To Be Right or to Be Jesus, that Is the Question

/4 Comments/in , /by

“To be or not to be, that is the question,” asked Shakespeare through his character Hamlet, in the play by the same name. That’s probably both Hamlet’s and Shakespeare’s most famous line. But the question is incomplete. “To be or not to be WHAT?” What are we going to fall on our swords over? Being right or being Jesus?

When I was a teen, I was one opinionated bugger. Why shouldn’t I be? I thought. I’m right! And often I may even have been right, politically, morally, and spiritually. I was a Reagan-Republican, after all. I knew my Bible backwards and forwards. But I was missing something. In my self-righteousness, even when I got it right I missed the best. I so often missed Jesus’ heart.

If just being right is our goal, then we get really angry because everyone else is just so wrong. Just spend an afternoon on FaceBook and you’ll see what I mean. Being right, as an end in itself, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It takes a lot of energy arguing with all those people who just won’t get it, no matter how right we are. Maybe there’s a better way to change the world.

The Pharisees were totally right. Always, just ask them. They were conservatives who knew the Law, chapter and verse. They brought to Jesus a woman caught in adultery (John 8:3-11), who according to the Law of Moses should be stoned. That was the “right” thing to do. (BTW, adultery’s not a solitary crime. According to the Law of Moses, the man also should be stoned [Leviticus 20:10]. I guess they rationalized that bit away – first clue they missed something – selective application of the Law. Being all men, the Pharisee’s probably rationalized excusing the man.)

But, fortunately for us, Jesus isn’t after right. He’s after best. The best does not violate what’s right, it supersedes it. You know the story, Jesus saved the woman without violating the Law of Moses. We should, too.

Jesus talks about dying to ourselves. In fact, he says, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). But wait, that means denying my rights! That’s downright un-American. Was Jesus a communist or something?

No, but he’s after what’s best, not just what’s right, something better than what’s right. Sometimes, often, love means dying to our right to be right.

In high school, a certain bully was going to beat-up my friend Don. After successfully evading the bully one hot summer afternoon, Don drove past him walking home carrying a load of books under the hot sun. Don could’ve honked and waved as he drove by in his air-conditioned car. But he didn’t. He pulled over and offered the bully a ride.

No one was more surprised than the bully. The guy almost fell over. It took him a minute to realize the offer was genuine and Don wasn’t just goading him. “Why are you doing this? Why would give me a ride?”, asked one surprised bully.

“Because it looks like you need one,” my friend Don simply replied. The bully accepted, and they became close friends after that. (And nobody dared mess with Don again or the bully would pulverize them.)

My friend would’ve been within his rights to pass by the bully. But he correctly discerned the Kingdom of God had something better in mind.

This doesn’t mean we don’t hold people accountable when necessary. It’s actually love to hold criminals and abusers and narcissists accountable (1) to prevent future victims, and (2) so they have the opportunity to get help (if they don’t take the opportunity, that’s on them). It’s also love to discipline our children.

But in the common everyday stuff of life, mercy triumphs over judgement (James 2:13). The best triumphs over the right.

What about you? Does this resonate? Have you shown mercy and had it be better than the “right” would’ve been? Or have you had someone show you mercy when you didn’t deserve it? Tell us your story in the comments, and please share if you think this post would bless someone else.

Why Denominations Are a Good Thing

/4 Comments/in , /by

“Silly Catholics, don’t they know he’s not on that cross anymore?” I smugly thought to myself, when I noticed the crucifix up on the wall. I had just gotten to the room that would be my home for the next week. About 2005 or so, I took time off from work and went to a monastery to fast and pray for a week. It was an incredible time of closeness to God, but that’s another story.

Anyway, I had just gotten to my room, noticed the crucifix on the wall, and my protestant pride was showing. You see, we protestants use empty crosses, to emphasize Jesus’ resurrection. I thought my theological superiority was a no-brainer, but the Holy Spirit rebuked me sharply with three words.

“Don’t do that,” he said in my thoughts in his loving, but firm, way. He wasn’t being mean or anything, but he wasn’t going to stand for it. Over the years I’ve learned to discern the Holy Spirit’s voice, and this was definitely him.

I was shocked. “What are you talking about, Lord?”

Then the Holy Spirit gave me a download about denominations. The movie The Passion of the Christ had just come out. I loved that movie for a couple reasons. First, Hollywood refused to make it, and Mel Gibson had to go to Italy to make it with the Italian film industry. But most of all, I knew several back-slidden Christians who re-dedicated their lives to the Lord directly because of that movie, watching what Jesus went through for them. And it was an incredibly well-done, historically and spiritually accurate movie, IMHO.

The Holy Spirit told me, “Protestants could not have made that movie. You do not understand my suffering at the level that the Catholics do. Yes, you understand it, but I have given the Catholics a much deeper understanding of it than I’ve given Protestants. In the same way, I’ve given Protestants a deeper understanding of my resurrection than I’ve given to Catholics. They understand the resurrection too, but I’ve given you Protestants a deeper understanding of it.

“You see, Dave, I’m infinite. I am too big to be completely understood by any single group of finite human beings. So I’ve revealed different parts of myself more deeply to different denominations. You need to spend your time learning from each other, from the things they understand about me that you do not, rather than bickering with each other about what you understand that they do not.”

Wow. That rocked my world. I repented for my judgements in my heart toward Catholics, and even toward other Protestant denominations I have differences with.

Since then, regardless of what theological differences I have with certain groups, when I’m with them, I try to find what they understand about God that I don’t. And learn from them. I’m coming to appreciate crucifixes.

Now certainly there are a certain set of core beliefs, “the main and plain,” that you really can’t call yourself “Christian” without adhering to. Janet and my list is at the bottom of our About Us page. I’m taking it granted here we all agree on those basic tenants of Christianity.

But beyond that, I don’t think theological differences are necessarily a bad thing, as long as they don’t cause us to judge or break fellowship with each other. We can agree to disagree about certain things and that’s ok. But if we’re going to fellowship with each other side-by-side in heaven, why can’t we do so now?

One thing we love about volunteering at our local pro-life crisis pregnancy center is all the different people from all different denominations coming together in unity around a common mission—saving and transforming lives. It’s a reflection of the Kingdom of Heaven here on earth.

What do you think? Have you had experiences where other denominations blessed you when you weren’t expecting it? We’d love to hear that story in the comments or shoot us an email. And please share if you think this would bless someone else.

How to Make Our Churches the Safest Places on Earth without Compromising

/6 Comments/in , /by

At 17, Jennifer was the poster child of a Christian teen-ager. She was the model for her church youth group. As the Pastor’s daughter in a conservative church body, she lead the meeting many times. She was also secretly pregnant, a fact she couldn’t hide much longer.

Everyone looked up to her. On the outside, she was the perfect, evangelical Christian teen. Everyone wanted their kid to be just like Jennifer. She knew all the right New Testament answers, always knowing what to say and how to act.

On the inside, though, she was crumbling under the pressure. She longed for her daddy to be proud of her, and though he said it many times, her wounded heart didn’t hear it. She couldn’t articulate it, but her spirit felt dirty from being molested by a neighbor when she was 5, something no one, not even her, knew happened. The repressed memory hid the trauma, invoked as a defense mechanism by a child to survive.

In one world, she struggled to be good enough, desperately hoping the good she did would overpower how dirty she felt inside. In another world, she traded sex to hear a boy say he loved her, trusting the wrong messiah to make everything safe and ok. And for a few precious moments when they were alone it would work. Or at least it briefly felt like it did.

When she missed her period, and the home pregnancy test showed a “+”, she realized those two worlds were about to collide, and she felt crushed in the middle. Her perfect world of pretend at church was about to come crashing down in a fiery ball of reality. The disappointment of her family. The damage to her father’s reputation as a pastor. The disapproving glances from former friends and elders at church who would be barely polite behind thin smiles. The overwhelming shame. She felt the crushing weight of it all before it happened. There was no escape. Or was there?

This is the profile of the clients we see at our local crisis pregnancy center who break my heart the most. Pro-life clients for whom the shame, scorn, and rejection they would face at church is worse than having an abortion.

Think it doesn’t happen? I personally know a pastor’s daughter who, when she made her secret abortion public and repented, was told by her mentor, “If you ever come back to this church again, my foot will be the one holding the door closed the hardest.” This breaks my heart. Does it break yours?

Of the one in four women in the US who have had an abortion, 70% identify as Christians and regular church attenders.

It’s been said the church is the only army who shoots its own wounded.

Now, anyone who knows me knows I am not down on the church. I love the Body of Christ. This website exists because we’re passionate about seeing the Body of Christ walking in healing and wholeness and the fullness of our true identity.

And yes, holiness and purity are important. It’s hard to have intimacy with Jesus for long without them. I wrote a book on the subject (True Self: Sexual Integrity out of Intimacy with Jesus).

But it has to be ok to be wounded in church. If a fallen believer can’t go to church, where can they go?

Churches should be the safest places on the planet for someone experiencing a crisis. And many churches are. But some are far from it.

Jesus accepted the woman caught in adultery, prostitutes, tax collectors, what that culture considered the worst of the worst. But I’m no better. I’m the worst of the worst. We all are. We all need a Savior. So why can’t we have Jesus’ compassion for those looking for one?

Ok, I get that we don’t expect people to check their sin at the door. But if someone’s living a blatantly sinful life style, how long do we wait before addressing the sin in their life?

Honestly, I’ve no idea. That’s not my problem. That’s the Pastor’s problem. He gets to deal with that according to the wisdom of the Holy Spirit for that person. My problem is making sure I love them the way Jesus loves me. Maybe the Holy Spirit will prompt me to say something to them about their lifestyle, at some point. But it’ll most likely be after we have a relationship, and in a way that convicts not condemns, leaving them feeling accepted and loved, not rejected.

I know we can do this. That’s the church’s job, after all, to love as we’ve been loved. To be Jesus’ loving arms of acceptance and forgiveness.

So how do we do this? Can the Church really be the safest place on earth without compromising? Yes we can. I believe in the power of the Holy Spirit in us to make us into all we are called to be.

So here’s how. We decide to be safe. The church will be the safest place on earth when we decide to be the safest people on earth. This decision affirms some obvious truths we so often forget.

Action Step: I decide the following:

  • Acknowledging my judgement of others often reflects my own fear, and
  • Acknowledging this is not my church, this God’s church, I will not reject who he brings in.
  • I decide to let the pastor deal with the person’s lifestyle and sin, That’s the Pastor’s job, not mine.
  • I decide to love them as they are, like Jesus loves us. That’s my job.
  • I decide to speak life into their lives, when prompted by the Holy Spirit. I pledge to do so lovingly, wrapped in encouragement and acceptance.

What do you think? Will you make this decision to be a safe person with me? Would this make a difference in the world?

Have you experienced Jesus’ loving forgiveness through your local church? On the giving or the receiving end? Or not? Tell us about it in the comments, and please share if you think this post would inspire someone else.