MySpace to find MyFriend Tim

A few months back, I was “Googling” to unearth a friend from college. I discovered he had a MySpace page, but couldn’t tell him I was alive unless I agreed to be assimilated into the MySpace collective. A rebel at heart, I shelved the idea until later.

Later came in April, when Molly and I went to Portland to see a dear sister Molly drew closer to Christ 12 years ago get married. Molls was the matron of honor (sounds old & wrinkled, doesn’t it?), Carol the beaming bride. The weekend was a whirlwind of conversations and quality time with even higher quality friends. Morning ‘til noon, evening ‘til wee hours, I enjoyed the privilege of listening to my friends’ journeys, and hopefully encouraging each. Probably exhorted some too (can I help it?). So many conversations I started going hoarse. I flew home exhausted, spent, and fulfilled. During that weekend my bro Drew helped me set up a MySpace page.

It lay dormant for almost two months—white blah w/splashes of orange, declaring that I exist, and some guy named “Tom” is my only friend. That was until last weekend. I typed a few lines (understatement of course) explaining who I am, who I’d like to meet, what tunes I like etc. (such information is the currency of MySpace existence, apparently). Even fought through some HTML to escape the white and orange.

All this, to contact my friend Tim.

Tim is a bit larger than life. His constant quips and unmistakable laugh in the dorm dining hall made me dislike him instantly. That’s because I was a cocky, self-absorbed overachieving idiot who paused only to eat in those days. I would’ve been happy if dinner was silent, but every meal Tim loitered among a gaggle of guys and gals all giggling at his jokes.

I distinctly remember my girlfriend at the time (Corrine) telling me that I’d love Tim, if only I got to know him. Then a mutual friend (Propst) bridged the gap. I found myself walking by Tim’s dorm room one night and he welcomed me in, offering a drink, nachos, and conversation about movies, sports, and (beloved most of all) music. I was hooked. Tim and I hung out almost all hours (to the detriment of our GPAs) for two years thererafter.

My favorite memories of Tim are varied and vivid. Playing flag football & softball against the Delta Chi Omegajerks (of various names) … and winning, much to their chagrin. After all, our team was perennially named “100% Fratfree,” like some sort of nonconformist yogurt. With Tim I discovered the Seattle sound scene as it emerged before our very ears. Unknown bands called Nirvana, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains, and Pearl Jam came out of nowhere to our CD players, then later to America. Through them we heard poets who understood that life isn’t a never-ending party (See the film Rockstar, with Mark Wahlburg & you’ll get a glimpse of the shift). Far too many late night Sega sessions with Queso and coffee (we and our following of friends were addicted to EA Sports … among other things). Halucinagenically witnessing Val Kilmer become Jim Morrison in the first showing of The Doors, driving home in slow motion, then later finding my friend in darkness and helping some light to shine. Writing countless screenplays and movies in our minds, to the point of taking photos for storyboards the world has yet to see, but we’ve already directed. Serving on student council together, buying the first dorm-owned big screen TV at the Oregon State University (the death of Propst’s academic life, I think. I don’t recall him leaving the lounge for a year and a half, except to meet the Dominos delivery guy).

Time with Tim was a blast. Lots of laughing, often ‘til tears. Dreaming outside our destinies. Reading his many articles in the school paper. Leaving behind reality. Coming back to it. Graduating. Fantasy football. Friendship. Fun.

Then, he left. Graduation—the design of college and death knell of college relationships.

Tim returned to Tacoma to get a job, while I finished my last year at OSU. My last semester there, I came to faith in Christ. Tim already knew him. I had no idea. The next two years I was a mess of confusion, regeneration, and legalism. I got married. The last time I saw Tim was at my wedding, in 1997. He should’ve been my best man, but my head was in a weird place—dictated by the paradigm of a personality-cult pastor. Before I knew it, I was in Dallas helping plant a church and attending grad school. I lost Tim’s number. Didn’t know his email. I blinked, had two kids, and it was 2008. I haven’t seen him for ten years.

That will all change in four weeks. Molls and I are again flying to the Pacific NW—this time for a family reunion … on her side. Half of them will be Mormon and the other half pagan. I’m eager to see the show, personally.

But even more so, I’m excited to see Tim. My long lost friend. My kindred spirit in all things art. And my brother in Christ.

For that reunion, I can’t wait.

PS. Cory's MySpace page is: http://profile.myspace.com/corykuhn.

Multi-site church—the way of the future? Hope not.

In our recent pilgrimage of seeing what passes for church in America, Molly and I visited Cross Timbers Church this past week (the Keller Campus). It was very weird for me. Worship was live (and God-honoring), but come time for the sermon, a screen came down and the pastor was projected on it. He preached on sex. It wasn't that great (ouch).

They're quick in assimilation, though. Barely 24 hours after we visited, a girl from Cross Timbers called my cell phone, asking if we enjoyed our visit and if I had any questions. I just had one issue I'm still trying to process through; so I inquired.

Cory: Why isn't a live person preaching? You had a live worship pastor. Why not a teaching pastor?

Carla: Pastor Toby is so gifted that this lets everyone hear him without having to drive to Argyle [their main campus].

Cory: According to the bulletin, the satelite campus we were at takes in over $130,000 per week. I assume you have more than a few pastors on staff, right?

Carla: Oh yes. They're great men of god. They're very down to earth. You'd like them.

Cory: Why doesn't one of them preach? I assume the lead pastor has discipled some of these guys. If he can trust a bunch of different worship pastors (at various campuses), why aren't there a few guys he can trust to teach?

Carla: I'm not qualified to answer that. Can I have someone else call you?

Multi-site church is kind of like franchising a pastor/church via video feed. It enables one charsimatic leader to expand his influence (almost without limit). It enables his church to spread quickly, like a new product brand. If a local church has the cash to set it up, it enables limitless satellite campuses to exist under the authority of a single mother ship, even worldwide (a friend of mine in Portland is in one that projects their pastor to a campus in New Zealand, among others). Oh yeah ... it apprently brings in $$$.

I discovered this 1-minute video on the Cross Timbers web site (Matt Chandler's on it too) not just endorsing this new "multi-site" church movement, but presenting Slough and Chandler as new spokesmen/gurus for it. Apparently, it's the way of the future. The two (along with multi-site another pastor from Cali) will host a conference this May where, for a mere $300 per shepherd, they'll teach you how to bless people with video of yourself preaching in satelites from sea to shining sea (Coast 2 Coast).

Maybe I'm behind the times. I see nothing wrong with sermons at the click of a mouse. I'm all for using technology to increase excellence in worship. I just don't see a lot of good coming from this (at the very least, it's encouraging and enabling personality cults).

Something about it just seems wrong ... (I'd love you guys to edify me on this biblically). At our campus, there was virtually no oversight during communion. When the pastor told people to raise their hands if they ever experienced a certain trial, no one did. They knew their pastor was preaching to them live, but they also seemed to know, it really didn't matter what they did, b/c he couldn't hear or see them.

Our experience rated slightly above sitting at home and watching "church" on TV. People could've been having a food fight with the communion elements and the virtual pastor would've just kept on preaching like all was wonderful.

It felt like seeing sheep without a shepherd. The experience is haunting me.

As an aside, Cross Timbers was the third church we've visited inside two months where the children's church experience = a romper room filled with video games, toys, and a couple of adults overseeing the mayhem (contradictory statement, I know). Both Hannah and Judah (who are not dim) strained to tell me a single thing they learned after an hour in their care (other than how to play Wii, that is).

Last month, my nine-year-old son memorized Ephesians 6 ... no thanks to the church.

Hopefully the adults fare better.

What's the bloggin' point?

I’m not sure what the point of blogging is anymore (maybe I never did).

Is it to vent? Man, I wish. There is so much crap going on (especially in the name of Jesus), I’d love to be like Paul and name some names. Instead, God has restrained and I have refrained.

Most of my blogs were efforts to spark thought and growth. I don’t mean to preach (my friends would say I can't control myself). I'm simply processing my own wrestling matches with God. Do these ramblings really help anyone else? Doubt it. There are many wiser communicators out there. My blogs are too infrequent to check regularly anyway. I wouldn't.

My inconsistency isn’t from a lack of things to say. Actually, there’s too much flying around in my mind to process even in conversation with friends. The whirlwind of issues and sought answers is overwhelming.

Maybe the point in blogging is just to connect. An open diary of sorts. I enjoy reading my friends' thoughts, seeing pictures of their fam ... it helps me pray for them better.

But if connection is the point, blogging has little payoff. It's typing with only faint hope of someone sharing in return. Almost like talking to yourself.

Then again, I write for a living and don’t complain about a lack of feedback. Daily, I dutifully pen exegesis and exhortations even though each case of books shipped out results in silence. Getting a paycheck must be a fueling factor (duh).

Apparently I should just accept reality (that's very hard for idealists like me). A blog won't change the world (maybe not one person's mind). It's a far cry from life-on-life friendship (for which there is no substitute and few comparable joys on this earth).

Blogs are a snippet of acquaintance—quick peeks at what’s cooking in the kitchen of someone you know. They also allow bloggers to spill something and see if anyone cares enough to notice. Like informal, semi-safe (but public) group therapy.

I guess we all need that from time to time. But I’d rather have conversation. I could live to be a million and still wake up eager to talk with my friends.

But since everyone's so busy these days ... so little time to hang out, write, text, call, email, etc., I suppose we should keep blogging away.

If so, maybe I will start calling out injustice and naming names. Now that would be theraputic!

Unfortunately, I can't. If I began exposing hypocrites, my name would soon appear on the list. My offenses would indeed be overwhelming writing material.

Guess it's a good thing I don’t blog very often.

Missing John Weber

Last night a phone call informed me that a friend had just died. It was sudden and completely unexpected. Heart attack was the cause—while exercising, no less.

The man now with the Lord is John Weber. He was only 59. We became friends a couple of years ago. He served as the chaplain for the Dallas Cowboys, but that's not why people wanted to hang out with him. He was truly special—one of those rare few God made to bless everyone they touch.

"Mentor" is a word that gets thrown around a lot in Christian circles, but that's exactly who John was to many. He was the kind of man you couldn't forget after meeting him. Driving away I already began looking forward to seeing him again. Every time I met or spoke with John, he left a dent in my life—the good kind.

John listened. John always made time to talk and never looked at his watch while people spilled their guts. Somehow, he seemed to find whatever others had to say the most fascinating thing in the universe. Just talking to John made folks feel important and valued.

When he spoke, his eyes locked on you as if you were the only person in the world. His words came from a lifetime of wisdom and usually with a hand on your shoulder. He was only about 5-foot-5, but his character loomed large.

He was humble and encouraging. He earned his Masters degree from Dallas Theological Seminary (and had just finished his Doctoral dissertation), but he talked to people more like a fishing buddy than a theologian. Whenever John gave advice, the experience was never a “beat down”—it was a “build up.” His riveting stories and booming laugh made him likeable, but it was his endless supply of encouragements and big bear hugs that made us love him.

He loved well. He always asked "How are you doing?" and waited for the answer with sincere concern. I don't know how to put it other than John loved people. Not just in emotion or acts of service, but with all he was. I think he saw loving people as his full time job. He excelled at it. Such love made all kinds of people stop, notice, and marvel.

Cowboys owner Jerry Jones is still considered by many in Texas to be the antichrist (for firing Tom Landry), but he had only good things to say about John Webber [link], "This is a very sad day for the Dallas Cowboys organization and also to the hundreds of lives that have been positively influenced by John's warmth, his wisdom and his ministry," Jones said. "Our thoughts and prayers go out to his family, and also to all who knew him and loved him. He was a very giving man, and he will be deeply missed."

He was faithful and devoted. John was a one-woman man, married to his joyful jewel Carol for over 30 years. Their Christmas card last year showed the two of them surrounded by their four daughters, one son, sons-in-law and grandchildren. Just looking at it made me want to be a better family man.

"How can I be a better father?" I once asked him during a Whataburger breakfast. John's answer was half compliment, half sucker punch, and all wisdom. "Cory, with your talent and drive, you'll accomplish great things for the kingdom" (obviously, he kindly exaggerated). Then he paused, looked me in the eyes, and exhorted with a smile, "So at home, be fun."

John and Carol prayed. At a marriage conference a couple of summers ago, John and Carol explained how they took evening walks, praying for each child's futuer. Not general prayers, but for "the M's," as he called them. For each child's relationship with their Maker, their Mission for Him, and each one's future Mate. Evening after evening, for years they prayed. Five, ten, twenty, thirty ... Why is that it all great Christian men and women are privately people of prayer? Must be coincidence.

As I write this, the Cowboys are preparing to fly to Philadelphia to face the Eagles. It will be the first time since Tom Landry was coaching that John won’t be on the plane. Like them, many of us in Dallas who loved him are letting out a heavy sigh, knowing that we too must go on without him.

Of all people, Jerry Jones was right.

John will be deeply missed.

Happy Halloween! (or not)

[My apologies for not haven't blogged recently. I've been buried under writing deadlines; so my desire to write "recreationally" has been thin]

Since it's October 31, I'd like to wish each of you a happy evening of festivity (and ministry)!

— whether you celebrate it as Halloween (a cultural holiday event manufactured from pagan origins)

— or you celebrate it at your local church's Harvest Fair (a Christian holiday event manufactured from pagan origins).

Years ago when I was on pastoral staff, I had to put together the Harvest Fairs. That was in the early days of "Halloween alternative" events, before churches began counting a "trunk or treat" in their parking lot as evangelism (sigh).

Anyway, back then the Harvest Fair was a way to "protect kids" (a.k.a. "avoid the world") from trick or treating. Lots of time and effort were put into these, and the kids enjoyed them. Once someone not from the church saw our event and brought her child over to join in the Christian fun. I can still see the look on the little girl's face as she was turned away at the door by the "Sheriff." She was refused entry for wearing a "worldly" costume (she was a cute, silver Hershey's kiss). The senior pastor, you see, had mandated that only Western outfits were allowed. All else was, aparently, "of the debil!" (a phrase my friend Shayn mockingly quotes from his own church upbringing). That memory (appropriately) haunts me. May God forgive damage done by such fundamentalistic activity (and my past sin as a part of that Pharisaic crowd).

You don't have to lecture me about Halloween's cultic side; I've taught on it's ancient druidic origins and done more reseach in Wiccan and satanic practice than most. Witchcraft is demonic and evil. No argument there. Then again, a great deal of wickedness mires TV and the Internet. Perhaps Christians should manufacture alternatives for those (they might already be in the works).

For the vast majority of Americans (and all the children), Halloween is what missionaries call a cultural form (like a necktie or Christmas tree). Christians debate Halloween's meaning, but kids interpret it easily—it's the one night of the year they get to dress up as super heroes, Harry Potter, a mutant ninja turtle, etc., so they can (and this is the important part) get free candy.

Like any kind of celebration, lost people will find a sinful way to enjoy it. As soon as they do, insecure Christians will piously denounce and avoid it.

My guess is that Jesus and Paul would have used Halloween to "love on" people. They'd probably pat kids on their heads, smile, compliment their costumes, then give them the biggest candy bars on the block. Praise be to God, that's what we try do at our house now (though it's more like the biggest candy we can afford).

Door duty is fun, but the best part about Halloween as a grace-loving evangelical is going trick or treating. What other night of the year can you visit every home in your neighborhood and be welcomed? (Try doing that wearing your Sunday duds and holding a Bible). Molls and I try to chat at each house. Last year we were even invited inside by the cop in our neighborhood, who showed us his new deck—simply because we complimented him on it.

Fundamentalists will always equate being holy with avoiding the world. But let us live as Paul encouraged the Philippians, "Be blameless and pure, children of God without blemish though you live in a crooked and perverse society, in which you shine as lights in the world" (Phil. 2:15). Paul wants us to shine in the world, no matter how wicked it gets. You gotta be in it, to shine in it, however. Seems there's a lot of "lamp-under-bushel" events going on instead.

Of course, these are just my thoughts. Such things are a matter of your conviction, calling, and faith/liberty in Christ (Rom. 14). Whether you spend Oct. 31 at home or in church, may we all take tonight's opportunity to minister to neighbors and bless their children with undeserved favor (that's code for "GRACE," my friends).

Or, we can hide in our houses with the lights off.

Appreciating blessing requires suffering

How much you value the cross depends upon how much you grasp the depth of your sin. Salvation means nothing to those who don't fear damnation. Wearing a lifejacket is uncool ... until the ship hits an iceberg. Those who love grace know they deserve wrath. As Jesus taught, those who have been forgiven much, love much. If our love for Christ seems dry, perhaps it's because we're self-absorbed and think way too highly of ourselves—as if we're God's gift to, um ... God.

Today an email came from one of my living heroes of the faith—a follower of Christ named Steve Vinton. He and his wife Susan selflessly live, serve, and love needy people in Mafinga, Tanzania (http://www.villageschools.org/). Steve's email is a beautiful reminder that appreciation as related to opposites isn't just true in philosophy or theology, but true in everyday life.

"Sometimes I find myself asking favors from God because I just want something so desperately. It was Godfrey who first came running up the hill phone in hand with the news that one of our teachers Matt was lost. "The missionaries who come to serve with us don’t get to go much on vacation while they’re here. They spend almost the whole time that they are in Tanzania living in the villagewith their students and their families. It’s on a very rare occasion that they even make a trip into the city even for a day and there’s never time to go on a vacation or visit a game park or go to the beach or anything like that. After all, we’re here to work, we’re here to interweave our lives so closely with the people in these villages that we become a part of these communities, we’re here not to be served but to serve, not for our pleasure as if this were a cruise but to empty out ourselves into the lives of others.

"Our hope for our missionaries is that they will serve with the attitude that unless it’s something that all of their fellow Tanzanian teachers can enjoy with them then they really deep down don’t want to do it. And we want them not just to stay in the village because of the signals that it sends to their students, but because really, truly, in their hearts they can’t think of anything better to do. But after serving with us, on the way out of the country, after they’ve said their goodbyes to theirstudents and left the village, we hope our missionaries will take a day or two to relax, enjoy having electricity and hot showers and nice restaurant food with all of the preservatives and additives and do something finally alittle touristy before they leave the country.

"And so Matt on the day before his flight back to America had a day in Dar to enjoy himself. He took a boat out into the Indian Ocean to a little island and began wandering around. And by dark when Matt had not come back Godfrey got the message on the phone that something was very seriously wrong. Between the phone calls until way after midnight and the decision to get up at 3 am and head for town at 4 am I didn’t get a ton of sleep. You pray a lot of prayers some that are so begging that you wouldn’t want to say them aloud because youwouldn’t want anyone else to hear the sound of them except God and your very own soul. And you project calm when you’re not calm because you have to be calm because you have to think and you have to do what is right because that’s what is has to be when you’re a leader.

"It wasn’t until the next morning a couple of hours after the sun came upthat we had the good news that Matt was ok and all was well.

"Now that it’s over I have time to reflect and wonder about it all. If you never teeter on the brink, can you really appreciate the relief that runs through your body when you are granted a gracious favor?

"If you’ve never been hungry, can you really be thankful for the food you have or does the prayer before the meal become a ritual stripped of its meaning? If you don’t struggle to get the Sawala school registered so the kids can take the exams, do you miss seeing how God is at work because the movie plays by so fast and you move on to the next thing that you miss how it is indeed true that He is at work in all things? If Emmanueli never goes on vacation, can you fully appreciate the excellence of his work when he’s here? Is it only when you almost lose a treasure of great value that you fully appreciate the wonder of the treasure. "Some people will miss it of course. All of their thoughts will be on the last day of Matt’s stay here in Tanzania - the drama of him spending the night lost on that island with everyone frantic and frightened - and they will miss focusing on the treasure. The six months of wonderful service that Matt did, not just teaching his students, not just the volunteering to teach at the primary school in the next village, not just the trips to thehomes of his students, but the way he loved people and let them love him back.

"Matt came to Tanzania barely knowing what he had gotten himself into. Arriving that first day in the village and being told that there was no niceguest house that he was staying at, no chocolates on the pillow at night (no pillow, actually!), but that it was off to the village to make his home with a student - no warning, no preparation for it, as if it was just the most normal thing in the world to arrive in Tanzania and go to live in a little house in the village and sleep on a mat and bathe in a bucket and learn to eat not when you’re hungry but when the food is ready. To see death enough to realize that life is a privilege. To reach that point that you stop seeing your students as objects who need to be taught or to be helped or to be pitied, but instead to see them as people who care about you and that you care about. To get to that point in less than six months you have to be a pretty remarkable human being. Matt was. And the great thing is that Matt is. A treasure.

"Susan got out of bed this morning and before she headed off to Mkonge to visit her friends she made the long list of “concerns” that we have, everything from Sawala not being registered yet, to a huge thorn in our flesh that has given Susan sleepless nights and that robbed her of a lot of joy and caused her a lot of heartache lately. And then she said simply, 'Matt is alive. I can handle the rest.'

"And that, my friends, was Matt’s final gift to us here before he left. A very significant gift indeed."
- Steve Vinton, June 21, 2007

God has given us many gifts, my friends. We are spoiled rich with them. Rather than blithely flitting through this drive-through life, may we experience enough pain, suffering, and trials to appreciate even a fraction of what we've been given. And give thanks.

Motives, fruit, and the glory of God

In a response to my last post, my friend Jay (I mean Adrian Peterson) asked: "What if a minister in church seems goal-driven, but is doing them because he wants to bring glory to God? How can we tell the difference?"

No one can discern the motives of someone's heart (OK, ultimately, they're sinful), but they're impossible to judge. For all we know, Benny Hinn, David Koresh, or Hitler thought they were glorifying God by their actions.

We can't know motives, but we're commanded to test people's fruit (and our own as well). A well-intentioned person can succeed at the same totally wrong things as ill-intentioned charlatans. So, to answer Jay's question about a leader who is goal driven, it requires we ask "What are his or her goals?" To say it's to glorify God isn't enough. Ultimately, even Satan's doing that through his rebellion and eventual defeat.

To get back to Jay's example, let's say a young pastor works hard to to "build up" a local church, thinking it's all to the glory of God. It may be what glorfies God and it may not (BTW, the old Cary Grant Christmas movie, The Bishop's Wife deftly illustrates this connundrum.) "Building up" a local "church" may require actions that God views as sinful (such as, competing for sheep with other local bodies of faith, comsuming resources while neglecting the poor, requiring personal allegiance of people, etc.). Another biggie is facilitating sins of omission by allowing people to think "church functions = Christianity."

We must remember Isaiah 1, where people expressed worship as God directed, but were somehow so off track that He hated their offerings. It reminds us of the old adage "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

The litmus test of our fruit is Jesus Christ. Not His name, stuck like a label on our church events or His propitatory sacrifice we're banking on to get into heaven. Jesus Christ the person, who gave His life for others daily before giving it on the cross.

Do our "goals" reflect the ethics and concerns of Christ (ministering to the needy, giving to the poor, loving the lost)? Or are we blithely enjoying our materialistic lives, assuming that we glorify God in our holy huddle? Whether a pastor's goals accomplish the former, or enable the latter, answers Jay's doxological question. Test the fruit.

In sum, if our ministry doesn't look like Christ's, we'd better beware thinking it's pure and undefiled religion that pleases (glorifies) God.

Don't know if that answer's Jay's question, but it's Christocentric. And convicting. At least it is to the sinner who typed it ...

Look forward to your thoughts.

Rested Assurance?

As a former US Marine, I gravitate easily toward God as King. Whether reading OT prophecy or a NT epistle, my eyes lock and load on the imperative commands. I want my marching orders. Whether it's my personality, wiring, exhortative gifting, or simply my sinful flesh ... that's how I read. It's probably why God has me writing for coaches. Such field generals likely find my work their kind of stuff.

Isaiah 40, however, contrasts the fragile brevity of humanity against the power and eternality of God. A summary verse in the first section reads, "The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God stands forever" (NASB). Here are some snippets of Raymond Orlund's writings, that puncture my paradigm and cause me pause:

"Isaiah is told to tell us that we are unreliable. ... Christianity is not about what we can do; it's about what God promises to do. Christianity is not fundamentally challenge; fundamentally it is assurance. It must be.

"Only God qualifes for our final trust. No human power or condition can stop Him. ... Human failure is costly, but it's not the end of our happiness. God's promise of salvation is final. He is committed to his own glory and our joy in His glory. And in that certainty, our hopes come to rest."

It's not hard to surmise that I am not the only "driven" kind of Christian. The church, heavily encumbered by American business goals of expansion, committed customer base, and glossy hip product, evidences that many goal-driven "ministers" exist. I hate that love for the law in me resembles the ambition in them. Guess we're all sinners. No news there.

According to Ortland, many of us may be missing the blessed rest in the simple assurance that God is, well ... God. And we are but dust.

Trying to take that from theological fact to life ethic,
Cory

Evil in worship?

I've been more underwater than above it lately, swamped with writing deadlines (and falling behind in them). So my blogging has suffered. That stinks, because life has been full of blog-worthy events of late. For now, I pass on a question I posed to a fellow worship leader recently:
Where's the "evil" in our worship?

Studying Isaiah in depth this semester, the concepts of evil/wickedness/injustice occur as frequently as those of righteousness and goodness. The two go hand in hand, complimenting one another. [I'm not arguing that the universe is dualistic (like "the force" or the yin/yang of Eastern mystcism). It's not. There is only one power (Creator God) and creation (sustained by Him). Neither am I arguing for worship to equally address Satan and our Lord.] However, that people value the cross only as much as they understand their need of it. We appreciate forgiveness only as much as we comprehend our offense. Our view of grace is only as big as our view of sin. God's holiness in view of man's wickedness, etc. The one who loves much is the one who knows he's been forgiven much.

Thus, where is mention of evil in worship songs? Or wickedness? Or suffering, for that matter? They are intertwined theologically and ideologically. So why do they never comingle in worship of God? Why not mention the war when giving glory to our Deliverer? Where is mention of the fire, when giving thanks to our Rescuer?

Happy worship lyrics may feel good briefly, but evaporate quickly for lack of substance. At best, modern American worship seems quite incomplete. At worst, it's become idolatry—a self-centered service to comfortably fulfill our needs. If today's worship songs are devotively vanilla, perhaps it's because they they tell a only half the story. Maybe the struggle of life (so prevalent in the Psalms) is essential to reveal God's glory in fullness.

Looking forward to your thoughts.


PS. In going through my archive of worhsip songs/hymns, Martin Luther provided the strongest example of putting the "evil" in worship. In this hymn, notice how his lyrics described God, evil, the devil, and the redeemed all in proper context. The result is robust worship:

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing.
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing.
For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing.
Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth, His Name, from age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.

And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us.
The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth.
The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who with us sideth.
Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also;
The body they may kill: God’s truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever!

A better man than I

A tribute to my cousin Matthew Stith (and to Christ's work).

• Matt is an intellectual genius, which my sinful heart envies. Or sinful brain. I can't figure out which ...
• He has his Ph.D. from Princeton. Oregon State also wears orange and black, but that’s as close as I get.
• I am four years older than he, but have repeatedly proven myself more foolish.
• Matt’s a dedicated Reds and Bengals fan, which proves a man’s sin has to come out somewhere. Scripture clearly implies Christians are to be Dodgers and Vikings fans, because God calls us to suffer.
• Though he could teach at many institutions of higher learning, Matt is a pastor in Podunk, North Dakota (ok, it’s West Fargo, but it’s still in the middle of frigid nowhere). His chosen service is especially noble to me, because many men in ministry are filled with the same ambition, pride, greed, and desire to control people as the Pharisees in Luke 11.

... I like to think of myself as a humble servant like Matt, but the cold, hard mirror of reality reflects that I more likely resemble today's typical "church CEOs" than I willingly admit.

• Matt's sermons last ~15-20 minutes; I've yet to preach one under 45 (which proves length doesn’t necessarily add depth).
• Matt is a teetotaler, marathon runner, and a Presbyterian. I enjoy Christian liberty, am overweight, and I haven't found my theological convictions defined by any one denomination (does that last one make you nervous?).

Matt and I were intense adversaries growing up (albeit those of junior high age). Yet now I respect him, love him, and pray for him. Because of Christ, I’m not afraid to admit that he is quite likely a more pious Christian and biblical scholar with a superior mind, and humbler heart. Well, such admissions do sting a bit, but the bruising of flesh is a good thing. We should welcome it.

Why share all this publicly?

1. To honor my cousin, which I have never done prior to now.
2. To exhort and encourage you toward forgiveness and love.

My friends, the Spirit can miraculously help you love your enemies (which will technically make them your former enemies). My cousin Matt doesn't crack the top 20 of my all-time worst enemies list, but in 1983 we detested each other in a junior high sort of way. That's how our relationship stood for many years. Today he serves as an example of the reconcilation possible in Christ.

You likely have enemies in your life at this very moment. True villains. People who you recall only painfully. They may still hate you, speak badly of you, or simply pretend that you don't exist. They might be professiong Christians. All of this is deeply disturbing, but incidental. In the power of God, you can love them in spite of their hate. Scripture says we must. But it can't be done with strength of will. It's a divine work of the Spirit. How? I can't define that process like a cooking recipe. It'll come about differently for everyone. Likely even in different ways at variuos times during one person's life.

Be warned, just because God empowers it doesn't make it easy to do. Goliath may fall, but he's still terrifying until he does. True forgiveness may be one of the most difficult things in existence. Just saying a prayer for them or voicing concern to a friend of yours doesn't fully comprise forgiveness as Jesus Christ defined it. It requires action. Trees must bear fruit. Talk is cheap. Voicing concern about someone or something without making it right is hypocrisy (James 2:15-17).

Before you click to new source of Web amusement, recall someone your mind has tried to forget. Picture the loathed face of one who hurt you. They may be spitters of venom, sly deceivers, betrayers, or escapers of justice. No matter how dark their hearts, pray to Christ for their welfare.

The Savior can heal hearts (yours and theirs both). So let go of your poisonous animosity. Your enemies are simply sinners like yourself, in need of divine grace. They’re driven by hurt, insecurity, and fear just as every other human with feet on this fallen earth.

As my friends know, my speech often lacks sensitivity and graciousness. I say hard things. But I don't lie. Thus, they know that my writing this challenge means God’s taken me to the woodshed first. Those who love Molly and me (in both word and life) also know the damage we have endured recently. If we (two frail sinners) can embrace this excruciatingly difficult call of forgiveness, you can too. Unclench your fists and join us at the cross. We’ll be the ones facedown in the dirt with tears of frustration and pain smudging our cheeks … yet filled with peace, and a slowly growing smile of relief.

C’mon. Be brave. Join us in the dirt of self abandonment.

Who hates you? Are you still hating them back?
Don't just say or pray something to make you feel better.
Do something to make things right. That’s the way of Christ.
Will it be difficult? Of course.

Anything of the cross is.

Make it right.