But I’ve also learned what it is that snags me, and it’s not always the big issues. It’s usually one word. Yes, one word can throw my switch and give me an almost irresistible yearning to argue my point.

Three examples from the last 24 hours:

1) A debate is going on several places on the blogosphere around this question: “Are the doctrinally obsessed missing the heart of Jesus?”

My answer is a simply “yes,” and the reason is one word: obsessed. You said it. Not me.

Obsessed isn’t doctrinally interested, doctrinally aware or doctrinally correct. Doctrinally obsessed isn’t someone who makes doctrine a priority or who even brings it up frequently. Obsession is….obsession. Single mindedness. Idolatry. Loss of perspective.

I’m obsessed with vanilla oreos. When we are two weeks into February, I’m obsessed with “pitchers and catchers report.” I’m close to obsessed with a new Apple laptop. I’m obsessed with my family’s safety.

If I were obsessed with doctrine, I would be perverting my experience of the heart of Jesus, because obsession with doctrine is against the teaching and example of Jesus himself. Love God with all your heart, etc. Don’t be obsessed with the outlines and definitions. Let them do their good work. See the Pharisees for more information and I Corinthians 13 for a good picture of what we’re going for.

Doctrine rightly placed and rightly valued clarifies and carries the Gospel of Jesus. It centers it and gives it language. Obsession with doctrine equates Jesus with a right view of justification. If we don’t know the difference, our Christianity will become debate points and our discipleship nothing but promoting and publishing our favorite ideas.

2) An IM commenter says about Douglas Wilson, “…My abusive marriage was, in so many ways, modeled on his book, “Reforming Marriage.” (No disrespect to this commenter, with whom I greatly sympathize, as I do with all abused persons. Her comment simply raises an ongoing issue in talking about traditionalists and complementarians.)

I’m not a complementarian, but I understand and respect complementarians. I don’t agree with all of their rhetoric and I don’t agree with all of Wilson’s dramatic metaphors and illustrations in his early work on marriage (and on several other things as well.)

Now I don’t know what behavior the commenter is calling abusive, so I’m not assuming I know everything that went on in a family. That being said, the word “modeled” implies that Wilson would endorse the behavior the commenter calls an “abusive marriage.” I take your presentation and I seek to copy it, i.e. “model” it. It implies the abuser was following the words of Wilson in being abusive, not distorting or twisting them into abusive actions Wilson would not approve of and did not suggest. (I understand that Wilson’s rhetoric of male leadership inevitably leads to excesses with some people, and I have never known a complementarian that didn’t address that. But I lament the lack of focus on abuse, and have written about that here at IM.)

I don’t think we are going to get anywhere in talking about the differences in living out gender relations as Christians if we say taking the other fellow’s book at face value will lead you to abuse. We have to take a more complex view. Wilson is a great target, but great targets aren’t necessarily right targets.)

Anyone who has ever talked with an atheist who knows the Bible is aware of how someone can take many statements in scripture- such as the endorsement of stoning rebellious children to death – and say that abusive parents are “modeling” their abuse on a passage in Leviticus.

Here’s the problem: the writer’s choice of an illustration does not determine the ethics of a person undertaking an action. That ancient Israelites could stone their children in extreme cases and be right doesn’t imply that I should abuse my child and assume I’m right. No, no. That Wilson says a woman must be led by strong male leadership may fall far short of what I understand to be the New Testament message on family life, but it doesn’t give anyone permission to abuse a spouse and I don’t think complementarian views on male leadership make that jump without the addition of the male sinful nature. (Ever hear Mark Driscoll go off on the abusive men in his church?)

Someone who “models” their abuse on someone’s endorsement of strong complementarianism- such as you might see among traditional Amish or among Orthodox Jews- is not being approved in their abusiveness. They distorting a guideline.

I’m all for telling Wilson to chill out on some of those rhetorical theatrics, but the responsibility for abuse can’t be shuttled over to complementarians like Wilson, who teach that women are to be honored and loved as Christ loved the church.

Better sentence, in my opinion: “My confused husband took ideas from men like Douglas Wilson and misused them as a justification for abuse.” On target and helpful in this discussion.

3) My friend Mel says that “Swine flu is mostly hype, stirred up by the President and the media to get the public to support health care.”

The word that gets my attention: “hype.”

Hype as in “The reported numbers aren’t accurate?” Or hype as in “The reported deaths didn’t occur?” Hype as in “They are making this stuff up?” Really?

Now, if hype means “lack of context,” count me in. There’s not enough context in this discussion to be seen under a microscope.

And the public’s lack of scientific knowledge- it’s a known virus, people- is appalling. This isn’t the plague. 90,000 people die from the flu in a typical year in the U.S. The vulnerable populations don’t vary with any of these kinds of diseases. Various protocols are acceptable, but viruses aren’t going to be daunted. They’ve managed to be quite successful on planet earth.

And swine flu as political? How far is that from Farrakhan’s line that AIDS was invented in government labs to kill blacks? Not much different, because now he’s saying swine flu is a plot to kill blacks. When you join the conspiracy club, please take note who else is at the party

The “hype” could be the swine flue, or it could be the various interpretations of why we keep hearing about it. Does someone really believe the President calls in the story? “I want H1N1 on the front page?” His own kids aren’t vaccinated!

Here’s no hype: H1N1 is getting attention because news networks are dying in a war with the internet. Disease, terrorism, crime, entertainment and financial apocalypse keep an audience on the line so advertisers will still pay for Cialis commercials. End of plot.

You can’t just make this stuff up. Mess it up? Sure, but not make it up.

So there you have it: Obsession, modeled and hype. My three words for today. Who knows what tomorrow’s words will be?

In the middle of this week, I heard some seriously bad health news about a good friend. Yesterday, I had to turn down an opportunity I really wanted to accept. Last night, I got a confusing and frustrating work-related letter. Today, I’ve really struggled to relate to the three worship experiences I’ve been part of. Tonight I received an email from a major blogger bluntly telling me about the depths of my “self-absorbed” character.

I could drive myself bonkers thinking about spiritual warfare on days like today. When I was a young Christian I imagined the devil tormenting me with all these difficulties while God stood by waiting for me to do the right thing, i.e. pray some prayer, take a bold stand, rejoice….something.

Now I believe this is simply life in the fallen world. It’s being human. It’s being 53. It’s being in relationships. It’s working with people. It’s writing. It’s just a day. In fact, this collection of blue days is so much better than most people’s lives it’s embarrassing to think about it.

In Galatians, Paul warns us not to grow weary in doing the right thing. If that’s the case, it’s also true that we should be on the watch for growing weary in the daily grind, the problem relationship and the unsolvable, uncomfortable problems that come along with staying with things.

And that’s right at the core of things. Staying with it.

I’ve stayed in ministry, and that means I’ve stayed around to see a lot of people be sick, suffer and some die. Hopefully, if I stay around for the whole show, I’ll see them again in much better shape and in much better circumstances.

I’ve stayed at one place for 18 years, and that brings the inevitable personal conflicts that simply won’t be resolved. I can waste my time explaining things for the 100th time, trying to fix things or I can just do my best, live, learn and keep my hand to the plow. There are a LOT of ways to look back when you are in long term ministry, including by looking forward or away. Don’t give up, even when the people around you are always going to be who they are without real change, and some of them just can’t like you and never will.

I’ve stayed with worship leadership and worship attendance when every ounce of my strength has told me to walk away for my own survival. So there are days that I am drowning in what evangelicals call “worship,” but that’s because I have chosen to stay and not quit. Not give up. Sometimes it’s a long time between gasps of air, but I’m still afloat.

I’ve stayed with writing and earned a place, opportunities and an audience. Along with that comes the feedback of people who don’t know me. The more I write, the more readers will write to me to say whatever they think. That’s the deal. Mentors tell me that it’s time to stop reading the mail. I don’t want to be an addict in a medium that thrives on addiction. But it’s hard to be that person who says “I don’t care what anyone thinks.” We’ll see. It’s not easy.

Staying the course doesn’t get any easier. Not at work, church, writing, life or family.

I’ll get up tomorrow and read my Psalms. Then I’ll share this prayer with my prayer group. It’s John Wesley’s “Covenant Prayer.”

I am no longer my own, but yours.
Put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will;
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by you or laid aside by you,
Enabled for you or brought low by you.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things
To your pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
You are mine, and I am yours. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
Let it be ratified in heaven.
Amen.

Stay the course. Walk the path. Boast in the cross and the crucified one. Don’t look at what you’re gaining or losing today. Be determined to gain Christ in the end.

Love where you can. Forgive as you go. Humbly admit your errors. Seek other pilgrims.

And keep going.

There was a time, in the last decade, that I constantly and painfully struggled with regrets about various choices I’d made in my life.

I regretted not finishing doctoral studies. (I made it 37 hours in and never finished the paper.)

I regretted staying in youth ministry so long. (13 years full time, then back for 18 years where I am after 4 years as a pastor.)

I regretted staying in Kentucky. (I had opportunities to go to Oxford, Mississippi and to Texas, but followed my hillbilly instincts.)

I regretted that so many of my friends were pastors of First Baptist Churches and I never got close. (The cost of not getting that Dr. degree.)

I regretted a bunch of stuff I can’t talk about. (You don’t want to know.)

Sometimes, I’ve honestly regretted staying at one ministry in the mountains of Appalachia for most of two decades. There was a time I was constantly called to do speaking and seminars, but almost from the day I came here those opportunities stopped. Say what you want, when you’re in the mountains of southeast Kentucky, you’re off the radar. It can be very disorienting.

I’ve spent a lot of time- too much- regretting all kinds of aspects of life in ministry. You’d have to be there to understand that struggle, but it’s a hard calling and I’m not ashamed that it was hard for me.

I made a lot of mistakes as a husband and a dad. I’ve spent a lot of time regretting them. (In God’s grace, my marriage and kids are wonderful.)

Recently, I’ve regretted the time I spent as a Calvinist (still struggle with that) and even the entire fact that I wound up in full-time ministry at all. (It wasn’t my fault, but full-time public school teaching combined with ministry as I had opportunity was a better fit. But in the church where I grew up, the only thing they knew to tell us 16 year olds was “be preachers.”)

I regretted the lack of friendships we’ve found wherever we’ve been, seemingly no matter how hard we tried. (Still one of life’s big mysteries and a sad aspect of ministry.)

There have been a lot of regrets involving the church home we never quite found as a family. (Denise and my kids have all found churches. My home is with the homeless.)

I was a tortured soul for many of those years and those regrets poisoned my experience of the goodness of God. If I could have seen it at the time, I would have confessed that I’d made ministry my entire life and set expectations in ministry that would always leave me disappointed.

A good counselor could have shown me the footprints of all this regret, stalking me for many years. I brought childish, self-centered attitudes into adult life, ministry and marriage that constantly tried to prop up my own insecurities and deficiencies with various aspects of success in ministry. I tried to fill up empty places with “success” as a minister. That’s a real wall to hit, and I’ve hit it repeatedly.

Where am I now? I’m at a much different place. I would never claim that I’ve moved beyond the swamp of regret, but I’ve learned some things that are bearing much helpful fruit.

I have never found it satisfying to simply do the Calvinistic thing and talk about God ordaining everything. I need to understand how this has all worked and not worked for me. I can see clearer now, and what I see is that God is helping us to be persons, not success stories. His goal is that we be loved, not well liked- a la Willie Lohman- or well known.

A healthy Christian person must find a place where they can be themselves, and that place won’t be identical to our definition of “success.” Even if we succeed, the experiences that bring make us who we really are won’t be found in the spotlight of success. They will be found in God’s version of our wilderness.

That place may be a nursing home, or a tiny college, or a farm or a forgotten mission to the poor. It may be in another universe from the latest conference or well known ministry. It may have no potential for anything but small acts done with great love. If that is so, you should embrace it as your place. Yours, and a gift to you.

God has placed me in a life where the soil for growing a good and useful spirituality is plentiful. There is the rich soil of community and relationships, and there is the occasional fertilizer of human failures and disappointment. In this soil, I will grow. I will not be an object to be seen and heard. I will be a person, growing into a human image of the God we know in Jesus.

As an older man considering my place, I can see the value in my life of having predictability, schedule, structure and place. I can see why I need some of the simple things that guide and nurture my life that many “successful” pastors never find. These things can’t be found anywhere, but they can be found where I am.

There is a place and time to read the Psalms. There is a place and time to pray. There are people to love and to tell about Jesus. There is good work and comraderie, even if all is not perfect. There is labor and a mutual acceptance of pain. There is help, rejoicing and the grace of seeing the old and leading the young. There is family, time and room to breath. I know see these gifts in ways I did not before. I see them in such a way that many of my previous regrets are unappealing to me.

I do not understand why God has left me in youth and student work so long, but it’s apparent that my passion for and emphasis on Jesus and the Gospel isn’t found very many places in the evangelicalism my students know and experience. I am a communicator, and though I feel some weariness in my bones after preaching and teaching for hours, I am still certain this is why I am in this world and at this place: to communicate Jesus and his Gospel in a time of chaos and static.

It appears that this has been my assignment and the point has not been to have my name on a conference program, but to preach regularly to hundreds of students who don’t know Christ, and to do so in the mountains and to do so for years. My place isn’t telling someone how to do ministry, but to stand in front of kids and actually teach the scriptures. I still feel guilty that I am so old, but I know that I have gifts and opportunities that are rarely found together. So this is my place.

I don’t have to always be happy. I need the love of God not the happiness of men. I can grow to see the two coming together, but not if I dictate how they will both come to me. I have the privilege of embracing a calling and the road that is before me. I am not going to talk about the Kingdom or missional living. I am going to live in the Kingdom and practice missional living.

In all of the time I was having the indigestion of regret, I was also becoming something else: a writer. That was a calling that resonated within me for many years, but it was only here, in this life, that it could happen. I don’t have researchers knocking out books for me. Whatever I manage to write here or in a book will be 100% a result of what God has done in my life.

And along that road I found something else. I will have to, at some point, do interviews and publicity for the book. There’s an aspect to all of that self-presentation and talking like an expert which terrifies me, but in the last few months I’ve begun to realize that I know more about who I am and who I am not than ever before in my life. I have come to understand that a person with a spiritual influence isn’t a face on a screen or ten books on a shelf. I have begun to realize what is going on with men like Brennan Manning and Dallas Willard. They aren’t everywhere because they choose to be where they are and who they are. They have embraced place, personhood and influence without falling into the traps of success.

I can relax and accept that God has been at work in all of this for his glory and my usefulness and joy. I have no regrets unless I want to be God.

In the end, this out of the way corner of the world is the place where I want to be found. When God wants me to go elsewhere, I’ll gladly go, especially if it’s near a ball park, but in the meantime I’m not ashamed or regretful of the path the loving hand of God has given to me.

I am wasting far less of my mind and heart on regret. I’m finding that the wisdom of the spiritual life is not found in evangelical success and notoriety, but in coming to know who I am in the place and calling God has for me. My influence will be no less and no greater, in God’s Kingdom, here in the mountains than it would be anyplace on earth. In the end, it’s my privilege to belong to Christ and to use my gifts as he gives opportunity.

The last time I saw Greg (Not his real name), he looked like he was walking away from it all.

I had a premonition at the time that Greg was troubled. He looked unsettled. I’d heard he was thinking of leaving college. His talk of an art history degree last year in my AP English IV class was just the kind of parrot talk that bright kids learn to repeat. They usually don’t know what they are talking about, and Greg was just humoring irrelevant adults like myself.

What really captured him was the outdoors, exploring, and a new girlfriend who kept him on the road on weekends. School wasn’t putting any light in his eyes, but the fire was gone elsewhere as well.

The last time I saw Greg, the fire of his faith was burning low. I should have known where things were going. It’s all quite familiar now.

He wanted some books on philosophy. I gave him Somerset Maugham’s novel of a man who follows his own path, The Razor’s Edge.

I don’t know if he read it, but he found the path. Today I learned that Greg has left the faith in which he was raised.

I understand completely and I am devastated. My heart is broken.

I understand because I’ve watched him grow up in an environment where fundamentalist Christianity was the constant assumption. He not only traveled the road of Christian family and Baptist church, but also the path of Christian school, Christian academics, Christian sports and on and on. It was the water. He was the fish.

I remember his music. It was a place to mark out your own path, to not conform to the pressure of breathing Christian air. Classic rock. The sound of authenticity. He was tenacious in his love for it.

In class- I had him twice- he was bright, but unmotivated. Assignments came along late, always bearing the marks of last minute preparation. The bored, bright kid in the Christian school, where true individuality and creativity is measured out in manageable doses. What is important is that no one’s questions or struggles knock down the elaborate production we’re staging; that no one’s questions or struggles reveal just how shallow are the foundations of our heralded “grand” world view. So the student cooperates and all is presentable.

He meandered through my intro to Bible class, not the more challenging Advanced Bible. He could have taught the class.

He happened to be with us at the apex of our science department’s devotion to Answers in Genesis style creationism. He got the full treatment. What must it be like to be taken into this world where the teaching of science itself becomes an exercise in the deconstruction of science? God have mercy on the intellectually hungry, thirsty and curious.

He sat under my preaching for 6 years. Hundreds and hundreds of messages. Most of them, honest efforts to do the best I could. I want to think that I am speaking to the young people like Greg, the bright, curious ones looking for some sign of diversity in the clonish experience of evangelical fundamentalism. Instead, I must admit that I did not go deep enough to find Greg and his true heart. I stopped short.

I’m despondent feeling that I have failed. I may have done my best and my best is simply not good enough this time.

I take some cold comfort in this news.

Perhaps an inauthentic and empty posture toward God has been replaced with something genuine. I much prefer genuine unbelief to the pretense of faith. It is more healthy on the human level and more useful in God’s economy.

No one outruns the hound of heaven.

I can pray. And weep.

I can renounce this wretched cowardice that fears speaking up boldly on behalf of the spiritually starving and desperate who exist in the midst of any gathering of God’s people. I am paralyzed for fear that some creationist pastor will demand my head on a plate because I believe in God the Father, creator or heaven and earth, but I do not believe I am confessionally obligated to accept or reject any conclusion of science.

I’m afraid to describe the evangelical fundamentalism that I know, but instead choose to flatter the entire business so I won’t rouse the Pharisees.

I treat my classroom as a place to shadow box rather than as a place to speak plainly. I run like a frightened girl at one irritated fundamentalist, and look away from students I know will soon turn away altogether because people like myself keep our answers to ourselves.

It is too late for Greg. He is on to another place in his journey and I am not part of it. I have lessons to learn.

I have more students. More opportunities.

I have a place to repent and a place to risk telling the truth another day.

(Before I say this, I know there are a bunch of books on this subject and I’ve read some of them. I could just recommend a good book, but I need to get this off my chest.)

My new hot button is “You need to pray until you find God’s will.”

First of all, I believe in God, and I believe he has a will. I believe God sovereignly runs the universe pretty much like the Westminister/Second London Confessions say, though I have absolutely no idea what that means other than God is in control in a way I can’t understand and am not capable of understanding. (My brain is too small.) It’s an assertion, and as much as I know God only in Jesus, it’s a comfort.

Frankly, when Capon says that God runs the world through “Holy Luck,” like a guy with a card trick that’s amazing to you but no big deal to him, that works for me. Capon believes that things don’t look like there’s a plan, but that’s the beauty of the way God has chosen to run the universe. He’s there in plain sight where you can’t see him.

Secondly, I believe God’s will encompasses my life. In the same way, I don’t believe I am going to get much specific insight into that. It’s an assertion, and as much as it comes to me packaged as Jesus, it’s as I said, a comfort.

I know that when tragedy or sudden blessing strike, my belief in God’s sovereign control is a comfort. When my mom had a stroke and died in 14 hours, I was resting in God’s hands and praying the same for her. When I got a book deal, I believe it was God’s time. I’ll give him thanks.

But here’s the thing- I am really, really, really tired of being told to “find” God’s will.

I have no idea what most people mean when they say “find” and I don’t believe they do either.

Let’s run the perspective list:

1. What God declares and commands in scripture is, when rightly understood, his will. I’m fine with that. That’s why I preach the Bible and live my life by it. But I also know there is a lot of life that is a mystery to me, I don’t care how much Bible I stuff in my head.

I’m not impressed by people who demonstrate that they have a verse to turn any tragedy into an opportunity to say “God is doing this.” I prefer to see a tragedy as a tragedy. I’m not saying God is less in control. I’m not going atheist or blaming God, but he’s running the show and he allows tragedy. He doesn’t say, “Now show me you’ve trained yourself to say otherwise.” That’s sad. Maybe even sick.

My human instinct is to see terrible things as terrible. I don’t have any theological response to not trust those feelings and say “Oh, but God is really using this.” He is. He does. But my part is to start with, “This is terrible and people are hurting/suffering.”

2. What God communicates and allows through providence. I’m alive in Ky in 2009. I’m at a school. I have a family. I’m an American. I have an income. I have certain gifts and certain opportunities. God sent them. God allows them. Again, I’m not making a show of believing this. It’s how God unfolds life in time. His story. I’m a character. I don’t try to understand the author. (See Stranger Than Fiction to get that picture.)

3. What God communicates through those with authority over me and/or by means of trusted people in my world. Same as above.

4. What God communicates by his Spirit to me in mystical ways. Now we’re getting close to the issue. I know God does this, but I am really through playing the game of seeking for God to do it or expecting God to do it because some Christians think it’s obviously the way to go. I’ll pray. I’ll ask. I’ll ask others to pray. I’ll be still and listen. I’ll evaluate impressions. I’ll try to discern God’s voices.

But this is not a game I am going to play with God. I’m not cooperating with what amounts to saying “God is toying with us to see what we’ll do.” If God wants to say something to me, no game is necessary. And I am not required to demonstrate my desperation to know God’s will to know it. There may be places in my journey I need to be before God’s will unfolds, but God isn’t being gamey. He’s not playing hide and seek. He isn’t constantly dangling guidance in front of me like bait.

If this makes sense, I reject the idea that God requires some superior effort on my part to be mystical in order to communicate his will to me.

5. What God communicates by signs, miracles and answered prayers. You don’t want me decoding these things. Years ago, our house caught on fire, and a noise outside- totally unrelated- woke me up and got me in the hallway where I saw the fire. That noise saved our lives and our house. It’s a miraculous providence. I have no idea what it “means,” however, beyond what it is. If you hear me saying it meant we were supposed to leave or stay or paint the house pink, I’m just rattling on. No one has that information and I don’t want to go to a church that believes they have it.

I do not want anyone trying to get me on board with anything using miracles as a method. If God is that gamey, I don’t want to play. My dog can talk to me if necessary. I’ll listen.

Now the real deal comes down to this, and I’ll use a real life example. Let’s say I make enough money writing over the next 2-4 years that I could work part time, my wife could work part time, and we wouldn’t have to be where we are doing what we’re doing. So it could be stay or go.

God’s will? Stand by.

I don’t think he cares. And if he does, he can let me know without me acting like he’s an alien sending coded messages.

I can serve him either here or elsewhere. I can serve him anyplace. I can be faithful wherever. I’m free, within the boundaries of following Jesus, loving God, loving neighbor and using my gifts and talents, to serve God wherever I believe is the best place for me. There is a process, but I can trust myself as a reliable means of knowing God’s will. Not perfect, but not to be ignored in favor of “signs.”

I don’t need a sign, or a vision or a voice. I may or may not get a nudge. It doesn’t matter. I don’t think God is hiding his will. I don’t think I am supposed to ignore “normal” factors in determining where God wants me. I believe that if God has a place for me I don’t know about- like being Andrew Marin’s bodyguard- then Andrew will call and talk to me about it.

I can go to school. I can sell programs at the ball park. I can write. I can teach. I can preach or be an associate. I can counsel. I can do a lot of things. And I don’t believe I have to torment myself or anyone else about that.

When it seems right to me and my family, when I’m in a place to be responsible, obedient, submissive and faithful, I can love God and do as I please.

That’s the button. Thanks for listening.

The other day a strange feeling came over me.

Don’t get me wrong about what I’m about to say here. It was just a feeling. I’m not claiming any powers of discernment or certainty.

I got the distinct feeling there’s something wrong with a lot of people who say they are Jesus-followers/believers.

If you want to supply your own vocabulary, like “aren’t saved” or “aren’t Christians,” do so at your own risk. I’m not saying that. (There’s other blogs for that game, if you are burning to know.)

No, but it was as plain as daylight to me that when I hear a lot of people talk about Jesus, I feel like I am hearing….an abbreviation.

I said abbreviation. A shortened version of the real word. You see the abbreviation, you’re supposed to know what it means. We all agree on the abbreviation.

Don’t we?

We all know what the shorthand version stands for.

Right?

Or maybe we don’t.

I’m beginning to get the feeling that when people say Jesus, I can’t trust the abbreviation.

I’m getting the feeling that we’re talking about a kind of “mini-Jesus.” A diluted, declawed, demoted savior who is a symbolic representation for a kind of anemic, watered-down, unBiblical, culturally acceptable Jesus.

I get the feeling that if you move beyond the standard biographical paragraph, you’re going to discover that the Jesus you’re hearing about has considerably less to say than Jesus as we meet him in the Gospels.

You’re going to discover that he has little or nothing to do with most of the Bible, especially the Old Testament and the more demanding parts of the new.

You’re going to discover that there’s a remarkable resemblance between the abbreviated Jesus and the current version of political correctness. (Isn’t it unusual how Jesus takes an interest in whatever happens to be the current rage on CNNMSNBCCBSSUSATODAY?)

I’m not sure this abbreviated Jesus believes in hell.

He seems considerably more flexible on sexual matters than one would believe reading the Bible.

Living together before marriage? The abbreviated Jesus seems to have not issued a statement on that one.

I actually think the abbreviated Jesus doesn’t like to be bothered with issues of morality, character or behavior. He’s mostly interested in larger political and cultural issues, or your experience at your local church, or how you’re doing in your relationships.

The abbreviated Jesus has quite a bit in common with contemporary “life coaches,” talk show hosts, political apologists, faith-based advocates, teachers of “principles,” community organizers and family values lobbyists.

The people who talk about the abbreviated Jesus don’t seem to know much about the Bible. Not at all.

But they still have a surprisingly strong opinion about the meaning of all kinds of things Jesus said and did in the Bible.

The abbreviated Jesus can convincingly seem like the real Jesus, until you look and listen closely. Then it appears that he’s lost his laptop, his luggage and his cell phone. So for right now, he’s reading it all off the teleprompter.

The abbreviated Jesus doesn’t vary much from the script.

In fact- and this is what really got my attention- the abbreviated Jesus would only get crucified if there were some terrible mix-up.

The abbreviated Jesus is Jesus without the Biblical context, Jesus without church history, Jesus without Jesus theology, Jesus without costly discipleship, Jesus without offensive teaching or mysterious parables. The abbreviated Jesus is so easily explained, so comprehensible and user-friendly that anyone can follow him, even without instructions.

In millions of cases, the abbreviated Jesus is Jesus without the church. He’s Jesus who lets you pick your friends, pick your community and pick your comfortable seat. He’s OK with whatever your plans are for the weekend. He’s not making demands on your time. (He’s a major spokesperson for unplugging the fourth commandment.) He’s not making any demands on your money that don’t follow your emotions. (He wants you to feel personally fulfilled about whatever you choose to support.)

The abbreviated Jesus seems to always need one more book to really get down to what he actually means.

He has a lot of preachers who understand him, and a lot of churches where his way of doing things has become very popular.

Aside from abortion and gay marriage, the abbreviated Jesus is pretty happy in America. There’s so much for his friends to do and enjoy!

I don’t trust the abbreviated Jesus.

Sometimes, he’s been in my house, my head, my heart and my preaching. And I don’t like him.

He’s flat. Empty. Easy. Moldable.

He’s not full of the Holy Spirit. He’s full of us.

Frankly, he seems to be full of….well…..there are words here that my daddy used, which I’m not supposed to use on this blog. If you don’t know what they are, write me. Or ask a farmer who knows the real Jesus.

I’m announcing that I’m afraid of the abbreviated Jesus and his followers. I’m afraid of his “church,” his books and his kind of “discipleship.”

I’m uninviting him from my life and my interactions with other Christians.

I want to know Jesus. The untamed, old school, offensive, mysterious, demanding, awe-inspiring, transformational, life altering, crucified, risen, ascended, revolutionary Jesus.

Spell it out: He’s the creator. The mediator. The fulfiller and establisher of the law. His the passover lamb. He’s the head of the church. He’s the heart and key to Holy Scripture. He’s the meal on the table. He’s life in the living water. He pours out the Holy Spirit. He’s the rider on the white horse. He’s the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. He’s the eternal God.

He doesn’t need my explanations, endorsements or euphemisms. He isn’t reading my note cards and nodding. He doesn’t tolerate my sin. He’s the life of God for the sin of the world. He’s righteousness, sanctification and holiness. He’s the Kingdom bringer, the executor of judgement, the one who is worthy to open the scroll and read the books. He’s the light of heaven and the conquerer of hell, death, sin and the grave.

He’s the one in whom all history, poetry, story and theology come together into the great I AM. He’s the mystery and the Word that reveals God to all persons. He’s the Gospel itself, the meaning of every message and the open door of God’s mercy.

You can’t abbreviate him.

You fall at his feet and worship. You get up and follow. You die and he raises you on the last day.

That’s Jesus, and I’ve got a feeling a lot of people really don’t have a clue.

Just in case you haven’t picked up: this is a chance for readers to comment on things that are meaningful to them in spiritual practice. No one is being told they are a bad Christian if they don’t see Jesus in the toast. Human beings aren’t quite as unattached to matter as some of our gnostic-fundamentalist friends would like us to think. Little things that give our senses a connection to what we believe are meaningful. Just like some of you tear up when you hear a song or see a family Bible or church cemetery.

Top Picture: Pantocrator Jesus icon. From my classroom. Available from Conciliar Press, who really ought to be advertising here. A wonderful icon of Jesus that I try to keep close to me when I’m teaching.

Middle: A very nice Franciscan cross that is in my classroom. It prompts a lot of discussion. I have a poster of a larger one. This cross has a lot of the Gospel witnesses on it as well as other symbolism. It reminds me that God spoke to Francis to “rebuild” from the ruins, not to build a megachurch from scratch.

Bottom: A collection of items from the house. From left to right at the top:

1) Unusual candle with hanging crosses. I really think it’s a treasure. A co-worker found it in the junk and gave it to me.
2) Lottie Moon. Southern Baptists will understand.
3) Chalice I’ve had for many years and used in many communions throughout my ministry.
4) Mary and Child Icon from Conciliar. I gave it to Denise for Christmas last year.
5) A communion set I had made special for the home worship fellowship I led for over a year, soli deo. It’s a chalice and plate that can be stacked together. A very special possession for me.
6) A Celtic Cross that I recently received as a gift from my friend Dan. It’s made of glass.

In front, from right to left

7) Treasury of Daily Prayer. The best devotional resource anywhere, bar none.
8] A Franciscan Cross I bought from Toscano. It’s been in our home for several years.
9) The Benedictine Breviary of Daily Prayer that I often take with me to school and when I travel. It’s Roman Catholic, but just barely. Mostly arranged scripture and the Church Fathers. A few Marian bits to launder if you’re Protestant. Great way to have the hours in one book for the whole year. (If you don’t know the year or the hours, this will take a bit of work, but very much worth it. And it’s small. TDP is a very big book.)

From left to right:

A custom made metal cross given to me as a gift many years ago in high school by my good friend and mentor Tom Meacham. The cross is empty and says, “He is Alive!” Tom was my introduction to Anglicanism, C.S. Lewis, all things Inter-Varsity and many good times.

Anglican prayer beads I bought two years ago. I use them to pray the Jesus Prayer, Lord’s Prayer and for various people. When I feel a bead, I think of a person. It’s a great way to focus prayer away from distractions and to a simple, physical action. I love the cross.

An olive wood carving of Jesus Denise gave me for Christmas. He is carrying the cross, and it reminds me that there is no bottom to his forgiveness. “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they are doing.”

My Alan Creech gear. I keep this in my pocket. Just feeling it in my hand during the day is a reminder of Jesus and the need to pray for my students, family, etc. Both rosaries have the cross of St. Francis, who is a very important inspiration to me as I think about living a “Jesus shaped” spirituality.

A St. Benedict’s Cross that I bought at Gethsemane monastery almost two years ago. It was a very special day I spent with my son. When I see it I think of my children and rejoice that they know and love Christ who died for them. I also think of a particular monk who has been a spiritual friend in absentia for a long time. I wear this cross when I preach during Holy Week.

None of this is “Catholic.” It’s all just a way to remember Jesus, be more focused and prayerful.

The evangelical wilderness is a lonely place. The post-evangelical journey is enriched with reminders that we have a better past than the ugly views of one another we’re sold on the internet. How terrible a thing it is to reject one for whom Christ died and to say, in the place of God, that a person is cut off from Christ. Let them grow together and God will be the judge of all of us. Kyrie.

I thank God that my Baptist tradition does not teach salvation by denomination, but by faith in Jesus alone. While we may not be in the same congregation or at the same table, we can affirm and encourage one another’s faith. Don’t we ALL need to hear the Gospel?

More gear later.

COMMENTERS: What’s your gear? What’s the story? Have any pics on flickr or elsewhere?

I starting doing some personal math this morning as I started my day, and I made a discovery.

I could no longer deny that a lot of things add up in my life; they add up to an area where sin has taken a deep root.

The last few months, I keep bumping into the same kind of feedback in my immediate environment from people who know me and observe me. When I first heard it, I was angry and defensive. I should know right away that defensive is a signal all is not well.

That feedback may not have been flawless, but I’m not convinced some of it is true.

A number of relationships changed, and I blamed the other persons. I’m not “unblaming” them entirely now, but I see something I didn’t see before.

I began to notice the interactions I had with other people, and I discerned some patterns. Not random patterns, but intentional patterns. There was something THERE that people were moving around; something that was playing a big role in those interactions. Something that was part of me.

I began to look at the places where my life was going well, and was surprised to find many areas where this kind of sin would be rewarded.

I looked at my ministry, and I saw that this sin serves me pragmatically and allows me to be an effective leader, especially in some aspects of my particular situation.

My personality isn’t always the clearest picture to me, but it became clearer. The established patterns of my life began to show me a kind of person and a pattern of behavior, all held together by the sin that was being revealed to me.

I thought back on my life history, and considered where this sin began to be part of my life and why; I traced its impact from the past to the present.

I began to understand the common thread that held together many separate strands in my life experience: I was protecting a pattern and preference for a sin that I believed defined my life.

Life in Jesus is a life of repentance, but I come from a tradition where sin is always behavior. Doing bad things. Sinning against the example of righteousness. The sins that arise from the components of our own personality- the acceptable, even valued ones- are much deeper to repent of. Some even applaud and reward certain patterns of sin.

How do you repent of what is making your life work?

How do you repent of what people expect you to do and be?

How do you repent of your self-image, your security and your identity?

How do you repent of sins that have grown essential to your being and life?

How do you repent of sins that the very repentance of them will cause you to lose support and encouragement?

When I do the math, when I put on the special glasses of Gospel realism, I see a disease and a man in denial. I see a sin addict in need of a group. I see a person whose engagement in sin and life in ministry are deeply entwined.

Christ forgives. Sin is defeated. We are part of the new creation. But my sin hasn’t left quietly. It’s convinced me that without it, I’m too vulnerable to do without it.

Christ showed me these things. Jesus showed me because he wants to be my security, my identity, my everything. He does not beat me down over this situation, but invites me into repentance in love, kindness and compassion. The wounds of Jesus are to change this situation and to change me. But I need community, because this is a fearful revelation. I wonder what life would be like on the other side of a pattern of living that has become identical with being Michael Spencer.

But that’s the journey with Jesus. That’s the narrow path, the treasure in the field, the dying all day long. It’s the only place to go because he has the words of eternal life.

But I need a community. Maybe you do too.