THEY'RE ALL HYPOCRITES, Part 2

Obviously, Jesus has a great disdain for hypocrites. Reading between the lines isn't necessary, because he makes his angst for them quite apparent. He says things like: "You hypocrites!" "You whitewashed tombs!" And my personal favorite, "You brood of Vipers!" And just in case you are wondering, that's not a term of endearment. I'm certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I'd be sleeping on the couch (at the very least) if I referred to my wife in that manner.

Just as obvious, is the world's belief that all Christians are hypocrites. Like Jesus, they don't pull any punches. They confront us. And they call us out. I can't begin to count the number of times I've heard the term thrown around in a discussion about Christian morality. I know for a fact a number of individuals have accused me of being a hypocrite. And I'm certain I've even made the same accusation about some of my fellow believers.

But this raises some important questions.

How do we define hypocrisy? Is this the same manner Jesus defines it? Or, when Jesus uses the term, to address the religious elite, is there a nuance we don't quite see? And of course, the question that begs to be answered, are all Christians really hypocrites?

Let's begin by clarifying what we mean by the term hypocrite. But, before we do that, allow me to tell you a story. A story about an individual whose hypocrisy was blatantly obvious.

After hours of studying for my upcoming finals, I decided a study break was in order. I made my way across the parking lot, got into my car, started her up and began the short trip to Quik Trip. I took a right turn to pull off campus--I tell you that so you know I had the right-of-way. At the same time, across the street, making a left-hand turn was a blue Ford Taurus. Of course, the driver was in a hurry. I know this because he rolled through the stop sign, made a left-hand turn and cut me off. Being a ministry major, I reacted appropriately by tailgating him. By the end of the first block, I was so close that I could read all the bumper stickers adorning the rear end of the beat up Taurus. My eyes were quickly drawn to the bottom right corner of the trunk. It was there I couldn't help but notice the plain black sticker with white, block letters stating "I would rather push a Chevy than drive a Ford." The irony was too great. I burst into laughter, let off the gas and let him pull away.

Somewhere along the line, this guy made a decision that contradicted his belief--which just so happened to be there for all to see, on the back of his rusty, blue Ford Taurus. Apparently, it was more important to get from point A to point B in a timely manner, than to push his Chevy Cavalier numerous miles. Undoubtedly, this is the way we define hypocrisy in this culture, in this time--to act in contradiction to your stated beliefs or feelings.

When someone makes the statement that "All Christians are hypocrites!" they are claiming that they have witnessed Christians acting contrary to the teachings of Jesus. And if this is the hypocrisy they speak of, they are absolutely correct--all Christians really are hypocrites! I won't deny that fact. We stumble. We fall. None of us has upheld all the commandments. None of us has perfectly embodied the teachings of the rabbi Jesus. All of us do things contrary to not only what he taught, but even what we believe. All of us fail to love our neighbor. All of us struggle to forgive those who have wronged us. All of us fall short of the standard Jesus lived out. You get the picture--we all act contrary to the standards Jesus calls us to uphold. We make mistakes. That’s, in part, what it means to be human.

This is something we should embrace rather than avoid. By embrace, I mean own up to it. Admit that we are powerless over our flesh in and of ourselves. Recognize that the only way we will truly live as Jesus lived is by continually falling forward through effort and grace. Perhaps then the world would stop viewing us as hypocrites. Maybe we should take a note from Paul's book--literally. If anyone had a past to shy away from it was this guy. Even with his colorful past and his continual shortcomings, he displayed honesty and vulnerability. Not once did he shy away from the truth of who he had been and who he was. He accounted for all the hypocrisy in his own life, not because he was proud of it, but because there was power in the humility of owning it. Admitting his hypocrisy, Paul, in Romans chapter seven, said: “I don’t understand myself at all, for I really want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do the very thing I hate. I know perfectly well that what I am doing is wrong, and my bad conscience shows that I agree that the law is good. But I can’t help myself, because it is sin inside me that makes me do these evil things.”

I would make the case that doing what we don't want to do doesn't make us, or Paul, a hypocrite. It makes us sinners! Sinners in need of a savior. And therein lies the confusion. We have blurred the lines between the two. They are not entirely synonymous. And it is of utmost importance we make a clear distinction between a sinner and a hypocrite. Afterall, Jesus didn't necessarily equate sinning with hypocrisy; because he knew all of us would sin. But he clarified that we don't all have to be hypocrites!

You see, a sinner is a person who falls short from time-to-time, all the while striving to be more Christ-like. On occasion, we all act in contradiction to what we truly believe. None of us will ever perfectly live out each and every one of our beliefs, on a consistent basis, in any arena of life; especially when it comes to issues of faith. Let me reiterate that none of us will perfectly imitate Jesus 100% of the time. I'm not condoning that fact, nor am I condemning it. Accepting the forgiveness he has offered, does not make us perfect; it just makes us sinners who have accepted his grace. And just because we fail to consistently follow the example Christ has given us does not make us hypocrites. Nor does it invalidate the truths his life put on display. I know many individuals seeking to genuinely follow in the footsteps of Jesus, all the while failing miserably. Yet each and every time they pick themselves up, admit their shortcomings and continue right where they left off. They trust in the Holy Spirit to convict, change, and empower them to grow. They believe, by grace, that tomorrow they will be closer to living like Jesus than they have been today.

A hypocrite, on the other hand is a person who purposely deceives others. A person who attempts to live two lives simultaneously--one in public and one in private. They practice sins on a routine basis and when confronted lie about them and remain unrepentant. They appear holy, all the while disregarding the reality of their own sinfulness. They put on their Sunday mask, only to remove it the moment they get in their car and leave the church premises. They point out the faults of others, and yet fail to see their own. In order to elevate themselves, they deprecate those around them. They deny the grace that has been extended them to those they encounter. They, according to Jesus, take meticulous care of their outer appearance while ignoring the rotting mess that is their soul. This, it seems to me, is the way Jesus defines hypocrisy. Which is clearly different than the way we define it.

The moment we, as sinners, downplay our own sinfulness, in order to emphasize our own righteousness is the moment we become hypocrites.

It is these types of individuals, Jesus tells us, aren't really his followers. In Matthew 7, he makes an important clarification: “Not all people who sound religious are really godly. They may refer to me as ‘Lord,’ but they still won’t enter the Kingdom of Heaven. The decisive issue is whether they obey my Father in heaven.” Their failure to recognize their own inadequacy to save themselves through outward obedience, sets themselves against true followers of his and exempts them from the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Understand that I didn't write this to excuse all our failings as Christians. Know that I don't condone all of our behavior; nor do I expect you to. By all means, hold us accountable. Call us out. But offer us the chance to own our faults and seek out forgiveness. On behalf of those of us that have failed to exemplify the life of Jesus, I apologize. For the times our actions and attitudes have turned you away from God, I am sorry. We will stumble. And we will fall. Sometimes flat on our faces. But to label all of us hypocrites isn't entirely accurate. Even Jesus didn't hold his disciples to that standard of perfection. It is my hope that you will no longer take the actions of a few to judge the whole. Furthermore, I hope you have gained some insight into the difficulty it is to follow the only man to have walked this Earth without sinning. 

THEY'RE ALL HYPOCRITES, Part 1

According to one of my favorite authors, Brennan Manning, "The single greatest cause of atheism in the world today is Christians, who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, then walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable." Which is just a much more eloquent way of saying that the world thinks we’re a bunch of hypocrites. Chances are, if you have attended Church for any period of time, associated with anyone who claims to be religious, or lived on planet Earth, you have heard this accusation thrown around. Maybe you've even made the claim yourself. Truth be told, it’s an all too common accusation thrown at Christians.

To be quite honest, most of the time, the claim is warranted. I have a friend who wants nothing to do with Jesus because his father, a very religious man, was active in the local church but behind closed doors was abusive. Another friend continues to distance herself from anyone associated with the church because of their judgmental glares about her lifestyle choices. Bombarded, by the media, with news of scandal after scandal surrounding church leaders has left a bitter taste in the mouths of some of my closest friends. I have relatives that label Christians as hypocrites because time-after-time their trust has been broken and their feelings were hurt by the arrogance of a pastor. And I can list countless individuals I know (some former pastors), who despise the Christian faith because, to them, it seems to be the most unforgiving, judgmental religion on the planet. So, the label 'hypocrite' may not be too far off.

Whatever their reasoning, I understand. I, too, have personally encountered the hypocrisy they see in our communities of faith. And if I'm at all honest, the number of times I have been the hypocrite who has turned others away are too numerous to count. I lead a small group at my church where I talk about the importance of community, and yet I find myself too busy to make time for others, bear their burdens, or enjoy their company. I am part of accountability groups, stressing the importance of authenticity, all the while keeping my own secrets tucked away in the darkest corners of my heart. I preach sermons about denying yourself to follow Christ, yet I own two vehicles--one of which is a BMW, have multiple televisions and a closet full of clothes. I stress the importance of being a good steward (with everything, not just money), yet I have been known to enjoy a $5 cup of coffee. Many Sundays I haphazardly recite the lyrics to numerous worship songs about giving God my all, while simultaneously creating a mental check-list of everything I need to accomplish once service is over.

Does that make my a hypocrite?

According to this individual, it does. "The problem with [Christians] lies not only in an oft-noted failure to practice what they preach, but an equally pronounced tendency to ignore what the Bible itself, preaches. Christians practice what can only be described as ‘selective morality.’ What they like, they cling to and shove down other’s throats; what they don’t like, they ignore vehemently. That which is palatable and acceptable is supposedly applicable to all; while that which is obnoxious, inconvenient, or self-denying is only applicable to those addressed 2,000 years ago. Their hypocrisy is so rampant that even the validity of calling oneself ‘Christian’ is in question.”

By these standards, all Christians are hypocrites! Every last one of us has ignored parts of the Bible that seem a bit too difficult, too inconvenient, too extreme. We, like the experts in the law of Jesus' day, constantly rationalize our own interpretations of his words. In order to justify our actions (or in-actions), we tirelessly search for even the smallest loophole--surely that man isn't my neighbor, giving to the poor would only enable them, evangelism isn't my responsibility as an introvert, as long as I don't idolize this it's okay, or Jesus was speaking metaphorically, he doesn't expect me to do that.

But I’m going to pause for a second here. Just in case you feel that you have managed to meticulously uphold the teachings of Jesus, I offer you an out. If you, like the rich young ruler, honestly believe "I've obeyed all these commands since I was young," then by all means stop reading. Go about the rest of your day. Listening to another hypocrite would only prove to be a waste of your time.

Now, for the rest of us. I think there is more to this whole hypocrisy thing than meets the eye. Perhaps our view of hypocrisy isn't the same as Jesus' view. Maybe the way we define hypocrisy, is not the way Jesus defines hypocrisy. Perhaps the lines have been blurred between being a sinner in need of a savior and being a hypocrite.

Which we will get to soon.

THE BUSINESS OF CHURCH

If I'm at all honest, I was less than excited for the gathering that was about to take place. I got the sense it was going to turn into more of a business meeting than anything else. Which is part of the reason I still hadn't committed to attend. To top it off, I had other important things to check off my to-do-list. The lawn needed to be mowed. My laundry had been sitting unfolded, in the dryer for the past three days. And I hadn't read the book sitting on my night-stand in almost a week. Now seemed like as good a time as any to knock those things out. But, there was the whole matter of dinner. I had to eat sometime and my fridge was full of condiments...just condiments. For that reason, the offer of a free meal was enough to rope me in to the meeting. So, I obliged. I drove myself to the restaurant, pulled into the parking lot, made my way to the door and let out a deep sigh.

Just inside the front door, I joined seven other guys waiting for our table. Eventually, we were ushered to a room separated from the rest of the diners by a barn-style door. Each of us took a seat around a large, round table. We placed our orders and the sound of chatter filled the room. It wasn't long before our meals were placed before us and the silence set in. Once we had cleaned our plates, the silence was broken with a "this is why I brought you all here" speech. Over the next twenty minutes, the discussion focused on some big decisions facing the church--decisions that could make or break it's momentum. The biggest decision being how to embrace the rapid numerical growth we had been experiencing, while staying community oriented.

But then it happened. Just as I thought, the discussion transitioned into more of a lecture on how the church was intended to function--like an organization. Permit me to vent for a minute, but this view of church doesn't sit well with me. It makes me defensive. It sets me on edge. This sort of discussion makes my stomach churn. And that is why I can empathize with those who have such disdain for "organized religion." When we talk about the church as an organization, I can see why so many people become disenchanted. It doesn't come as a surprise, then, that they get the idea church is all about numbers and money. Of course, when this is the picture we paint, they are lead to believe the church is just another business that needs to be lead and managed. Another entity solely governed by democratic procedures and committees bound by capitalist tendencies.

Without even stepping foot in the church we can see that some churches concern themselves, far too much, with self-promotion and growth. We see that they exist to compete with every other church--vying for a bigger share of the market. Their focus has shifted from people to programs, projects and budgets. Which, it seems to me, is why numerous churches have become content stealing sheep instead of finding the ones they have actually lost.

There are also the churches that seem to milk every dollar they can out of their constituents. Passing around the offering plate every time the doors are opened. Churches that charge to use their building--not God's. Churches that nickle and dime the people who's tithes and offerings have purchased each and every brick. Churches claiming that by donating a certain amount of money to purchase new blades for the aviation department's helicopter, will result in the outpouring of God's blessing in your life. While I wish I was exaggerating that example, I'm not! Churches that chain off the entrance to their parking lot because of events taking place nearby. A gesture made worse by the fact that they post sings informing event attenders that use of their parking lot will cost $5 a vehicle. Churches that would rather make a few extra bucks than graciously extend the use of their facilities because they are simply tools for ministry. Luther took offense to similar tactics used by the church--selling indulgences--because he saw it as exploitation of both church goers and the poor. All this money talk gets me wondering. If Jesus proposed the same challenge to churches today as he did to the rich young ruler--sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor--would they oblige, or would they too walk away downtrodden because of their great wealth?

While I don't want to come across as judgmental, these tactics don't belong in the church. With these kind of experiences in mind, it's easy to see why people view the church as just a big box store pedaling religion. And to be honest, I can't really blame them. The unfortunate thing is that this has resulted in droves of people turning their back on Jesus because they don't realize that's not the church he came to build--a church like the one we find in Acts.

In the stories of that early church I see a community united in love. A body that is vibrant and full of life. A gathering where the Gospel was unabashedly proclaimed--not easy to swallow self-help advice. A community where Jesus really was Lord--not a governing hierarchy. A people who gave the Holy Spirit room to move because they weren't constrained by traditions, set lists, transitions, and schedules. A church that, according to Scripture, was adding thousands daily (which in a culture that didn't count women, translated to many more). A church that collected money not to build their own kingdom, but to build the kingdom of God by meeting the needs of the community--understanding everything was a gift to be shared.

I get the feeling Jesus wouldn't care much for the "organized religion" of today--afterall, he didn't think too highly of it in his day. I'm certain his goal was never to establish a non-profit organization. I doubt he was concerned with building a well-oiled institution. And I don't think his focus was to create a smooth running ecclesiastical machine. Numbers didn't impress him. Money wasn't a motivating factor. Bricks and mortar didn't constrain him.

Jesus came to turn our understanding of church--and pretty much life in general--upside down. He came to establish a church that was to be a beacon of hope for the underprivileged, the abused, the burnt out, the lost, and the religiously bankrupt. A church that would be a catalyst to save us from ourselves. A church called to turn the world upside down. A church where the last were first and the first were last. A church that came not to be served, but to serve.

Perhaps the church isn't an organization. Maybe it isn't even an organism. I wonder if the church is just...the church. And maybe the church, like Jesus, defies any label we try to impose upon her. When functioning in all her beauty and grandeur, there has never been and will never be anything quite like the church. But that can't take place as long as we think Jesus came to establish some sort of organization.

A GOD OF COMPASSION

I haven't posted anything for a while as I've been in a bit of a writing slump. That and things have been a bit hectic with several big life changes happening in the next few months. So, I give you this...a sermon I preached several months ago. And this way you don't even have to read anything.

http://podbay.fm/show/324879581/e/1359262800?autostart=1

TRUTH

One Sunday morning, I was facilitating a discussion with the teenagers in my small group. The students were engaged. Most of them voiced their opinions. Some of them even backed their views up with Scripture. Others defended their stance based on personal experience. The discussion was going well, but we had veered so far off course I wasn't sure how to make our way back to the original topic. Usually this didn't bother me, because those seemed to be the times their perspectives were broadened the most. But I could see things were beginning to get heated. The students were divided and beginning to make things personal.

I interrupted the students in hopes of bringing them back to the point at hand. It didn't help. The open dialogue on truth had taken a turn for the worse. It was now a full on assault in which denominational pride resorted to church bashing and religion hating. I knew that if I didn't intervene soon, all hell would break loose--the Crusades would be re-birthed and someone might get burned at the stake. After a while, my frustration got the best of me and I opened my mouth long enough to let a few unfiltered words fly. No, I didn't yell, swear at them, or lose my temper in any manner. Had that been the case, I'm sure the backlash would have been much quicker and less severe.

There, in the middle of what used to be the sanctuary, I told that small group of teenagers they could find truth in the Qur'an. As you might have guessed, I now had their full attention. With about 30 eyes staring back at me, it was time to offer an explanation. For the rest of the morning I unpacked that statement to those impressionable minds. As I began to wrap things up, I made sure to drive home the point I was trying to make--there is plenty of truth outside Christianity if we are willing to see it. As our time drew to a close, they gathered their pens, Bibles and cell phones to head to church with their parents. I knew this wasn't going to end well for me.

Not to my surprise, their parents and the church leadership were appalled. They couldn't believe I would make such a statement (they obviously didn't know me that well yet). The backlash consisted of angry phone calls from parents and an adult supervisor in my small group for the next month. In the end it all got sorted out, and I got to keep my job.

Sadly, this scenario plays out on a regular basis in Christian circles. Whether you choose to believe it or not, there is truth to be found outside Christianity.  If we have an open mind, we will see truth everywhere we turn. Science has given us vast amounts of truth. We have found truth in the business world. Even the world of sports can teach us some valuable lessons about truth. Music proclaims truth ('secular' and Christian alike). And as hard as we find it to believe, there is truth to be gleaned from other religions. Please understand that in no way am I saying that all religions are equal. Nor am I saying they all lead to the same God. What I am saying is that if you have an open mind and look a little closer, you can find truth just about anywhere.

This is a pretty tough pill for us to swallow as Christians. With our claims of exclusivity, we think we have cornered the market on truth. I assure you, I'm not second guessing the claims of Christianity. Nor do I think there is anything wrong with making some of the exclusive claims we do. In actuality, every religion (whether people admit it or not) makes their own claims of exclusivity. So, the two--religion and exclusivity--go hand-in-hand. That's why it really isn't possible to adhere to more than one religion. Christianity claims Jesus is the only way to salvation. Hinduism and Buddhism are exclusive in the sense that adherents must deny foundational beliefs of theism. Judaism requires believers to earn salvation by virtue of their deeds--which are clearly laid out in the Torah. Islam teaches monotheism that sets itself against Christianities doctrine of the Trinity and claims of the divinity of Christ. While these are wide brush strokes that over-simplify each of these religions, you see that each have some sort of exclusive claim.

Rarely do I hear people bashing other religions for their claims. Which leads me to believe the problem with Christianity has little to do with it's exclusivity. I get the sense the world doesn't care much about the truth we claim to have because of our approach. In college, I had a professor whose mantra in class was "People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care." I think this was his way of getting us to rationally discuss things instead of personally attacking each others views. While I hate cliches, there is a lot of truth to this statement. And that's the problem when it comes our defense of the Gospel. The methods we use to perpetuate those claims reek of intolerance, egotisticalism and closed-mindedness.

Many of us have made it our mission to perpetuate and defend the truth of our faith. As someone in favor of a proper theology, a correct hermeneutic and a logical apologetic, I get it. People need to know the truth and we should stand up for what we believe. When my faith is scrutinized, I tend to be just as protective of that truth as the next guy. While that may seem like a viable approach for a religion that claims to have the absolute truth, I'm here to tell you it's not. There is a right and wrong way to proclaim the truth. Becoming closed off and defensive when our beliefs are put under scrutiny is not the way to go...unless you fear what believe isn't really true. Because in the end, the truth has nothing to hide and will make itself known.

The biggest issue people seem to take offense to is the fact that, as Christians, we've fooled ourselves into believing it's our beliefs that make us a better person, not our behavior. It's as though we read through the Bible, make note of all the truth it contains, but miss the picture entirely. We have all this knowledge and truth filed away, but it doesn't transform who we are.

Sometimes I wonder if our ego has gotten in the way. Perhaps it's time we take inventory and ask ourselves the tough questions. Are we seekers of truth or defenders of belief? Are we more concerned with being right or loving others? The differences are paramount. If truth is as important as we make it out to be, we need to prove it by being the incarnation of the Gospel.

BATTLES

I have never been one to avoid confrontation or back down from a fight. In grade school, this resulted in more visits to the Principal's office than I can count on both hands (and feet). On two separate occasions the public school system finally had enough and my fighting resulted in more extensive disciplinary action. At first, they thought forcing me to attend counseling sessions, with others like me, during recess for several months would take care of the problem. Eventually, the threat of missing recess took it's toll and my attitude changed enough the counselor deemed she no longer required to see me. Upon my release, I did my best to keep my temper in check. The threat of missing recess was enough to keep me in line for my last few remaining years of elementary school. Any fight would have to happen after hours, off school grounds. However, once I walked through the doors of that elementary school for the final time, the lessons I learned were threw out the window.

Walking across the threshold of the middle school doors, I found it necessary to make my presence known. It didn't take long for my attitude to resurface. After a few minor altercations, my temper flared up again and resulted in yet another fist fight. This time, while riding the bus, another student sitting directly behind me decided he wanted to test my patience. Honestly, I think the argument started because he wouldn't give me a stick of gum. To everyone's surprise, the altercation escalated quickly. I had enough when he reached over the seat and began choking me out. At that point I threw a right jab directly at his face. The moment my fist connected with his right eye he loosened his grip. As I was ready to throw the next punch, the bus came to a screeching halt. Bob, the bus driver ran to the back of the bus, separated the two of us, and proceeded to the school where we were met by the Assistant Principal. After a short meeting, which my parents were required to attend, I was required to do a week of ISS (in school suspension), kicked off the bus for two weeks, and ordered to participate in anger management classes.

For several more years my attitude went unchecked. I continued to walk around with a chip on my shoulder until college. At that point, my confrontational attitude began to evolve. I realized using my fists to get my way or defend myself from the harassment I received for being short was no longer a viable option. While some of this had to do with the realization that fighting wasn't helping my faith or my future, I still had trouble backing down from confrontation. However, being a ministerial student, I started to allow God to work on my attitude. In the mean time, my fighting evolved. It's nature transitioned from physical confrontation to academic debate. I found it much more enlightening doing battle with words. I dedicated myself to memorizing Scripture and studying theology to debate and defend my religious beliefs. To be honest, defending God, discussing Scripture interpretations, and debating theology seemed much more befitting an aspiring pastor. At least these things wouldn't land me in any sort of legal trouble. The more I read and studied, the more passionate and opinionated I became about who God is and how He envisioned the world. With a similar zeal as the McManus brothers in Boondock Saints, I made it my personal mission to wage war against others who opposed the God I had grown to know--just to clarify, my zeal lead to heated debates, not mob-like killing. I took a stand against some of the traditional ways we had done church had portrayed God. The more others opposed me, the more righteous my indignation of the church felt.

Jump ahead several years. I am now 30 and have discovered that while I still have some disagreements with how we, as Christians have portrayed God and the way we go about church, there is a lot I am uncertain about. Furthermore, I'm seeing that some of these battles I placed myself in are futile and are still the wrong ones to fight. Just the other night, doing some soul searching and reading I stumbled across a devotion discussing the truth that some battles don't belong to us. 2 Chronicles 20:17 begins with the words "You will not have to fight this battle." It goes on "...stand firm and see the deliverance the LORD will give you." While I realize this passage was dealing with a very different group of people facing a very different set of circumstances, there is still truth for me (and you to gleam). Before I move on, let me give you a brief synopsis of who and what this verse is addressing. Here, God is talking to King Jehoshaphat and the Israelites. They're about to be attacked by three enemies: the Moabites, the Ammonites, and the Meunites. Being King, Jehoshaphat was obviously worried about how his people would defend themselves. And God, knowing exactly what he was thinking informs Jehoshaphat they won't have to fight this battle; this battle belongs to God. Which is the exact thing God has been trying to tell me.

All of these years, God hasn't needed me to fight for him. He doesn't require that I come to his defense. It has never been necessary for me to prove his existence, squash theories of evolution, know whether he will return pre-, post-, or mid-tribulation, or anything of the sort. While it is important for me to know what I believe and why, I don't have to make anyone else see things the same way. While it's vital that I know who God is and what he has done and continues to do in my life, it's not my job to prove that to others. None of this is to say that our hermeneutic is unimportant, or that theology is worthless. Nor am I objecting to a healthy discussion of these topics, as long as we can--to paraphrase Paul--"agree to disagree."  Having competing paradigms of the world and God shouldn't keep us from breaking bread with one another. Again, while these topics may not be the main point, in no way am I belittling their importance. However, it has never been our duty to partake in these battles to win others to our world view. God can (and will) defend himself, prove his existence, and work things out. We are given a glimpse of this reality in the book of Revelation, where we see that God redeems all things and love wins.

The fighting I should be doing is what was modeled by Jesus. A man who, even when his life depended upon it, didn't become defensive. A man that didn't resort to debating theology. A man, who, I'm not even so sure put too much focus on defending God. What he did, and what he calls me to do is laid out plain as day in Scripture. There, jumping off the pages in red, the words of Jesus call me out on my self-imposed righteousness. They tell me of the necessary battles for me to fight. He says to "Love my neighbor." To "Love my enemies." To "Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, care for the sick, shelter the stranger." To "Care for the widows and the orphans." Clearly, these are the battles Jesus was concerned with. These issues he was most passionate about and cared to fight for dealt with justice, mercy and equality. Which are the issues I must fight for.

TATTOO: JACOB

I'm intrigued by the story of Jacob. Given Jacob's ancestry, he should be destined for greatness. But from the beginning, that doesn't seem to be the case. During birth, Jacob seems to have some intrinsic feeling that if he isn't born before his twin brother Esau, he will not have his proper place in society. That's why he's grasping Esau's heel when he comes out of the womb. From that day on, his entire life is characterized by drama. I get the idea this, in part, was due to Jacob's feelings of inadequacy--afterall, it's usually the first born that's held in highest esteem. Time and again, we see that Jacob will stop at nothing to make his way to the top. He lies, cheats, and uses people to gain the standing he feels belongs to him. While Jacob thought his determination was a noble trait, others viewed it in a much different light. They saw him as a ruthless liar and a master manipulator.

Sadly, when I look back at my life, I see that I have a lot in common with Jacob.

To begin with, there are seasons of my life I committed to make things work without any dependence on God whatsoever. Like Jacob, I have been guilty of lying, cheating, and manipulating to gain my rightful standing. Worse, not only have I been guilty of this with others, but I have even attempted to try these tactics on God. There's also the reality that both Jacob and I have feelings of inadequacy. For years I have tried to deal with them, but they continue to surface. Mostly, those feelings of inadequacy stem from the time God called me to a life of ministry. In spite of those feelings, I wanted to live a life that amounted to something more than selfish pursuit, so I accepted that call. But, you should know that, in the beginning, I didn't fully embrace it. Just a few months later, I did everything I could think of to disqualify me from what God had planned for me. I dove head first into a life of sex, drugs and rock and roll. Actually, I have no musical talent and zero rhythm, so it was less a life of rock and roll and more a life of drugs and sex. But even that isn't a proper description, because I only chased women, smoked pot and drank. That characterized the early part of my high school career, which only changed once my wrestling match with God began--which is where we pick up the next part of Jacob's story.

In the thirty-second chapter of Genesis, we find Jacob trying his best to make amends for some of his past. Too cowardly to meet his brother face-to-face, Jacob sends others ahead with lavish gifts. But God has something different planned. That night, Jacob has an encounter with an angelic stranger. The two wrestle through the night until the sun breaks the horizon. At this point, the angel (or God depending on translations), realizing Jacob will not let go until he receives a blessing, dislocates Jacob's hip. Jacob, the deceiver, then receives his new name: Israel, which means "struggles with God." The blessing Jacob begged for is then bestowed which provides some clarity. Realizing what transpired, in verse 30, Jacob informs us "[He] saw God face to face, and yet [his] life was spared." After all these years, Jacob finally learns the lesson God had been trying to show him.

The wrestling match I started with God in high school didn't end nearly as quick as Jacob's. While his eight hours probably seems like a lengthy amount of time, it doesn't hold a candle to the eight years my wrestling match spanned. All because I (like Jacob to some extent) spent much of that time trying to make things work on my own. That's why, after college, my inadequacy grew exponentially. Even though my friends and I graduated from the same university, with the same degree, I was left in the dust. Many of them accepted their first job in the church the weeks after receiving their degrees. I, on the other hand, worked for a company doing Internet tech support. The next few months I became discouraged and disillusioned as I saw both their careers and their ministries take off. I felt God had let me down. I did exactly what he had asked, yet the blessing I hoped for wasn't coming.

Once I accepted my first job in the church, I thought things would change. But they didn't. Seeing the passion, joy, and fulfillment my friends had was too much to take. All these things still eluded me and, to be honest, it pissed me off. That's when resentment set in. I began to resent my friends for the opportunities they had. I started to resent the success that came their way. But most of all, I began to resent the call God had given me. A call that, for me, didn't come with much clarity. While many of my friends knew exactly what they wanted to do--lead worship, plant churches, teach the Bible--I didn't have a clue. All I knew was that God wanted me to give up my plans, in order to follow him.

Eventually I got burnt out and took a break. For several years I kept ministry, the church and God at a distance. Slowly, my need and desire to get involved in the church and to pursue my calling came back. So, that's exactly what I did. I started volunteering in various ministries at my church. In time, more and more opportunities came to plug in and discover what I was most passionate about. I was helping out with a youth group and getting to speak there. Then, I jumped at the opportunity to lead a lifegroup. And eventually I got to preach again on Sunday mornings. Things were looking up. I was finding joy and fulfillment. I began searching for ministry positions in the church again. I talked to different churches, and had several interviews. At one point, a church even called and asked for my resume. Although nothing panned out with any of those, I kept pressing on. In just a short while I began to get frustrated with how things were playing out again. The final blow was a church that told me I wouldn't be considered because I was young and single. That's when my old friends inadequacy and resentment paid another visit. I saw myself heading down the path I had just come.

But all of that was about to change.

One evening, alone, in the living room, my wrestling match with God finally came to a head. I stood there and literally yelled at God. Not once did he yell back. He didn't even speak a word. But at the end of all that yelling, my throat now hoarse, my struggle with God was over. He won. In the stillness and quiet of that moment, the blessing I had been begging God for was being poured out. What I received was nothing tangible. No job offer came. I didn't receive any more clarity about my calling. But, what I was given was just as valuable. That night God gave me exactly what he gave Jacob--peace and contentment!

I was able to see that my problem was never really with God. All along, the problem had been my skewed expectations. Because I had set aside my original hopes and dreams and was doing my best to follow God, I felt like he owed me. I didn't think a job in the church was too much to ask for after all I had done. Finally I was able to see that God owed me nothing. I began to see that he obviously envisioned things differently than I had. And I was finally able to accept that. I realized that while the ministry I was doing didn't always happen in the church, or even look legitimate to others, I was doing ministry. God was giving me opportunities to do what I was most passionate about, but because it wasn't coupled with a paycheck, I didn't see it.

Do I know what God wants me to do? Sort of. Do I wish it came with a paycheck? Some days. But I see how not relying on a paycheck has given me some freedom--like starting a lifegroup in a bar. Am I hopeful something will come of it? Most of the time. Do I still have struggles with God? Absolutely! But isn't that what it means to have faith?