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.



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.   

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.)

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.

As a missionary priest, I almost never wear a traditional collar. The reason is fairly basic. In countless conversations with people I have found that it comes with too much baggage. Too many people have too many stereotypes in their minds regarding priests, and the collar seems to trigger all of the negative ones. Child molestor, terrorist, hypocrite, religious fanatic  -- I have heard them all.

So you can imagine the scene last week when I stepped onto the only elevator in the small hotel I was staying in. As the door opened and I began to step in, I heard a voice that jarred me from my daydreaming. There in the corner of the elevator, immediately in front of the control panel, stood an elderly Catholic priest dressed exactly as you would expect him to be.

"Going up, young man?"

Without thinking at all, I looked up to see the person whose deep, commanding voice startled me. Before I could look into his eyes, though, my eyes automatically stopped at his collar. And before I could direct my thoughts in a rational way, my mind raced along the predetermined path of stereotypical thought:

"Going up? Up where? Does he mean up to the fourth floor where my room is? Or does he mean up to heaven? Of course I am going up. Is he going up? He ought to be more concerned about where he is going..."

Then I just started laughing. "Yes, sir," I said. "I am. How about you? Which way are you going?"

"I am, too," he replied. After a short pause, he then added, "I just wish everyone was."

"Yeah, me too," I sighed.

Just then, the elevator door opened and we each went our own way. Two priests, one with a collar and one without, both wanting everyone they meet to realize that the stairway to heaven doesn't go all the way up and that the only way to get there is by faith in Jesus Christ.

So even though my wife Karyn and I ferociously protect Thursday nights as our weekly time to stare deeply into one another's eyes and fan the flames of romance, we have made an exception tonight. There are, after all, a few things in life more important than date night. Preschool graduation is one of them.

But what about the far more important celebration today? What kind of priority does it get from those of us whose lives have been all-together altered by the occasion it marks? Who among us are postponing the otherwise sacred commitments of our lives in order to give it the attention it deserves?

Who even knows what I'm talking about?

For nearly 2,000 years, followers of Jesus have marked the first day after the forty days of Easter (cf. Acts 1:1-12) with a celebration fit for the King of kings. The day is called Ascension Day, and it's one of the most significant, yet least celebrated, holy days of the Christian year. It marks the day Jesus ascended not only to heaven but to his heavenly throne. Effectively, it marks the day our leader took office...forever.

As a citizen of heaven, then, whose King presently sits at the right hand of the Father, will you give the Ascension of our Lord the celebration it deserves? Namely, will you subject yourself to his reign and rule, trusting him by way of obedience in every area of your life, not just today but from this day forward?

There is, after all, nothing more important.

For the past few weeks, I was not really sure what to expect. After all, we were not exactly planning on this. In fact, her appointment with the vet was thwarted by extreme circumstances, and she got pregnant shortly thereafter.

As you can imagine, once the news got out to our friends and neighbors, there was no shortage of opinion. Some were saying that she was too young to have kittens. Some said that the offspring would be deformed. Others, stillborn. But as it is, the two tiny critters in the towel-lined Amazon box are neither.

In fact, they are beautiful, and I am not the only one who thinks so. Their mommy cannot get enough of them either. She may have spent the last ten months absorbed in her own little kitty-cat world, but those days have come to an end. She is now crazy about her babies, nursing and protecting them as though she were made by God to do it.

And from where I stand, at a respectful distance, she was.

Needless to say, all of this activity has got me thinking. Specifically, it has me thinking about the girls who come to our local Crisis Pregnancy Center. About the ones who were not exactly planning on this. About the no shortage of opinion regarding what they should do. About abortion, adoption, and keeping the child. And about what it must be like to have a baby while feeling like one.

Most of all, though, it has me thinking about the role of the Church in all of this. About the opportunity it presents us with to tell these scared and confused young girls about the grace and redemption of our Lord ... as though we were made by God to do it.

After all, he was somewhat drawn to controversial subjects. In fact, his authoritative teachings at the crossroads of politics and religion generated such fury among his threatened, power-hungry opponents that they eventually executed him as an insurrectionist and a blasphemer. Evidently, in Roman-occupied Palestine, claiming to be both the king of the Jews and the Son of God was just asking for trouble.

But that was then.

If you want a really good fight now, talking about the political and religious claims of Christ are not your best way forward. Oh sure, they'll get you there. Following Jesus faithfully, even radically, will certainly still land you in the ring, flat on your face, knocked out for a time by the powers of this world. But things like democracy and religious freedom have changed the climate a bit. As a result, there is not quite the same resistance to divergent political views, not quite the same pushback on conflicting religious claims.

But parenting, now that's a different subject altogether.

And if you don't believe me, just try it. Maybe at your next PTA meeting, soccer practice, or swim meet, just try it on for size. Go ahead. Next time you're standing around at the bus stop or the birthday party or the Chick-fil-A play area, just mention that God's Word trumps all other sources when it comes to parenting, and see how it goes. And if you're really up for some conflict, mention it when the child of the person with whom you're speaking starts acting out. Mention it then, as if to say that Jesus actually has something to say about what to do then.

Be advised though. From then on, you just might find yourself talking more and more about either politics or religion. Or maybe both.

In the Fall of last year, I was throwing the ball with my older son Xander. I remember the day vividly not because of my time with him but because of its effect on my younger son Kore.

As the ball travelled back and forth between Xander and me, I noticed my one year-old Kore crawling across the driveway to observe the action. Although Xander and I had thrown the ball together frequently, Kore had never seen us do so. Mesmerized, he watched as his older brother repeated the mechanics: fingers on the threads, arm back, point, step, and throw.

The dejected look on Kore's face said it all: Why does he get to have special time with Daddy and I don't? Aware of his fear, I gently threw the ball to him.

He wore a smile for the rest of the day.

Since that day, he has been on a single-minded mission. When he wakes from a nap, the first word off his tongue is "ball." When he meets someone new, he introduces himself as "ball." And when he enters a room, the first object he sees is a ball. Of course, it may in fact be a balloon or an apple or a globe, a clock or a plate or a lid. To you and to me, it may be a host of things. But to Kore, if it's a circle or a sphere or anything close, then it's a ball.

To my younger son Kore, to the one whose mind and heart were deeply imprinted with joy when his daddy welcomed him into the game, everything's a ball. I guess that's how it is for children. Whatever the father uses to assure them that they are his, to welcome them into his game -- from that point on, that's all they see.

And so as I meditate today on the fact that "God demonstrates his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8), I am reminded that Jesus is the one through whom my heavenly Father proves his love.

As a result, may it be Christ I see in all things and at all times. May Jesus be my single-minded mission.

At some point today I expect to enter a public place and see a person with something like a dirt spot on his forehead, letting everyone around him know (for he cannot see it himself) that he maintains in his mind and in his heart a deep, abiding love for God.

It's Ash Wednesday; it's inevitable.

The irony, of course, is that the same person will have just come from a Christian worship service in which (it is likely) Jesus' seminal teaching on public display of affection was read. In the context of the Sermon on the Mount, our Lord says it this way: "Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven" (Matthew 6:1).

The examples he uses are almsgiving, prayer, and fasting, but the teaching's wide application cannot be missed. You want heavenly rewards? Then practice your religion of love in secret, where only God can see. You want earthly rewards? Then display your affection publicly, for all the world to see.

That goes for giving alms, praying prayers, and keeping fasts. Oh, and it also goes for wearing ashes.

So maybe this year, I just might walk up to my brother and, as an act of love, remind him of the teaching. And when I do, I'll be sure to pull him aside privately. While helping him secure his heavenly reward, I wouldn't want to forfeit mine.