who is so brilliant that he refuses to play their game, and even makes them look foolish in the process. He calls their bluff and destroys each relationship before it gets started.

As a last resort, Professor Lambeau calls his old college roommate Sean. It’s obviously a last resort. But Sean is broken too. And during his first encounter with Will, Sean refuses to play his game, even pushing back…a lot. He’s not trying to fix him. He’s willing to love him, even in spite of all his crap and childish games.

And this is the brilliance of this movie. Love earns the right to be heard. It begins with brokenness and the willingness to walk through the chaos, not for the sake of chaos but to get through it. Over the next hour of the movie we see their interactions in relationship. Over and over again, they test each other asking, “Will you fight with me in this restoration process? Will you help me get past this brokenness?” Sean appeals to his heart, not just the mind. And it isn’t just Will that has a problem. Sean does to. And by stepping into this space of brokenness they find a willingness to help each other. Restoration is a shared endeavor. It’s not about fixing but about partnering.

It is only at the end of the movie, when Sean has earned the right to be heard through love that he can confront what is paramount to restorative, spiritual healing. Will knows all the right answers better than anyone in the room. But what he can’t see is his own dignity. And his wounds have created a deep seated lie that he is not worth it. Only in love can Sean break through his defense mechanisms to help him see the way out.

He actually shows him pictures of the wounds of his past and tells him, “It’s not your fault.” Will has arrived at that key moment where he is confronted with letting love in.

How many times have we all said, “It must have been my fault.” The wounds of the past have erased our dignity. And if we’re not worth it, why are we surprised when we destroy ourselves. Not consciously, mind you, but we do. And it is only when we allow love in that we can be restored. “Will God really, really, really love me if I tear down these walls I’ve created to protect my heart?” And, “Will you show me love so I can see the way out?”

And this to me is the key to spiritual healing. We must remove the lie before the truth can really enter. But we can only let go of the lie in the presence of love. This is the redemption process, when we trade in our lies for the truth. And we can only let go of the lie in the presence of love.

So will we be love?

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Mike Foster on Restoration

Mike Foster and Jud Wilhite were interviewed on the Catalyst Podcast in December.  I finally got around to listening to it.  And during the interview Mike shared the following about restoration and grace.  This is awesome.

“In a two week period of time this year I had over seven friends, friend and acquaintances who I knew, who blew out of ministry  because of an integrity issue.  And one of those guys was at the church that I go to.  He’s a popular pastor, really talented guy, young guy.  Everybody loves this guy.  When it came out that he had actually had an affair with another staff member, it was devastating to him.  And unfortunately what I saw was that this guy…the phone calls stopped, the lunches stopped.  In his greatest time of need the church let him down and his friends let him down.  And I remember talking to him a few months later at a coffee shop.  And he’s really emotional.  And he looks me in the eyes, and he goes, ‘Do you think God still loves me?’  And I said, ‘Of course he loves you.  Of course.’  But because of this tragic and horrible experience and this brokenness that he was in he didn’t feel God could love him.

And the second thing and this is really important and I hope that we’re all leaning in on this.  He asked, ‘Do you think God could ever use me?’ And you know the answer to that is absolutely yes.  But I think that when we don’t rally around our wounded, and the guys that are really struggling, when we cut and run when things get tough.  I don’t think that’s Jesus’ way but unfortunately I think that culture has kind of crept in, that we’re not running in when people are falling apart.

Why do we have such a culture that cannot restore our own?  And why do we create this culture in the first place? But it gets worse.

Another example of this is maybe you’re familiar with Tara Connor, Miss USA.  She had her little scandal and there was this talk that maybe she needed to step down and everybody is waiting for Donald Trump, who I guess runs the pageant.  They hold this press conference and everybody goes, ‘What the Donald going to do?  What’s the Donald going to do?’ You know, ‘You’re fired.’  And he stand at the podium and he goes, ‘Tara deserves a second chance.’  And what was interesting about that is some of my Christian friends didn’t think Tara deserved a second chance.  She should be gone.  She messed up and she should be out of there. And I think its a sad day when Donald Trump is the poster child for grace.  I mean that should be the Christian community’s banner.”

Well said Mike.

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Compassion For My Friends Who Were Enemies

Note: This is one of the more personal entries I have ever written but something inside of me said share it.

Yesterday was a profound day for me. I faced what was one of my deepest fears and finally said, “No more.” I said goodbye to a long time friend that I had assumed protected me, when in fact had caused some of my deepest regrets in relationship. His name was Rejected. I know that I couldn’t have done so without my brothers, friends who are part of my missional discipleship group.

We were each doing work around the question of where God is calling us to trust. I was leading a good friend of mine who said it was time to let go of rejection. Something inside of me resonated with this statement but I was more focused on leading and so I let it pass me by. When everyone had engaged the work, I recognized it was time to end the night and move to blessing round. But my brothers quickly stepped in and said, “You aren’t getting out of this one.” I wasn’t purposely dodging anything but I didn’t realize that I was blind to this moment when God was speaking to my heart.

I stepped to the line, where we practice stepping into the Kingdom of God through love and trust. And instantly it hit me that it was time to let go of rejection, like my friend. The pain revolved around an incident with two friends from Junior High. This was my moment and I said goodbye. I knew that there was still work to do in this area and I committed to do it at a later time. Little did I realize that it would be the next morning.

This morning I was running and really began to dream about that day at the park in Junior High. I was playing with my “best friends” Tony and Shannon. It’s a memory that has stuck with me forever and was very easy to imagine. We were playing Frisbee together. I threw to Tony, who threw to Shannon, who threw to me and so on. And then I threw to Tony, who threw it to Shannon…who threw it to Tony…who threw it to Shannon. And Shannon turned to me and said, “We don’t want to be your friend anymore.” It was honestly one of the most devastating days in my life. The pain of that moment has stuck with me forever.

I can easily remember the faces and smells and sounds. The color green of the grass and the location where we were playing at that moment. And for the first time I began to look for the enemy there. He was not longer a part of me, having said goodbye last night, but he was still there. For the first time I felt a deep sense of freedom from him as I danced around the park. I kept grabbing the Frisbee and throwing it in the air in joy, completely free from the pain. There was no anger, no sorrow or pain. He was no longer my friend who protected me from the injustices of what they had done. In the past, with rejection as my alli, I could look at Tony and Shannon and hate them. Now the hate was gone.

And what happened next comes straight out of the movie Troy, with Brad Pitt. There’s a scene in the beginning of the movie where Achilles faces a giant in battle one on one, and in one move thrust his sword downward into his shoulder and through his body. The giant simply crumbles and dies. Well I did the same thing. I was dancing around the park throwing the Frisbee in the air, very aware of the joy that came from releasing my rejection. And then I saw him. He was a black mass standing in between me and my friends. And so I jumped up and thrust my sword into his shoulder and he dissolved into dust. Rejection was gone.

But then something really interesting happened that I have never seen before. I looked around and could see everyone in the playground had an enemy that was tormenting them. It was almost surreal. I could even see Tony’s and Shannon’s. And I can’t tell you how much sorrow I felt for them. At that moment I realized they were just as lost as I was back then.

And I began to wonder how many of my friends who had hurt me or rejected me were simply hurting from their own rejection? How many were broken and looking for love just like I was, yet constantly responding to the whispers to destroy relationship? And at that moment I realized my Father was inviting me to humanize Tony and Shannon. He was inviting me to restore their dignity and have compassion for them, to see them as my Father saw them. With rejection at my side, whispering in my ear, “You can’t let them do that to you,” it became so easy to simply hate them. But with rejection gone, I could now forgive them and have compassion for them.

And as I stood there in that park, freedom was now my friend.

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The Temptation To Strike Back

There’s a very common post that shows up about every couple of days. It follows the same pattern. Some put forth an idea, critique, or thought about the emerging church. The post attracts a lot of traffic from those who agree and disagree with the assessments being made. The comments begin nice but quickly unfold into sucker punches that hurt. Someone disagrees in a BIG way and quotes some passage that is somehow supposed to end the argument. But it doesn’t. Someone else quotes another passage and that sheds light on the counterpoint. And at some point, some gets frustrated enough to move from data to personal. “That’s just stupid,” someone says. Feelings get stepped on because the conversation has turned into an argument.

I get this in a big way. When the conversation turns heated, it is easy for me to want to dig in to the trench and fight for my opinions. I want to be right damn it. But for some reason the other person just doesn’t see it my way. They in fact think I’m lost. And this makes me feel even more bitter. Something inside of me hates that they think that and wants to now prove them wrong. And the more I scream and yell, which I assume will somehow change their mind, the more they don’t. And when they don’t it becomes so easy to get even more mad. How could you not see the world the same way as me?  And then someone says something personal, something that feels like a sucker punch. And that’s when it hits me.

It’s that moment when Jesus invites me to turn the other cheek. And I want to shout back and defend myself. I want to hit back. Justice demands a response, doesn’t it?  But I realize that if I do, I’m breaking myself. I’m choosing something other than love, to divide myself from what I want to be. I’m allowing the other person to determine my actions. Something they said got a rise out of me. And now I’m throwing the punch back.  And it is doubtful that relationship is developed through a punch.  In fact, when all is said and done, what bugs me is not that the person threw a punch, but that I threw one back.

My hope is that those within the emerging church would begin to find a way to turn the other cheek and take a stand for love. Because isn’t this what we really want to be rooted in? Isn’t this what has been one of the defining elements, love rooted in relationship and conversation. And when we return the punch, aren’t we losing ourselves? But when we return the punch with love, aren’t we proving out what we really believe in? I’m not saying it is easy, but isn’t it really worth it?

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Restoring Fallen Leaders

I have a friend who is a disgraced pastor.

He’s still trying to recover from the experience. He’s lost most of his friends and is struggling to understand how to put his life back together. There’s nothing simple to his story. It wasn’t a simple fall that is so easy to categorize. There were many parties involved over long periods of time. The fall even surprised him. He understands the weight of it and is living the cost in a very real way. Everything in his life has changed in a dramatic way because of it.

And what doesn’t surprise me is the response from the church.

His fall was well documented and very public because he was a pastor at a mega church. Everyone heard about it. I even heard about it before I knew my friend. News like this travels very fast. Unfortunately the church has done little to restore him in any way. He was removed from his role and essentially ignored by the pastors, who told him they would help him when they saw “true repentance.” Senior staff made very little effort to bring him to some form of restoration. I’m not privy to the inner workings of this church so I can not say what they said. I’m sure it was painful and hard for everyone.

But it made me ask a very serious question. Are we really about restoration? Sometimes I’m not so sure.

There seem to be two major examples in Scripture of dealing with a fallen leader. There’s the model Jesus provided and the model Paul provided. Paul has many exhortations for the various churches.

2 Corinthians 2:5-8 – 5If anyone has caused grief, he has not so much grieved me as he has grieved all of you, to some extent—not to put it too severely. 6The punishment inflicted on him by the majority is sufficient for him. 7Now instead, you ought to forgive and comfort him, so that he will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. 8I urge you, therefore, to reaffirm your love for him.

He also has an exhortation in Galatians 6:1

“Brothers, if someone is caught in a sin, you who are spiritual should restore him gently.”

Paul also talks about being disqualified in Corinthians, which has been used extensively about fallen leaders.

1 Corinthians 9:27 – No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.”

But actions sometimes take precedent over words. In Acts 15:36-41, Paul doesn’t want to take John Mark on his next journey because he had previously abandoned them. The dispute actually separates Paul and Barnabas. And I can’t help but wish Paul had followed his own advice on this one. But I also get his response to John Mark to a great extent. When someone we consider an example falls, it hurts. What my friend did has extensive consequences and affected a lot of people. Trust was broken. But isn’t one of the central message of the gospel that we are fallen? And when we do, why are we surprised?

But Jesus’ response is quite different and one I think the church has ignored. Peter, who was part of the inner circle, denies Jesus three times. His denial could be considered one of the most grievous acts of broken trust in Scripture. He turned his back on God. He denies knowing Jesus when it really mattered. But Jesus’ response is profound. He doesn’t shame him or berate him, which is what we typically think is needed to “teach someone a lesson.” We assume that shame will be enough of a motivator to change their actions. Instead, Jesus avoids the use of shame and actively restores him to ministry.

John 21:15-17 – When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these?”
“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”

Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you truly love me?”
He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.”

The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Feed my sheep.

This is the man Jesus had told would be central to growing the church.

“Matthew 16:18 – And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.”

And I can’t help but believe that Jesus is giving us a deeper message that restoration is much more powerful than shame? And could Jesus be saying that he will be building His church on stories like Peter’s, ones of restoration? Jesus understands that it’s better to restore than tear down and leave behind. In restoration we find the essence of love. Jesus is telling Peter he’s worth it. He’s validating his dignity at that moment.

But the reality is that restoration requires great sacrifice on our part. It’s not the easier path. In fact forgiving someone is much harder. It means letting go of justice for the broken trust. It means actually living out the Gospel when we don’t feel like it. It means dealing with our own injustices that we want to sweep under the rug because they remind us of the lesser half.

I think Jesus understands that restoration is central to the mission and he provides us with a clear example of how to do it. And I love that it’s Peter, who is always the one out front. Peter is the guy who takes Jesus at his word and goes for it. He’s the guy who we would see as the natural leader. He’s the closest thing we have to the rock star fallen from grace. And Jesus restores him.

My hope is that as we begin to build new models of church that we begin to find ways to actively restore leaders the way Jesus did. Because when we do, when we choose to restore a fallen leader we send a message that restoration is meant for everyone. We send a message that grace extends deeper than our sin. We send a message that we really do believe in forgiveness. We send a message that love is more powerful than our brokenness. And people like my friend can begin to walk with community towards restoration, rather than in isolation.

That’s the kind of church I want to be involved with.

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Thank You For Not Giving Up On Me

There’s a lot of passion around the idea of church right now on what good did it do. Jason, Glenn and Paul all have great dialogs about this question. It’s a good question, one that should be asked again and again and again. It helps clarify and purify what each of us really feel. It adds depth and meaning to our short pithy phrases and comments. It’s good to get it out there. And this dialog can feel vindictive even though its not meant to be. We dialog because we actually care.

And this morning after reading all three posts I felt a still small voice behind me reminding me to remember. There was a time when I was on the outside looking in…and the church didn’t give up on me. There have been times when I’ve been an ass…and the church didn’t give up on me. There have been times when I had questions no one could answer and I was a jerk about it…and the church didn’t give up on me. There have been times when I thought I had figured it all out…and the church didn’t give up on me. There have been times when I have given up and walked away…and the church didn’t give up on me. There have been times when I was the prodigal son and needed to come home…and the church didn’t give up on me. There have been times when I needed a shoulder to cry on, which made me look weak and stupid…and the church didn’t give up on me. There have been times when I didn’t really want to follow Jesus…and the church didn’t give up on me. There have been times I didn’t want to surrender…and the church didn’t give up on me.

So today I want to say thank you to the church for not giving up on me. Your love has given me a great glimpse of my Father.

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Spiritual Maturity

Last night I had an interesting conversation with a friend about spiritual maturity. A friend of his is part of a small group and they are hitting the proverbial wall and the community is somewhat stagnant. They aren’t taking risks, instead settling into the easy right answer routine. I know that feeling. I know what it’s like to reach a place where it’s no longer about the info, but something else.

And this conversation made me think. What is spiritual maturity? Is it simply a theological ascendancy to a set of beliefs. Is this what Jesus and Paul were after. Because what I have found is that theological brilliance typically leads to arrogance. And yet so much of our current small group formats are based on simple downloading the right information. And the assumption is that the right answer creates right action. And I just don’t buy that.

One of the fundamental problems I see is that we’ve relegated truth to the chalkboard, without ever taking it out on the field. It’s the right answer to learn, not the real answer to live. And in doing so we’ve created a world of theological misfits who don’t know how to practice what they preach. They know the right answer but it has very little value in the every day world because they can’t apply it. I should know because that was me for so long.

Now I’m not doubting or calling out the value of truth. It has been incredibly valuable in my life. But I recognize that at 40, I believe very differently than I did at 25 when I became a Christ follower. And at 25, I thought I had it all correct. But up until that point I had spent 20 years of my life learning the right answer, but it produced little more than a pious religiosity that was crippling me in guilt and fear.

And over time, I am beginning to realize that spiritual maturity is the capacity to love, which is founded in truth. It’s the right answer put into practice in the real world. This is why Missio Dei was so important to me. It gave me a context for the truth. It gave me a purpose other than just theological brilliance (as if) that led me to being the smarter guy in the room no one wanted to know. Because at some point, the basic answers no longer provide intellectual stimulation and what’s left is an ad nauseum, esoteric debate about the subjective. And it leads to division, which leaves the enemy laughing.

Spiritual maturity is engaging the truth. And the truth is that He loves us. He establishes us as His beloved creation. He gives us His Spirit. And with that Spirit, we can live like Jesus. That is the Good News. And living the truth is to love in a world that so desperately needs it. It’s being loved as much as it is loving people. It’s learning that I am loved and letting go of the baggage that is essentially a suitcase full of lies. It means embracing my own dignity and taking responsibility to grow into love, to meet the Holy Spirit at exactly the right moment He is calling me to.

Spiritual maturity is learning to forgive the unforgivable, not because I have to but because I need to. In forgiveness I find the love that restores my own heart as I let go of the justice that longs to come back and haunt me. In reconciliation I can participate in a larger mission of restoration than brings the best to the world, not my worst.

I long for spiritual maturity, the capacity to engage truth in love. I long to realize what God has created me to be, unencumbered by the wounds of my past. I long for the capacity to be love to the world around me. I long to be whole. That is spiritual maturity.

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Why We Don’t Like The Cross

When I was in college I used to spend a lot of time trying to convince myself that I was saved. It’s a nasty game to be honest because trying to convince yourself that you are saved only reminds you that you may not be. And I didn’t like that. I used to spend many sleepless nights saying the sinners prayer over and over, literally scared to close my eyes because if I died it was entirely possible that I may not have said it in such a way that was correct. When I woke up in the morning I would breathe a sigh of relief and be glad I made it through another night.

But it didn’t take me long to do something that would shout to the world that I was broken, a “sinner” if you will. And this sin had a terrible way of making me wonder if I was really saved, thus continuing the cycle. The badge of disgrace hung around my neck like a noose just waiting for the moments that I would fall and tighten it’s grip, a regular occurrence for me. And once again I would ask for forgiveness, hoping that I hadn’t said something that was incorrect in my prayer of forgiveness that would require me to ask for forgiveness again. Occasionally I would just ask forgiveness just to make sure and then wonder if I needed to again, just for good measure.

You see, no one every had to convince me that I was a sinner. I was proving it over and over and over again. My body had devious ways of faking me out no matter how hard I tried. I knew it better than anyone and eventually learned how to hide that fact really, really well. I created a mask that hid my pain and tried to fake my way through relationships that I hoped somehow would magically work out. And yet as much as I tried to keep my self from peering through the mask, it always found a way to do so. It would conveniently sabotage relationships at just the right moment, just when it was going so good.

And then a friend of mine told me that I needed to find out what the other side of cross looked like. I needed to see what life would look like if I let go of my excuses and embraced His love. Whaaaaaat???? What are you talking about?

The dark side of the cross was a constant reminder of own sin. And I had three decades and more to remind me of what that was like. Was it possible that I had never stepped over to see the redemptive side? And from the dark side, it’s very hard to see the side that says, “You love me.” It’s easy to admit we’re sinners because we have SO much evidence. We don’t need to shout it from rooftops. Our heart screams at decibels that leave us deaf. And because of this we end up hating ourselves, a void of the heart. To step over would almost seem to somehow almost disgrace the cross.

And I realized that we don’t like the cross because it reminds us that God really does love us. “AND HOW COULD YOU REALLY, REALLY LOVE ME.”  And I began to realize that just because God says he forgives me of my sin, doesn’t mean that I forgive myself.  Just because he says I’m worth it, doesn’t mean I believe I’m worth it.

And if I accept this I don’t have any more excuses. I have to give up how I see myself.  I can’t hide behind my petty arguments for not following or growing up. As a failed sinner I was living up to the billing. I knew that if I stepped over that line, into His love, I could no longer hide.

And as I began to embrace the other side of the cross I could no longer see the sin that He had so elegantly forgotten for both of us. Death’s hold was beginning to be released. But God, I didn’t… The cross. But God what about… The cross.

But on the redemptive side, I could no longer hold onto the little boy that failed because I was no longer defined by it. On the redemptive side I had a new identity defined by my Father’s love, not by circumstance or sin.

You see it’s really easy to love someone who does everything right. But the cross reminds us that God loves us period. It’s what the Father does. The cross is God putting it all on the line. And it is up to us to embrace that love.

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God Takes Us Where We Are…But Do We?

I was reading an interesting post from pelogifam and she says,

” My hubby has a Study Bible and it says that God takes us where we are. We gotta start somewhere.”

And I began to ask myself if we really believe that. Do we really believe that God accepts us where we are? Maybe. In fact when I really think about it this may just be the easy part. I don’t control God. I don’t get to speak for Him. I can accept His words or not. In fact accepting them often feels scandalous. Grace often feels like a get out of jail free card. Where’s the justice in that God?  But when I spend time thinking about it, I get that it’s good.

But maybe the problem is different than that. I think we get grace in its philosophical form. But maybe problem is that we don’t take ourselves where we are. Letting God forgive me for the stupid things I’ve done is often a mental ascent, the easy step. Forgiving myself for the destruction I’ve caused myself is the hard part. The cost of my own self destruction is incalculable to a great extent. The cost is loss of relationship, extensive pain, and deep isolation.

And yet grace still calls me out of my own oppression. It is that still small voice that tells me I’m worth it, that the cross was meant for me. And that stepping out of my own prison cell means leaving my past behind, that it no longer defines me. The cross does.

But embracing the cross means that my definition of justice changes. It means that I must now pass out get out of jail free cards. It means seeing others through the cross as well. It means I must lay down the things that keep me from relationship and isolation. It means letting go of those things that oppress me as much as keep others from harming me.

It means embracing His image of me. And that’s hard to do.

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The Desire For Grace

When all is said and done, I think Linkin Park will be remembered as one of the few bands that spoke for a generation. But what has been interesting is watching them move from harder rap-rock to a mellower emo. As much as I miss the older sound, the new sound appears to be a natural progression of their journey.

This song, Leave Out All The Rest, captured me when I first heard it. On so much of their previous music, there was an anger and an angst, a natural response from Chester’s brokenness as a child. But there new album speaks so well of a desire for grace.

Listening to the song this morning on the way to drop my son off to school, I began to think of the culture the emerging church will establish and leave behind. Part of leaving behind the traditional church is first recognizing the anger and the angst of our present position, the one that seems to disrespect our own dignity and leaves us wanting. This is such a hard part in this thing called the emerging church because to a certain extent we don’t want to blame anyone, but the pain of the situation demands a response from the heart. Our dignity demands to know if we really are worth it. I know a lot of voices who have felt much the same abuse that LP sings about, that is possible within the church. And much like LP, the angst and subsequent anger is normal, even healthy response. But to be healthy the anger is meant to give way to a healthier solution.

I began to wonder if the music of Linkin Park is much like the soundtrack of our experience and it is now calling us towards grace. I know it may sound silly at first blush, but it’s not. Music has a way of transcending borders and boundaries of people’s experience and saying what we often don’t have permission or even like to say. This was always the power of Elvis Presley, the Beatles, The Rolling Stones and U2, to say what the voiceless always wanted to say, to speak the muse of a generation. Their first single from the album, What I’ve Done, begins with, “In this farewell…let mercy come.”

I think the emerging church is beginning to expose the deep need within the larger church for grace, a long time coming. We’re tired of pointing fingers and the family squabbles that resemble a dysfunctional family at best. We’re tired of looking like the posers on the block that everyone else can read as fake. We’re the young child who looks at his parents and says, “I just don’t want to live this way anymore. It just doesn’t work.”

We don’t want to invalidate the people who are our parents, or elders. We don’t want to cast an angry grin of disgust assuming we are better than anyone, which only leaves everyone isolated and alone. In fact, this is part of the angst, that these are often people we know and love. These are people we truly care about, have been in relationship with, and have developed deep affections for. But we’ve tried the other way and it doesn’t work. We simply want what does work, the bright side of pragmatism. We want love. And it will likely be our responsibility to lead with love when those around us respond with accusations and innuendo, reverting to their own oppression as a natural response. It will likely be our journey towards love that will transform the world around us.

I really love the line of the chorus:

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that i’ve done
Help me leave behind some reason to be missed.

My hope is that we, within the emerging church, will leave a legacy of grace that will transform the world around us. May we leave some reason to be missed.

Lyrics – Leave Out All The Rest

I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared.
But no one would listen
Cuz’ no one else cared.

After my dreaming
I woke with this fear.
What am I leaving,
When I am done here?

So if you’re asking me I want you to know…

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that i’ve done
Help me leave behind some reason to be missed.
And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest, Leave out all the rest.

Don’t be afraid
Of taking my beatings
Of shit behind me.

I’m strong on the surface
Not all the way through.
I’ve never been perfect
But neither have you.

So if you’re asking me I want you to know…

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that i’ve done
Help me leave behind some reason to be missed.
And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest,Leave out all the rest.

Forgetting
All the hurt inside you’ve learned to hide so well.
Pretending
Someone else can come and save me from myself.
I can’t be who you are…

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some reason to be missed.
And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest,Leave out all the rest.

Forgetting
All the hurt inside you’ve learned to hide so well.
Pretending
Someone else can come and save me from myself.
I can’t be who you are.
I can’t be who you are.

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It’s Really About Love

When you have a spare moment try and think of something that will make God stop loving you.

Even when you walk away.  He won’t.

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U2’s Bad – Song of Redemption

This is quickly becoming one of my favorite songs. It is one of those songs that marks a certain chapter in my life. I have liked U2 for a long time. But as I listen to their music with fresh ears I am reminded that they got it a long time ago. This is a song of redemption.  Thanks for helping me see this again Chad.

If you twist and turn away
If you tear yourself in two again
If I could, yes I would
If I could, I would
Let it go
Surrender
Dislocate

If I could throw this
Lifeless lifeline to the wind
Leave this heart of clay
See you walk, walk away
Into the night
And through the rain
Into the half-light
And through the flame

If I could through myself
Set your spirit free
I’d lead your heart away
See you break, break away
Into the light
And to the day

To let it go
And so to fade away
To let it go
And so fade away

Im wide awake
Im wide awake
Wide awake
Im not sleeping
Oh, no, no, no

If you should ask then maybe theyd
Tell you what I would say
True colors fly in blue and black
Bruised silken sky and burning flag
Colors crash, collide in blood shot eyes

If I could, you know I would
If I could, I would
Let it go…

This desperation
Dislocation
Separation
Condemnation
Revelation
In temptation
Isolation
Desolation
Let it go

And so fade away
To let it go
And so fade away
To let it go
And so to fade away

Im wide awake
Im wide awake
Wide awake
Im not sleeping
Oh, no, no, no

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The Magic Mirror

I was at a friends house the other day and he took me aside and showed me a mirror. And at first I was assuming it was a carnival mirror that distorted the reflection to make us laugh, something like that. But it wasn’t. It did something for him I’ve never seen another mirror do. It allowed him to see himself the way God sees him. And no matter how much he beat himself up for something he’d done, he’d always walk away knowing that he is forgiven and that God loves him. The first time I saw him use the mirror I was actually stunned at how well it worked. It would completely change his countenance from sorrow to joy, or anger to compassion. When I asked him if I could try it, he said that it only worked for the person who bought it. Naturally, I asked him how to get one of these mirrors and his response surprised me.

“It’s really expensive,” he said, which almost seemed like he was assuming I couldn’t afford it.

“I still want to buy one,” I said, asking him again. “Where can I get one?” wondering if he hadn’t heard me. He looked at me with a queer turn of his lip. His reluctance to answer was honestly strange. I rolled my eyes, giving the not so subtle hint that he was being annoying and asked again. “Where can I get one of these mirrors.”

“I don’t know if you’re going to like it,” he said, changing his tactics. “I didn’t want to at first.” He looked away almost as if he was recounting his own experience of something. He said something under his breath that sounded like, “I didn’t.”

“How much is it?” I asked again. My curiosity was now peaked.

“A lot,” he said, still not giving me the information I wanted. His reluctance was actually beginning to annoy me. But then he said, “It will cost you everything that’s really, really important?” he said.

“What?” My patience had grown to its limit. “Are you gonna be straight with me or what?” I asked. Well, demanded.

“I’m serious.” The look on his face revealed that he wasn’t telling me something, but it also caught me in a way that let me know that I didn’t really want to hear it either. I looked away, contemplating what it could possibly be that I would have to give up that would make him say that. Was it my house or my car, or my family? This honestly seemed strange that God would ask me to give up all of these things just to have a mirror just to hear what He wanted to tell me anyways. My mind was splitting at that point from a lack of caffeine and unending possibilities. And then he said, “And I’m not talking about stuff.”

I laughed in a way that was not humorous. I was stumped. “Then what are you talking about?” I said, just wanting to know.

“I’m talking about you.” There was a long silence as I tried to grasp what he was saying. And yet something inside of me didn’t let me speak. He continued, “You can’t buy the mirror unless you are willing to give up how you see yourself. Unless you are willing to give up all the lies you’ve been told about how bad you were and how worthless someone thought you were, or how great you tried to believe you were on your own. It won’t work.” My pulse began to race as I looked away. I wanted to discount what he had to say. I wanted to run actually. What kind of B.S. was he talking about?

And then it hit me, “but that would mean…”

“Yep,” he said, knowing that what I was thinking. “It would mean that there really is no magic mirror. There’s only the truth. That’s God loves me and you more than we can imagine. And that only He can establish us and validate us. Because everything else is second best. And the question is not is this true, but am I willing to give up what is in the way so I can accept it.”

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