Sorry Seems to Be the Easiest Word

I've been thinking about repentance lately, about what it means to prove that you are sorry when you've wronged someone, about what it means to make it right after you've made it wrong.

Maybe it's the news lately giving me reason to think about it.

Reggie Bush wronged more than a few people: his family and friends, his teammates, the Heisman Trust, the fans of USC football (and of collegiate football in general), Vince Young, and presumably lots of other folks affected by his decision to take improper benefits as an amateur athelete in college.

The power brokers over at British Petroleum wronged more than a few people: the eleven individuals who died on their oil rig and the families who loved them, the hard working fishermen who depend on the Gulf's seafood for their livelihood, the stockholders who invested in the company, the gas station owners whose sales have been slashed by the company's negligence, and presumably lots of other folks affected by their decision to ignore concerns about the safety of the Deepwater Horizon drilling rig.

Or maybe it's the fact that I'm preaching through the gospel of Luke right now, moving swiftly to the nineteenth chapter in which we read about Zacchaeus and his encounter with Jesus, about his confession of guilt before the Lord, and about his commitment to compensate four times over those whom he defrauded.

Or maybe it's some other events going on in my life and in the life of our church.

Regardless of what's causing me to think a lot about it, the outcome is the same. In the process of spending a good deal of time thinking about what it means to take responsibility for the sins we've committed against others, I am arriving at one general conclusion: saying "I am sorry" is an important, even essential, part of the reconciliation process, but it's just the beginning. The real evidence of our contrition lies within our willingness to make it right in the eyes of the ones we've offended, to ask what it would take to establish again the other person's trust, and then to pursue that course of repentance with great vigilance.

As Christians, of course, we do so in the confidence that our sins have been forgiven by God through the atoning work of Jesus Christ on the cross. We do so as people who understand that wrongs can never be completely made right unless love-driven forgiveness leads the way. And we do so with the assurance that God's grace doesn't eliminate the need for us to repent; it gives us the inspiration we need to see repentance through until the ones we have hurt can say not only "I forgive you," but also "and I am willing to trust you again."

facebook? twitter? the internet? by all means!

I am sometimes asked why I devote any of my time as a pastor to social networking. The question always comes from a sincere person who is genuinely interested in knowing why I consider these arenas of communication worth my time. After all, they reason, if you're the impatient priest who wants every minute to count for eternity, then why waste even a moment on such time drains like Facebook, Twitter, blogging, and the like? Sometimes their curiosity even drifts into skepticism and, on rare occasions, outright criticism.

In every case -- for the enquirer, the skeptic, or the critic -- the answer is the same. And to be sure, the answer is both theological and ecclesiological in nature.

Theologically, we are incarnational people who are following the example of our incarnational Lord. That is, just as Jesus left the comforts of heaven and entered into the culture of first century Judaism for the sake of his gospel, we too engage the world around us for the same reason. In his letter to the church in Philippi, the apostle Paul said it this way:

"Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross!" (Philippians 2:5-8)

Ecclesiologically, as a missional Church our purpose is to share the good news of Jesus' present and future reign with those who have not yet heard, considered, and responded to it. By God's grace, we do so in many creative and faithful ways; exploiting social networking tools so that others can come to understand the love of their heavenly Father is just one of them (in much the same way that we used the newspaper advertisement, the church newsletter, and the telephone-based prayer chain in the previous generation). Again, the apostle Paul is helpful here, as his words to the church in Corinth capture the essence of our motives:

"Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all men so that by all means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings." (1 Corinthians 9:19-23, italics mine)

In the end, my prayer is that every follower of Christ will regularly ask how he or she can use every means possible for saving the lost, edifying the church, and glorifying God. In the meantime, however, I am simply grateful that this blog has given me a platform for inviting you more deeply into the incarnational, missional Christian life.



minding the gap

Have you been following this year's version of the "Merry Christmas" vs. "Happy Holidays" debate?

Just in case you've somehow missed it, it has centered around the American Family Association's call for all Christians who still think that Christmas is the official American holiday of December to boycott the Gap and its subsidiaries (Old Navy and Banana Republic). The offense that brought it all about was the store's winter ad campaign that failed to recognize the true reason for the season, the birth of Jesus and his apparent role in the runaway consumerism that marks this time of year. 

Without rehearsing every twist and turn of the standoff and eventual resolution between the AFA and the Gap, suffice it to say that the clothing store responded to the threatened loss of over one million holiday shoppers (the AFA's alleged online support base) by doing what any respectable profit-driven retailer would do: appeasing all parties via a balanced dose of political correctness and carefully placed buzz words.

While a quick Google search can tell you more than you want to know about the details of this colossal adventure in missing the point, I would like to bring a bit of clarity to the actual issue at stake here: American Christianity's failure to recognize the great chasm between the true meaning of Christmas and the hypocritical farce to which we have reduced it in the eyes of our non-Christian, secular, postmodern neighbors.

At its core, Christmas is the day we celebrate the Incarnation of Christ, the profound act of agape love by which the God of heaven and earth -- the God who had every right because of our rebellion against Him to boycott our lives -- met us in our sin and ransomed us from it. He did so, of course, by sending his one and only Son to live among us and to reveal the heart of the Father to us, a heart filled with grace and peace, mercy and truth. Whatever else Christmas is, it is certainly and essentially this.

As a result, any genuine, God-honoring celebration of this holy day ought to showcase the children of God -- those who by grace alone have come to see in Jesus the true nature of the Father -- doing likewise. It ought to be a time when those who claim to be followers of Christ actually follow his example. It ought to be a time when we demonstrate unconditional, unwarranted, unmerited love toward those in our culture who have no idea how much God loves them, no clue how much He has done to prove it. But instead we are fighting with them, expecting them to say "Merry Christmas" -- a greeting that, if they were to use it in their ignorance, would betray them as hypocrites -- just because we do.

In the end, then, it seems that the only real problem with the Gap is that we Christians are not standing in it. 

Now, if that is a problem we are willing to address with similar passion and holy indignation, then the solution is within reach. We simply must repent of our pride and self-righteousness and live as the incarnational presence of Jesus, the very body of Christ Himself in this world.

But that, dear ones, will cost us far more than a trip to the mall.   

Christ in Culture (Part 1)

I had a fascinating conversation with a member of our church today. It had to do with my personal politics and the perception people have concerning them.

"I think I have a good idea of where you stand," he said, "despite your efforts to hide your political leanings."

"Really?" I said.

"Yes," he continued. "I gather you're liberal, even though I know you try not to align yourself with the democratic party publicly."

As my mind raced to remember all of the things I've said from the pulpit that could have possibly led this gentleman to draw such a conclusion, he said one more thing that helped me understand his perception: "In fact, [another member of the church] subscribed to one of the magazines you subscribe to in order to learn about the voices influencing your views."

Now he really had my attention -- someone in the church has actually subscribed to one of the magazines I read for the specific purpose of understanding the worldview I hold?!

Incredible.

Does this man, or the one who's been reading my mail, have any idea how many publications I read regularly? Does he really think I read magazines (or engage books, or watch the news, or download podcasts, or scan the television, or go to the movies, or listen to talk radio, or surf websites, or talk to strangers) for the same reasons that 99% of the people in America do? Does he have any idea how much of a critical thinker I am, how much of a cultural exegete I am, how much of a missional Christian I am? Does he have any idea that I regularly read Time, World, and Newsweek; Rolling Stone, Spin, and Paste; Wired, Entrepreneur, and Fast Company; National Geographic, Discover, and Popular Mechanics? Does he realize I watch Fox News and CNN; that I tune in faithfully to Sean Hannity and Campbell Brown, Glenn Beck and Anderson Cooper, Rush Limbaugh and Soledad O'Brien; that I keep my eye on Oprah and Phil, Conan and Dave, Jimmy and Jay; and that I skim the Charlotte Observer and the USA Today, the New York Times and the Washington Times? Does he have even an inkling that the periodicals Touchstone, Books & Culture, and First Things exist?  

Does this man seriously think that, by reading Sojourners magazine just because I do, he can understand my view on anything, much less on politics, religion, or the intersection of the two? Does he really think that Jim Wallis defines my worldview any more than Newt Gingrich does? That Tony Campolo shapes my thought any more than John MacArthur does? That Barack Obama represents my convictions any more than George W. Bush does?

Come on, people! 

And more importantly: Does he have any idea what it means for a faithful Christian to study the scriptures daily, to form a worldview from them alone, and then to take advantage of every resource possible to understand the surrounding culture so that he or she can more effectively proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ?

Do you?

(Please see my follow-up remarks under "Comments" below.)

Crayons and Holiness

I woke up this morning to find my 2 year-old son Kore on the top bunk of his sisters' bed.

None of us knew he could climb up there on his own. We do now.

When my daughter Quinn, whose space had been violated by her younger brother's feat, found out about it, she said, "How did he do that? I'm seven, and I have trouble getting up there." Seizing the teachable moment, I replied, "You've got to remember, Sweetheart: your box of crayons is up there. A person can do very hard things when he really, really wants something."

My purpose, of course, was to cause her to think about the things that she wants, all the while watering the already-planted seed in her mind that, with the grace of God and by the power of his Spirit, she can do very hard things, too.

I'm not sure if it had that effect, but my words of encouragement did have a profound effect on me. (Funny how that works!)

And their effect has stayed with me all day: If I want holiness to be the primary mark of my life, then what hard things can I do? Things that I am not yet doing. Things that seem impossible. Things that would cause people around me to ask, "How did he do that?"

Things that would prove that I really, really want it.