Posts Tagged ‘Life’

Mar
27
2013

Easter’s Big “If”

What are we saying when we gather to worship on Easter Sunday? We are actually saying something radical, are we not? We’re saying that an itinerant rabbi who lived 2,000 years ago in a backwater town in the Middle East is actually God. But we’re saying more than that, aren’t we?

We’re not only saying that we believe Jesus was God, but that his life and death and resurrection proved this. We’re saying that Jesus’ predictions of his future death and resurrection tell us that He was no ordinary human, but that he was God in the flesh. But we’re saying more than that, aren’t we?

We are not only upholding the apologetic of the Resurrection, we’re not only affirming that the historic Jesus did indeed rise again and was seen by 500 witnesses. We are also saying that “if” this is true, then it changes everything about us, about the world, and about what we think we know about God.

We’re saying Jesus is the fulfillment of the Old Testament Scriptures, the hope of Israel, the Promised One who will not only satisfy God’s just punishment of sin against humans. We’re saying that the fallen corrupted world, a world of war and disease and famine and strife and murder and corruption, will one day be restored. We’re saying that the utopia we long for, the blessed, beautiful world that we all want to see happen, but seem powerless to effect–we’re saying that Jesus’ resurrection signals that this kingdom will one day happen. That’s what we’re saying.

But we’re saying even more. On Easter, we’re saying that “if” this is true, if Jesus was God, did suffer the death for sin we should have suffered, if He indeed rose again, than death is defeated, the invisible enemy was crushed, and restoration is on the way. Easter is a kind of spring season, it reveals the first colorful shoots and seedlings that point to a new a brighter day. It gives us hope that the world’s long winter freeze has been lifted. Instinctively, we all long for a better world, we all want things to change, all want personal renewal and corporate renewal. But we all know that mankind, at his best, cannot bring this to pass. The 20th century marked the century of the most human progress. And yet, it was the century that arguably saw the most blood shed. So, by Easter, that’s what we are saying.

But we’re saying so much more. Easter also says that Creation itself, the world, the planet, the universe, will also one day be restored. The Resurrection of Jesus Christ not only defeated the death brought to mankind by sin, but it defeated the curse placed by sin on creation, a planet and universe that now rumbles with trouble, unleashing devastating natural disasters. Easter says that there is renewal around the corner. But Easter says even more than this.

What we are saying at Easter is that there is a new Kingdom and a new King coming. We’re saying this new King is calling citizens of a new Kingdom, enlisting them in the immediate task of creating an alternate community, the Church, who is to be a window, a glimpse into the final Kingdom. These kingdom people, empowered by the king, live by a different set of values. The poor, the peacemakers, the virtuous, the humble, the forgiving, the courageous. But we’re saying more than this.

Easter says that God not only came in Christ to renew the earth, rescue humanity, and reverse sin’s curse, but He came to offer personal salvation and access to God. By his life and death and resurrection, Jesus grants those who believe personal intimacy with God. Easter says that this access, citizenship in the new Kingdom, is not given because of merit or birth but by personal regeneration. Consider Jesus’ words to Nicodemus, the most religious man in Israel (John 3). Jesus said that this eminently religious and presumptively qualified man that despite his religious devotion and spiritual heritage, he too needed spiritual rebirth. He too needed a new heart, a new allegiance, a new life. By putting his faith in Christ, Nicodemus and all who believe, become citizens of this new Kingdom.

All of this is what Easter is saying. It is declaring the Bible’s beautiful narrative: Life was once good and beautiful, how we all think it should be. It tells us that man was created uniquely to image God. It tells us what happened to this beautiful world and to man himself. -An enemy seduced humankind into rejecting the Creator. It tells us the consequences of sin: death, destruction, evil–every imaginable horror. It tells us, though, that God already had a plan to restore his creation and his people, through the death and resurrection of Christ. Easter tells us that the centuries-long desire for rescue–the arc of the Old Testament–was fulfilled in Jesus. It tells us that because of Easter, there is a better world coming.

Easter is an invitation into this new world through faith in the King who died, was buried, and rose again.

This, my friends, and not any other reason, is why we celebrate Easter. If this is true, it truly changes everything.

Mar
05
2013

What Evangelism Is

I’m highly skeptical of mechanics. If you are one, I’m sorry, but I think you probably realize that it goes with the trade. It’s this way with pastors, too, so perhaps we can commiserate some time.

But there is one shop in our community who does exceptional work, whose proprietors rise above the usual price-gouging and fake repair needs. These are guys I trust with every need my car has. They give good advice. They only fix what is needed. They give good referrals for other work. And when you are with them you just get the vibe that they are genuine, not slick salesmen trying to make a deal.

Here’s the thing about service like this. It’s so rare that when you find it, you want to tell the world about it. That’s what marketing experts get paid big money to tell their clients: perform good service and let the word of mouth build your business. Why is this? Because people are natural evangelists.

I think about this when I think about evangelism. If you have had a great experience with something, you don’t have to be prodded to tell ten people. It’s the same way with a bad experience. Guarantee you that you will not only tell ten people, you’ll post on your social networks. Companies are desperate for this.

When we evangelize the gospel, that is when we fulfill our calling to share the good news of the grace of God in Jesus Christ, it should be as natural as me telling ten people about my experience at Hainseville Firestone near my house.

And herein lies the problem with our evangelism for God. It’s not that we are afraid to tell people. It’s not that we want people to like us. The deeper reason we don’t share Christ is because we’ve lost our first love. We’ve forgotten how great Christ is. He’s become sort of familiar to us, Someone we aren’t all that excited about, not excited enough to tell people.

I find it interesting in the Great Commission verses in Matthew and Mark and Acts that the imperatives are not in the going and telling, but in the teaching and baptizing. Why is that? I think this is because Jesus assumed the disciples would tell everyone the gospel. And why wouldn’t they? They’d just seen Jesus rise again from the dead. They’ve had a radical, life-changing encounter with the Risen Lord. Who could shut up about that?

Perhaps the key to our evangelism is not adopting a new strategy or finding the perfect method or being guilted by Hellfire, but simply to revisit the wonders of the gospel message itself, to reread passages like Ephesians 2 to realize how sick and dead and lifeless we were before we met Christ. To bask in the wonders of regeneration and rebirth. To look at ourselves before we were Christians and how we are now.

Evangelism is really a natural human instinct. Every single one of us is an evangelist of something. Listen to yourself talk. What do you tell your friends and neighbors about? What excites you? What is that you can’t wait to share with someone?

Feb
19
2013

You May Have Something that Michael Jordan Doesn’t

'Michael Jordan, Slamdunk Contest, Chicago, IL - 1988' photo (c) 2010, Cliff - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/
Over the weekend, I stopped what I was doing to read this brilliant ESPN piece on Michael Jordan by Wright Thompson. The article, a transparent window into the soul of this great athlete, left me a bit sad for Michael.

You have to understand that I grew up in Chicago during the apex of Jordan’s athletic career. To this young boy, Michael defined sports and life in many ways. I had the privilege of playing on the basketball team at our little Christian school. I am not athletic, but for several years basketball was the air I breathed. In our world, there was no other sport.

You have to understand that in Chicago, this sport was not always popular. My grandfather told me of getting seats at the old Chicago stadium close to the floor. Before Jordan, these were seats you couldn’t give away. The stadium during Bulls cames was empty and cavernous. Chicago is largely a Cubs town and a Bears town. (Sorry Sox fans, but this is truth.)

Jordan transcended sports. His exploits seemed superhuman. He could take off from the free throw line and dunk. He had a 48 inch vertical. He stayed up in the air longer than the other guys. He could score at will. And you didn’t want to get him mad because he’d get even with you by torching you for 50 pts (ask New York Knick fans).

Our whole family were rapid Bull’s fans. I remember fondly spending game nights at my grandparent’s condo. The ladies would sit in the living room and the guys would spend the night in the den, not only watching the Bulls, but breaking down every play. Sometimes the post-game chatter was more fun than the actual game. Even my mom was into it. I remember the time we wanted to see the Bull’s play, but couldn’t get tickets at the United Center. So we travelled up to Milwaukee’s Bradley Center and scalped tickets from a guy on the street. My mom was the one who negotiated the price, telling the guy, “C’mon, I’ve got three kids in the car, they are crying. Can you help us out here?”

And I still have, in my parent’s house, video tapes of the first Finals series against the Lakers. In Chicago, we followed Jordan’s every move. We knew his life story. We cried when his father, James, was found murdered at a North Carolina truck stop. We forgave him when he left basketball to fulfill a childhood fantasy to play baseball for the White Sox. And when he faxed the media a two word statement: “I’m back,” all of Chicago stopped and pumped their fists.

That’s why it’s kind of unsettling for us to see Michael at 50 years old. That competitive spirit that fueled his passion for excellence at the game seems to have no outlet. I don’t know if there is a pinnacle higher than the one Michael Jordan has reached. Blessed with the rare combination of gifts and drive, rewarded with billions of dollars, served by a coterie of capable staff, Jordan is, for all intents and purposes, on the top of the world.

And yet, having conquered all, Jordan seems restless. A wanderer. The same gnawing drive that compelled him to punish his body and will himself to the top now haunts him. There are no more rungs to climb. No more battles to fight. No more victories to achieve.

I want to tread lightly here, because I don’t know the state of Michael Jordan’s soul. But viewing Michael from afar, it seems to me that the one thing the world’s greatest athlete doesn’t have, but desperately wants is something even the poorest follower of Jesus has: peace with God. I don’t want to be crass here. I’m not saying that all Christians are always happy all the time. The same afflictions that torment the world torment God’s people: depression, anxiety, temptation, idolatry.

And yet it strikes me that you can gain the whole world as Michael has done and yet not find peace for your own soul. All my life people have wanted to be Michael Jordan. Who wouldn’t trade places with him? The talent, the endorsements, the money, the fame. And yet . . . if you know Jesus Christ, you might have something Michael Jordan has searched his whole life for. You have, through Christ’s sacrifice and resurrection, something that often eludes the famous and rich. You have peace with God, which gives you the peace of God.

This is not to say ambition is inherently, always empty. Sometimes Christians act as if striving for excellence in your profession is somehow sinful. It is not. The pursuit of success can be a testament to the Creator. But success as a single-minded pursuit, as an object of worship, becomes a tormentor, a soul-eating monster when severed from its proper intent: to glorify the Creator who gives these good gifts. Success is a lousy idol. It promises peace, but ultimately fails to satiate the soul. It leaves you spiritually hungry, wanting, and raw.

Again, I don’t know the state of Michael Jordan’s soul. I don’t know if he is a Christian who has been alienated from his Savior or if he’s a lost man desperately searching for his way home. If Jordan is a Christian, I pray he embraces repentance and faith and again places Jesus at the center of his affections. If he is not a believer, I pray he finds Christ and thus, the only deity worth his worship.

For Michael fans like me, his life is a cautionary tale. It reminds us that those things for which we so desperately grasp cannot ever, ultimately, satisfy the deepest longings in our soul. It reminds us that if we have Jesus and Jesus has us, then we really have all we’ll ever need.

 

 

Feb
12
2013

Finding Joy in Winter

2013-02-08 09.36.15

This is a picture from outside our front door in the northwest suburbs of Chicago. It’s winter time. I love living in Chicago for a variety of reasons. I love the city. I love the Midwest. I love the Autumn season. I love the Bears, Bulls, and Cubs.

But I hate winter. Always have. People think snow is charming and romantic. I hate shoveling it and trudging through it and the mess it creates for a commute. I hate the bitter cold weather that blows through your bones in February. I hate the traffic and the fact that people drive 25 miles slower when there are a few flurries.

So, if you haven’t noticed, I hate winter. And yet . . . . there is beauty in winter. Tremendous, awe-inspiring, breathtaking beauty. On Saturday I drove along a main road near our house, a road lined with homes, white fences, and tall pine trees. The site of this landscape blanketed by heavy snow is something you only see in places where there is winter, only during seasons when snowstorms occur, when the weather is cold enough to numb your appendages.

As I drove down that road, enjoying the wonderful picture, hating winter, something struck me. It’s simple and yet profound: we need winter in our lives, because there is a certain beauty that only winter, only seasons of hardship and pain, can produce.

The Bible says that it is God who creates the seasons. The psalmist Asaph writes:

You have fixed all the boundaries of the earth; you have made summer and winter. Psalm 74:17 (ESV) 

The Scriptures often compare moments in our lives to seasons. The author of Ecclesiastes says there is a season for every phase of life: joy, sorrow, building, resting, planting, harvesting, etc. It is God who establishes those seasons, the sacred rhythms of life.

Which brings us back to winter. I find that my attitude toward Chicago winter is similar to my attitude toward the winter of suffering and hardship in life. I find that I don’t like these seasons very much. I find myself grumbling, questioning, waiting for the warm sun to break through the freeze and the frost. And yet . . . I find in those winter seasons a certain unexplainable beauty and joy that can’t be found when life is as I think it should be.

This must be why the writers of Scripture describe a joy in trials. Paul says: “I rejoice in my sufferings” (Colossians 1:24). Peter says, “Rejoice insomuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ”(1 Peter 4:13-16). James writes, “Consider it pure joy when you face trials of various kinds” (James 1:2). Chuck Swindoll says this: “Deep, contended joy comes from a place of complete security and confidence [in God] – even in the midst of trial.”

There is another benefit of winter. I’m no farmer and so what I say  here might be completely off. But I do know this. Without a winter, without a deep freeze and a without the heightened water table produced from the layer of snow, there is no harvest season. In life, without winter seasons, there is no fruit. I love what Elizabeth Elliot says:

Our vision is so limited we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in protection from suffering…. The love of God did not protect His own Son…. He will not necessarily protect us – not from anything it takes to make us like His Son. A lot of hammering and chiseling and purifying by fire will have to go into the process.

If you want to be like Christ, if you want to experience a deep sense of joy, you must embrace the winter seasons of life. You don’t have to enjoy the trial nor should you pursue suffering as some kind of false martyrdom. But it we can see winter for what it is: a temporary seasons of formation, we’ll not only endure, we’ll experience growth when harvest comes.

The beautiful thing about living in Chicago is that winter isn’t forever. Around the end of March and beginning of April, green shoots rise up in the barren soil, flowers begin to bloom, trees show signs of life. It’s a reminder that in every season, God is faithful, that not every winter lasts forever. And in another sense, the whole earth is in a winter, but spring is coming. The death and resurrection of Jesus was the first sign of spring, hope budding up among the barren landscape of a cursed creation. One day harvest will come, the King victorious, and the long winter of humanity will be over.

 

Dec
18
2012

5 Things I’ve Learned in Ten Years of Marriage

Last month, on November 22nd, Angela and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. I’m not an expert on marriage and by some standards I’m still a rookie. But I have learned a few things in these ten wonderful years. Here they are, in no certain order:

1) I’m not naturally a good husband. Before I tied the knot, I was convinced I’d be a great husband. Some lucky girl would be praising the Lord daily that she nabbed me. How wrong I was, really. Rather, I was the blessed one, having snared a women as patient and loving as my wife Angela. What I’ve learned is that I am not naturally a good husband. I have to really, really work at it. Naturally I’m selfish, proud, and tend to see things only my way. To be a good husband I must do two things: I must work at loving my wife intentionally and I must rely on the Spirit of God to change my heart. If you’re not yet married, you won’t realize this until you do get married. And then this reality will hit you in waves.

2) It really isn’t good for men to be alone. Those words uttered by the Triune God in the Garden of Eden are actually true. Nothing changes a man quite like being married to a good, godly woman. I can say that for myself. When you commit to being and staying married for the long haul, you are committing to a relationship that will refine you as a man. It will shave off your worst instincts. It will domesticate you in a good way. It will mature you. Today I am dependent in many ways on my wife. Not simply for what she does for me, but the companionship, the togetherness. I don’t like it when she is out of town or away. I feel like half of my life is missing. God designed life to be this way.

3) Love grows deeper over time. There is a richness to long-lasting marital love that is hard to describe in words. When you are married, you go through tremendous highs and lows as a couple. You will endure crushing defeats. You will enjoy soaring heights. You will suffer pain together. And you will laugh together. All of these times only add muscle to your love, they build your relationship. If you are willing to hang in there and suffer and laugh and cry and forgive and repent together, you will, at the end, find a love that is far richer than the plastic, Hollywood, fake infatuation you think you desire.

4) The gospel is the indispensable key to your marriage. And when I say “gospel” I don’t simply mean, “Make sure you marry someone who shares your faith.” Yes, yes, and amen to that one. But it’s more than that. Marriage requires that each of you believe the gospel so deeply that you live it out. It means the husband is willing to die literally and figuratively for his wife. It means there is a oneness that is a small picture of the intimacy shared by the Trinity. It means you dig deep on forgiveness, extending grace to the one whose wounds can hurt you the most. And you quickly repent when it is you who is doing the wounding. It means you don’t projet some kind of impossible standard on your spouse, but accept him or her as a sinner being slowly sanctified by God’s grace. It means you, like Jesus, love your spouse at his or her worst because you will want him or her to love you at your worst. Believing the gospel means you don’t see your marriage as a happiness vehicle for your pleasure, but as a witness of the grand narrative of the Bible to a watching world.

5) Every day you spend with your spouse is a day for which you should praise God. If you are a husband, realize that your wife is a gift from God. If you are a wife, realize that your husband is a gift from God. Somedays it doesn’t seem like your spouse is a gift.  And some days you are not so much a gift to her. But the longer you are married, for as many years as you are gifted together, you will thank God for bringing her to you. I think this way often, when I see the way my wife enriches my life, cares for our children, and does so many things in the community. I’m grateful for God giving her to me. And if you are married, you too should be this grateful for the one to whom you are united by God.

Dec
05
2012

What You Don’t Like About Your Church (And why that’s good)

I have this conversation quite often with members of my church and with believers outside of my church. It is usually sparked by a discussion of something this person doesn’t like about our church or about the church they attend.

Now, let’s assume the disagreement is not related to doctrinal purity, moral integrity, authoritarian abuse (issues I believe are grounds for leaving a church). Let’s also assume this is a gospel-preaching, Word-saturated, bible-believing church. Let’s also assume the disagreement is not over a 2nd-tier issue that is not orthodoxy, but valid reason when choosing a church (mode of baptism, denomination, etc). So we’re dealing with issues of preference.

This is what I tell people who tell me there is something about our church they don’t like or about their church they don’t like: “Good.”

It’s good that you’re involved with a local body of believers with whom you have disagreements and varying preferences. Why? Because that is the whole idea of God calling out and gathering together His local body. We come together, not because we agree on everything and have the same preferences, but because, despite our disagreements, we are united in Christ.

I often say to people and have preached in messages before this statement, “I don’t like everything in our church. And this is good, because if everything here was geared to what I like, it would be great for me, but not-so-great for the other members.” And so it is with you.

Chances are there is something on Sunday mornings you’d like to see differently. Perhaps you like danishes instead of donuts. Or you’d rather sing hymns than songs written since 1990. Perhaps you’re more of an organ person than a guitar person. Or you really hate the color of the lobby walls.

Good! A resounding, spirit-filled good! You’re continued presence at this church indicates you’re willing to lay aside your preferences, sacrifices your pet peeves for the good of Christ’s body. And it proves that you’re not simply going to church to have all of your senses tickled, but to use your gifts to serve God’s people.

When leadership structures a church in such a way that it meets all the pastor’s preferences, it creates a personality-driven church. But when the pastor is willing to lay aside some of his preferences for the good of the people he serves, God is glorified and the people are blessed.

When the people who attend a church stomp their feet and demand certain things at church be their way, it sows division in the church, hurts the pastor, and ultimately undermines the gospel mission to the community. But when people come to church and get involved, even though there are very real things at church they don’t like, they are making a profound statement that God’s work and God’s people are more important than their preferences.

This must be an intentional attitude, because we live in a culture of American consumerism. We can pick and choose churches, not based on anything important but our own pet likes and dislikes. I’m not discounting the importance of church culture, family atmosphere, etc. But ultimately, our role as a Christian is to participate in the local body of believers, to serve with our gifts, and to glorify Christ corporately. When we make our church choices based on personal preferences, we idolize what is unimportant and marginalize gospel witness.

It strikes me that these choices would be irrelevant in many places around the world. I was in Eastern Europe this year where there are very few, gospel-preaching evangelical churches. So if you are a missionary or a Christian in that area, you’re choices are few and you suddenly aren’t as concerned about the coffee and the guitar and the color of the walls. You’re just happy to find people of faith nearby with whom you can fellowship and serve.

So, if there is something about your church you dislike, consider it an opportunity to sacrifice for the greater good of the body.

Nov
20
2012

Shouldn’t Gratitude Should Be Our First Language?

Yeah, yeah, of course we’re supposed to be thankful on Thanksgiving. But it occurs to me that we’re not very good at this. By we, I don’t mean the editorial “we” by which I’m pointing the finger at the rest of Americans for being ungrateful while I ignore my own ingratitude. By we I don’t mean the “Church” by which I think the problem is the rest of those ungrateful brothers and sisters in the Lord while I silently pretend I’m not full of unhealthy entitlement.

No, I’m talking about me and my own ingratitude. And of all people, shouldn’t it be me that’s the most thankful? Whose first language is one of thanksgiving? After all, it’s me who was sovereignly chosen to salvation, who was brought from death to life by the mercy of God at the cross. It’s me who is the recipient of God’s resurrection power, giving me new life, endowing me with the Holy Spirit, gifting me to serve God, and securing a beautiful eternal city where I’ll dwell with God forever.

It occurs to me that, of all who should be grateful, Christians are at the front of the line. And yet it is us–it is me–who are the least grateful. We belly ache about the state of our country, posting our beefs on Facebook and Twitter, muttering them at the coffee shop and the water cooler. We complain about our jobs, our marriages, our children, our in-laws. We rail against the faults of the Church worldwide, the church local, and that cranky old neighbor next door. When we’ve exhausted these complaints, we moan about the weather.

But our lips should resound with praise. Of all people, we who have been touched by the gospel, should know the depths from which we were rescued. We, of all people should recognize the simple gifts of beauty from a gracious God. Sunlight, oxygen, green grass, rows of harvested corn, breath, blood, life, and community. We, of all people, should enjoy the fruits of American prosperity: political stability, food, order, money, iPhones, clean shirts, education, books, coffee, and a warm coat.

God’s people should speak first the language of gratitude. We should treasure, rather than bemoan, our closest relationships. We should overlook rather than highlight the flaws of those we love. We should embrace, rather than run away from, hard work and accomplishment and purpose.

I wonder the effect on our culture if Christians first simply expressed the unadulterated joy of a man in prison: The Apostle Paul. Where others would complain, he said, “Rejoice.” Where others would give up hope, he said, “I’m content.” Where others would rail at God, he said, “To live is Christ, to die is gain.”

Imagine the impact if this attitude prevailed among God’s people. Imagine the impact if it simply prevailed in me.

The careless soul receives the Father’s gifts as if it were a way things had of dropping into his hand yet is he ever complaining, as if someone were accountable for the checks which meet him at every turn. For the good that comes to him, he gives no thanks—who is there to thank? At the disappointments that befall him he grumbles—there must be someone to blame!- George MacDonald


Aug
14
2012

What Is Your Thing?

As a pastor I meet a lot of interesting Christians. I have people who attend my church, people who call or stop by to promote their ministry in our church, and/or people who send me information via email or mail. The common theme is that every Christian seems to have a “thing.” That is to say the one theme of their life and their advocacy.

For instance, there are those whose specialty is defending Genesis. For others it’s Christian political activism. There are outreaches and emphases on Jewish ministry, men’s ministry, Christian education, eschatology, and a host of other specific niches. Pastors get hit with appeals for these on an almost weekly basis.

In one sense, I love this because it demonstrates how God has uniquely gifted and called individual Christians and ministries. Their laser-like focus helps educate and edify God’s people. For the busy pastor, who sees the whole church, having speakers or curriculum or small group studies can help sharpen the faith of this people.

And yet sometimes I see an unhealthy imbalance where your emphasis becomes your “thing.” Let me explain. I’ve had conversations with people passionate about science around Genesis. I find this compelling and I’m in agreement with the view that Genesis describes a literal six-day creation. I enjoy hearing from smart scientists who defend this view. But an emphasis or a calling to this field can easily become a “thing” that seems to drive everything about a person’s life. And rather than Jesus becoming their animating theme, defending against evolutionists is their animating theme. Every conversation, every concern in the church, every social ill must become a debate about origins. I think this is unhealthy.

I”m not just picking on creationists here. I’m just using this as an example. I see this in every other specialty. And this can happen with any particular focus of Christian ministry. Where what we are most passionate about becomes less the gospel and more our pet “thing.”

It’s unhealthy on a number of levels. First, what was a good interest and a worthy calling can become a source of conflict with other believers. When the gospel animates us, then we are humbled enough to work toward unity in our local body of believers and in the body worldwide. But when our pet “thing” animates us, we become argumentative, looking always for opportunities to prove how right we are. Secondly, I think the enemy is okay with us focusing on a “thing” rather than focusing on Jesus and using our gifts and talents, ultimately, to build God’s church through evangelism. Third, an unhealthy imbalance divides people into categories and suddenly we don’t see the unchurched as objects of God’s love in need of the gospel, but people on the wrong side of an issue. And we don’t see brothers and sisters who disagree with us people we should love, but people who we must win over to our view of things.

Unhealthy imbalance can also create a culture, in the home or the church, where the gospel is actually not the main thing we’re concerned with passing to the next generation. Teens sniff this out right away. They quickly get what we are most passionate about. If this is not the gospel, the “faith” once delivered to all saints” (Jude 1:3), they may reject our faith. Because our faith in Jesus is the only thing contagious enough to be “caught” by the next generation.

I guess what I’m saying is this: everyone has a “thing”, a special calling or emphasis they feel is important to ministry. But this must always be surrendered to the larger “thing” which is the call to live and share the gospel with those who are far from Jesus.

At the end of my life, I don’t want it said that what drove me most was that I believed in a six-day creation or that was a dispensationalist or that I was a political conservative. I want it said that I loved Jesus, that I faithfully taught His Word, and that I loved those God has called me to love. That’s what I want most to drive me.