A selfish kind of gospel

This morning I experienced one of the most selfish versions of salvation I've ever experienced.  Here are the five points of why "I would become a Christian today":

1. God wants me to become a Christian.
2. The Christian life is better/healthier/more beneficial.
3. My life could end unexpectantly.
4. My heart could harden.
5. Jesus could return today.

While those things may be true, I left church this morning feeling like something was missing.  I felt as if someone was trying to sell me eternal life insurance -- better to have it just in case -- rather than a loving God.  In the end it just came across to me as selfish.

Since I was visiting the church (and I have a problem with arrogance), I refrained from sharing my thoughts with the preacher.  But I was saddened by the prescription for a sickness that is really just a symptom of the deeper sickness.

I kept waiting to hear the word "love."  The only mention was in a quoting of the KJV John 3:16 used as evidence of point 1.

I wanted to hear that "God is love," the key part of that being that we are to love others.  I walked away thinking, "If I don't have to love others this is the easiest -- and cheapest -- way to eternal life ever.  That is a 'good' reason to become a Christian."

I wanted to hear something about "community."  Instead I was left thinking all I had to do was repent and be baptized -- this was something I did all on my own.

I knew it wouldn't happen, but I was longing to hear something about serving "the least of these."  Unfortunately many church congregations would rather ignore the list of things we are called to do in lieu of the list of things we should not do.

When we are "signing the papers" looking toward the future, we ignore the fact that Jesus has already come once.  During that time he taught us how to live as if heaven was already here.  The key: love.

Without the key ingredient of love, the gospel is reduced to the selfishness of being all about you.  That is cheap and misses the point of the Good News.  The Gospel is anything but selfish -- that is the reason you should become a Christian.

A good lesson for me to learn: Stop teaching

"I've been teaching empty classrooms for years."

After reading several good bloggers's posts, I recognized something different about my blog posts.  Whereas many great posts end strongly with a question, my posts -- attempts at reflection -- often end with something that I don't set out to do:  A lesson.

If you blog or have read just about any article about blogging, you can probably tell me that I'm not supposed to end it with a lesson; I'm supposed to end it with an invitation for a response.  Even most (maybe some) preachers with blogs know that.

My problem seems to be rooted in how I relate to people. 

If you've seen The Hangover part II (please don't if you haven't), you might remember a scene where Alan Garner flashes back to the night no one else can remember.  He sees himself and his friends as 12 year-olds.  It explains a lot about him.  The scary thing is that I sometimes act like I see everyone else as a 12 year-old.  The exception is myself:  I'm the adult.  And what do adults do?  They teach children valuable lessons.

How jacked up is that?

Not really sure what's happening here, but it's jacked up, too.

It's another sad reminder that I pretend the world revolves around me.  It's like I've already forgotten that which I don't want to be reminded of.  I am so thankful that I'm not as important as I pretend to be.  But why do I keep pretending I'm so important?  If anything, I'm the 12 year-old boy in a world of people who know better than me.

I'm far from a prolific blogger, but that's no excuse for not loving people and recognizing how important and how smart they are.  I think that's the reason for it deep down.  And it's definitely something I'm trying to recognize and change.

This is where I'm supposed to end with a McGuffin, a film device now used incorrectly in social media.  This is also something I'm not good at.  Maybe this will invite a response, though: 

I think many of us struggle with everyday struggles against selfishness and ego.  Mine exhibits itself in the need to teach a lesson.  I'd love to hear [read] about any ways you see this in yourself, and -- even better -- how you have battled against it.  Hopefully this will encourage Angela that there is hope for me.

Hire this man

If you see the header below show up on your desk, I recommend you contact this person immediately.

You're probably thinking, Wow. Is that Calibri font? How original. Hired!

I'm primarily looking to reengage in the world of higher ed again.  This time I want to be working at the intersection of social justice, service-learning, and global experience.  If it doesn't exist at your university yet, let me know.  I'm preparing my project proposal.

Angela and I would appreciate your prayers during the search.  We're both nervous already, getting ready to return.  Searching for a job just adds to it.

Blessings and thanks for the help you can offer.  If you know of any opportunities, let me know.  Also, if you think there is a better font than Calibri for a resume, share your recommendations.

Self-Reflection #18 (or thereabouts)

I keep thinking of this quote from a "30 Rock" episode a while back:

Liz Lemon [to Jack]:  "I'm sorry you got caught up in another one of Liz Lemon's adventures."
Jack Donaghy:  "My adventures!  I am the protagonist!"

I laughed a lot when I first heard this.  It's a great line -- after all, we're each the star of our own life.  Then I thought more about it.  As I did so, it became even more true:  I think I'm the star.

It's definitely what led my wife to say, "Justin thinks he's cooler than he really is."  I didn't laugh as much when I heard this, but it definitely got me thinking.

I remember when I was a big-time 8th grader.  I was on the bus heading home having a conversation with a 6th grader.  In a nonchalant manner she called me a "nerd."  I began to make my case as to why this was not true.  After arguing away her claim, point by point, she simply said, "I still think you're a nerd."  This girl was simply saying the same thing that Angela told me:  "Justin, you think you are cooler than you."

I just wish it hadn't taken 18 years to realize that it is so true.

Since I've been living my life as the protagonist of "Justin Schneider's Adventures," I haven't stopped to ask myself whether this is really my story.  In a way, it is.  But in a major way, it is not.

As a follower of God through Christ, the big story is his.  His love adds import to my role, but I'm not the protagonist. I keep thinking of the line by Kundera (or Stanislavsky), "There are no small parts, only small actors"  (said long before height-challenged Dustin Hoffman or Tom Cruise).  Being a part of his story doesn't make us less important; it just makes him more important.  Our role is to play the hell outta what we're given.  That means all of what Jesus said, which Paul does a pretty good job of paraphrasing in Romans 12. 

Like Angela and that 6th grader did for me, Paul clearly reminds us "Don’t think you are better than you really are. Be honest in your evaluation of yourselves, measuring yourselves by the faith God has given us" (Romans 12:3, NLT).  


That's enough for today.  It's about time to start again tomorrow.  I'm going to begin with this prayer from St. Francis of Assisi:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.

But the Wilderness Is So Nice

I just looked at the Lent calendar and realized how close Easter is.

My first thought should have been getting excited about eating brownies made from scratch again.  But it wasn't -- that was the second.

My first thought was, "I don't want it to be over already."

Beginning before Lent, I began seeking God in a more open and direct way.  But during this Lent season, my daily devotionals, my meditating, praying, and scripture reading have increased to almost be where I'd like them to be.  Many mornings have skipped my viewing of "The Daily Show," and instead read or listened to teachings of faith. 

In addition, my relationship with Angela has reached a new sincerity that my own sin and selfishness and fear prevented.  It has certainly been tough.  Opening to Angela and remaining honest is not something I'm good at.  In fact, the only reason I used to be open to Angela or anyone else was to share "just enough" to appear open and honest.  Only through God's grace and mercy and Angela's, have we come to a point where joy is always near even in times of hurt.

I wonder how Jesus felt.

I'm not sure when God revealed to Jesus the path to death.  He probably knew it all along.  In the wilderness, though, he wasn't going to die.  Jesus was tempted in major ways, but he knew he wasn't going to die there.  In Matthew, after the temptations, it says, "Angels came and were ministering to him" (4:17 ESV).  That must have been a wonderful experience.

So wonderful that I would have been tempted to stay.  What if that was the last temptation Jesus faced in the wilderness:  Just stay and be fed spiritually and intellectually. 

That's where I am right now.  Sure I want desserts, but my connections with God is such that I don't ever need something sweet again (I know I never did -- I just always wanted it). 

More than dessert, I'm scared about what will happen with this connection that is so strong.  And even if it continues until we leave Thailand, how can we keep close contact with God when life in America tries to get in the way again?

I really like the part of Fireproof when she asks what day he's on, and he says, "43. . . . Who says I have to stop?"  That's the complete truth. 

There are 40 days of the Lenten season.  But once it's over, who says I have to stop?

Each day is a new day, and each day I continue to seek God.  Luke tells us that when he left the wilderness, "Jesus returned in the power of the Spirit" (4:14 ESV).  Each day we are seeking to be filled with the Spirit.

One day at a time.

Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

I spent a lot of time focusing on this song, listening to Sufjan Stevens's performance of it.  He changes it up a bit, but I've included the original lyrics by Robert Robinson (1778).

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,

Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,
Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit,
Here Thy praises I’ll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Here by Thy great help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.

(The verse that speaks loudest to me)
O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

O that day when freed from sinning,
I shall see Thy lovely face;
Clothed then in blood washed linen
How I’ll sing Thy sovereign grace;
Come, my Lord, no longer tarry,
Take my ransomed soul away;
Send thine angels now to carry
Me to realms of endless day.

Rest along the way

"It's a long road ahead."

I've heard this statement a lot lately.  My initial response is "I know, I know." 

When I stop and think about it, though, I wonder, do I know? 

I'm notorious about having great ideas, getting them started, and then passing them off to someone who will continue it.  Either that, or the project dies due to my lack of follow-through.  This doesn't happen all the time.  Maybe not even the majority of the time.  But it happens.  What I want to know is why.

After thinking a lot about this for a few days straight, it comes back to my need for control and my sense of fear. 

I see things in the big picture.  The postive in that is that I try to look at things holistically, getting to the root.  A negative is that I can see how hard and how far one needs to go to accomplish the vision.  Having the vision is great; getting there is hard and sometimes overwhelming. 

This is where the fear comes in.  With such a long road ahead, the chances for failure are much greater.  So instead of pushing through, I checkout and give up.  I've done this with relationships, workout routines, news articles, fighting temptation, and just about everything else. 

I want the results.  But I want them now without the journey.

That's why I think it's so important to follow up the "long road ahead" comment with one that is just as important: 

"One day at a time."

Rest and reframing are so important each step of the way.  It's the same idea as "baby steps" in What About Bob?. 

Angela had a great run this morning.  She said she usually poops out early because it seems so far.  The key was to mark "halfway."  It's not a physical stop, but the mental marker gives her strength to regather her motivation and strength.  She can shout, "I made it this far.  No way I'm giving up now!" 

That's what we need on this long and bumpy ride:  rest stops. 

The opportunity to refresh our minds, get a little nutrition, clean out the "waste" that has been stored on the journey so far.  This is what I'm praying for now.  I want to keep running the race, but I have to do it each day.  I don't need to and can't run the next 50 years today.  I just have to run today.

How the heck did Jesus hang out in the wilderness for 40 days?  Despite the few paragraphs dedicated to this time in the bible, I'm almost certain it was just one day at a time.

Lent is long.  The wait is long.  Seeking reconciliation can be long.  Life is long.  You have to rest along the way.

It's a long road ahead.  But it happens one day at a time.