:: in.a.mirror.dimly ::

In the sometimes illogical world of sports where beards are grown in the playoffs and jerseys are left unwashed for good luck, there is a term for fair-weather fans who only support a team at the peak of its success: bandwagon fans. The bandwagon fans don’t endure the losing seasons or the ups and downs along the road to winning the championship.

Bandwagon fans want all of the enjoyment at the end of the season without enduring the regular season. So far as I can tell, that’s perfectly fine in sports. However, when we apply the bandwagon fan principle to other things, it’s not quite as attractive.

The Bandwagon Fan for Campaigns

For example, we have politicians campaigning right now for positions such as president, best friend to lobbyists, and most likely be swayed by large campaign donors. Campaigns have staff and volunteers who invest long, hard days for the sake of their candidates.

Can you imagine someone refusing to help this candidate when given the chance, merely clicking a button in the voting both, and then celebrating as if he/she had been an integral part of the campaign? The bandwagon fan doesn’t look so hot in that scenario.

Bandwagon Faith

The interesting thing about Jesus, is that he’ll welcome anyone into the Kingdom at anyone point of his/her life. If you receive Jesus with your dying breath, you’re just as much a part of the Kingdom as someone who was raised in a Christian home, serving Christ with every breath.

There are no merit badges to accumulate in the Kingdom. We can enter it at any time.

On the other hand, when we are given an opportunity to follow Jesus today, and we put it off until a later point, we have a major problem. We are reminded in the book of Hebrews that today is the day of salvation. If you hear God’s voice today, don’t ignore it.

Let his voice speak into your life, and then take action. Faith is demonstrated by works in the present, not future aspirations.

Bandwagon faith says that we don’t need to fully commit ourselves to God’s Kingdom campaign today. The “bandwagonner” plans to celebrate fully in the Kingdom some day, but fails to invest in the work of God today. Bandwagon faith tries to squeak by with the bare minimum of commitment, ignoring the call of God in the present.

When Christians fail to live in obedience, it’s like we’re saying to God, “We’ll take care of ourselves today, and we’ll get around to you later. Oh, and we can’t wait for that big party with you some day!”

Obedience make’s God’s call a priority, taking tentative, sometimes faltering steps forward. When we leave bandwagon faith behind, we are able to find the joy and peace of God in our present circumstances, even if the way forward is sometimes uncertain and difficult.

We learn that the joy and celebration promised in God’s coming Kingdom can actually be ours to enjoy today. Bandwagon faith robs us of the most precious gift of God: Jesus fully present in our lives today through his Spirit.

These two men were responsible. They had business to take care of, and they were not idle in addressing it. One was fixing his nets along the shore of Galilee, the other had to take care of his father’s burial.

Culturally speaking, the man tasked with burying his father was especially living in careful observance of the law. He was in the right place, doing what mattered.

The difference between the two men came when Jesus called, saying, “Follow me.” This wasn’t something that could be delayed. Jesus literally wanted them to drop what they were doing and to reorient their lives around him.

One man knew when to stop, dropping the lower priorities for the person who mattered most.

The other man asked for time so that he could wrap up his obligations and still follow Jesus.

Learning how to stop is difficult, especially when you think you’re doing everything right. Other priorities can interfere when the most important call comes to us.

Can we stop?

Are we cultivating practices that help us stop daily to hear God’s voice?

Are we ready to stop and respond when the call comes?

One of the most disconcerting phrases in the Bible may be, “We rejoice in our sufferings.” How in the world could a sane person ever arrive at the conclusion that suffering is something to celebrate?

Even worse, we’re guaranteed troubles, trials, persecution, and other forms of suffering in this world. Something in the back of our minds may tell us this is the case, but it doesn’t help to read that right in the Bible.

In other words, the Bible assures us that trouble is coming. Then, once trouble comes, it assures us that we can rejoice in the midst of it. How does someone arrive at this point? In fact, should we even desire to reach this point?

Discipleship is all about the process where God reshapes us into people with his priorities. We become committed to manifesting his Kingdom in this world and detached from the desire to build our own kingdoms. Instead of building faulty structures for our own security and comfort, the Kingdom sends us out. Before we’re willing to leave our faulty buildings behind, we need to be changed.

Left to our own devices we’ll opt to stay put, to compromise the calling of discipleship. People untouched by the power of God have not been conformed into his image. They will steer clear of anything that could lead to suffering or persecution. They have their own kingdoms to worry about.

We’d never take the risks of discipleship without God’s power in our lives that makes us holy and renews our minds. This process of being conformed into God’s image is why holiness is so critically important for disciples.

As we learn to value holiness, we’ll realize that suffering is a sign that this world is passing away, that God’s Kingdom is our only hope. Suffering helps us see the world from God’s perspective.

Suffering reminds us that our little kingdoms are weak and flimsy. God is present in the midst of our suffering, preparing us for the day when all tears shall be wiped away and our joy will be made complete.

I confessed to my wife last night that I’m a hockey fundamentalist. There’s something so wonderful about the game itself that I don’t see a need to tack on anything extra to “jazz” it up. Here’s an example:

I watched a Columbus Blue Jackets game last night and I saw them score a goal for the first time (yes, it’s been a long 3 weeks). Now, I’m no lover of the loud fog horn they blast at some arenas or that stupid, annoying song that Chicago plays whenever they score a goal, but Columbus merely begins their celebrations by firing a canon. No, that’s not quite gimmicky enough. They tack on a live rock band and cheerleaders.

Cheer leaders in hockey?

Blasphemy.

I longed for the old days of the lame old organ. Yes, I’m a hockey fundamentalist.

I suppose Columbus can keep their rock band, but these gimmicks do say something about the way we add more stuff to things that are already pretty good. More is better and interesting. Take the Amazon Kindle Fire.

It’s not enough to be able to read books on a device. They integrate all kinds of apps that you can use. On the one hand, that is really convenient. On the other hand, the possibilities for distraction are endless. The more we add, the more we jeopardize our attention and discipline.

A Kindle Fire does not lead directly to distraction. It’s not a matter of cause. We’re simply placing ourselves in a position to be distracted. Sometimes the best thing we can do is limit ourselves, place boundaries around our lives, and give out attention wholly to one thing.

There is something wonderfully freeing about being able to focus on one thing, becoming consumed in the observations and lessons of a moment. That alone is my reason for using a journal every day.

My journal goes to church, to bed, and to work with me. I have it at the breakfast table and even tote it along on a car ride if I anticipate some free time. It provides a very simple way to sit and reflect on one thing, following it to wherever it may lead me.

There is no temptation to check e-mail, to tweet a bad pun, or to read the news. My attention is wholly given to the task of jotting down what’s on my mind. This simple discipline is incredibly useful for spiritual growth.

Once God plants a seed in my mind, it has room to grow and flourish in my journal. A simple sentence may spread roots as deep as two pages. Life-changing lessons have developed strong and fruitful in the greenhouse of my journal.

Multi-use devices such as iPads, Kindles, and Nooks have their place for sure. However, as we embrace new technology and tools, we need to be honest about what they lack and what we lose if we switch over to them exclusively.

The pen and notebook are innovations from the past as well. As we gained the ability to write, we stopped developing our memories. It’s not like I’m preserving some kind of golden age in my journal.

My journal provides a way to keep my life simple and focused in a world that thrives on distractions, speed, and endless options. Journaling is a conscious choice to pursue a path that enables me to focus on reflecting or meditating.

After writing in my journal, my mind is sharper and focused, and my ideas and lessons are safely entrusted into a safe place. With my ideas secure, I’m free to power up my computer and watch another hockey game.

Some days I feel like Paul is that big brother I never could match. I see him as the kind of guy who was always picked first for sports, topped the honors charts in school, and quickly rose to the top of his company. He worked tirelessly, also knowing what to do next.

When mocking a church obsessed with credentials, Paul rolls out a list of accomplishments that include being shipwrecked, imprisoned, and nearly beaten to death for the sake of the Gospel. What have I got? How about an atheist writing a cross comment on Facebook?

I’m not even close to matching Paul, the super-missionary, apostle extraordinaire who wrote the Bible—well, at least the part of the Bible that folks like me read the most. Wink. Wink. To make things worse, Paul mocked people who called themselves super-apostles.

Paul is so awesome that he can mock people who think they’re more awesome than him…

Paul brings up a very real tension for us in the Christian life. The pace of his ministry was furious. He was a true overachiever. There are plenty of reasons why evangelicals in America love Paul, but one reason may be his indomitable work ethic. If there was ever a “git ‘er done” guy in the Bible, it was Paul.

There are other traditions in Christianity besides “git ‘er done,” fast-paced ministry that globe trots from one ministry to another. There are other paces we read about in the Bible. Jesus spent the first thirty years of his life working as a carpenter or doing whatever people in Nazareth and Galilee were up to back then. Even Paul, that tireless worker, took a bunch of years to get his head on straight in the wilderness.

What did he do?

Those quiet years intrigue me. For all our obsession with being “busy” with ministry, there is a tension at play where solitude and leading a quiet life emerge as viable options for either a season or at least a lifetime.

Paul and his fast-paced ministry have become so normal and ideal in my conception of Christianity, that I forget the rest of the examples in the Bible about staying put, leading a quiet life, and winning people over through a gentle holiness.

There are different callings for different people, at different seasons in their lives. There were times when Paul had to stay put and times when he had to roam from one city to another. Some Christians were called to serve in their cities as elders, while others stayed in lonely places where only the willing sought them out.

We don’t have a blueprint for Christianity. What happens is we gravitate toward the characters and lifestyles in the Bible that make the most sense to us. Along the way, we miss the point that God directed people in a wide variety of directions.

American Christians like me long to be busy—busy just like Paul. I forget that Paul looked at all of his accomplishments and counted them as foolish rubbish, counting only the love of Christ as his treasure. May God give us eyes to see the riches that he has called us to in relationship with him.

May we get over Paul and into the love of Christ.

Have you ever become frustrated by the Bible? Sometimes the commands of Paul set me on edge.

He writes to the Ephesians, “be renewed in the attitude your minds.” Fine, I’m all for that. My mind is feeling a bit stale these days. How exactly should I go about that?

It’s tempting to read these verses and to think it’s all up to me. However, the bigger picture of holiness presented by Paul and throughout the Bible actually takes quite a bit of pressure off us.

The power to become like Jesus comes from his indwelling Spirit. However, are we really off the hook completely? I mean, we dare not insert our own works into the equation?

This is where Protestants can especially struggle since we’re so “salvation by works-averse.” The power is 100% from God, but we can neglect it. I’m not in any way capable of powering my chop saw, but I need to plug it in to the power source and keep it there if I want to cut anything.

The word that Jesus used to describe this process was “abiding.” The abiding is our work. It’s what we have to do if we want to become holy and renewed in our minds. A branch can’t grow any fruit on its own, but it needs to remain connected to the vine in order to grow grapes. The nutrients come up through the vine as the branch stays connected.

Our abiding work tends to put us at odds with our fast-paced culture that values multi-tasking and increased efficiency. Dare I suggest that our culture doesn’t really know what it is to “abide.” It seems lazy or wasteful. The heroes know how to squeeze every last ounce of productivity out of their time, money, and even other people. Those who know how to abide are an anomaly.

The examples of abiding in scripture are sometimes quite extreme to our eyes:

• Moses spending 40 days on the mountain.
• Joshua remaining in the tabernacle long after Moses had left.
• Samuel sleeping in the tent of the Lord.
• Anna fasting and praying night and day for her entire life.
• John the Baptist spending his adult years in the seclusion of the wilderness.
• Paul wandering in the wilderness by himself before beginning his ministry.
• Jesus praying for an entire evening.

Why would all of these founders of our faith spend so much time in solitude, away from productive ministry and work? What is the value of this time?

The connection is this:

• Without 40 days on the mountain, Moses fails to lead the people to the Jordan River.
• Without those evenings in the tabernacle, Josh falters when he leads the people into the Promised Land.
• Without those nights in the tent of the Lord, Samuel can’t hear God speak to him.
• Without fasting and prayer, Anna misses the Messiah and the message God gave to her.
• Without wandering in the wilderness, John and Paul can’t hear the message God wants them to share.
• Jesus modeled this for us. It’s striking to think that even God incarnate set aside time to hear the voice of God. It’s like a Trinitarian brain teaser.

Do I honestly believe I can imitate Jesus effectively by praying less than he did?

If I’m ever frustrated by my lack of progress with holiness, one of the first places to begin is the work of abiding. I can’t explain what happens when God gets ahold of us or how he “makes” us holy or renews our minds. We have models who have gone before us who suggest that this is the only way to be changed.

God is great at remembering his promises and at forgetting our sins. I tend to think he’s either great at one or the other. Either he remembers his promises AND all of my sins, or he forgets my sins but he also fails to follow up on his promises.

It’s hard to imagine how God does it. In the past I’ve failed to follow up on commitments or e-mails. I typically feel awful about it, and then I get to enjoy the guilt that comes with letting someone down. So I know how to fail pretty comprehensively.

God is so unlike us!

It’s so important to sit and reflect on the work of God because it’s counterintuitive. God’s promises are better than anything we could cook up on our own. If we don’t let his Spirit reshape and renew our minds, we’ll never figure it out.

In fact, God promised to do this for us. The new covenant means that God’s law will be written on our minds and hearts. God promises to make himself known to us. At the climax of these promises in Hebrews 8, we find this incredible statement:

“I will forgive their wickedness, and I will never again remember their sins.” – Hebrews 8:12

These promises are being fulfilled today. God is here to redeem people who fail—people like me. People like you. That redemption means he’ll never forget what he has promises to do, but our sins are forgotten.

Sometimes I fear that I’ve taken God’s grace too far. I often find God is far ahead of me, offering me something greater than what I can imagine.

I had to confront one of my fears a few weeks ago. It’s a bit too private to share all of the details on a blog, but if I had to list the top three things that freak me out, I’d say this is right up there. It’s the kind of fear that I can’t control, that I know can only be resolved through prayer that I’ve been too afraid to seek.

A few weeks ago, I decided to take action. I wasn’t facing anything life threatening or uncomfortable, but I was in a situation that made it really easy to face that fear. The freak out was pretty awesome: sweaty palms, beating heart, short breaths. I was a ball of fun at close quarters in the elevator that day.

And then something changed. I gained an understanding of the actual source of my fear, and I realized that I’d completely mischaracterized it. It wasn’t quite as bad as I thought, even if it still kind of freaks me out.

By staring into my fear, I discovered a weak point in its defenses, and you’d better believe I’m praying into that weak spot with everything I’ve got.

On Becoming Less Fearful

I had a chat with some classmates at my 10-year college reunion, and one guy asked how we’ve changed over the past 10 years. One friend said that he is now less fearful after working through so many hard times at his first job. He cares far less about what people think of him, and he is far more confident as takes risks and pursues challenges.

In a sense, his first job blasted him with so many sources of stress and anxiety that they soon lost their power. He saw them at their worst, and he realized that God was able to sustain him.

There are real things to fear in this world, but so much of what we fear is insubstantial, lacking teeth. The substantial parts of our fears may knock us around when we face them, but God is able to deliver us because Jesus is Lord over all.

Facing our fears often seems like a terrible at idea in the thick of things. However, we’ll never have a chance to experience God’s power and deliverance unless we own our fears and let him begin working in us.

I have found that deliverance is often a process, a series of stumbling steps forward. As I discovered in the elevator that day with my nervous faith, God can break through and begin to heal us when we face our fears.

As a rule I never waste an opportunity to feel bad about myself. What can I say? Life is short.

For example, there are authors and books that that are wildly popular, but I’m just not into them. Such a discrepancy provides all manner of opportunities to feel like a terrible person. This past weekend I came face to face with such an author.

Just writing this post feels like I’m divulging a terrible secret.

Before I say anything too specific, I’d like to preface this with a little background…

I’ve never been able to read poetry. Perhaps I’m too rushed, demanding instant gratification. Like I said, I never waste an opportunity to feel bad about myself. I’m just a bad English major.

As a writer I stand in awe of poets—their economy of words and the images they paint. As a reader I just get annoyed.

So here’s my dirty little secret. I’m not a regular reader of Ann Voskamp’s blog “A Holy Experience.” I have no plans to read her book One Thousand Gifts. She writes beautifully poetic posts, but remember, I’m not into poetry.

If Rob Bell hadn’t gotten rid of hell, I’d be going there for sure.

Having said that, there are few writers and poets that I respect more than her. It’s an incongruity that gnaws at me.

I heard Ann speak at the Story Conference last week in Chicago. She gave one of the best talks I’ve ever heard.

Here’s what sets her apart: She knows how to create an image, convey a feeling, and teach a concept with God-given authority. She knows how to listen, how to offer herself to God, and how to create with hands open to heaven.

If I have to learn a bit of poetry in order to know God like she does, then sign me up.

Each word of her presentation had the smooth sheen that only comes through hours of preparation and craft. Each sentence had been carefully assembled, and the crowd responded with a standing ovation that testified to the power of her words.

Later that day I stopped by the Zondervan table to check out her book again. Had I missed something before? Did I just need to see things differently? I opened the book and launched into a reflection about dish washing bubbles and sun beams, and I felt like stomping on a flower or popping a small child’s balloon.

Yep, I’m still going to hell.

Ann and I are different—which should be quite evident since she’s been on the New York Times bestseller’s list for 19 weeks and has more blog readers in a day than most of us have in a year.

I can’t write like Ann Voskamp, but I am in awe of what she is able to do. Poets like her have much to teach us about finding God in the everyday, but there is so much more to learn from her about communicating.

Perhaps I could say it best like this…

Cue the gentle trickle of a piano.

Bubbling pots of blueberry and strawberry jam are my gifts to friends and family. There aren’t too many unique, homemade items you can give in an outsourced world.

I pick berries in the heat of the day, pile them up in boxes, and stir them into a dark, bubbling glaze at my stove.

Steaming jars are picked up with green clamps from a blue pot of boiling water, and the jam is ladled into each jar through a funnel. After wiping the mouth of each jar, I drop the lids into place, tighten them, and wait for them to pop.

I’m not giving someone a jar of sugar, fruit, and pectin. I’m giving those afternoons I hunted for bright red and dark blueberries and my evenings at the stove stirring and steaming. I’ve shared an experience, a small fragment of my life that is preserved for someone else.

I have a story to share along with my sweet little gift.

OK, OK, enough of that blasted piano!

Though I don’t write like Ann Voskamp, I have learned so much about writing by observing the care that she puts into her writing and communication. She stirs her words together until they reach the right consistency, and then bottles them up as a gift for thousands upon thousands.

I probably won’t read her blog today, but I will be reading my notes from her talk—each phrase a wonderfully crafted delicacy to be savored in a quiet moment.

John the Baptist had some dirty work to do. I’m not talking about munching on locusts or roaming around the desert. I’m talking about challenging people to bring their sins out before God, confess their sins, and prepare themselves to enter God’s Kingdom.

This was not flashy ministry. He didn’t perform any miracles or signs that we know of. He simply pointed people back to God, and the only way to God involved repentance. He challenged people to face their issues.

There is no short cut to revival.

Any serious steps forward into the holiness and joy of God must first trudge through our junk, our dark areas that we’d rather forget. If we want to go anywhere with God, our dirty baggage needs to be tossed. Otherwise it will hold us back.

As I look back at my own life, I’ve seen this principle time and time again. In fact, there are times when I’ve opened myself up to the Holy Spirit’s leading and suddenly discovered some bitterness or anger I’d been hiding just below the surface.

It’s not pleasant to have my personal delusions challenged.

And yet, growing into the freedom and power of God’s Kingdom demands an ongoing housecleaning. Oftentimes I also find that once I stop clearing things out, I begin adding more junk.

Living in God’s Kingdom is a constant work of faith that is demanding, but promises rewards that we have yet to fathom.