Jesus

Condemning Condemnation

Condemning Condemnation

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Condemnation. It’s such a harsh word. The noble goal of our culture in recent years is acceptance. Those two seem to stand in harsh opposition. Acceptance is loving and welcoming. Condemning seems to carry with it disapproval and hate. 

Recently verse 17 of the 3rd chapter of the Gospel of John has been used to condemn condemnation by positioning Jesus as the great affirmer. This verse follows the most famous verse in Scripture and says “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.” At first glance it appears we have a friend in Jesus in our quest to affirm and accept…He didn’t come to condemn! 

There is a challenge we face if we attempt to draw that lesson from this verse, though. The Bible isn’t a fortune cookie, and so we generally can’t simply grab a sentence we like and draw broad conclusions. There is a coherent, consistent overarching message in scripture. Each historical narrative, poem, letter, and sermon provides an important puzzle piece illuminating the grand message. In short, it all fits together to tell us about God, His plan, mankind, and our purpose in His mission.

Before digging into John 3, it’s good to revisit that overall metanarrative. The story of the Bible is that God created and sustains everything that is, was, and ever will be. Among other things, He is good, He is love, and what He created was glorious. Humans were created in His image and were given stewardship over creation. God’s design for humans was for us to live in relational harmony with each other and with Him. Humans turned from God, though. Even today, we turn from Him both by nature and by our own choice. Every single one of us.

That’s the root of our problem…we were designed to live life in an intimate relationship with God and turning away has left us deeply unsatisfied, but our tendency is to double-down…even though we know our judgment is imperfect, we stubbornly pursue the paths we think will make us whole again. The uncomfortable truth is, we don’t have it in us. We simply aren’t capable of bridging the chasm between ourselves and our deepest need…our Creator. We have run too far. You might even say that in our current circumstances, we are condemned to a life separated from God. 

Now snap back to John 3…that’s right where Jesus is meeting us. God–our Creator–loves us so much He sent His only Son so that anyone who places his or her trust in Him will be reconciled to God (16). Jesus did not come into this world to condemn the world (17)…it was already condemned without Him! If we make it to verse 18, it says “…anyone who does not believe is already condemned…” In verse 19 it tells us that Jesus is the light and “people loved darkness rather than the light because their deeds were evil.” That’s the story of all of us. We’ve lived in the darkness that comes from being isolated from Him. We’re comfortable in the dark and so we shun the light.

What I’ve learned from both Scripture and personal experience is that Jesus meets us where we are. Whatever lifestyle we’re living, whatever we may be worshiping, and whatever speed we may be running from Him. Wherever we are, we can simply turn and discover He’s right there with His arms ready to embrace us. He already knows us deeply and loves us wholly. When we turn to Him, we place our trust entirely in Him. It’s a humble acknowledgment that our Creator knows more about His creation than we do. Although we may recoil against some of the implications of the life He calls us to, we trust and know He is good, He knows everything, designed everything, He is wise, and He loves us. We can trust Him. And so when Jesus meets us where we are, He doesn’t leave us there. When we turn to embrace and trust Him, we don’t turn back! We continue drawing nearer to Him and following Him, even if it means our old life slips away. Honestly, we know it wasn’t working anyway. But like a childhood stuffed animal or an old, favorite sweatshirt…it can be hard to walk away from the things that gave us comfort before we knew Him.

The lesson we learn from leaning into Scripture is that Jesus doesn’t come into the world to condemn us because we are already condemned without Him. The great news is that Jesus knows us fully and loves us deeply…in fact, He is the only one who truly can. The message the world screams at us is that we are fine the way we are. We are captains of our own fate, we are the masters of our souls. These days this is called affirmation and acceptance. But true affirmation acknowledges more than just our preference and inclinations…it acknowledges our circumstance, our loneliness, our pain, and our longings. It acknowledges our weariness. And love doesn’t leave us there. Jesus won’t leave us there.

On The Road

On The Road

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This classic post first appeared on my blog close to 10 years ago. It seems timely today so I am resurrecting it here.

Oh the irony. I remember all those times I drew comparisons between following God’s plan and driving on the highway. How many times have I told people that when God wants you to exit, there will be signs? If you miss them, there will be more chances. Just stay alert.

Nice metaphor as long as your car keeps cruising along. I never counted on a breakdown. I suppose we rarely see those coming. Now it’s apparently broken beyond repair. No mechanic in sight. It’s sickening to think of how much work I’ve put into it, too. Making it shiny. Putting gas in the tank, polishing the chrome. This was my pride and joy. It got me where I needed to go.

So how do I keep cruising down the highway? Well, I’ve still got feet. So I keep walking that highway. It’s the direction that’s important, right? As long as I kept pushing myself up that mountain, everything would work out, just a bit more slowly than I had planned.

The wanderer

The road wasn’t made for walking, so I branched off. I saw a sign. I knew I was supposed to head into the woods. In fact, in retrospect I thought it was a blessing that the car broke down. I would have missed this lovely path entirely if I had continued at 60 miles per hour! I told myself I was grateful I decided to walk. 

Oh, but my legs ached. They screamed. I’d been pushing so hard. Tired, hungry, and thirsty, I cried out, “God where are you?” I never could have uttered those four words from the comfort of the air conditioned car. Now they were all I had left. Still, I kept trudging along. I knew that if I just worked hard enough, I would find what I needed. I’d find Him.

The forest provided no relief. The cool shade became a chilly darkness. Between the critters and the exhaustion, it felt like there were enemies everywhere. Adrenaline provided the nourishment my body craved, pushing me forward. Lost and utterly alone, I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I kept repeating “I can do this. I can find Him.” I can’t tell you I believed it, though.

To call it a clearing would be generous. There was a space ahead where the shadows were weighed less. I didn’t know if it I could make it, but I decided that was my destination. It would all end there. It was all I had. As I got closer, I saw a bench. It was old and worn, crafted from an ancient tree.

The Path

I plopped down harder than I meant to. The pain shooting up my backbone from my tailbone was the final insult. I was done. I found the end of myself. I sat with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. No words were on my lips, I was well past anything resembling coherency. I interlocked my fingers behind my head as it sank lower, almost to my knees. The warmth of the salty tears streaming down my face didn’t do a thing to ease the shadowy chill.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I was too far gone to jump. Whoever it was, he could do whatever he wanted. I was done. I felt him circle around and plop down beside me. The hand became an arm across my shoulders, attempting to comfort me. That arm became two, pulling me close. He held my head to his chest, like a father does a son who just lost his first pet. I could feel his tears on my neck as he gently whispered, “I’m here. I’ve got you. Now and forever, my beautiful son.”

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

John 16:33

Bottles, Boats, and Beliefs

Bottles, Boats, and Beliefs

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Then those who were in the boat worshipped him, saying “Truly you are the Son of God.”

Matthew 14:33

This little verse is easy to skip over. The 5,000 had just been fed, Jesus just walked on water, and Peter boldly stepped out of the boat. It’s easy to focus on the miracles and miss the meaning and message.

Our week in Aracaju started with a walk. The warm ocean breeze had us blissfully chatting and praying as we went. It was nice to be away from the stifling Oklahoma heat. As we turned onto the next block, a chill overtook us.

Groups of men were gathered in front of a few houses. The street was full of empty bottles and loud music. The men were obviously quite drunk. It was 9 o’clock Sunday morning. Although we couldn’t understand their comments, I was suddenly extremely aware of the fact that I was the only guy walking along with five women. Trust me, I’m hardly the one dude any lady would want to rely on in a throw-down.

After a few years of promising economic growth, Brazil was in a downturn the year we visited Aracaju. As jobs were lost and hardship set in, people found comfort in whatever they could grab. The men we wandered into were unfortunately typical. Hardship led to addiction, which also led to abuse. Families were fractured. Each moment spent in drunken numbness have tragic ripples for eternity.

“If it’s you, command me to join you,” Peter said. Jesus said, “Come.” (Mt 14:28-29)

The miracle of bread was not enough. Walking on water was not enough. Peter still wasn’t sure. Who was this guy? Teacher? Miracle worker? Could He be something even greater?

To the men on the street, we offered what we had: prayer and truth, hope and light. But those numbed by the distractions of this world simply can’t hear. Intoxication is denial. In numbing the pain, everything else is shut out as well. In forgetting about the harsh, real-word they lived in, these guys closed themselves from the invitation of Jesus, “come.”

That we were even there was a miracle. A few dozen Okies traveling thousands of miles to talk about Jesus with the people in an overlooked neighborhood of an overlooked town? There’s no logical explanation. Many people we met wanted to hear about the United States. They’re eager to talk about Michael Jordan or Barack Obama. They ask if we’ve met Brad Pitt. But when we tell them about Jesus, many shake their head and take another swig from the bottle in the brown paper bag. “He might have been a teacher, or even a miracle worker. But that’s all.”

Jesus calls: “come.”

Peter steps out of the boat. He accepts the invitation into so much more. That’s where we find this often overlooked verse. They’re back in the boat with Him, but now something has changed. They worship Him. Jesus knows that only God is worthy of worship. The disciples know it, too. Jesus does not stop them, though. Given this confirmation, they find the words that match their actions, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

We prayed for those drunk men. We prayed for every neighborhood around that chapel build. The warm ocean breeze returned and accompanied us most of the week. Aracaju is a beautiful town. Children were playing beneath cashew trees on most streets. The last few days we were there, house after house after house that we visited all came to know Jesus. We saw miracles, but never lost sight of the message or its meaning. And we worshipped.

Everywhere we go, we see the same pattern. Some marvel at the miracles. Some mock them. And some accept the invitation Jesus so graciously give, “Come.” And they worship.

The Door Opens

The Door Opens

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“…to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” Luke 11:9

It’s a new dawn. It’s a new day. It’s a new life for me. And I’m feeling good. – Nina Simone

Suspense movies fascinated me as a kid. Hitchcock films taught me that closed doors provide one of the most terrifying moments of fear on the big screen. Anything could be behind it. The music builds and the door fills the screen as the camera inches ever closer. The rattle of the doorknob brings me to the seat’s edge…my heartbeat quickens. The door suddenly springing open always results in a good scare and frantic jump. It didn’t matter if opening the door revealed a fluffy kitten or a psychotic killer, the anticipation could drive me to the edge of a panic attack. It was thrilling. Like a great roller coaster, I would seek it out again and again.

Doors protect us from the unknown. They can also keep us from stepping into new opportunities and new life. The imagery of a door is used in Scripture repeatedly. In Luke 11, Jesus tells a parable of a desperate man. He needs a few loaves of bread, but the door to get the bread is locked. Even so, in his “shameless boldness,” he pounds on the door until it is opened and he receives what he needs.

New Year’s Day is a door. Behind it we may find adventure or tragedy, beauty or pain. Like Hitchcock’s doors, the thought of what could be behind it can cause anxiety spikes. Despite the uncertainty, we have no choice but to step through. What we can choose is our posture as we walk through. Are we anxious, gingerly stepping into the unknown full of trepidation with our heads hung low? Or are we eager to let go of what’s behind us as we boldly march into whatever may come next?

Jesus refers to Himself both as the bread and as the door. Bread provides nourishment and life. The door provides entry into new life. As we open the door to enter into a new year, we find that we long for both. Deep down we have a hunger that nothing in this world seems to satisfy. We have a longing for truth and purpose that cannot be filled by our resolutions and hard work. We need more. We need Him.

As you enter this new dawn and this new day, reflect on the words of Jesus. Like the man in the parable, we cannot fill ourselves. We will never find satisfaction or peace by scribbling on the pages of our own lives. Approach Jesus…knock on that door with shameless boldness. Give control of your life over to Him, allowing Him to write the pages of your story. Instead of clinging to our own desperate efforts to control our destiny, cling to the truth I found scrawled on a wall in Itabi, Brazil: “Deus é Fiel.” God is Faithful. As we let that sink in, we can walk into the new day feeling good.

This post is the first of twelve in a series. For three years I have been selling calendars full of my photography to support our mission trips to Brazil. This year I’ve put together a truly special calendar with photos from my 8 trips to Brazil. On the first of each month a post will go live that complements what is found on the calendar for that month. If you don’t yet have a calendar and would like one, please let me know. They are $20 (plus shipping if necessary) and all proceeds go toward the Brazil mission trip to Pontos do Volantes in the state of Minas Gerais, Brazil.

The Word: Halfway

The Word: Halfway

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Thirteen days ago turned to page 855 in the book I’ve carried for thousands of miles. It’s been on almost every trip I’ve taken in the last 3 or 4 years. I’ve used it to prepare and preach from pulpits in both Brazil and the US. The words of Isaiah 35 brought profound insight and encouragement last December when I was in Houston. As I opened to page 855–chapter one of the Gospel According to Luke–a new and unexpected journey began.

In the Christian circles I tend to run it we frequently open our Bibles together. Usually it is because someone is teaching and asks us to open to a specific verse. Honestly, this has confused me a bit from time to time…the teacher always reads the verse, so why do we turn to it? We’re don’t read entire chapters together, and certainly don’t have the time to read entire books. Sure, it can be helpful to mark a passage or scribble some notes in the margins, but how many of us really do that during a sermon?

Still…the Word beckons.

On January 1 as I read the first word in Luke 1 (“inasmuch”), a bunch of friends did the same. We aren’t physically together and we’re not reading at the exact same time…but folks said “I’m in” and began the two month journey through Luke and Acts. Everyone is going at their own pace, which is wonderful. I’m reading 6 chapters per week in Luke, but grace is abundant. This week, Wednesday was simply too busy and I was too exhausted. So I didn’t. I shared that I didn’t. As expected, people responded with grace, not condemnation. That’s what life together is supposed to look like. That’s what we do.

Having just finished chapter 12, I am now halfway through the book of Luke. Just a few small steps every day and here I am. Halfway. Most days it takes longer for me to write a few thoughts about the chapter than it does to actually read it. This two weeks of reading has taken me to page 872. Seventeen pages in twelve days of reading. On one hand, it doesn’t sound like a lot. On the other, there has been so much ground covered. Remember…we’re reading text that was written almost two thousand years ago. It’s not necessarily all going to be straightforward and easy. It was originally written to a different people in a different culture living at a different time. Some of it seems quite foreign.

As I pause today in the journey through Luke that we’re on, I have a couple of areas I’ve personally noticed change.

Community

The last two weeks something really cool has happened. People are sending me messages letting me know they’re with me on this journey. I’m getting insightful takeaways from my friend Tamarah. I got a message from Mike letting me know he’s reading with us while he’s traveling. Some people tell me they’re behind but still with us. Dear friends are engaging with Scripture at a level they never have before. Because we are doing it together. I’m learning that we all get more out of God’s word when we go through it together. We have a longing for community because God designed us to do life together. It makes sense that His Word is experienced better together.

I’m afraid most of us carry around a lot of baggage about God’s word. Many Christians carry an unnecessary burden of guilt…perhaps because they think they don’t read their Bible enough. Or perhaps it’s because they have tried and just don’t understand it. We want to love God’s Word, but find it intimidating or unapproachable. We look around us and see Bible verses printed floating around everywhere…sometimes used like fortune cookies or horoscopes, bringing brief feelings of hope and encouragement…but sometimes used as daggers, thrown at others with the intention of drawing blood. But there has to be more, right? Surely God’s Word is more profound than a fortune cookie. Surely it has some other purpose than to wound and condemn. Unfortunately, guilt and pride keep us from opening those pages and even more, it keeps us from asking the questions we find embarrassing.

We’ve all been there. Nobody was born understanding Scripture. Way back in the early chapters of Luke it says that Jesus grew “in wisdom and stature.” It was even a process for Him. Personally, I remember sitting in Mike’s class and asking if John the Baptist was the same dude who was one of the disciples. Was he the one who wrote John, or was John just about him? Was Luke a disciple? Are Christians supposed to take every word of the Bible literally? Can God make a rock so big He can’t lift it? Why do people think Jesus was God? How can there be one God if the Father and Son both claim to be God? What’s up with this Holy Ghost thing…is that like Christian Gatorade or something? Do we even need the Old Testament anymore? What’s up with all those lists of names? Why don’t all Christians read the Bible?

I asked all of those questions at some time in the past 10 years or so. I’m not embarrassed in the slightest about any of them. That’s how I learned who God is. That’s how both my faith and knowledge deepened. And now that’s happening around us…as we read together, we can learn from each other. We’re all travelers on a journey and all have something to contribute. We’re a community.

Our community is a bit disorganized, but it’s beautiful. I cherish every interaction. Nothing’s off the table or out-of-bounds.

Personally

Knowing others are also reading changes my own perspective. I’m not only reacting to what resonates with me, but I’m anticipating what others will respond to as well. It broadens my view and allows the Word to challenge me in unanticipated ways.

In the first twelve chapters, I have found myself comforted by the narrative. The story of Jesus’ life and ministry is familiar. When the disciples feed the crowds, I’m delighted. As the people lean in to listen to the incredible teachings of Jesus, I’m amazed. Mary and Joseph, angels and shepherds…it’s like visiting old friends.

But there’s more that has been happening. In addition to the life and events, there is conflict. There are teachings that are hard. As I read Luke, I see Jesus continually warning us to stop focusing on things of this world. He tells us to seek the Kingdom of God, which seems to be a stark contrast to the kingdoms we build for ourselves. He tells us that “one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” (Luke 12:15) That brings my mind back to the woman with the alabaster flask in Luke 7, who out of gratitude washes the feet of our Savior with her tears and anoints His head with oil. This woman who had nothing pours out everything she has for Him, simply as a worshipful response to the forgiveness she has found through Him…the new life she has found. She knows Jesus and has been transformed. She is no longer who she was…she has walked away from her old life completely. Her future is completely unknown except for this…that she is trusting Jesus with it. There is deep meaning in the anointing of Jesus here, but for her it represents letting go of her “before” to step fulling into “next.”

As I read I wonder what pieces of my past am I still clinging to that are keeping me from fully following Him? I often think of emotional baggage like the tattered and worn suitcases we bring back from Brazil. Rio is really hard on luggage. But what if the weight I’m carrying around is an alabaster flask, beautiful and full of a substance of great value? Do I trust Jesus enough to break that flask and pour its contents out for Him? Do I trust Him with my future, even if it is uncertain and difficult? At the end of chapter 9, Jesus seems to be telling us that we can’t look both back at our old lives and continue forward with Him. As He said in chapter 11, “a divided household falls.” And so I look at my heart and pray the end of Psalm 139: “Search me, God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts. And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” The reality is, trusting Jesus with eternity often seems much easier than trusting Him with tomorrow.

Even so…among all these teaching that challenge me so greatly, Jesus never gives up on anyone. Sure, He rebukes Pharisees and Scribes. We see plenty of people leave His side when the teaching gets difficult or the cost of following Him grows too high. But He never turns His back on anyone. This is where I find hope. In these chapters it is abundantly clear that following Jesus is not an easy life. He never guarantees that…in fact, He repeatedly tells us the opposite. When we follow Him, though, He remains with us. He does not abandon us, even in the middle of our messes and failures, even in our deepest hurt and darkest places. When friends abandon us or tragedy strikes, He is there with us…lifting our face and pointing it toward eternity…toward a time when there will be no more tears or pain. These chapters remind me that we don’t get there by breaking our jars and unloading our baggage. Those things bring us closer to Him in the journey, but ultimately all of our hope is in Him. We get a beautiful glimpse of Him on the pages of the Gospel According to Luke.

 

On December 31 I posted an open invitation to join me in reading Luke and Acts. There are no checklists and no discussion questions, just a ragged band of misfits wandering through the Word together. I’m reading 6 chapters of Luke each week and plan to read 7 chapters of Acts per week when I get there. I set that pace because it seems achievable and I’m just dorky enough to need that kind of symmetry. Four weeks through Luke and four weeks through Acts. But if you want to take this journey, do it at your pace, not mine. Read 30 minutes a day if you want…perhaps that will be 2 or 3 chapters. Read more or less…just keep reading. I’ve been posting a few thoughts and my progress on my personal Facebook page because that’s where this all started, but I’m happy to interact with anyone anywhere. Reach out to me and let me know how it’s going. And if you’d like me to reach out to you a couple of times a week to see how you’re doing, I’d be happy to.