Be Thankful: It's Not About Ferguson

It's not about Ferguson...  

And on Thanksgiving Eve(and always) I'm thankful for that!

There will always be a Ferguson... or an ebola... or a Crimea... or an Isis...or a Ray Rice... or a Pistorius trial... or a Benghazi... or gay marriage... or gun violence...or someone trying to take our constitutional rights away... or a conspiracy theory... or an NSA scandal... or an Obama... or a Bush... or even further back an OJ...a Vietnam... SOMETHING! 

In a few months it will be something else that everyone is upset about, that we don't even know about yet.  But, to some extent, it's all the same thing with different clothes on.  There will always be issues that are unpleasant (maybe even miserable) to at least some, and I'm not here to state opinions on any of them specifically.  But these issues quite often become nothing more than anxiety filled and hate feeding distractions.

If you are a Believer, could we consider (myself included), that if we claim to be followers of Christ, we should be more concerned with the Bible than the Constitution?

Maybe you don't care about the "big" things everyone else cares about.  Maybe those things don't weigh you down.  Maybe instead, you have your own personal "Fergusons" in your life, that distract you from the path to change. 

More likely, if you're like me at all, you have personal Fergusons and everyone else's Fergusons fighting to take you in deeper than Oculus Rift.

Ultimately the opportunity for another Ferguson will be there as long as sin is here, and sin will be here, as long as we are.  So how do we deal with it?  How do we add life to our lives, and ultimately to those around us?

Let us seek to live mature lives.  At first, I'd say that most of us would think we're pretty mature.  But let's look at it.

Immaturity takes the sin and shortcomings of others, mixes it with the successes (or lack of consequences) they have and uses it to puff ourselves up in comparison, thereby justifying ourselves and our own sin and shortcomings. This creates in us a victim mindset that we deserve more good than we have, and are, by comparison, less deserving of what "negative" circumstances we have.  It seeks to preserve itself by diminishing others, and may me manifested in a search for "justice" externally in cases that don't even involve us.   It leaves us always scrapping for approval and love, which never allows us to fully accept praise or blame for our actions.  It calls us to build walls and isolate our hearts. 

Eventually we can drop the "by comparison" point from our mindset and feel like we inherently deserve and have earned better than the hand we've been given, or on the other extreme that we are useless and devoid of purpose, without hope, and alone.  There is no thanksgiving in this, aside from when others we deem as undeserving of their lot are brought to a place in standing with our view of them. 

The more we live in immaturity, good things in life become viewed as "payment" for what we've already earned, rather than unearned blessings.  We are not thankful for them, but rather we have an "it's about time" mindset, and rob ourselves of even the joy of the thing we've experienced.  Immaturity can be dressed up and disguised, but it is exhausting and joyless at it's best; vindictive, hateful, and miserable at it's worst.  It's always seeking more, and not truly thankful enough for what it has to experience real joy. 
 
Immaturity thrives in the subjective, in the directionless, it blows in the wind like a tumbleweed in the desert... dry and alone, it's only fleeting hopes in mirages that aren't really there.


But what of maturity?

 
Maturity calls us to take our own shortcomings and use them to motivate us to be humbled, lifting others up with love, truth, grace, and mercy following their sin and shortcomings.  It knows our identity is not defined by our perceived successes or failures, while not leading us to a place that we excuse apathy.  It implores us to lift up others by means of a proper view of ourselves. 

It ignites us to have hope for and see potential in others.  It allows us to be thankful in all things, because it's driven by a proper perspective.  It allows good things to really be a gift, rather than a payment for our "good deeds" "FINALLY" arriving.  It allows us to properly grieve our losses.  It even guides us to be thankful for the successes of others and to mourn with those who mourn, because it frees us to no longer view them as competition, but rather fellow humans as much in need of grace and mercy and love as we were, are, and will be.  And it allows us to do this genuinely, not just because we feel like we "should".

It doesn't incite us to excuse wrong doing, but it doesn't give it too much power.  It is evident in a sober-minded and appropriate in evaluation of ourselves and others, because it is driven by something beyond itself and it's peers.

Maturity requires proper perspective and proper perspective requires an absolute standard.  None of us are the absolute standard, but there is One who is.  If we claim to follow Him, but live chasing mirages in the dessert, we'll dry up there, thirsting...  Living lives devoid of the Water of Life until our bodies are as dead as our souls.  I urge you brothers and sisters...Ask yourself and answer honestly...

Does my life and attitude to my current circumstances(or a portion of them), those around me, circumstances in our country or in our world reflect maturity or immaturity? 

If the latter, no need for condemnation, just drink of the Water of Life.  The more you drink of it, the more scales will fall from your eyes so to speak, and your mirages with disappear.  Then your eyes will truly be opened to love, joy, and peace.   Then you can be truly thankful.

We live in a dry land, but even IF we've been living in immaturity, we can be a wellspring of life, and your life can bring love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control... the fruits desperately needed in a hungry world.

Breaking Good Hearts (SQL)

You could have done an entire World Race, 11 months, since this happened... Some people did. So… 

I’m a little tardy, but hopefully, it’ll be a better blog than it would have been, had I typed it in 2013.

It was month 3 for S squad. I was with a couple of teams in Nicaragua. We were fresh off of our debrief, which was nice, but, make no mistake, Nicaragua was a difficult month, particularly from a squad leader perspective. Sickness swept across the squad, there were a lot of attacks of a spiritual nature, people wanted to quit and go home… some did and/or had to.

A lot happened, but that’s not what this was about.

This is about September day… and a lesson, though not exhaustive, that sticks with me.

Some of the healthier folks that day had gone out for door to door evangelism in another town. I was at the camp. Why I’d stayed I don’t completely remember, but as late afternoon rolls around and the visitation crew gets back.

I’m pulled aside and informed that something has happened. The situation is described to me, and a few of us agree that it would be best to pull everyone together to decompress and debrief.

Maybe you know what it’s like to see something that can rattle you, and maybe stick with you for a long time.

This day, they saw one of those things.

So we all gathered up, and the teams began sharing their understandings and feelings on the situation, recounting, among other things, their confusions, frustrations, and internal struggles from what they’d experienced.

All I knew to do was listen (which is often the best thing the “Fixer” in me could do, even if my actions sometimes fail to reflect that truth).

There were times in the conversation when I could have interjected, but thankfully didn’t. There was even a time when they asked me to speak, and perhaps I could have, but once again I felt a strong sense of… “This is not the time… I was not there… This isn’t my time to decompress...”

So I urged them to continue and that if I shared, I’d only do so after everyone else had expressed what they needed to express.

That time eventually came. And I do believe truth was spoken, but I don’t know that I would have been able to come to the realization I did, without all of their hearts being shared. And I don’t know that their hearts would have been able to be fully shared with any sort of “helpful interjection” on my part.

I don’t know how much that day sticks with those men and women, but I know some revelations have settled with me.

I won’t paint a picture of what happened. I feel like it would be dishonoring in this instance of what we’d agreed on, but, thankfully, not all lessons need a painted picture.

In life, particularly if you allow yourself to share space with suffering… if you allow yourself to step into situations where it’s more obvious that you’re out of control than your normal fallacy of safety…

…you’ll sometimes encounter things that make you feel inescapably helpless.

What does the well-meaning heart do when it faces calamity that it undeniably can’t fix, or the realization that even if it heals THIS “unfixable” issue, a million more are piled up behind it? Why does God put in us a heart to break for and fight against such sorrow, yet allow us to face these things to a degree that we’re impotent to prevent?

I propose that it’s, at least in part, to bring us to dependence upon Him, via the highway of brokenness, even in our good will.

….

Sometimes we try to heal… and fix… and love the broken as a coping mechanism, balance out our sin, or a way to validate our worth.

It’s, perhaps surprisingly, quite easy to have a self-centered motive in helping others.

We can fool ourselves into believing that we can pay the bill for our breath, or, in a more “holy” sense, provide Jesus with adequate “return on investment” for His sacrifice by fixing the problems of others, or having the right answers, or even something as cool as being a “conduit of freedom.”

But what happens when this well-meaning, yet prideful, heart inevitably comes up against problems to a scale it cannot solve?

It can feel immeasurably broken. It may even quit, either feeling helpless, angry at God, or both.

But… is it not reasonable, even probable, that the Lord allows those of us who follow Him to face this to provide for us an opportunity to surrender even our good deeds to Him. In doing so we surrender a bit more of an “earning” our way to heaven mentality, and open ourselves up even more to accept His grace and mercy for what they truly are…


Undeserved.  Unearned.  Undeniably Precious.

---

THAT should be enough… but wait… there’s more… At least!

Here’s what else happens. When we empty ourselves of the pretense of our own power in the aftermath of our brokenness and place our dependence on the Lord in something, we open the door to a greater level of His empowerment, particularly in that area

When we get desperate enough to get out of the way, we can get in “the Way.”

When we get hopeless enough in our abilities, and even the scope of our dreams, to genuinely cry for a miracle and/or vision that only God could provide, we put down the cloak of trying to be “God-like, (Father-Like)” and pick up the mantle of being Christ-like, and when we do that…we can be more empowered by the Spirit, to be able do “even greater works than these.”

The Lord wants to break good hearts, so that He can replace them with something better... hearts that Love Him. That's the only kind of heart that has anything of eternal value worth pouring out into this broken world.

The fuller our understanding of our own inadequacies, the fuller the appreciation of His adequacy.

The fuller the appreciation of His adequacy, the fuller the appreciation of who He is.

The fuller the appreciation of who He is, the fuller the appreciation of what He makes and values.

The fuller the appreciation of what He makes and values, the fuller the appreciation for ourselves and each other.

Understanding our weakness, is a great first step to understanding our true value.

And when we understand our true value, we are freed up to try to change this world in outrageous ways, even if we don’t succeed, because we love them for them, not from our own need to prove our value, because we already know our value.

And THAT is the path for us to get to a place where we are more likely to see the dead are raised, the sick are healed, the captives set free.

At the very least... we are the captives that are set free, and that's not a bad start. 

When the Mountains Don't Move (SQL)

We stood over his bed and prayed fervently. We prayed intensely for healing, just as we'd done over so many in the hospital a couple of days prior. The same refrain that has come from countless groups

I've been a part of that have interceded for healing played, as whispered petitions filled the quaint dwelling we found ourselves in. Once again, as has seemingly always been the case when I pray for diseased and bed-ridden people, we left a man lying in his bed, not yet healed.

It was our third week in Honduras, and the team I was visiting for the week, was in the midst of the final week of ministry of their second month. We'd joined the pastor and doctor for a house visit to see... let's call him, Alejandro. Alejandro was a skeleton with skin to the naked eye. He laid in his bed, emaciated, a blanket covering his diapered mid-section and homemade colonic bag, which appeared to be not much more than a plastic baggy held on with scotch tape. It's fair to say he wasn't in great shape, and yet he still found the ability to smile.

After the group prayed, all but three of us went outside.

Our task? ...to help roll him over and lift him as his bed sheets and diaper were changed, and as his wounds were cleaned.

Ya see...when a body lies still in one place for a while, it starts to develop sores. Alejandro was no exception.

After laying in his bed for a long stretch, his sores were presumably worse than at any other time in the 10 years since he'd fallen and lost all movement below the waist. In that time his legs had become intensely dry, the skin was cracking, and he'd developed some pretty intense sores in some pretty delicate places.

I found myself overcome by the intense smells, but I had to put myself in my place.

I was here for 20 minutes and could walk away.

This man and his family had been dealing with the smell and far worse for 10 years. I couldn't be a pansy about this. How selfish was it of me to even internally complain about something so minor?

We helped him be cleaned, and spoke with him in the process to make it as un-awkward as possible.

He said he believed he could be healed and we prayed again for healing. This time, even in the manner that Jesus did where we told him to take up his mat and walk...and yet...nothing, at least not visibly.

He'd mentioned earlier that he had not birth papers. Near the end, I mustered a joke about everyday possibly being his birthday, which meant he could tell everyone to treat him nice every day because,

"Hey, today might be my birthday." He seemed to love it and laughed. I enjoyed the opportunity to bring what is allegedly "the best medicine," but, nonetheless, as we walked out that day, the fact remained...Alejandro did not.

This is not the first time in my life I've been torn by a prayer for healing not being answered.

I've often thought it potentially selfish of me, which is why I even pray that people be healed after I leave, and I have hope that some of those prayers have since been answered.

But it's tough to understand.

It's a tough metaphorical pill to swallow.

But ultimately, while we are not called to faithless prayers, we are simply called to make our prayers and petitions known. We are told that the Lord will hear them and meet our need, but we are not told to pray because of the "effectiveness" of our prayers.

Our faithful and expectant prayers, especially when made in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, and all the "let-downs" of the past are ultimately glorifying to our God, even if we, and/or those we intercede for never find the hoped-for-fruit of our requests.

Is it still tough walking away from a broken person, who is still broken after my prayer?

...Without a doubt...

...but it's eased by the faith that the Lord is faithful and just to answer our requests, and that it's not my duty to fix someone. Although His methods and timing might not always give me the warm-fuzzies, it's quite frankly not about me, or you, or even the one(s) we are praying for.


Our prayers are an act of trusting obedience, not something to measure a return on investment. What if we had the faith to actually believe that even our prayers could be about something more than the dividends it brings us or those we care about?


Now THAT's the kind of faith that can move mountains, but far too often, the mountain to be moved is looking back at me in the mirror.

So...

Because I want those lame to walk...

                               ...those blind to see...

                               ...those dead to live...

                               ...those lost to be found...

                               ...and so much more...


I need more trips to the mirror accompanied with prayers like, "Jesus... please give me some mustard seeds today...amen!"

The Starkest of Dichotomies (SQL- Guatemala)

Blogs are supposed to have pictures, partly because people have short attention spans, partly because they are "pretty," and partly because they are "worth a thousand words." But there are some things in life that a thousand pictures could not convey...

I hugged her, closed the door, and the car pulled away.

She was off on likely the longest five or six hour journey of life... Some situations are so surreal that you can't ever imagine how you could adequately put them in words, but something in me knew, even before she rode away, that I needed to try. Honestly, even as I'm writing this, I can't help but think that it deserves more...

More feeling...

More words...

More than I can give.

An hour before I was sitting, preparing to read my Bible, Sally walked in... "I need someone with a pastoral heart to come with me..." ...I grabbed my shoes and got Jake as I left the driveway.

Five minutes later we were walking into the casket store, a simple little "Funeraria" with not much in it. Most notably, I could see a sign of the harsh reality that this is all-too-common here; what I would deem as...too many baby caskets.

Unfortunately, when we walked out, the store had one less.

As I we walked back around the corner and past the hospital, I carried this wooden box, trimmed in pink, surrounded by a black garbage bag as Jake and I followed Sally, Mary, and her new friend (whom I would come to find out, had lost one of two newborn twins).

Minutes later, Sally and myself were waiting for Mary and her new friend to come say goodbye to her baby. As we waited, another lady walked by holding a baby. I sat and smiled at the ten month old?as it would smile back full of joy. The change in thee woman's face as she realized what was in the bag beside me was obvious.

There I was...

An empty coffin in a black bag sat beside me, as I leaned against the outside of a room containing the child that would soon be in that coffin.

A tragedy.

Terrible.

Awful.

Words CANNOT describe it.

This baby behind me would never smile, play, laugh, grow up, have a family...

...but in front of me crawled something beautiful: A baby that could smile, could play, could laugh...a baby that can still grow up to have a family.

A miracle.

Wonderful.

Amazing.

Words CANNOT describe it.

And there I found myself...in the midst of perhaps the starkest of dichotomies.

Misery and Joy. Loss and Hope. Death and Life.

The tragedies of life are so gut wrenching, partly?because of the general nature of tragedy, but in part because we have become so accustomed to miracles that we consider them everyday things.  It is when we rub up against the antithesis of these everyday miracles, that we find ourselves seeking for the "Why?"

Often, we seek the "why" so fervently that we bring ourselves into another tragedy, wasting the time of our lives, missing the joys and the miracles we have right before our very eyes.

I didn't choose to squad lead to find myself kneeling and praying over a woman holding her dead baby in a back room of a Guatemalan hospital.  But it happened...

Ariel will never grow up. She won't have the struggles, nor the joys of life. She won't suffer a broken heart, nor have that broken heart mended.  She won't experience any more tears, nor will she experience laughter.  That is about as real as it gets, and things like that form real memories, even if the moments that made them were surreal.

I will remember a mother weeping as she holds her lifeless child.

I will remember carrying that child in a tiny wooden casket concealed in a black trash bag, behind her mother.

I will remember placing that casket into the back of an SUV as that mother prepared to carry her dead baby home...alone...on public transportation.

But I know I know that as tragic as it was, (And it IS utterly tragic beyond words) I will hold to the beauties I saw in the darkness.

I will remember a woman who had lost one twin baby, with another fighting for it's life, spending her time encouraging another woman who'd lost the second baby of her life.

I will remember kneeling and joining 5 others in prayer for a woman holding and mourning for her dead baby, as she sang praises to her Lord Jesus.

I will remember that same woman praying over her new found friend, for strength and her one surviving twin baby.

I will remember that nameless baby that smiled, crawled, and played in front of me.

I will remember the Light that shown in the face of darkness, the Peace the poured out in the face of misery, the life that poured out in the face of death.

SSay Yess To The SS

You know how sometimes cool things happen and you know you SHOULD type about em, but you don't really have the words to express it in as eloquent a way as you'd want?  Of course you don't... your diction is flawless and your vocabulary is expansive.  But some of us (this guy) just have to suck it up and type it out anyway.

Well... About 17 months ago I took off around the world on this whole "World Race" thing you might have heard of.  I was incredibly blessed to journey far and wide with some remarkable people (pictured above) growing in the Lord in large part thanks to the selfless donations of "viewers like you" (However, Juicy Juice did not help sponsor me).  Such support from so many people in the form of prayer, financial, and equipment contributions were so wonderful beyond what my words could say, and allowed me the opportunity to have and share an incredible experience.  For those of you who helped me in that journey I thank you so very much!!!
....... and about 6 months ago I came home.  The end...

False!

Not the end.

I recently found myself at training camp helping in the training process for a new batch of to-be-further-changed world changers.  I was honored to be invited to pour into the second generation S Squad for the week.

These men and women are hungry for the Lord.  They are stepping up to the forefront of vulnerability.  They care for each other deeply.  They are extremely teachable, and are seeking wisdom and discernment from the Lord.  They are going to be used to do mighty things in His name.
And I'm super excited to have been able to spend a week with these wonderful people.

In fact, I was so excited that, when I was offered the chance midweek to go out and serve as their squad leader, and travel with them for the first 5 months of their race... I accepted.  I am humbled to have the trust of the World Race Staff to be blessed with such an honor and responsibility.  I'm thrilled to be a small part of helping to facilitate what God will be doing in the lives of these folks this year as we travel, alongside my co-squad leaders Liz Clem and Dura McKnight.  So after June 30... I'm outta here again.  (Till December-ish... Lord Willin)

As great as it is, it was not an easy decision.

I wish it didn't mean missing more weddings of dear friends, but it does.

I wish it didn't mean missing my pawpaw's 80th birthday, but it does.  

There are people at home that I will certainly miss... a lot.  Seriously.  I'm not joking.  Believe it or not... I don't hate home.  In fact, it's quite the opposite, but the Lord just keeps giving me new lovable people in my life.

In terms of ministry, it is difficult to walk away for another several months from ministry to family, the youth at WestHills Church, from the men in college and fresh out that God has laid on my heart locally, college ministry in general, and to push back other ministries I feel led to be a part of.

Despite these things being tough to walk away from I'm reminded of 3 things.

1. God doesn't need me to work in the lives of all those I've mentioned... In fact, that's what I've wanted for them all along, a ministry not dependent upon me.   

2. I'm walking into an opportunity to disciple some incredibly hungry people through an incredible "once" in a lifetime journey in the Lord.

3.  God is going to grow and prune me through this season in ways I'd not expected and maybe in ways that I'm afraid of.  But if that's what it takes... fair enough.
So, as my on-again-off-again relationship with "'Merica" gets ready to "take a break,"  I'll briefly grieve those things, AND the fact that I'll miss another half season of baseball and the meat of another college football season.  But I'll celebrate the start of a new journey with the Lord and some wonderful people.

OH.... and I almost forgot.  It's my chance to add "international stand up comedian" to my resume.

If you want to help support the new venture.  I have no expectation of it, and I do not deserve it, but I welcome it.  

How might you support this?  Pray. Pray. Pray... and IF that praying leads you to the place where you're led to financially support you can do learn more about that HERE.  I've included tips there to help you make sure your donations are going to the right place, and just a little bit on my heart for not giving to me INSTEAD of other valuable things.

Hey You... Avoid THIS!

THE APPETIZER

I recently posted this link on Facebook discussing the potential court martial of people who share their faith in the military... which is shocking I know, because I NEVER post links to Facebook.  Some of you, no doubt, have seen it.

As is often the case, a conversation ensued, following my request that those who don’t like it sign the petition available to express disagreement, because, as we all know, the world’s problems are solved with electronic signatures, Facebook profile pictures, and Twitter avatars.
 

I was then asked… “Constitutionally speaking, do you feel like religion should be a part of our military in any form?”

My retort was… “’Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof;...’"

Then I was prompted with this… “Maybe if everyone was respectable about it, I could potentially agree with your point of view. But since that's not always the case, I can't help but think it's just better to keep them separated.”

That is a level-headed and respectable response… which elicited the following thoughts which I can’t  easily contain in a “comment” box on Facebook.  So I wrote this, because, as we all know, for the few world crises that the aforementioned things can’t solve, a blog will finish the job.
 

THE ENTREE

I understand the frustration with the respectable part, but the constitution makes no mention of censoring speech to what is “respectable,” otherwise we’d be able say nearly nothing especially in “Generation Politically Correct.”  Additionally, I agree; I wish people, in general, were more respectable about the whole thing.  In fact, I would submit that it might be altogether more effective and well-received in many cases.
 

However, I do understand the mindset of a man who sees someone who is (as best he can tell) about to be hit by a car.  This bystander isn't afforded with an opportunity to be both delicate in the delivery of his message AND effective.  He doesn't have the luxury of lengthy contemplation based on the potential fear of offending the man, by making it seem like he (the bystander) thought the man to be foolish enough to put himself in harm’s way.  The most loving and respectable thing that bystander can do is act with fullness of conviction at risk to himself and yes, even the other man's opinion of him.

Coincidentally enough, the same holds true even if the bystander has a history of playing in the road.  Just as his own poor decisions in the past are no reason for him to hold his tongue; nor would it serve this bystander well to consider that his well-intentioned gesture of “heroism” will then afford him some special immunity from being struck by a car should he decide to return to play in the road afterward. 

Furthermore, it would behoove the man in presumed immediate danger to thoroughly take measures to ensure his own safety rather than standing stubbornly, angry at being warned by a known road player.  I might even go so far as to say… should the man in assumed danger not immediately find himself in danger by his estimation, that he should be:   

a. grateful that a man sought his well being (even IF wrong)
AND
b. continually mindful of his state seeking to make sure he doesn’t wander into oncoming traffic, even if he doesn’t see any coming at the moment.                     

I am reminded of this story of Charles Peace a thief and murderer sentenced to death....                                 

He was taken on the death-walk. Before him went the prison chaplain, routinely and sleepily reading some Bible verses. The criminal touched the preacher and asked what he was reading. “The Consolations of Religion,” was the reply.

Charlie Peace was shocked at the way he professionally read about hell. Could a man be so unmoved under the very shadow of the scaffold as to lead a fellow-human there and yet, dry-eyed, read of a pit that has no bottom into which this fellow must fall?

Could this preacher believe the words that there is an eternal fire that never consumes its victims, and yet slide over the phrase without a tremor? Is a man human at all who can say with no tears, “You will be eternally dying and yet never know the relief that death brings”?

All this was too much for Charlie Peace. “Sir”, he addressed the preacher, I do not share your faith.  But if I did – if I believed what you say you believed – then although England were covered with broken glass from coast to coast, I would crawl the length and breadth of it on hand and knee and think the pain worthwhile, just to save a single soul from this eternal hell of which you speak.”

                                                                                         -Ravenhill

We live in a world that is, increasingly ever-ready to look for the good intentions of others and good hearts of others to excuse “misdeeds.”  The exception, seemingly, may often occur in the case of a Christian who, though they may be so torn with the same passion for a soul, as described by Mr. Peace, that he/she would share what they fundamentally and wholeheartedly believe to be the most vital piece of news someone could ever receive, yet might fail to do so in an attractive, tactful, or politically correct way. 

The Christian should by all means seek to make our words salt, but we also know what we are to expect.  In most cases, NO ONE likes being wrong,  being told their wrong, or even the thought that they might be wrong  especially when it comes to major life issues(and if you prove me wrong on that statement… I won’t like it).  

I admit that there are certainly those among us who fly the “Christian” banner, yet are not what any of us could accurately call a good ambassador for Christ.  At times, we can even find ourselves being that person if we’re objective.  As Christians, we are sometimes too timid or, at other times, it is our pride that fuels our insistence that someone (or some lifestyle) is a path to Hell rather than genuine concern for a soul.

Certainly, from a Christian perspective, I much prefer that we make a consistent habit of coming from a heart of love and being “tactful” where possible.  However, at the same time there is an inherent sense of urgency within the basic framework of Christianity that we must address if we profess, as the story about Mr. Peace so poignantly alludes.

We (PRETTY MUCH EVERYBODY) don't always do the best job of discerning how to be in situations.  It’s one of the main things we share.  Some people(regardless of religious affiliation) are too thin-skinned about being told that someone else firmly believes their viewpoint is wrong.  Perhaps this is because of a stigma created by many people falling too much to the harsh side of the spectrum, but what seems more evident is this: 

We have created, as it appears, a generation or 2 (at least) that are nearly filled to the rafters with people that are either defensive or afraid that they will offend a defensive person… or worse… both.

We are indeed in a vicious cycle as nation on both sides, and we must admit that nearly all of us have had a part in it.  With this vicious cycle in place, it’s no mystery why one would feel a tendency for separation and avoidance.  However, we must not run from the conflict at hand.  Rather, we’d be better served learning how to face it in a healthy way as individuals and as a society.  We mustn’t run, because we fear offending or being offended, but rather be a people actively working toward a genuine dialogue that deals with the fact that we don't agree.  If we are to succeed, we must certainly seek to achieve this in non-evasive ways, even in the face of the natural friction that comes with disagreement.   This piece of "legislation" is merely another step of avoidance for our nation that feeds both a victim mentality and murders open discourse of ideas and faiths.

It is awfully telling that statements of opinion and belief have been classified, seemingly automatically, as hate.  Our society begs and pleads for “tolerance” of differences, all-the-while not tolerating a key difference, and now we try to wash the difference under the rug.  “Go to your room.”  “Don’t talk about that here,” because heaven forbid someone might get offended.

Are we 12 years old?

This is a fairly clear slap in the face of the Christian and the non-Christian alike.  It says that we are so unable to handle things in a healthy way that we NEED our government to censor the dialogue which strikes at the heart of the first amendment both religiously and in terms of free speech.  We are adults.  We are not children (unless you're literally a child).  We may act like it sometimes, but children won’t likely mature if they’re always treated like children.  We must be allowed to stumble.  We must be allowed to fall and have strife.  Otherwise there is no “freedom,” and isn’t that what our soldiers are supposedly fighting for anyway?

"I'm Good" is Garbage: "The Takeaway"

[IF YOU HAVEN'T READ ANY BACKGROUND ON THIS YOU CAN FIND  PART 1: "THE LEAD UP" AND PARE 2: "THE STREETS".]

I have 5 main takeaways from this experience.

1.  Many people ask, “How could a good and loving God let bad things happen to good people?”  I’ve heard this cry from people before as to why they refuse to follow the Christian God.  Well, God has called us to act, to be His hands and feet.  It makes no sense for us to cross our arms in disgust at a “good” God, as we sit upon what we falsely assume to be a moral “high ground” doing NOTHING!  (Don’t get me wrong, we can’t earn our way into relationship with God, but the fruit of His children certainly isn’t idly letting evil occur).

2.  Some people might not be cold, but might have the misconception that they can’t help, or just may not know how.  The majority of us can’t claim ignorance of the problem, but some of us are lazy enough that we don’t find out how to help, so we chose to remain ignorant of how to be a part of the solution.  I've certainly been guilty of this.  If we don’t chose to learn.  We chose ignorance.  There is no excuse, particularly in this country, to not be able to find information.  Too often we don’t seem to care enough to overcome our laziness to learn how we can help.  Ultimately, there are many pretty simple ways to help, but it takes a little effort.

3.  We can no longer assume that evil lives in the shady alleys of inner cities and in the dark corners of the far reaches of the world.  We can no longer think that evil makes its home in meth labs and strip clubs.  Certainly it dwells there, but evil has set up camp along “the fence” of inaction that has found its way deep into our neighborhoods, schools, workplaces, and even our churches.  The war has been longstanding, and the battle is at our doorstep.  It’s not confined to slavery, but it certainly includes it.  While we can’t do it on our own, we are called not to omission, but rather with a sense of intentionality and ownership.

4.  This is for those that do help and do care.  We cannot hold bitterness in our heart against the people who don’t care.  We must believe that even our will to do good and love others isn’t inherently something in us.  We didn’t create it.  We didn’t will ourselves to have a heart.  All good things in our lives, including the times when we get it right in our intentions, have been given to us by Him.  So rather than having anger at those people we must pray for them to have their hearts prodded and softened by Him, and furthermore for our hearts to be softened as we look for what more we can do to help.  And it should turn us to praise Him for moving us from the prison of seeking ourselves, and seek to not lock ourselves back up in that prison cell.  We have no room to stand on a “Holier than thou high ground,” lest we become the ones filled with callousness and pride.

5.  In the face of evil, “I’m Good” is garbage.