Pastor Alan's Blog...ger

Basics Training

2009-09-30T05:17:00.000-07:00

My son is learning the basics of baseball. Hitting, throwing, and how to shape the bill of his new little league hat. Of course Michael wants to go beyond the basics. He thinks he's ready to learn how to leap up on the center field fence to make the miracle catch that robs a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth of the World Series. THAT's what he really wants to work on.

And so... after a few jumps, leaps, and an imaginative radio broadcast highlighting his ESPN top-1o catch of the day... we go back to simple throwing, hitting, and catching the ball smack dab in the pocket of his glove. Michael's best time, for now, is spent with the basics.

Yesterday morning I cleaned the kitchen after my wife headed off for her first day of work.

I hugged my fifteen-year-old for making straight A's on her first semester report card.

I came home to have lunch with my wife.

We had our family Bible time after supper. It was a great discussion of Passover, the first Communion, trouble surrounding Jesus final hours, and the role of serving. My kids get it.
I love that. I love how they pray.

Just basics.

I want to do incredible world-noticing minstry. I want to accomplish much so that Christian broadcasters and retailers expound on the awesome-ness that IS my life. But maybe God just wants the basics. Love. Prayer. Relationships. Bible. Basics. Maybe my best time is spent on the basics. Maybe God's greatness is best seen in Kingdom basics that enabled HIM to be glorified --- like with the first century church in Acts.

Lord, help me to work on the basics. Help me to be a leader who leads from the foundational basics of prayer, study, worship --- time spent with You before anything else. Help me to have a basic-but-powerful walk with you that empowers me to lead through difficulties instead of scrambling because the basics are last resorts when the inevitable hits.

Just the basics. Just the basics. I need to stay in basic training.

Her Name Is Lucy

2009-06-06T10:50:00.000-07:00

"And when Christ, who is your real life, is revealed to the whole world, you will share in his glory." - Paul in Colossians 3:4

Last night was the annual, Scott, study break tradition of midnight breakfast. On this auspicious occasion you usually find us at Denny's grand slamming our bodies with food that nobody should be eating in the unholy a.m.

After much slap-happy laughter purposefully caused by sleep deprivation, we devoured our midnight food which somehow transformed into 5-star dining by my eager clan.

We all finally crawled into bed at around 1:30 a.m.

I squinted my eyes at the alarm clock and saw 6:30 a.m., but quickly convinced myself how deserved I was to sleep in. After all, it's Saturday... and last night's traditional breakfast gives me license to snooze. I did so until about 7. That's when I started thinking about Ellie (see yesterday's blog). I had been supernaturally stirred and awakened with her on my mind... like God and a prayer had pushed me out of bed to try and meet this woman.

I knew I only had this beckoning morning and tomorrow to try and meet the stranger I had curiously named Ellie.

On the beach by 7:15 or so, I had my cup of hot tea in hand as I sat in a beach chair and gazed at the storm-stirred waters. I saw something unusual that had washed up on shore. It looked like an old, wooden crate. I quickly imagined drugs from Cuba or lost Aztec treasures being in the crate, but I looked and disappointedly saw nothing but seaweed and barnacles.

I gazed about 150 yards down the beach, and noticed what had become a very familiar frame walking my way. I couldn't tell for sure, but it sure moved and walked and looked like Ellie. As the thin and frail figure came within clear visibility, my heart leaped with the reality of my morning prayer walking right towards me.

Funny how nervous and tentative you can get in these God-designed moments.

As Ellie came within feet of my beach chair, she stopped and looked at the washed up crate. I popped up and blurted, "What do you think it is?" Ellie, with keen, salty-dog insight, surmised it was an old abandoned crab trap. She sees them occasionally come to shore like this.

I quickly introduced myself with brief descriptions of my occupation, purpose for beach dwelling, and curiosity of this stranger I was talking to. I somewhat embarrassingly explained how I had been watching her walk by for nearly two weeks, and I just had to satisfy my writer's inquisitiveness by engaging her.

Ellie is actually Lucy. She has lived on this beach since 1981. Best she can, she walks on the beach every morning. She sometimes walks with manufactured walking sticks... but that keeps her hands tied up. What Lucy really likes to do is pick up cans and bottles as she walks. She just doesn't understand how people can be so insensitive and careless. This would probably explain the beer can she was holding... I think. Lucy never married and didn't have any kids. All of her family had "gone on to the next life." When I briefly described my family of four kids, Lucy gleamed at me and said, "Oh, you'll have plenty of people to take care of you when you are old."

With that, some lightning flashed, the wind starting picking up, and a storm quickly blew ashore. After we snapped a picture together, Lucy hurriedly bid me a kind farewell and twinkled that maybe she would see me next year. This whole exchange was a mere fifteen minutes, but I believe was supernaturally, divinely, and gloriously designed by a God who so desperately wants to live in, through, and with me... to and for others.

It's one thing to read about churches becoming missional, relational, and incarnational. It's quite another thing to just do it. There's much I've read this week about how to move the church ahead in the tenuousness of a post-Christian world. I've been inspired, soaked in principles and concepts, and allowed charts, graphs, and statistics to keep pushing me forward as a leader and as a disciple of Jesus who loves His Church.

One of the best experiences of this study break, however, may have been this incredible, God-designed 15 minutes with Lucy. All of the books, conversations, graphs, pie-charts, and vodcasts cannot contain the profoundness of this simple lesson.

For the Church to move forward, we need to let Jesus incarnate himself within us... to the point that we can't wait to engage people (maybe even waking up with a prayer and a name). It's really as simple as looking down the beach at who's coming your way. Then... any old crab trap will do.

BLOG POSCRIPT:
It's incredibly interesting and insightful for me (and perhaps nobody else) to understand some of my feelings and thoughts through this experience God gave me this morning. For example...

The closer Lucy walked towards me, the more I began an inner rationalization as to how crazy this little game I had conjured up in my head really was. What if she's just an angry, old, crabby lady who doesn't want to talk with anyone? What if she thinks I'm trying to stalk her? What if I can't point her to Jesus? What if people just really want to be left alone? What if I come across as some dorky pastor looking to score points with God? What if...

There were also a few moments inside my head (especially when the storm clouds were obviously cutting our time short) when I panicked because I hadn't shared Jesus yet. Would I be a failure if God DID design this exchange and I didn't spew forth a verbal gospel tract in the allotted time frame?

There was another God-moment inside of me when I relaxed about trying to be a beach preacher to Lucy. The Spirit seemed to tell me to relax. Just live. Just be... because being IS Jesus. I don't have to get the whole evangelism thing done in one, fifteen-minute experience. This is not about another notch in my evangelism belt, but rather God using me and living through me because he loves Lucy way more than I ever could. I can tend to forget that I'm a third party joining in on a conversation between God and Lucy that's already been going on. I tend to forget that all I can really do is water and plant.

I also noticed how enlivened I became through this whole ordeal. The Spirit inside me "quickened" --- as the old revival preachers used to say. Purpose and passion and life and excitement and all kinds of good stuff began to well up within me as Jesus was really living incarnate through me... even if I didn't preach a sermon. I think this is why many of our churches are dead and boring. Can you imagine a church filled with Jesus followers who are engaging people outside the church walls with an incarnate Jesus? Wow. People would come hungry for the Word, already inspired and anxious to engage a Mighty God, and completely disinterested in goofy church-world arguments that cloud real-world needs.

I'm seriously hoping I'll see Lucy one more time tomorrow morning. Tomorrow is my last day of study break. If I see her, I'm going to invite her to supper. I think the whole thing might go beyond my enlivenment, and would perhaps even ignite my family. We'll see...

Ellie And The Evil Twins

2009-06-05T17:12:00.000-07:00

"Born again lazy is common among

Christians today. They fill the seats of
both megachurches and small-town
fellowships. There's inaction, idle worship,
and a tendency to stay exclusive as a
fellowship and not go beyond the parking
lot. As a church, we have become Born Again Lazy. Lazy with outreach, lazy with
money, lazy with our families, lazy with prayer, lazy with fasting, lazy with studying God's Word, lay with Him."
- Craig Gross

For almost two weeks now, an elderly woman has walked the shores of Siesta Key and created burning questions inside of me. Most other people parading in front of my beach office are forgettable and only stick around for a day or so. But this elderly lady (whom I've named Ellie because you can only say "elderly woman" so many times in a blog) has taken early morning walks every day. She must be a local. Sometimes she walks with professionally manufactured walking sticks. Some days she goes solo. Some days her skinny left leg is wrapped, and then not. There are certain days that seem to go better for her as she briskly walks the beach. On other days, she stops every 50 yards or so and takes a long scan forward of the territory she has yet to conquer. Everyday Ellie is alone. Is she a widow? Does she have kids? Who is this woman? What's her story? Does she live here? I wonder if Ellie knows Jesus.

Meanwhile... Michael met a couple seven-year-old girls at the pool yesterday. I could tell by the way he was dancing with his water noodle, talking and laughing at accelerated volumes, and strutting his sun-burnt feathers like a male peacock ... that I had lost my beach bum son to summer love. Upon my first attempt at inquisition, Michael downplayed his new acquaintances with great animation. He even labeled the identical button-nosed bikini babes as "the evil twin girls." I'm fairly certain this dramatic disdain was to conjure up a "That's my boy," from his father. I absolutely gave him the thumbs up, but I so know my son's heart and motivations. He telegraphs them never-so subtly. There seems to be some kind of weird-but-natural fear factor going on with dad that is currently keeping Michael from a full-out admission of his boyish crushes. Weird... but I'll milk it for as long as I can.

However, last night as Michael was sacked out on the couch from too much sun, ocean, and women, I awakened him abruptly with, "Michael, the evil twin girls are here!" Mind you, I was only trying to get Michael to get up and use the bathroom before climbing into bed. On most nights Michael has prematurely fallen asleep, cajoling him to get ready for bed is a slow, comical, should-have-filmed-that-to-win-$10,000 ordeal.

With a scant whisper announcing the evil twin girls we're in the building, Michael shot up like it was the last day of a long year of school. Wow. That boy was motivated. I've never seen him move faster.

Early this morning, Michael was up and peering somewhat mysteriously out our front door. By noon, we all knew the girls were from Snellville, Georgia, had their family history memorized... and Sherry was engaged with a poolside chat with the twins mom. Michael has now dropped "the evil twins" distinction from his vocabulary. Seems like the more he dives in and gets to know these bathing beauties, the less evil they really are. My son... the chick magnet!

Today I was able to start my fourth study break book. Craig Gross and J.R. Mahon are edgy, irreverent, and funny prophets as they have penned "Starving Jesus." It's a simple call to missional action. It's a clarion message to stop ignoring God's calling for His people to do something.

If Jesus really has come incarnationally to dive into our world, and still lives incarnationally in, through, and with us --- then we must do something. Why don't we? Why so often do we hear God whisper and then choose to ignore? Gross believes we have "worked ourselves into comfortable lifestyles that rarely encompass others and their needs."

Mahon convicts with these words: "When you have a relationship with Christ, he calls you to action. When heard and ignored, the resulting action will always result in failure. Always. How do you know you are ignoring God? If you're asking the question, chances are you are."

I've got two more morning chances at Jesus living through me and talking with Ellie. I think I'm supposed to talk with her. I'm hoping that sometime during the next two sunrises, I'll see Ellie and have the chance to talk with her.

For me, the more I think about how Jesus came and embraced this life... and the more I realize how he still wants to live vibrantly like this through me and TO others... the more inquisitive I become about others. The more Jesus incarnates himself through me, the more curious I am about others lives, needs, hurts, and salvation.

I think growing old and comfortable creates plenty of excuses for not engaging. But shouldn't my aging actually increase the life of Christ that should come through me? The older I get, the younger-like-Michael I should become, and the more Jesus comes through.

What if Ellie is an evil twin? No rationalized fear there. Do I call her "potentially evil" because there is a weird fear factor going on inside me that keeps me from a full admission of my inadequacies? Probably. God knows my heart and motivations, and I so need Him to hold me accountable for what He sees (Prov. 16:2).

In the past, when I have dove into the life, hurts, and needs of someone... it has sprung and flung me back into really living. It has motivated me. It has moved my spiritual journey faster and deeper. Interestingly, I've found the more I move outside the church walls and into someone's life to really get to know them, the less "evil" they really are. This is also the exact place where Jesus becomes brilliantly incarnate again and again. That's really, really cool.

I hope I see Ellie on the beach tomorrow morning. Maybe I should take Michael. After all, he IS a chick magnet.

An Open Letter

2009-06-04T20:46:00.000-07:00

"The more I learn about the incarnation of a Jewish Jesus, the more I begin to understand how He wants to live incarnationally through me." - Me

An Open Letter To Cincinnati Christian University (formerly Cincinnati Bible College, aka: CBC)

June 4, 2009

Dear CBC,

I last walked your hallowed hallways as a wide-eyed graduate in 1987. My experience there atop Price Hill in Cincy was a good one. More than just experiencing a holy Skyline Three-Way, I was able to make great strides in gaining a Biblical, collegiate foundation, securing an initial preparation for full-time ministry, and finding my smokin'-hot wife. For this, I am very, very grateful (especially the hot wife thing).

I would hope, however, that young graduates leaving your spiritual institution today might gain something beyond what I was able to lasso. For example...

It has not been until the past 6-8 years that I've been exposed to the wonderment of the Hebrew/Jewish ways and culture of Jesus. Learning from people like Ray Vander Laan, Rob Bell, and Lois Tverberg has brought new insight and hunger into the Bible... which, by the way, is almost completely a Hebrew/Jewish book. As I preach these days, I love to hear people say things like: "I never knew that," "This makes the Bible really come life," "I never knew all of this was in the Bible." Of course, I'm slow to tell them I never knew much of this was in the Bible until recently either.

I'm really not saying all of this with a vehement sarcasm as much as I am bemoaning the lack of almost anything pointing to the richness of a Hebraic or Jewish culture during my tenure at CBC.

I do remember passing all my classes, but being somewhat sleepy through many. This is comparative and tantamount to a medical student snoozing through a cardio class. You just don't want someone with a plaque on the wall that says "doctor" or "pastor" sleeping through some of the very basics. Am I right?

My book of Acts class could have really come to life if, for instance, the study of Pentecost in Acts 2 would have been dynamically tied to the Old Testament, Hebrew-Jewish festival of Pentecost. My gospels class would have really popped if the final week of Jesus was laid side-by-side with the seven image-laden festivals celebrated by the Hebrew-Jewish people for hundreds of years.

I'm just saying... so many CBC graduates have gone through a lot of information, but the truly transformational stuff of a Jewish Jesus was just missed. Theology of the incarnation was covered, but the reality and authenticity and Jewish-ness of Jesus' incarnation was not something I can recall grabbing me before being handed my Bachelor's of English Bible diploma.

Here's why this matters... and Henry Blackaby says it best: "If your heart is like the shallow soil on top of a rock, you will accept God's word in your mind, but the truth will not penetrate your heart to make a difference in your actions."

As I made my way through "Old Testament Survey," I needed to see the rich soil of the Jewish faith that would have shaped and influenced Jesus. Trudging through "History of Christianity" was hard because HIS Jewish story... the Christ of Christianity... just wasn't there. "Revelation" was informative and a tough class to get through, but I'm not sure I ever saw a revealing of Jesus. There was a lot of good stuff for my mind, but the real penetrating stuff of Jesus born in the richness of a Hebrew culture... the stuff that is heart-grabbing, eye-opening, life-changing, and penetrates your heart to make a difference in your actions... just wasn't there.

Here's why this matters... in my words: The more I learn about the incarnation of a Jewish Jesus, the more I begin to understand how He wants to live incarnationally through me. As my Christology has evolved over the past several years, my missiology has begun to change, and that is affecting my ecclesiology (and all of these "ology" words I learned at CBC!).

Does anything I'm saying make any sense to you? Could any of this Jewish Christology talk I'm talkin' be a possible application of Paul's inspiring words to Timothy... a young, fresh, Bible-college-grad-like pastor: "...be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus" (II Timothy 2:1)?

You taught me good stuff; really you did. I'm just not sure it was the best. You placed me in rooms full of desks facing the front so I could listen to the professors expound Bible truths (which now seems like training for how you wanted me to do church as well). You DID give me good stuff to think about. However, as I've learned, right thinking does not necessarily translate into right living. All these years of right thinking has created an inside church that is no different from the outside. Coming out of Bible college, my Christology was limited, so my missiology tended to be somewhat status quo. This, in turn, placed my ecclesiology inside a box that just doesn't play as we move into a post-modern, post-Christian world and still try to do church the way we've always done it.

Couldn't we have bantered the scriptures around with the professors like Jewish Rabbi's did with their students? Couldn't we have embraced all aspects of life like a Jewish, incarnate Jesus did? Maybe THAT would have settled issues stemming from guitars and jeans tainting our mandatory chapel services. Couldn't we have asked questions about the life and culture of Jesus and how deeper insights of the holy scriptures might surface? Why didn't we fully understand an incarnate Jewish Jesus, and then let that same Jesus live through us incarnationally to, at least, change Price Hill if not all Cincinnati. Sure, I know we had missions week and were encouraged to take on weekend ministries... but it was all so minimalistic. Our burgeoning but weak Christology gave us a somewhat anemic missiology, and then we graduated and bought into an ecclesiology of church that just doesn't effectively produce disciples of Rabbi Yeshua.

Do you see why any of this matters?

Here's why this matters: The evolution of church from traditional to contemporary to missional in a blossoming post-Christian America is now calling for revolutionary tactics. You... my beloved alma mater... have the capability to train up a new generation of revolutionary leaders that can take our churches beyond attendance, propositions, buildings, and finances.

And just to show there are no hard feelings, I'm hoping some or all of my kids will attend CBC for at least one year. If this happens, I hope they are exposed to and challenged with more than what I was. Additionally, I'm not even asking for a refund on my incomplete education. I'm merely asking you to create a new breed of church leaders, and be revolutionary by espousing and teaching and following the greatest Revolutionist ever. And He, by the way, was Jewish.

Sincerely,
Alan

Jesus Is In The Sparklers

2009-06-03T21:06:00.000-07:00

"Failure's hard, but success is far more dangerous. If you're successful at the wrong thing, the mix of praise and money and opportunity can lock you in forever."
- Po Bronson
(from a Starbucks coffee cup in Florida)

Last night a dear friend from Indiana was trying to get a hold of me. She tried Facebook. She left a voice message on my cell phone. We just weren't connecting... especially within a timeline determinedly etched in her mind. Later in the evening Marsha finally caught me live on Facebook with an IM, and I had to quickly explain we had been out on a very busy night. She said curiously, "Doing what... sparklers on the beach?"

Apparently my second-born posted some cool, slow-shutter-speed photos on the internet just minutes after we had been "busy" doing the beach sparkler thing. Marsha just so happened to see the sinful, indicting photos. Yep, I was busted. This was my study break where I'm supposed to be busy and business like, and in a moment of carnal weakness had lit a few illegal sparklers on a fireworks-banned piece of sand.

Was there ANY redeeming value of waving momentary sparklers into the evening ocean breeze? Could I justify to the church elders and a holy God above as to why I had promiscuously spent time and effort on something as frivolous as cheap fireworks bought somewhere along northbound I-24 in South Tennessee?

Early this morning beside serene gulf coast waters, I started my third study break book. I'm always amazed at how God weaves my annual study break time together in coherent fashions without much intentional effort on my part. My first two books seemed to compliment each other as differing authors were referring to and quoting each other concerning possibilities of the western Church. This was both curious and affirming to me. Both of my first two books ("So Beautiful" & "The Shape Of Things To Come") referred to the absolute necessity of Jesus. Having a proper Christology or understanding of the Jewish-ness of Jesus was of the utmost importance in my first two reads.

If a post-modern, post-Christian missional church is to succeed in our culture, than a proper understanding of the relational and incarnational ways of a Jewish Jesus is key. Our Christology will determine our missiology... which will in turn form our ecclesiology. So guess what (or maybe Who) my third book selection pointed me too? Go ahead... just guess!

As I dove into my third reading, "Sitting At The Feet Of Rabbi Jesus," what had been somewhat theoretical in my first two reads, was now coming to life and stirring my soul. I had devoured and read through half of this third book by late afternoon.

Jesus embraced and shared life in the richness of Jewish tradition. Jesus entering into our world of life seemed to focus more on transformation than mere information. His way of life majored on living instead of what most Bible colleges ask students to major in: thinking & maintenance.

Jesus told his closest friends (and us) to pray for their daily bread. The Hebrew/Jewish word for bread is "lechem." Lechem focuses beyond a slice of Wonder bread or a meager meal... to the whole meal. Lechem actually points to a God who provides all that sustains and blesses us. Lechem is also closely kin to the Hebrew word "L'chaim which means "TO LIFE!" Was Jesus pointing us to something abundantly and aggressively more than what western, American, traditional, Christian, rich, republicans have thought to be true when we pray the Lord's Prayer... having mustered up some semblance of confused humility to pray for our daily bread when we can barely get up from our embarassingly-extravagant daily feasts?

Jesus had powerfully incarnated himself into all of life... not just an hour or two on Sunday mornings. As Lois Tverberg suggests: How is it possible that so many people go to places called "church," but still live alone together?

Perhaps Jesus WAS in the sparklers. There was laughter. Talking. There was excitement. Richness and family were abounding. A family of 6 spending time away from the media and with each other is a significant, noteworthy, and holy task. There were spiritual memories created. Moments of brilliance came flooding into flesh and blood as the clash of heavenly light and darkness were unsuspectingly caught on a digital camera and in our souls.

Maybe we need to let the Jesus who resides inside of us live fully in our lives as well. Maybe we've relegated him enough already to our church buildings and the hour we have sincerely dedicated to him every Sunday. Maybe my Starbucks cup was right. We've been successful at building church walls and church attendance, and now the accolades, praise, and mortgages have become our own religious prison.

And the way out? Sparklers. Jesus. Allowing Jesus to be a continual fireworks display in all parts of our lives seems like a reasonable an inspiring way to live. Serving inside our churches on Sundays is ONE good thing, but letting the Prince of Peace incarnate our lives and culture fully the rest of the week MUST be our new directive and purpose. All our life being all the Church because Jesus is still incarnate in all we do, is how we light the way forward and reach a searching, curious, hurting, lost world. This is how we can be real disciples of a very real and Jewish Jesus.

I know it's late and maybe I've just had too much sun, but I'm thinking about replacing the candles at church with sparklers. I think Jesus is in the sparklers.

Sticky Buns

2009-06-02T17:18:00.000-07:00

"The kind of thinking that will solve the world's problems will be of a different order to the kind of thinking that created them in the first place."
- Albert Einstein

Thanks to a good friend, Sherry and I closed out yesterday by watching an old, old-school movie called "An Affair To Remember." It was a long movie, a definite chick flick, was over a little after eleven... but I think I scored some points.

I was really tired so I went quickly to bed.

About 2:30 in the morning I was frustratingly awakened to some banging dishes and cupboards. What in the known world was going on? I shuffled my sorry, sleepy self into the kitchen only to find my two teenagers doing... something. They should have been doing nothing, and I irritatedly suggested their SOME thing turn into NO thing quickly. With that, I made my dad-like anger officially known (as much as any dad can in his underwear), and went back to bed. Oh, I closed my bedroom door with a bit of volume too; something my wife and smaller kids had to appreciate.

I began to stir again at about six a.m. this morning. It was time to get up, and I began thinking and plotting how I would go into my teens room and obnoxiously ask them if they wanted to get up with me. This was nothing short of a horrid display of maturity and getting even. I didn't actually do the early-morning rail and wail, but it sure felt like I should have... just to accentuate some point that I thought I should make.

After a few morning hours of reading on the beach, I got a phone call: "Breakfast is ready! Dad, come back up to the room to eat." Breakfast? Nobody has fixed me breakfast since last Father's Day. I was curious and hungry enough to go see this anomaly seemingly unfolding before my inquisitive eyes.

Sure enough... breakfast was being served. The warm, comforting smell of cinnamon sticky buns filled the morning, coastal air. Apparently Brooklynn and Lauren had been whipping up a batch of sticky buns at 2:30 in the blessed morning so Sherry and I could enjoy a nice little study break surprise breakfast. Hmmm... didn't see that comin'.

I'm so very glad I didn't wake my teenagers up at six a.m.

I am glad I hugged Brooklynn, and profusely thanked and kissed her for the wonderful sticky buns. I am glad I went into Lauren's room to hold her, kiss her face, and tell her thanks for the incredible sticky buns (she had slipped back into bed after her long night). I hope they'll remember and continue to be shaped by my affection and appreciation. I sure won't forget their sticky buns.

I certainly don't always get it right, but this time I did. Barely. This embracing was the right thing to do. It was redeeming and redirecting life. It was right living which enabled the environment of right thinking. It was living out a Hebrew active faith of "emunah" that embraced life first and beyond thinking, propositions, or Greek "pistis" faith --- one that focuses merely and mostly on the intellect. (When Paul said, "I have kept the faith" in II Tim. 4:7... was that an intellectual or actional faith... a thinking or acting faith... living or theological...pistis or emunah?)

Late this afternoon, I finished my second study break book ("The Shape Of Things To Come"). I've been exposed to some really good, challenging, Biblical thinking of where God seems to be moving His church. There's been some great ideas to really sort through... especially the APEPT leadership concept stemming from Ephesians 4. There are some revolutionary ideas to sort through in seeing what God is doing and asking if I can jump in.

However, with that said, I've been a bit frustrated by a few gross generalizations about how established western churches are and have been wrong, must die, and make way for newer, emerging, missional churches. I think we have to be very careful here. This is territory that can be difficult, at best, to navigate. Is the American, Western church off track? Yes. Is there a need for revolution? Yes. To paraphrase Mr. Einstein: "The kind of thinking that will solve the Church's problems will be of a different order to the kind of thinking that created them in the first place."

But... has God been totally devoid in our churches until now and the advent of missional, relational, incarnational thinking? No. Is it possible that the attractional, propositional, colonizing churches have actually been evolving/learning about mission, relationships, and Jesus invading culture in preparation for a revolution? Yes. Can an existing church change in revolutionary ways? Maybe. Can an attractional, propositional, colonizing church become a missional, relational, incarnational church? Yes, but perhaps only a few might be able to see their way through such a revolution.

I believe it is possible for a once-revolutionary, attractional, propositional, colonizing church to still be revolutionary. Through Bible teaching, prayer, Holy Spirit empowerment, experiments, ever-learning leadership, and a culture embracing change (just a few minor things), existing churches DO have the ability to begin turning the ship towards the ocean of missional, relational, and incarnational waters. I don't think this is an easy hypothesis, but neither is planting a church --- of any kind.

Is it possible that what some count as religious, irritating, banging dishes and cupboards, may end up being a wonderfully recreated and revolutionary surprise by morning? The wrong thing to do is rail and wail on the Church and make our expert-like anger known. The right thing to do is love, hug, and kiss the bride of Christ today and anticipate how God will shape her tomorrow.

A Theology Of Wine

2009-06-01T17:06:00.000-07:00

"One of the great strengths of the Jewish people throughout history has been their sheer love of life. L'chaim (to life!)." - Alan Hirsch

Yesterday... Sunday... was the perfect day. We went to church on Saturday night, and literally felt like we had checked it off our list because the whole deal was deemed poor by even the most positive of Scotts (guess which one). Quite simply, it was just very boring.

But Sunday was wonderful. Sherry and I slept in a bit, and then headed off for breakfast without the kids. We dined like king and queen beach bums at a small, outside, island cafe. We had a great time talking, laughing, enjoying the morning. I tried preaching my theology of wine to Sherry. My sermon thesis poignantly stated how most normal people who enjoy life drink wine. She smiled as she finished her orange juice. I couldn't tell what she was thinking because of those darn, stylish, reflective sunglasses of hers. There was a bit of a smirk pursed curiously on her sun-blossomed lips.

We went to wake and shake the kids, and then off to a local aquarium. From there it was back to our beach hangout, two episodes of Friday Night Lights, taking our family pictures on the beach, eating pizza, and taking a night walk with Michael down the coastline. What a great Sunday. This was a real Lord's Day.

Jesus came and dove into life. The humanity of Jesus was spectacularly human, not barely alive. In fact, Jesus was often belittled for living life too much... something I hope to be accused of some day. Jesus never, as Hirsch and Frost write (The Shape Of Things To Come), conjured up holiness by negation or avoidance; defined more by what we shouldn't do than by what we should.

Jesus' version of holiness was to live all of life and hallow every moment. I'm confident he had some really great Sundays too.

That was the way of the ancient Hebrews and of their Jewish faith. Right living was heralded more than right thinking. However, the further away from a Jewish thirst for life we moved (into Rome, Greece, and the West), the further away from zestful living we moved. Thinking, propositions, and philosophy began to take precedence over actually living. After a couple thousand years promoting right thinking causes right living (orthodoxy), we've accomplished a holocaust and a church that has no statistical separation from a pagan world in areas like pornography, divorce, and greed.

The Hebrew/Jewish people were proponents of orthopraxy... right living can provide the context for us to embrace right thinking. Think about how much the Bible focuses on living, abundantly, as opposed to nailing down correct theology.

And I'm beginning to reflect on the differences... There's a popular flavor of Christianity which relies on theology, propositions and compartmentalized thinking that boxes in our living and attempts to keep secular and sacred separate. The sucking sound you hear is the life being drained as right thinking tries again and again to create right living. It's also the reason so many people... especially those who might enjoy a nice glass of wine... really don't want anything to do with a church that would actually want and teach a minimized version of life itself. Quite simply, it's just boring.

Of course those who place a fish on their bumpers to prove their faith, and listen to only music with a CCM label to prove their holiness, will cry foul here. All of this "living" can get out of hand, right? Wasn't Jesus diving into life, however, always under the moral will of God while he was constantly redeeming and redirecting the life he lived and encountered? Embracing an abundant life didn't negate scripture and God's guidelines, it energized and validated them.

And therein lies the key. Redeeming and redirecting life, not negating it. Jesus jumped into life. That's the real theology of the incarnation. He embraced life. Celebrated it. Jesus of Nazareth placed himself in the mess and hurt, and now wants to continuing living as such in and through us. Someone has called this Jesus channeling. Wow. Turn the channel, right? Sounds weird and new age-ish, but it's exactly right. We are dead, and now Jesus lives in and through us. Jesus channeling.

With a thirst and zest for life, Jesus wants to live incarnationally through us. That might include an early-morning breakfast with a spouse, laughing with your kids, watching a great TV show, eating pizza (you know Jesus would have loved a deep-dish, Chicago-style, supreme pizza), and hand-in-hand walks with sons and daughters as you help them navigate land and sea. It would as Hirsch and Frost contend, "Free us to perceive life as ministry, work as mission, and play as worship."

Heck... all of this really just proves my theology of wine. From the goodness of the earth, and the fruit of the vine, we have an aromatic, rich, compelling, and relationally connecting glass of wine. This is not something to just drink. This is life-to-be-lived in a glass. No wonder Jesus' first miracle was turning water into wine at a wedding party. I'd bet (and this one will surely give me the heretic label) he may have even danced at that shin dig.

The Church As An Outpost

2009-05-29T15:40:00.000-07:00

"A church which pitches its tents without constantly looking out for new horizons, which does not continually strike camp, is being untrue to its calling... We must play down our longing for certainty, accept what is risky, live by improvisation and experiment." - Hans Kung

On this cloudy, overcast, threatening day, I'm sitting on the balcony overlooking a cemented, bounded swimming pool, and a vast, unrelenting ocean. Both are full of energizing salt water.

Here's what's really random... I'm thinking of the 1990 movie Dances With Wolves. I'm sure you remember Kevin Costner as John Dunbar and Mary McDonnell as "Stands With Fist." It's one of Sherry's favorite movies, and every time we get to the sexy teepee scene, I have sudden urges to go camping with my bride. (And btw, dressing up as Indians would just be icing on the cake.) But I digress...

In Dances Wolves, John Dunbar's job was to pioneer the west as part of a Civil War, American military initiative. His job was to establish a western outpost where soon coming troops would gather and establish a larger fort... which in turn would eventually proliferate an entire town.

As the United States Cavalry pushed westward, the heathens (known also as native Americans) could either find salvation or be killed... it really didn't seem to matter which. They could "become like us or die"... but the real goal was forts, roads, and buildings, or as we would say, "Brick and mortar."

But John Dunbar didn't do things by the Cavalry rule book. He befriended the heathens. He learned their language. John Dunbar, dubbed "Dances With Wolves," sheds his white-man ways and becomes one of a local, albeit smelly, Sioux tribe. Indian causes and concerns became Dunbar's causes and concerns. Dunbar was entrusted with the very lives of the Sioux people. Best of all, he married what we now know as one of the best looking Indian woman of all time!

Guess which tact had more soul influence --- the harsh extractional ways of the Cavalry, or the missional, relational, incarnational ways of John Dunbar? Take one stab at which way Jesus did ministry on earth as God came with skin, pitched a tent, and started an outpost.

What kind of an outpost should the church be? Do we prefer one that forces heathens (also known as God's creation) to become like us... because our real concerns, if boardrooms could talk, are about brick and mortar? Is there really anyone who would raise their hand and say yes to this? But that's exactly what many, many churches do. Churches hope, pray, and cross their fingers for people to be attracted to accommodating buildings, urge they become people who only buy books, movies, and music in Christian bookstores, and trust they plug into all our programs so we can either afford the buildings we have or go in debt for bigger ones.

This is attractional, dualistic (separating sacred from secular), and heirarchial church. In post-Christian and post-modern Europe it's all but killed the church. Did you know that less than 3% of England currently makes any kind of claim of Jesus? We are seeing warning signs in America as well. Only 9% of American Christians live out of a Biblical worldview. If this is true, and I believe it is, the attractional, dualistic, heirarchial church in America seems to be on life support as well.

What if our understanding of how Christ came incarnationally would affect our mission, which in turn would affect how we view and lived out being the Church? Michael Frost, in "The Shaping Of Things To Come," puts it this way: "Christology determines missiology, and missiology determines ecclesiology."

I say we all sit down for a movie and some popcorn. John Dunbar seemed to have it right. Becoming a Sioux affected his mission, and that impacted the very way he lived out his life.

I'm thinking about going for a swim now. I can choose the chemically-treated pool whose depths only go as far as seven feet. At least I would be safe. There are posted rules to ensure this. Currently only three, very white people are in the pool.

I could also choose the ocean, it's only a few steps further. It is riskier, but there are more people there, more life, and the depth is unfathomable. The pool is very controlled and only open til 10 pm. The ocean is vast, constantly in motion, and filled with opportunities to experience the very nature of God.

31 Flavors

2009-05-28T17:58:00.000-07:00

"If you understand something in only one way, than you scarcely understand it at all." - Marvin Minsky

Last night we took the family for a nice stroll in the tourist-trappy town we're staying in. We managed to get out of the beach shops with only a mere rubber bouncy ball. Imagine that. (Although I must confess that a t-shirt with a pink Floyd the barber from Andy Griffith... sporting the simple words below: "Pink Floyd"... caught my eye.)

Outside the confines of t-shirt heaven, we spotted an ice cream shop that seem to be the gathering spot for several other gullible northerners with burnt feet. In unison, the kids all said, "Dad, we gotta get some ice cream." It was, I suppose, an unavoidable stop. I had actually spotted the place several minutes before anyone starting noticing the wafting scent of waffle cones.

What intrigued me was how each Scott ordered very different flavors of ice cream. Brooklynn touted "birthday cake." Lauren went for cookie dough. Morgan ordered up some chocolate, fudge brownie. Michael had something called "Superman." Sherry dove into some peanut butter chocolate. I satisfied my bend for Starbucks with a single dip of coffee ice cream. I'm quite curious if there are unique personality traits and meaning attached to each Scott and their particular flavor of ice cream.

It seems to really understand my family, one scoop of vanilla would just never do.

To really understand what's happening in our churches, one scoop of vanilla will never do.

Many are asking, "What will the church look like in the future?" I loved how Francis Chan recently told his church, "I don't know what our church will look like in the future." Chan boldly told the church he serves how gathering on Sundays was a good thing, but it wasn't necessarily church in the purest, Biblical sense devoid of our preconceptions. Wow.

Though thousands may still be going through attractional church doors, the days of Willow, Saddleback, and Northpoint models seem to be fading. Attractional, Propositional, and Colonized (or Attendance, Buildings, & Cash) churches have stopped infiltrating culture and transforming lost people into disciples of Jesus. This might seem threatening to some, and we might see a valiant scramble to reincarnate past success (and God DID use these models), instead of doing whatever it takes to experience a fresh incarnate Jesus.

It's extremely interesting for me to look back at last year's study break blogs. I was reading, praying, thinking, and writing about how off track the westernized, one-flavor, vanilla, American Church was. I remember one good friend needing the balm of IHOP to help him tell me that I'm just so negative about the Church. I was seeing it as half-empty. I was a real downer, apparently. But as Sweet suggests, you really only have the right to criticize what you love if you truly love what you criticize. I so love the Church.

So far on this glorious study break, my time has been pointing to answers, hope, and the future. I believe God has glorious intentions for his bride that move way beyond my upbringing and preconceptions. That's not threatening, that's exciting. God promised to do more than we can ask or imagine... even if we've been stuck in the one flavor of "sameness" for decades.

I believe "church" will, in the near future, be very local, organic, messy, quirky, and unique. Excellence will no longer be how tight the band is, but rather how original art, and song, and poetry, and the stories are. Some of this might even include Sunday mornings. Franchising, attendance bragging, building sizes, the word "mega," and target audiences (that one has split many leadership teams) will give way to missional living, relational lifestyles, and the resulting incarnation of Jesus again in us... the Church. Some of this might even include Sunday mornings. I would bet the ranch (if I had one) you'll be hearing about MRI churches (missional, relational, incarnational) the way we were indoctrinated with "seeker-targeted" churches. I can only pray that MRI would remain something of an alive organism without falling into the box of a lifeless organization.

We, the Church, will grow and become a better bride as we missionally learn the character and personality quirks of people who prefer 31 or more flavors of ice cream... and not just plain vanilla. Who knew how the more we begin to rub shoulders with non-vanilla people to be Jesus to them... the more they become Jesus to us.

Charles Peguy penned these words as from God: "If there were no Frenchmen, some things I do would not be seen."

I would say, if there were no "birthday cake" ice cream... no chocolate fudge brownie... no "Superman"... no cookie dough... no peanut butter chocolate... or no coffee ice cream --- you just wouldn't be able to enjoy and understand my family as the unique and wonderful creatures we are. Why would anyone attempt to force these wonderfully made people into vanilla, single-dip, regular cones? Maybe you could sell a lot more vanilla ice cream, but you would sure miss something deeper and better.

Maybe we've built bigger, efficient churches, but we seem to have missed something deeper and better.

power, love, and self-discipline

2009-05-27T18:46:00.000-07:00

God didn't give me a spirit of timidity, but rather one of power, love, and self-discipline. (II Timothy 1:7)

Will I ever get these three qualities down in perfect harmony, balance, and measure? The leadership gift in me has pursued the power of vision, relationships, teaching, and team. This use of power has seen some success through my ministry career. Some would say a leader who isn't tapping his own power, is a leader who isn't leading. I think I read that in a powerful book somewhere.

The love thing within me, quite honestly, get dismissed like an early-round American Idol contestant. Everyone knows good leaders have obviously low compassion and love quotients... and so others in the church are supposed to make up for this deficiency with their own unique gifts of encouragement and hospitality. That's just how the system works.

Self-discipline can be such a roller coaster of ego, pride, and mustered humility. I am acutely aware of how a leader must exercise disciplines that are widely espoused in most over-priced conferences... like: rise early, run, read, recreate, untuck your shirt, and load your ipod with really hip music. Self-discipline is that "have-to" thing that left alone will die and cause a severe lack of progress and production.

So there you have it. I'm not timid. No way. Too type-A for that, and I have the personality test scores to prove it. God's given me power, love, and self-discipline. I'm good to go. Right?

However, I'm thinking through this a little deeper. Why doesn't God want me to be timid? Why does he want me to have HIS version of power, love, and self-discipline? What if it's really not about the life of a leader I want to live and the success of followership I want to achieve? What if this all goes back to God's mission, Jesus' relational pursuit, and the Holy Spirit's incarnational qualities? Missional, relational, and incarnational life as prescribed by the Author.

In the bulk of my world, timidity (otherwise known as safety) has plenty of room to breathe. However, timidity and living life God's way are two fish that cannot swim in the same gulf. God's mission to reconnect his creation to Himself requires power not found in many of the leadership books found bragging in my office. Required amperage is nothing short of Holy Spirit, divinely-enabled power to bring Jesus to the many vacant-eyed people around me.

Connecting to people relationally so they can know Jesus requires a love way beyond my deficiencies, and doesn't allow for any of my DISC profile excuses. Thankfully God is love, and he offers himself without reservation.

Self-discipline in time, prayer and absorption of the Holy Scriptures is the only way I know the Holy Spirit can live incarnationally in and through me so that others are impacted.

What if power, love, and self-discipline weren't Oprah-esque qualities used to make us better Christians or more successful churches, but rather God's specific tools for mission, relationships, and incarnation?

Funny how one little, often-read verse out of II Timothy can grab you again for the first time.

Decompressing and Deconstructing

2009-05-26T17:08:00.000-07:00

It's hard not to decompress with the white sands of Siesta Key tickling your feet, and the swimming pool-blue ocean water beginning to change the rhythm of your own breathing.

It's also not hard for me to think about some deconstruction on this day-one of my summer study break. God is up to something within His Church, and to accomplish His mission, there must first be some deconstructing.

I'm sure the auto industry has some of the same issues. Our old, out-dated, oil-dependent, fossil-fuel guzzling dinosaurs don't look to have much of a future right now. Doesn't it seem like the automotive hand-writing is on the wall as GM and Chrysler struggle to keep a pulse through federal life support? However, at the same time, there are new, innovative companies (i.e. - Tesla Motors) springing up who are creatively deconstructing the once-thought indestructible automobile industry with new ideas and new fuel sources.

While I remain tired of rising gas costs and welcome new innovations, I'm confident the deconstruction of our hallowed Chevrolet will be a rocky and rough road at best. It might take some time, and initial costs may be extravagant. In the end, it will be a worthy road to travel.

And in the Church, many of us have seen, lived through, and survived deconstruction seasons in the past. The worship wars that defined the 80's were a part of deconstruction that eventually led us to deeper waters of experiencing God. Vivid memories are etched in my ministerial mind of those who clung to traditional/hymnal worship as the absolute and only way to worship. A younger, hipper generation fought for the freedoms found in contemporary worship. Looking back now... it seems there was truth to both, but a little deconstruction became absolutely necessary for so many of us to see worship as truly a lifestyle and not a musical style.

Annual revivals to preach the gospel and save the lost, gave way to the deconstruction of churches being seeker-targeted each and every Sunday. There are truths and gems to be found in both approaches, but both approaches have since undergone even more deconstruction to simply bring Jesus to a lost and hurting world.

Deconstruction is not death, it's pealing back layers of what was effective to get to what God is currently up to and doing. Deconstruction is actually a revealing of what really should be... if not how things originally functioned or were intended. Yet... we fight deconstruction because it threatens our facade of stability and security. Funny how without deconstruction we are doomed like the Edsel.

Still more corporate, spiritual deconstruction seems to be happening.. Serving Jesus outside the walls of a church, seem to be deconstructing how we are looking at our walls inside the church. While some are condemning any and all corporate church meetings inside the walls, and others are stuck in a prison that can't let them see out --- I'm confident that riding a new wave of deconstruction will in the end result in a better, stronger Church. After all, it IS Jesus' church and bride, and he said She would always prevail.

I never want to be stuck on either side of a legalistic and rigid wall when it comes to deconstruction. I want to be right in the thick of the mess, dirt, scaffolding, and noise of any kind of deconstruction that God might be doing. If the sledge hammers on our church walls help us to see God's mission, Christ's longing for relationships, and the Holy Spirit's ability to live within us, then bring it on. If deconstruction continues to bring us back to mission, relationships, and incarnation, then why would anyone want to stand in the way?

According to Leonard Sweet, the attractional, propositional, colonial church is giving way to missional, relational, and incarnational. The APC church achieves members, believers, and consumers. The MRI church maintains missionaries, disciples, and world changers. If this is the result of more deconstruction, let the dirt fly. We might even have to lovingly and compassionately put the current church on life support for a while in the process. It might take some time and the initial costs may be extravagant, but the end result will be a PREVAILING CHURCH.

I'm in.

Note: Many have asked what I'm reading on this study break. Here's my list:
- So Beautiful by Leonard Sweet
- Organic Church by Neil Cole
- Sitting At the Feet Of Rabbi Jesus by Lois Tverberg
- The Shaping Of Things To Come by Michael Frost & Alan Hirsch
- Starving Jesus by Craig Gross & J.R. Mahon
- Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller
- Rescued by John Bevere
- My Utmost For His Highest by Oswald Chambers
- Experiencing God Day By Day by Henry Blackaby
- II Timothy by the Apostle Paul

I also have several video sermons to watch from Mark Driscoll, Matt Chandler, Francis Chan, Timothy Keller, and Mark Batterson

Sunrise

2008-06-13T23:29:00.001-07:00

June 13, 2008
Study Break

It’s our final day at the beach as we wrap up summer study break ’08. It’s been good. Our family time has been great (although we competed rigorously to decide what to do on our last night in Myrtle Beach), our kids did well, and my time to think, pray, study, reflect, and worship has been great as always. Intense, intentional time away like this has become such a family tradition, and personal necessity for me.

The entire family rolled extremely sleepily out of overwhelmingly comfy beds this morning at 6 a.m. Part of anyone’s last day at the beach routine is to catch the sunrise, and then proceed to do everything possible within the confines of a 24-hour day.

Soaking in a beautiful sunrise became a great pictorial metaphor for what I wanted to accomplish today. I wanted to soak in the past two weeks and process what the Son was rising up within me. Let me see if I can put some of my thoughts together…

First of all, to say there is significant problems the Church MUST deal with becomes the obvious understatement of my past two weeks. Gabe Lyons, in “Unchristian” writes: “To outsiders the word “Christian” has more in common with a brand than a faith. This shift of meaning in recent decades has been magnified by an increasing use of the term “Christian” to label music, clothes, schools, political action groups, and more. And sadly, it is a bad brand in the minds of tens of millions of people. In the middle of a culture where Christianity has come to represent hypocrisy, judgmentalism, anti-intellectualism, insensitivity, and bigotry, it’s easy to see why the next generation wants nothing to do with it. These perceptions are based on real experiences that outsiders have had with their Christian friends. They are an accurate reflection of the kind of Christians many of us have become. It’s embarrassing and shameful, but it’s reality.”

It’s noteworthy to underscore how nothing I’ve read is anti-church… nor am I. In fact, nothing I’ve read attacks the church. In “Unchristian,” Mike Foster explains, “Lobbing hand grenades on the bride of Christ takes zero talent or effort. I also think this really ticks God off. My five-year-old child complains and whines when things aren't the way she wants them, but courageous men and women roll up their sleeves and get busy. I want to be an active participant in putting back together the broken pieces.”

It is time to get busy. Our faith, in many ways, has become unchristian. “Modern-day Christianity no longer seems Christian,” says David Kinnaman. While this is a very tough pill to swallow, we must wake up and get busy. Will we wake up to the idea that our faith may have evolved into something incomplete or inaccurate? I’m beyond ready, but also certain the answer will not be found in a new church growth model. Solutions won’t rise up from fresh marketing campaigns or clever strategies to paint a better face on the Church and Christianity. No longer can we be blindly content and righteously proud that we’ve somehow become more culturally relevant; we must create and build a new culture. I’m convinced we must be radically counterculture.

How do we do this? Teaching with an awareness to propagate a Biblical worldview will be important. Encouraging Christians to develop their own Biblical worldview… beginning with our kids ministries… will become vital. A good starting place will be a keen awareness of Barna’s seven salient questions: 1. Does God Exist? 2. What is the character and nature of God? 3. How and why was he world created? 4. What is the nature and purpose of humanity? 5. What happens after we die on earth? 6. What spiritual authorities exist? 7. What is truth?

Currently 91% of adult Christians and 98% of teen Christians do not have a Biblical worldview, and consequently do not stand out as culture-impacting Jesus followers. Simply put, we are no different than those outside of Christ. These statistics must dramatically change if the Church has any chance of regaining lost ground and bringing lost people back to Christ.

It will be critically important for Biblical worldviews to be organic, diverse, and unique to each individual within the freeing constraints of God’s absolute truth. Biblical worldviews must be lived out (as seen in the book of Acts) more than they are written out. Christians must guard against turning these culture savvy tools into isolating and burdensome rules.

While creativity, relevance, and imitating culture has been viewed as the fastest path to filling up seats and getting people saved, superficiality inside the church is now equal to superficiality outside the church. We must go deeper while still striving for creativity, relevance, and excellence. As Dallas Willard said, “Jesus didn’t call us to be Christians, he called us to be disciples.”

The Church is waking up to how we’ve reduced the gospel to accepting Jesus and having a personal relationship with Him. Without a lived-out Biblical worldview attached to our salvation, this has amounted to notches on our evangelism belts and people who are OK with merely being saved while not living as a culture-shaping disciple.

We have settled for people being saved while at the same time being less than fully human. We must dig deeper. Being fully human is to be creative, spiritual, intelligent, relational, and moral as a mirror image of our Creator. Dick Staub says, “Any hope of restoring culture starts with restoring the individuals who make culture, and any hope of restoring individuals starts with rediscovering the origin of our capacities in the One who made us.”

Again, Gabe Lyons writes: “No strategy, tactics, or clever marketing campaign could ever clear away the smokescreen that surrounds Christianity in today’s culture. The perceptions of outsiders will change only when Christians strive to represent the heart of God in very relationship and situation. This kind of Christian will attract instead of repel. He is provoked to engage instead of being offended by a decadent culture. She lives with the tension of remaining pure without being isolated from this broken world. When outsiders begin to have fresh experiences and interactions with this new kind of Christian, perceptions will change, one person at a time.”

Putting our faith in action, listening, loving without being judgmental, thinking, digging our wells deeper, building meaningful relationships, embracing compassion while rejecting self-preservation, and becoming Christ-like is a good start at digging deeper. These kinds of Biblical, deeper wells must be dug in order to combat current perceptions that Christians are: very conservative, entrenched in their thinking, antigay, antichoice, angry, violent, illogical, empire builders, wanting to convert everyone, and can’t live peacefully with anyone who doesn’t believe what they believe.

Loving, feeding, connecting, and motivating (Acts 2) can be digging deeper if these are tools to help us live out our Biblical worldview. Focusing on our Sunday mornings, kids & family, Faith In Action, and Community Groups can be our unique, God-directed vehicles and tools if these are being passionately lived out as a part of Biblical worldview… and not just rules and superficial strategies to fill up our seats.

I think this can be the Church’s finest hour. I see the hopeful challenge of a grand opportunity. We can erase perceptions that following Jesus is boring. The Church of Jesus can be appealing once again. We can be so incredibly real and authentic that the world’s brand of superficiality becomes painfully obvious and disgusting for those who suffer for more.

This is a time we can be courageous. We can be far-sweeping and drastic grace dispensers. Instead of church success, we can boast in the Lord about being transformational. The Church can be bold. As Rick Warren says, “We can be known more by what we’re for than what we’re against.” We can be Jesus… again.

Early morning sunrises can be a pain in the bed-ridden rear, or they can be wonderful opportunities to live out the challenges of a new and full day. We… the Scotts… all arose at 6 a.m. today. Our goal was to seek out and live out the opportunities of our last day on study break. It’s now 11:07 p.m. We’re all worn out, but it has been a great day.

I choose to view the struggles, difficulties, and current state of Church affairs as similar to the opportunities of a new and full day. I’m sure, when all is said and done, I might be worn out trying to figure things out. I’m hopeful God will use me to help put some of the broken pieces back together. I’m hopeful… optimistic… of a new day.

I’m hopeful because churches and leaders are waking up. I’m waking up. There's a new sunrise.

I’m hopeful because it’s Jesus’ church. The Church is still His wonderful bride. I still believe the gates of Hell can’t stop it, nor the seismic shifts of a skeptical and critical culture.

Let the sun rise, and let’s get at it.

Dig A Little Deeper

2008-06-12T23:53:00.000-07:00

June 12, 2008
Study Break

God is so good. Over three-fourths of our blue earth is covered in the substance that is precisely needed to sustain life. It points us to a loving God… taste (drink) and see that He is good! God, in his amazing grace and mercy, gave us a way to be pointed to him in the slightest of details… such as quenching our thirst with life-giving H2O. Let the painstaking and unremitting pursuit of His love sink into your soul a bit. Take a drink. Dig a little deeper…

I saw a burly, well-rounded, glowing red, bald-headed father wildly playing with his three sons on the beach. This man’s three sons all looked amazingly like him. I speculated about his connection with God. Did he know the love of a heavenly Father? Couldn’t his raucous beach rousing with his trifecta of DNA give him clues of not just a Grand Designer, but an obvious Grand Lover? Does this dad get it? Does he need to dig a little deeper? I thought about how often God gives us gifts that relentlessly point to him and his love.

All this week through text messages and voicemails, good friends of Sherry and mine from Indiana have been keeping us posted on the last minute and dramatic details of their adoption. All the finer points worked out in beautiful fashion. God is good. It all pointed to a very loving God, and a little girl being saved by these wonderful new parents is more proof of divine love.

I’m confident someone’s difficult journey would pose the question of God’s lack of love. Dig a little deeper…

God is good and loving in giving us the keys to His kingdom. As Blackaby pointed out today, If you are a Christian you, too, have the keys to the kingdom of heaven. You have unobstructed access to God. With that access come all the resources you need to face any circumstance.

The Church needs that access and those keys of the Kingdom now more than ever. There is an ever-increasing population who is cynical and weary of the Church. Listen to how many people describe their perceptions of the church (from “Unchristian”):
- The Titanic --- a ship about to sink but unaware of its fate.
- A powerful amplifier being undermined by poor wiring and weak speakers.
- A pack of domesticated cats that look like they are thinking deep thoughts but are just waiting for their next meal.
- An ostrich with its head in the sand.
- A hobby that diverts people’s attention.

These are hard words for this pastor to absorb. I love the church. I have worked hard to pursue relevance and Kingdom advancement. It’s frustrating that millions upon growing millions of people disconnected from Church believe Christians live in their own world, but not too well in the real one.

David Kinnaman writes: “(People) thrive on unexpected experiences and enjoy searching for new sources of input. Their lives consist of an eclectic patchwork of diversity, perspectives, friendships, and passions. A vast portion of their typical day is spent consuming media and exploring the burgeoning realms of the Internet. Movies, magazines, music, and television transport the into alternate realities with greater frequency and poignancy than any previous generation has experienced. They are exposed to and access more philosophies and ideas about life --- and can get them at a faster pace --- than any generation in history. They are a “pinch of t his pinch of that” generation, always willing to try a little of anything. This is why Christianity, in its sheltered, clueless, non-intellectual form, makes no sense to them. Trained to believe they have control over just about everything and expecting to participate in reality, young adults don’t resonate with a vision of cloistered Christianity. A faith that sidelines them is not tenable. Their existence is anything but bubble-bound.”

I read such forceful words, and there is a part of this 48-year-old that wonders what needs to be done within the Church. What model needs to prevail? What strategies need employed? What books need to be read, and what conferences will unlock the keys to elevate the Church of Jesus once again? In what ways will I dig a little deeper…

As I am coming to the end of this study break, my mind and heart starts trying to tie things together. I find myself capping my highlighter and placing a book I’m reading on my lap --- so I can think, and process and stare at the pounding waves. The waves of water… billions of gallons of H2O (with a little saline added)… proof of God’s love. The answer to the Church rising once again would come from digging a little deeper.

At some point between final chapters of “Unchristian” and staring at the shoreline, I noticed my daughter, Morgan, digging a rather deep hole into the sand. She was probably two feet under when her red, plastic shovel hit something hard. I remarked, “You’ve hit a treasure chest!” She just smiled and kept digging. Within minutes however, Morgan pulled up a wonderful, complete conk shell. She HAD hit a treasure chest. She had dug a little deeper than usual and found something worthwhile and lasting.
She had dug a little deeper…

Although there are some serious challenges the Church is facing, the answers seem to be pointing to digging a little deeper. God and a frustrated, searching culture is pushing US down below the surface for answers. We have the keys to the Kingdom. We have available resources, but we will have to dig a little deeper for God’s answers. My burden and heaviness towards the depravity of the Church shifted from the problem to solutions. Dig a little deeper…

Tomorrow I’ll try to write what I think this entails. It’s coming together. Thanks God.

On a side note: My kids are always great on our annual study breaks. Sherry and I give them each assignments and then pay them big bucks to do so. This probably breaks all the rules of most parenting manuals, but our kids seems to be turning out OK so far.
We told Brooklynn (16) and Lauren (13) they each had to read “The Shack” and memorize twenty verses. They not only had to recite twenty verses and the references, but they were required by parental law to give the “so what” --- the application of each verse. Amount paid to each teenager for assignments: $50 bucks… cold, hard cash.

With Morgan (9), we also gave her twenty verses (including the “so what”) and assigned her to read through the book of James --- including a one-page report on what she learned. Amount paid: $50 bucks… cold, hard cash.

With Michael, our six-year-old… we handed out two verses that he needed to recite and tell what they meant. One verse was Colossians 3:23, and the other (which he acted out with great drama) was Ephesians 6:16-17. Amount paid: $15.

Total payout: $165. Actual cost: Priceless!

Is this horrible parenting? Is it right to use extrinsic motivations to bolster spiritual character? Should this be so forced and rigid? What will be the long-term effects on my kids… these poor pastor kids?

I’m more than glad to pay money for the laughter, conversations, memories, and life we attach to learning these boatloads of spiritual truths. Truth be known, I’d probably even pay more for the chance I get to sit on the beach and go over verses and books and spiritual applications with my kids. How cool is this?

Additionally, and for the record, I’m offering our three oldest kids a bonus of $25 each if they will dig a little deeper and write their own personal, Biblical worldview using Barna's seven suggested questions as a template. (This assignment can be done anytime this summer)
Total payout: $240. Actual cost: you guessed it… eternally priceless.

tired

2008-06-11T23:39:00.000-07:00

June 11, 2008
Study Break

If I am honest with myself and God … which I hope I am … I would admit my tiredness. It’s not exactly a physical thing as much as it is emotional, mental, and unquestionably spiritual.

My goal with this study excursion was to read one book every two days (along with journal entries from Blackaby, McManus and Dr. Luke from Acts). I had five books I wanted to absorb into my soul and psyche. Today, however, I barely dragged my weary behind out on the beach for an early morning run. And then I didn’t… run. I could only walk, and not far at that. What was up with this? I sat in the sand and prayed for a while, then for a break in routine, I decided to take my bride to breakfast on a pier.

I didn’t feel like hitting the books hard again today because I had hit a bit of a wall. My study break intake these past couple weeks seems to be mounting up on wings like a buzzard within me. It’s been hard stuff to process and begin to think of routes for implementation. Only one chapter of “Unchristian” was scaled on this somewhat heavy June day. I read out of Acts 18 and thought slowly about my past year and a half at Cumberland (vs. 11). Have I creatively taught the Word for depth, or have I so prioritized relevance and filled seats only to gain cursory success? Do I lead and teach to transform lifestyles and consequently culture? Do I cave to the superficiality of culture and thereby discredit the heart and purpose of Jesus? If my tombstone were put in place today, what would I have really been remembered for? These were difficult conversations bouncing around in my head. Heavy. Weird. Maybe just way too much sun. Maybe I'm staying up too late writing these blogs...

Mike Foster writes (in “Unchristian”), “Someone is sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago. May you and I today begin to plant a new way of living, loving, and serving…”

I’ve taken in a lot through “Think Like Jesus,” “A Contrarians Guide to Knowing God,” “The Culturally Savvy Christian,”… and halfway through “Unchristian.” The Church is at a crux… an intersection… nothing short of an emergency. Does this make me an alarmist or realist?

There’s much to be done, dealt with, and relentlessly refused denial. I’m challenged and want to keep going. I think I planted some trees along the way in my first twenty years of ministry. I anxiously want to plant a new tree, but I just need to catch my breath so I can endure my final twenty.

I’ll hit it hard again tomorrow… I'm sure.

Coming of Age with Frozen Lemonade

2008-06-10T22:54:00.000-07:00

June 10, 2008
Study Break

My third child, Morgan, is nine years old. This July she turns 10. Incredibly, this means we only have one child left in the single digits. While this may not seem like a big deal to you, for a parent of four this has the same magnitude of finally being out of Pampers.

Morgan is at that tender age where she needs some occasional kickin’ out of the nest activities. Part of our parental strategy is to begin making her pay for things. I know this borders on child abuse (or at least Morgan’s reactions might lead you to believe such), but having an exchange with someone across the counter is a good, growing up thing to do.

Late this morning, Morgan and I headed off to the beach. I went to read, and Morgan went to… well, just kick back with dad. That was cool. As we were both sitting quietly under our UV deflecting umbrella, a landmark event unfolded. Suddenly my red-headed, almost-ten-year-old popped up from her beach chair like a burnt waffle and said, “I’m going to get a frozen lemonade.” She didn’t ask for money, and she didn’t assume I would hold her hand.

I put my book down and watched the whole thing unfurl. As my maturing daughter walked up to the portable frozen lemonade kiosk, I was so overwhelmed with weird fatherly emotions that I had to do something. I did. I snapped a photo. I needed to capture my feelings of being the proud father of the buyer. This moment of adolescent development was another scrapbook page of my old age progression. Morgan just smiled from ear to ear with her newly acquired frozen lemonade. I smiled inwardly with the thought of Morgan growing up.

Getting half way through David Kinnaman’s “Unchristian,” I wondered about the church growing up. In my lifetime, thus far, I’ve seen some growing, maturing, and changing in the Church. Growing up in a mostly traditional church there was an unwavering push for truth where, without a sufficient amount of grace, legalism was found lurking. Later, the pendulum seemed to swing to the other extremes which allowed huge doses of creative grace to be doled out. Sometimes (if not all the time) a boatload of grace without the truth of a holistic gospel created shallow superficiality and compromise.

In a culture filled with superficiality and compromise, Christianity was reduced to accepting Jesus. Kinnaman calls this the “ultimate reduction --- “renounce your sins and place your hope in Jesus.” --- reduced to feed the consumer’s mindset of finding spiritual comfort. Gone was the challenge to live full out for Jesus… a practical, lived-out, Biblical worldview.

Interestingly, it’s a younger generation pushing some kickin’ out of the nest activities to their elders. Instead of the older parents prodding the children, it seems to be the children leading the parents to changes of maturity where people are DOING the gospel.

Like working on a frozen lemonade in the shade of 95 degrees, I was smiling ear to ear as I thought about how God is using a younger generation to help bring the Church to a desperately needed maturity and depth. By the way, this same younger generation that I believe is actually pushing the Church to go deeper and grow up … is paradoxically leaving the current Church in droves at the same time.

Check out a few “Kinnaman-isms:” (Enjoy!)
“Your job is not to anesthetize yourself with congratulatory prose about the state of the world or the church, but to deal with reality, even when it is embarrassing or hurtful.”

“The church desperately needs more people who facilitate a deeper, more authentic vision of the Christian faith in our pluralistic, sophisticated culture.”

“Most people I meet assume that “Christian” means very conservative, entrenched in their thinking, antigay, antichoice, angry, violent, illogical, empire builders; they want to convert everyone, and they generally cannot live peacefully with anyone who doesn’t believe what they believe.”

“It is clear that Christians are primarily perceived for what they stand against. We have become famous for what we oppose than who we are for.”

“Young adults worry that the unchristian message has become one of self-preservation rather than one of world restoration.”

“The nation’s population is increasingly resistant to Christianity, especially to the theologically conservative expressions of that faith. Of course we have always had detractors, but now the critics of the faith are becoming bolder and more vocal. And the aversion and hostility are, for the first time, crystallizing in the attitudes of millions of young Americans. A huge chunk of a new generation has concluded they want nothing to do with us. As Christians, we are widely mistrusted by a skeptical generation.”

“In virtually every study we conduct, representing thousands of interviews every year, born-again Christians fail to display much attitudinal or behavioral evidence of transformed lives.”

“Among young outsiders, 84 percent say the personally know at least one committed Christian. Yet just 15 percent thought the lifestyles of those Christ followers were significantly different from the norm.”

“Transparency disarms an image-is-everything generation.”

“What if culture’s accusations of hypocrisy are God’s way of waking us up to the overwhelming needs of others?”

“Christian rhetoric without tangible acts of love is hypocrisy. Churches on every corner with hurting people outside is hypocrisy. A large building with little connection to the streets is essentially empty.”

“A generation reared in a marketing-drenched world is quick to sniff out what they believe to be the underlying motivations and superficialities.”

“Outsiders expressed particular disdain for methods that “trick” people into paying attention. One respondent called this “the con of conversion.” She said, “Christians want you to pay attention to their message about Jesus, yet somehow I don’t’ think Jesus would be happy about being turned into a gimmick.”

“When we have experienced the presence of a living God, outsiders are wary of feeling brainwashed or manipulated.”

“In a get-saved culture, too many of the conversions become either “aborted” believers or casual Christians.”

“What difference does transformation make? It changes our ideas of spiritual effectiveness. We should measure success not merely by the size of our church or the number of baptisms or decisions, but also by the depth and quality of spiritual growth in people’s lives.”

Smokin' Church Ladies

2008-06-09T22:48:00.001-07:00

June 9, 2008
Study Break

Why do I like to smell the occasional waft of cigarette smoke at the beach? Weird. It has become one of those distinct smells defining an ocean side summer vacation. Like the mesmerizing scent of a funnel cake at a county fair or the allure of charcoal on an outdoor grill --- the bouquet of burning tobacco says, “Welcome to and enjoy God’s great creation!” What?

Anyone sitting under a beach umbrella with a Camel to their lips is simultaneously painting the canvas of their lungs a Megadeath black. That can’t be a good thing. Isn’t the aromatic second hand smoke killing me as well? That can’t be a good thing. Perhaps the miraculous healing properties of salt air somehow acts as an organic filter, and I can actually enjoy the smell of someone else dying… worry free.

Sherry questioned how a cigarette on a 95-degree-in-the-shade, sweltering summer’s day could be enjoyable. Maybe a combination of sun and nicotine just plain makes people crazy.

Today I thought about crazy people from my past. I finished “The Culturally Savvy Christian” by Dick Staub, and was wonderfully transported back to my personal church history which included some real characters. For instance…

There was Wilbur. He was a trumpet-playin’, toupee wearing song leader. Sometimes he’d wear the fascinating hair piece, and sometimes he wouldn’t. He was a good looking man with hair. He was a good looking man without it. I’m sure that’s why he was comfortable with living a very alternative hair lifestyle. It always made for some interesting conversation, bulletin artwork, and worship service bets for me and my third-grade friends nailing down the second pew.

I recalled the thought provoking qualities of Ward. He was a giant of a man who carried a Bible and a big brief case to church. He was an elder. The elder in charge of those elusive church finances. With Ward, everything was very straight-laced and business like. He would conduct church business meetings after a Sunday service with great precision. (Guests were always given permission to leave, but members were held captive by frowning ushers at the back doors.) I will never forget how the very first thing elder Ward did in leading church business meetings was to prominently throw his brief case onto the pulpit, flip the latches, and pop open the top with great and animated authority. Sometimes Ward scared me, so I would make sure dad put some money in the offering plate.

Margaret was always a wonder to behold. She was 98 years old my whole way through high school. She walked hunched over like the witch on The Wizard of Oz… and she had a matching, long, gray hair on her chin to boot. Mom always wanted me to hug Miss Margaret, but I was too afraid she might throw a curse on me or something. Margaret was a bit eccentric in her style of living. She had 20+ cats who roamed her abode with full dominion. Everyone politely avoided Margaret’s mysterious casserole dish at the annual church reunion pot luck. There were always cat hairs (presumed) to be found in her untouched recipe. I could count on mom predictably saying they were JUST cat hairs and I should “put some of Margaret's casserole on my plate.” I didn’t see her eat any of that stuff!

There are so many wild and wonderful people who were an intricate part of my home church I was privileged to grow up in. Consider a few more: Shirley… the soprano choir belter. Helen… the crazy VBS director. Tommy… the mumbling door greeter (I never could figure out what he said). Jimmy… Tommy’s brother who also greeted and liked to pass out hugs and kisses (Jimmy’s renowned bad breath pushed most women to go in Tommy’s door.) Stanley … the hierarchical oldest elder who guardedly and sometimes angrily presided over the communion table. Peggy … the pant-suit-wearing, scandalous preacher’s wife. Bus… the preacher who would fight at church softball games. Terry… the comedian Sunday School superintendent who gave announcements each week like a nightclub stand up. Steve… the youth worker who encouraged and endorsed farting, belching, and pranks on the stiff-necked youth ministers. Gwen …the sweeter than molasses church lady with the three great looking teenage daughters way too old for me to consider, but I did anyway --- especially during boring sermons. The strangely reserved Peters family… who always sat together (left side, tenth pew from the front)… and there were about 15 million of them. And what about Shirley and Harvey? Harvey never said a word, but Shirley would belly laugh out loud with any and every joke a hard-working preacher would attempt. How about all the smokin' church men and ladies whose investments in breath mints were sure to keep them on the roll and out of hell. (Was that a waft of smoke in the church foyer? Nah.) I could go on and on and on with a profoundly thankful smile on my face as I fondly remember.

After considering his childhood church characters, Dick Staub (“The Culturally Savvy Christian”) writes, “Only later in life have I come to realize that I inherited the richest of families in the people I once mocked as “peculiar” and “strange.” The people I knew as a child were characters, but they also had character. Though many of these folks were odd, there was never a shadow of doubt in my mind that they loved God and loved me. Although as a child, I grew weary of spending so much time with people in our church, oddly, what I experienced then is what culturally savvy Christians need today, when our busy, isolated, disconnected lives prevent us from breaking bread together. In our media-saturated, virtual world, we need relationships that go deep and a place where we can pursue God in the company of friends. We need fellowship that is intergenerational, incarnational, and multi-ethnic. We need to create a place where God can draw people together across demographic lines: rich and poor; blue-collar and professional; country, hip-hop, and classical.”

Today I thought about love. Love stemming from my past, love of my family, and elusive love. In “Soul Cravings,” Erwin McManus preports “we are never meant to be…

alone.”

McManus continues… “God made us for relationships. We are created by a relational God for relationships. We are all tribal. We only begin to experience life fully when we move toward healthy relationships and healthy community. Your soul will never be satisfied with anything less. The further we move from love, the more distant God becomes.”

Much of what I read and thought about today centered on love. Sometimes, I must admit, when someone writes or talks about love, I tend to hear, “Blah, blah, blah.” It’s a bit of a hazard from hearing pundits of love one too many times. It’s not a good thing.

Buy why were Paul and Barnabas such great and effective communicators that great numbers of people believed in Jesus (Acts 14-15)? Was the key love? Could their love for people have been greater than their desire to build big churches and selected to be the next big Jerusalem conference speakers?

LOVE… Like a waft of cigarette smoke, it’s intriguing to smell a little at a distance, but I certainly don’t think inhaling deeply is the way to go. Are those really my true feelings about true love? Blah, blah, blah.

Staub writes: “Despite all the talk about love in today’s movies, books, and songs, religious and irreligious people alike suffer from a sever love deficit. The popularity of a TV show like “Friends” signals a culturewide hunger for friendship. Christians, on a quest for absolute knowledge ever-increasing ecstatic experiences, faith that moves mountains, political and economic power, bigger churches, and relevant, hip messages, seem to have forgotten that “if we have all these and don’t have love, we are nothing” (I Cor. 13:1-3) Community has become a hollow buzzword in Christian circles; every church offers it, but almost nobody experiences it.”

I'm a huge proponent of community, and I’m personally hungry for it. Everyone around me loves and offers love, but I’ve not been able to fully dive in. Living out of boxes for the past year and a half has certainly not helped. Trying to keep my family in tact during our “homelessness” has been a driving priority, but a community hindrance. Am I whining? Sounds like it. I love teaching and leading, but I too want belonging, home, community, and love. This week, I've been remembering so many faces that I miss. Faces that represent wonderful seaons of doing life together... in community and love. I feel like I'm a little bit on relational overload, and I'm not even quite sure what that means. Too much focus on the past means the present isn't what it should be, right?

I'm confident my past baggage is factored into some of my current reality. McManus quips, "We're all like that. Jesus knew this. When others hurt us, it becomes a reflection on God. If we risk entering a community that claims access to God and we find ourselves betrayed in the process, it becomes the fastest way to become a practical atheist."

Whining again... I know.

Without the basic necessity of love and community, my effectiveness in ministry is limited. I'm not fully human. I’m not quite sure why this has been so hard. God, we’ve gotta fix all of this.

Thanks for showing me these things, God. Thanks for a few love prompters today. Thanks for the memories. Give me new ones. Forgive me when who you are, what you give, and what you want is blah, blah, blah to me. Maybe tomorrow when I smell the hint of a Marlboro, I’ll breathe deeply and somehow metaphorically suck in your love. Well that’s just crazy. Crazy like a smokin' church lady!

Tomorrow I start "Unchristian."

A No Post... Post

2008-06-08T09:28:00.000-07:00

June 8, 2008
Study Break

It's Sunday... no study break post today. Even God rested. I'm playing with my family all day today!

However, I am attaching a graphic that I've been working on. If you're reading this, would you please send a comment on what you think? This would be very helpful.

Double click on the graphic so you can really see it. What do you think the graphic is trying to communicate? What does it mean? What is confusing? What makes sense? What do you like? What don't you like?

Thanks.

See you tomorrow.
- alan

Missing: Goslings and Boom Boxes

2008-06-07T20:49:00.000-07:00

June 7, 2008
Study Break

This morning, in the blurry after wake and hangover from midnight breakfast, Henry Blackaby’s June 7th entry challenged me to pray in an obviously extended way. I will reap what I sow in my own personal prayer life. I decided at the end of my morning reading, I would go for a long walk and talk… and listen to… my Creator.

Acts 12 became a source of great, personal prayer encouragement I have needed. I have friends who pray once with great faith, and believe what was communicated through prayer would be done. Amen! It IS done. I’m always in awe an amazed at my spiritually confident friends. In fact, often times I get extremely inquisitive of my faith-certain friends and how they can teach and help me with my sorely lacking attempts.

When I pray, I tend to doubt. I’m not sure I’m supposed to do this, but my human tendencies seem to overpower my spiritual deficiencies --- producing sincere prayers sincerely laced with doubt.

In Acts 12, Peter is in prison. I’m confident he was probably praying to get out, but fell asleep. If you think God will open up the jail doors as a result of prayer, do you fall asleep out of assurance or because of a little “not sure it’s gonna happen” doubt? What makes the whole story more intriguingly steeped in doubt is how other Christians were meeting to also pray for Peter’s release. God did spring the jail bird Peter. When Peter showed up at his friend’s house, the girl who opened the door freaked… and the other praying friends claimed the wide-eyed girl was nuts when she told them Peter was at their door!

I'm assuming they were praying sincerely for their friend Peter's release, but those prayers were sincerely laced with doubt. Wonderful doubt. Their story was my story. The Kingdom does work for a screw up like me. I still want to pray, “God help my unbelief,” but it felt better to know BIBLICALLY I can still pray effectively with the onslaught of inevitable doubt. My prayers can still be heard. They can still work.

Another few chapters of McManus’ “Soul Cravings proved to be very beneficial for my prayer walk. McManus’ musings jolted memories of the recent goslings birthed at our place back in Georgia. Our two momma and poppa Canadian Geese had blessed our ranch with five little, fuzzy look-a-likes. All the Scotts exuded parental joy as mom and pop goose nudged their five kids around our yard and back into the lake. After a few days, mom and pop goose were trekking around our lawn with only two small geesers (not a word, but I like it). We rightfully assumed a hawk, raccoon, or crow probably was controlling the burgeoning goose population. We continued on, un-phased, with the remaining members of our guest Canadian family. Without notice, mom and pop were alone… again… naturally. All geese children were gone. Killed. A tasty lunch for a wild carnivore. Oh well… Again, my lackadaisical attitude dismissed it all because mother nature can be so obviously cruel. Life goes on, right? My pulse was uninterrupted.

How does my heart beat for people? Lost people? Like it did for missing goslings? Eternal destinies are decided each day… every hour…, am I bothered? The people I walk by on the beach… are they saved or lost? Is haphazardly walking by a living metaphor for how I really feel about others? How many will not be walking the planet one year from now? God’s pulse beats wildly for each and every soul. How much of my very heartbeat is affected and being transformed into his likeness?

With much to think about, I headed off for a long walk with God. It was good. I wrestled with my doubt. Somewhere along the way I gave permission for God to prompt and check my heartbeat for those around me. When I was done, I had a sense of never being so committed to ministry, the Church, leading, and teaching than I was in this moment. After 22 years of ministry highs and lows, I’m still committed to endure until God's finished with me. There are definite challenges the Church and our culture is facing, but I want to keep figuring it all out. I’m not content to ride weak sauce waves of yesterday’s success. I’m ready for 20+ more years of giving it my best. Now I’m sure, eventually, the emotional bottom will drop out of such a rededication… but revival and renewal does feel good right now. Thanks God.

A few other thoughts became nagging after spending the afternoon on the beach reading Dick Staub’s “The Culturally Savvy Christian.” For instance…

What’s missing on the beach today that was so prevalent 20 years ago? If you answer “modest swim suits and skinnier swimmers” you’d be right, but that’s not where I’m going with this. I glanced at my two teenage daughters to my left and right. They were with me, but simultaneously transported somewhere else. They both had their iPods on. I could say something to them like, “Hey… do you mind if I cut your allowance in half and raise the acceptable dating age to 23?” and they would never know. If Sherry hadn’t been there WITHOUT an iPod, I might have succumbed to such evil.

I took a quick scan of my sandy surroundings and my hunch was confirmed… boom boxes were missing. You remember boom boxes, don’t you? Carried on your shoulder like a bag of cement, these technological boat anchors used about 25 “D” batteries and could be turned up to eleven --- but began distorting at about three. Remember?

The sound of radio stations blaring and competing for dominance between rock and country had disappeared from the beach. A quieter… less engaging… beach had emerged. Pop culture had affected the way we relate with each other. It shut us up and turned us decidedly inward.

Check out a few direct and compelling quotes from Dick Staub: (WARNING: Danger Ahead!)

“Technology connects us like never before, but it also isolates us when we choose to be absorbed in entertainment or to interact with people who are not in our physical presence rather than those who are. A child listens to an iPod on the way to soccer practice while mom or dad drives and talks on the cell phone. Families sit passively in front of a TV instead of talking with each other.”

“The thoughtful person knows that superficial pop culture is the cultural equivalent of junk food; it looks, feels, and tastes good but is often utterly lacking in nutrients. Sorokin argued that sensate cultures eventually collapse because humans are designed for intellectual stimulation, not just sensory manipulation. What are the implications of being commanded to love God with our mind in a mindless entertainment age?”

“Profit motives drive marketers to create and exploit youth markets in particular because of youth’s disposable income. It doesn’t take a genius to see the devastating consequences of transforming teens from creative producers to consumers.”

“Humans are called to produce, not just consume. When the mall becomes the center of social life, and young and old alike regulate their emotions through purchasing new stuff, we are looking at serious signs of dehumanization.”

“Sociologist Christian Smith concludes that America now practices a shared religion that he calls “moralistic therapeutic deism,” in which people are promised that therapeutic benefits, such as a happy life, can be achieved through good, moral, kind, nice, pleasant behavior. Teens believe in an uninvolved, undemanding God who is watching everything from above and is drawn into their lives rarely and only if necessary. In such a world, religion is inclusive yet peripheral, beliefs are held inarticulately and loosely, and each individual is the arbiter of what is true for them; there is no right answer. “Who am I to judge?” they might ask.”

“In an episode of “The Simpsons,” Bart asks his father, Homer, what his religious beliefs are. Homer replies, “You know, the one with all the well-meaning rules that don’t work in real life. Uh, Christianity.”

“Unfortunately, it seems that in stylistically mirroring popular culture, evangelicalism was becoming increasingly like popular culture. A large segment of evangelicalism evolved into what might be called “pop Christianity,” characterized by the broader culture’s breezy superficiality and anti-intellectualism; it too was becoming a celebrity culture sustained by marketing and technology.”

“Bonhoeffer had said, “We have gathered like eagles around the carcass of cheap grace, and there we have drunk of the poison, which has killed the life of following Christ. But do we realize that this cheap grace has turned back upon us like a boomerang? The price we pay today in the shape of the collapse of the organized church is only the inevitable consequence of our policy of making grace available to all at too low a cost.”

“By almost every measurement, in the evangelical quest for cultural relevance, it appears that the influence of culture on evangelicals has been far greater than evangelicals’ influence on culture.”

“We are witnessing the marketing of a Christianity-Lite that produces conversions instead of disciples. Dallas Willard reminds us of something anyone who reads the New Testament knows, Jesus never called anyone to be a Christian; he only called people to be disciples… Today’s consumer-oriented, commoditized Christianity offers heaven in the future and fulfillment of the American dream now.”

“Our apparent success has been accomplished by conforming to American culture rather than transforming it, point out, as Alan Wolfe observed, that instead of theological, it is therapeutic; instead of intellectual, it is emotional and revivalist; instead of emphasizing a serving community, it is consumeristic and individualistic; instead of producing spiritual growth and depth, it is satisfied with entrepreneurialism and numeric growth. Instead of being a moral and spiritual beacon, evangelicalism is viewed as an important political and economic niche.”

“New York Times columnist, Walter Kim puts the final nail in the proverbial coffin: “Christianity doesn’t compete with pop culture. It is pop culture.”

A View From The First Floor

2008-06-06T18:24:00.000-07:00

June 6, 2008
Study Break

Look closely at the attached blog pix. What do you see? Are you able to use the zoom button on your computer to get even closer to the details? Are you struggling with beach envy because of those gorgeous palm trees? Can you see the romance of the Atlantic in the far distance? Notice the crisp blue sky and the absence of white caps riding the surface of the water (okay... the sky is a washed-out white because I'm a horrible photographer)? All of this means there is a perfect, only slight breeze that enables a great beach day to unfold. See the bars up close? Those are what I peer through in the early morning when I sit on our first floor balcony to read out of Acts, Blackaby, and McManus. With a slice of peanut butter and honey toast, a large cup of coffee with some hazelnut creamer, and a deep sense of listening to the Creator of it all… I taste and see that He is good to get my study break work underway. Not a bad gig if you can get it.

Look at the picture one more time. Do you see the sad, lonely, empty car spaces? This morning, our condo neighbors to our left wrapped up their time away and headed back to reality. It’s always hard leaving the beach. I could see and feel their pain. Soon we will be leaving our study break paradise, but I don’t want to dwell on that grief just yet. God is still dealing with me on so many levels.

Just before our Ohio-bound fellow beach bums loaded up, they walked over a few Arbys coupons for us to enjoy. Apparently they picked up these valuable, local gems the night before, but now their treasure was becoming worthless as they ventured back to their land locked kingdom once again. Accepting these coupons was really my only interaction with these people heralded from my home state, and yet they left me a unique blessing of roast beef on a bun. That was pretty cool. I said, “Thank you,” and within minutes stared at the empty parking spaces. The spaces seemed to stare back at me with a bit of regret. Coupon yielding vacationers had made an impact on me, but had I on them?

As Blackaby pushed me to think about “what kind of life I ought to be living,” and McManus took shots at thinking about a God who loves enough to pursue… I doubted whether anything I am (or am learning) significantly impacted my brief and limited friendship with a couple families from Ohio. Should I have made an impact? Is it ever OK not to? If I’ve grasped a good Biblical worldview, and validated it by the way I live (or ought to live), can I help but make an impact? Is it me that really makes an impact, or merely God using me as I simply live out my Biblical worldview? I think you and I really do know the answer to this last question.

So … let me begin writing my personal, Biblical worldview. That is, after I divert my attention to my family for a bit. They want to go see the new box office Indiana Jones smash-hit movie. OK. Great! I can go for this. Maybe it will even help me somehow. Why separate the spiritual from the secular? Jesus didn’t. In fact, Rob bell recently taught how Jesus would have given but a cursory raised eyebrow with the term “spiritual life.” All of life was spiritual for the Christ. With that… all was properly justified and rationalized, and it was off to the movies.

Towards the beginning of the movie, Indiana Jones gets fired from his college teaching job. In this latest cinematic effort, Indiana is being overtly portrayed as an aging professor whose past seems brighter than his graying future. A college colleague poignantly bemoans, “We’ve reached the age where life stops giving, and starts taking away.”

And there you have it. Most of our lives, especially under the banner of Christianity, are spent trying to receive and take in as much as humanly possible. I’ve been taught and raised well, but if I’m honest, most of my Godness centered on blessings, answered prayers, and fulfilling my fullest potential. I would dare guess that 90% of touted books in a Christian bookstore follow such individualistic themes --- which makes the sign “Christian Bookstore” somewhat of a flashing neon oxymoron.

With this sort of me-prototype, it doesn’t significantly matter how good my Biblical worldview really is. Such a perspective is rarely shared, lived-out, or world impacting. It’s personal, private, between me and God… and most often hidden from a longing world.

What if I can succinctly state my worldview, and then live it out in ways that point to God and others more than to myself? What if whole families did this? Churches? Now we’re onto something. Would strangers from Ohio be impacted? Here goes my attempt…

My Biblical Worldview

By Alan Scott (age 48)
June 6, 2008
(first draft of an organic document)

God, as the ultimate creator, brought life and creation into being, and remained a vitally attached, interested entity. He is a hands-on God. His creative and meticulous design reflects character, goodness, and his unending pursuit of the humanity he loves. Science, then, becomes a great way for us to appreciate God’s design and therefore his character and love. As an active part of creation, God speaks and reveals himself through history, special words, his presence (best seen through His Son coming to earth), and the Bible. My character should reflect God’s. I was made in his image, and therefore should increase in things like goodness, greatness (Biblically defined as serving), and creativity. My becoming is a direct result and reflection of who God is. God created out of a keen sense of creativity and purpose. He wanted to love unconditionally and be loved, and gave us an unbelievably designed world to live in --- which points to Him and his relentless love. My purpose is to give God his due respect, honor, worship, service, and love. My purpose, in short form, is to love and obey a God who personally pursues me. My desire to love God is not to earn his love in return, but rather recognize and celebrate that he loved me first in ways I cannot comprehend this side of heaven. While God is constantly pursuing me, there are other evil forces doing the same. There is a very real battle over my soul. God has already won this battle through Jesus, the cross and my accepted gift of grace, but the fight wages on. This means that there are no coincidences. God is sovereign and Satan tries to derail that very sovereignty. Every incident in life is related back to the grand scheme (and battle) that is unfolding 24/7. Understanding my purpose in all of this helps me wrestle with priorities and keep, as best I can, Jesus at the center of my life. Prayer and Bible application become vital tools. I realize everything I have is actually given to me by an extremely loving God. Therefore, I must be a giver and not a taker. I must evaluate my motivations for everything I do. All is spiritual. God is the God of the universe who holds the keys to heaven and hell. He is the anxious and ready Rewarder of eternal life NOW and in heaven after living an obedient and grace-accepted life on earth. God’s great love also allows people to choose to walk away, and thus a reality of hell becomes another demonstration of love. This fact keeps my awareness of sin and it’s devastating effects very real in my life. My heart for others and their eternal destinies becomes enlarged as well. As I live this worldview out, I recognize many spiritual authorities. There are those who help me like angels, the Holy Spirit, and the Living Word. There are those like Satan and demons who try to derail my relationship with Jesus. I’m in a spiritual battle, so the stakes, players, and their positions become extremely motivating. My worldview is based on the authority of the Bible, which is the source for absolute truth. Every decision I make is either validated or convicted by God’s truth. I obey His truth because of love… His love for me, and mine for Him. This Biblical worldview, I would hope, will affect all areas of my life (habits, time, character, fruit), as I refuse to segregate secular from sacred. All of life is spiritual, and points back to God the Creator.

Now… what if all of THAT was lived and not merely written? Whoa…
What if this didn’t become a rule but remained a life tool? What if it wasn’t so much about my theology or application of doctrine, but was rather my unique life goal or mission statement which organically breathed and was shared on a daily basis?

What would your Biblical worldview state… but better still… how would it be lived out?

It makes me wish I could have another shot at those Ohio freakazoids!

Tonight is midnight breakfast. This is an annual Scott, study break tradition. There's a Grand Slam out there with my name on it. Better still, there are memories to be made that I'm banking will last beyond my life time.

I Want To Be A TV Evangelist

2008-06-05T23:58:00.000-07:00

June 5, 2008
Study Break

Brooklynn DID get up with me this morning to run. It was a gorgeous sunrise. She ran really well and long… until she stopped. This wasn’t for a mere breather. She wasn’t feeling good. She plopped down on the sand like a wet towel, and it wasn’t a particularly proud moment for Brooklynn as she just laid there in the soggy sand. I immediately started preparing my parental psyche for some classic beach throw up. There’s nothing worse… but the clean up is as easy as the rising tide. I was really hoping she wasn’t going to lose her Cheerios. How would I explain my flawed fathering techniques to a inquisitive wife? Brooklynn finally came around, and we decided to walk our way to the pier. We made it, so I took Brooklynn to my providential boardwalk at the state park. I blundered on about the sights, smells, and my partiality of it all. I told her glory stories of youth group trips long ago that ended up at this same exact spot. She listened --- really listened. We stopped, sat, and both listened to a worship song on our iPods while soaking in the sun and ocean. This was a very good morning talking and walking with my almost 17-year-old daughter. She’ll be a junior this fall. I couldn’t help but wonder how many more of these special study break walks the future would hold.

After a little Henry Blackaby and Erwin McManus warm up, I did some diving into Acts 9. It’s so interesting to follow people like Saul and Peter and try to discern the impact and development of their worldviews. It makes for some good thought provoking. I love it when my thoughts are easily provoked and challenged by scripture. With a hurried omelet, another power smoothie, and an overdue shower, I headed back to the beach to finish “A Contrarian’s Guide To Knowing God.” I was anxious to do so.

Somewhere between chapter 13, “Best Practices Overload” and chapter 14, “Gift Projection,” I made a huge honkin’ decision. I going to become a high-powered TV evangelist. Yep, and I’m picking up a little southern drawl (or maybe British) just to help pave the way.

I want widely-broadcasted communication skills. I want a charisma and zeal to erase all doubt about my spirituality. I want white-hot-spotlight gifts that can heal, predict, and amaze people with how the Holy Spirit pulses through my veins. I want to have all the answers for church leaders and members at the flick of the remote. I’m tired of not measuring up to spiritual expectations. I want to have big hair and a bank of phones for people to call when my “on air” light is lit. Why do I want it all? Larry Osborne (“A Contrarian’s Guide”) answers: “I realized that most of my motivation to emulate all the strengths and traits I admired in others didn’t come from listening to the voice of God. It came form trying to please friends and mentors who all assumed that their calling must be my calling. God’s calling comes from God not from everyone who claims to love us and have a wonderful plan for our life. God-pleasing spirituality is found in pleasing Him --- not everyone else.”

It’s such a trap for pastors… for me… to try and please everyone else. To prove my zeal, my love, my power, my quotient of Holy Spirit, and my worth… I can easily take on all the best practices admired or pushed, but miss my unique calling to teach and lead.

Larry Osborne’s “A Contrarian’s Guide To Knowing God” is a exceptional book. It’s very challenging and paradigm threatening. I like that. I think all our small groups should study and read through this book --- especially groups with new believers or the almost convinced. It would be good for such people to avoid the dark baggage most crusty, rusty, dusty Christians unfortunately carry.

I love Osborne’s questioning of accountability groups and our idea of putting God first. His candor on how we make spiritual tools into rules is great. This paragraph caught me: “When family devotions bored my kids, we put it (and them) to bed. Better to have a few friends think I’m a terrible father for not reading the Bible to my children than to have them grow up thinking of God as terminally boring.” Wow. How honest is that?

Immediately my boxy parenting and Christianity began to inquire, “We’ll what’s the alternative to family devotions… MR. SMARTY OSBORNE?” And then beautifully and quite embarrassingly I answered my own snotty question: “Maybe the Osborne’s talk about God and scripture in real time. Maybe, ALAN RAY, they simply live it out with their Biblical worldview!”

Oh.

I didn’t write my flowing, story-feeling, Biblical worldview today. Perhaps I’ll find time to do this tomorrow. I want to do this. If not tomorrow, then it will become my weekend project. Sounds like I’m putting it off. I think it’s still bubbling up and percolating.

I’ve been a bit tired today. It’s a good tired though.
I fried up some green tomatoes for supper tonight. In attempting to get this task done, I called a couple guys back in Atlanta for a few cooking tips on fried green tomatoes. One guy called me back and said, “Just because we’re southerners doesn’t mean frying green tomatoes is bred into us!” After we ate, the family watched “Enchanted." Nice flick to watch with the kids. It was a good diversion and needed break. Thanks, God, for the day. Thanks for teaching me. Thanks for loving me... an obvious contrarian.

Tomorrow I start reading “The Culturally Savvy Christian” by Dick Staub. It looks good.

Comparing Brooklynn and Lauren

2008-06-04T23:43:00.000-07:00

June 4, 2008
Study Break

My two teenage daughters seem to have way more differences than shared similarities. They do, however, share a common relationship with me... their incredible father. Brooklynn loves reading and school work. Lauren likes funky hair and cooking. Brooklynn is taking vocal lessons; Lauren gets instruction on the violin. Brooklynn is book smart while Lauren has some definite street savvy. Brooklynn couldn’t get her seat belt figured out so Lauren buckled it. Lauren needed help spelling a word. Brooklynn blurted out the correct spelling and even muttered the definition under her breath. Brooklynn likes to lay out in the sun. Lauren goes plunging headfirst into the crashing waves.

Both of these wonderful pieces of work have one significant thing in common. They share a relationship with me… their incredible father. Oh, there are a few other commonalities the girls share… like various house rules. Allowances actually are attached to some level of work. There will be no car dates until 17, and family meals are non-negotiable. Still it seems the wonderful differences far outweigh the parallels. Because of this, how I approach my relationship with each girl is as unique as their hair styles. To connect with Brooklynn, usually some sort of mental stimulation or music pop quiz can work. To have some memorable quality time with Lauren, a bit of out-of-the-norm challenge and daring goes a long way.

Wouldn’t it be a horrific thing to force, pressure, teach, or even suggest they both have to do the same rigid things to build their relationship with me? What an awful thought. I’m sure they would quickly go the route of most stereotypical pastor kids. Ahhhhrgh!

Larry Osborne, in his book “A Contrarians Guide To Knowing God,” beguiles popular church speak when it comes to championing a personal relationship with Jesus compared to the stale wine of religion. If, as Osborne suggests, we really do have personal, individual relationships with Jesus, than why do we force, pressure, teach, and suggest people follow the same rigid paths to foster that relationship? Sure we all have some of the same house rules, but doesn’t our incredible heavenly Father recognize individuality and unique paths in relating to Him? Does the Church get this? Do I?

Osborne writes, “Our one-size-fits-all discipleship and spirituality recipes have to go. We must recognize them for what they are --- mere religion in the guise of relationship.” Wow.

From a safe and anonymous distance, I watched a couple walk hand-in-hand into the ocean waters this afternoon. Sometimes you can just tell when a young, romantic couple wants to venture off into deep waters and hold each other beneath the water's veil. There’s something about romance with salt water and stinging jelly fish that really brings couples together. This particular couple was funny to watch. The man with the obviously alluring cowboy hat burst through the pummeling waves with no problem. He was holding (more like dragging) the hand of his vacation love… anxious for her to make it into deeper, calmer waters with him. She tried to keep her dignity and swimsuit in place as the cruelty of God’s marvelous creation did unspeakable things to her hair and formerly-perfect posture. They both finally made it to deeper waters, but they had completely different ways, styles, and approaches of getting there. They both made it, and I guess that’s all that matters. Right? By the way… once the young female catch finally did meet up with her hero cowboy, she was so exhausted and spent that she made a fairly quick exit back to her towel where she sat defiantly with a bit of an attitude. (I just love to watch people!)

In “A Contrarian’s Guide To Knowing God.” Larry Osborne says, “The most important thing in pleasing God is not a particular approach to spirituality or style of ministry; it’s the fruit that matters. Could the patterns, disciplines, and paths of spirituality we hold so dear be far less important than the fruit they produce? This should forever put to bed our attempts to create a one-size-fits-all spirituality. It should silence much of our criticism of one another. And if properly understood, it should lead to a genuine celebration of our diversity and calling in our expressions of faith.”

This is a really interesting read. In keeping with my study break goal of reading half a book every day, “A Contrarian’s Guide” had me highlighting and reading with fun anticipation. In trying to wrestle with how to foster bona fide relationships with God, Osborne makes several against-the-grain comments. For instance: “So why do we place such a great emphasis on sequential steps and an orderly progression in our discipleship programs and models? I believe its primarily because linear models and programs are much easier to design and administrate (as opposed to helping unique individuals).”

One of Osborne’s answers is small groups (Joe has to read this book). However, Osborne’s view of small groups is refreshingly honest and different than most churches. He writes, “The primary reason to be in a small group setting is not to learn more biblical information. It’s not to develop great friends. It’s not even accountability. It’s connectedness. Belonging to a small group, small church, or any other form of close and transparent relationships velcroes me to the people and information I’ll need when a need-to-grow or need-to-know crisis shows up (assuming that most traditional church classes or discipleship models don’t accomplish this).

I’m anxious to read the rest of this book tomorrow…

One other thought, and then I’ve got to get to bed. God doesn’t seem to be letting me go on the whole Biblical worldview thing. Blackaby challenged me today with the condition of my soil or heart. Am I open to a new word the Lord may have for me? I had to stop and sit on the boardwalk and formally give permission for my soil to be cultivated.

I’m going to write my Biblical worldview in story form tomorrow. I think this is important. God has something here for me. Something new. I think putting my Biblical worldview down in a flowing, written style will help move a concept into motivation and lifestyle. I’m going to give it a try.

It’s incredibly convicting to note that in Acts 9, Saul categorically had a religious worldview, but missed the God of the Bible. With his worldview, Jesus spoke and Saul answered, “Who are you?” Ananias (Acts 9:10) also had a worldview. When Jesus spoke, he answered, “Yes, Lord?” What a difference.

How does my worldview help me or hinder me to hear and answer Jesus?

Saul had a religious worldview which Jesus said was persecuting the church and Jesus himself. I had to take this personally. Have I hurt the church with my worldview? For years my worldview just wanted to save people, and then my job was done. Perhaps it was a little myopic. But doesn’t a Biblical worldview go beyond Jesus as Savior to Jesus as Lord? A Biblical worldview is God lived out 24/7 in ways that reflect God’s character, creativity, and authority. Isn’t that what a church and a pastor should be centered on? I’m certainly not negating creativity, relevance, or effective methodologies, but I’m convinced way more can be taught and applied than most churches (or I) have accomplished in the past. Somehow... someway... the Church, in order to really make a difference, has got to start being different than our counterparts in world.

A Biblical worldview…I’m going to work on this a bit more tomorrow.

Time for bed. Brooklynn wants to get up and run with me. She’s not a runner, nor a big morning person. Lauren on the other hand… But wait, I don’t want to box them in. Being the incredible father that I am, I want to develop our relationships with whatever unique ways are required. So… let’s see what unfolds in the morning. I’ll let you know.

God thanks for a good day. I’m reminded how important it is to read. These times of super-charged reading and learning are so life-giving. My time spent with You, I hope, will be life changing.

Under the boardwalk... Down by the sea filled with sharks

2008-06-03T23:01:00.000-07:00

June 3, 2008
Study Break

Lauren, my delightfully funky thirteen-year-old, wanted to go running with me this morning. I was a bit skeptical, but excited that she might suddenly gain the disciplines and benefits of long distance running. We walked out to the beach, did some serious stretching, and then took off for my distant pier. I dutifully explained how the northern fishing pier was my visible goal. I wouldn’t quit until I got there.

We ran for about 3 minutes and Lauren needed to stop. We walked for another few minutes, and then took off again. We stopped approximately 3 minutes later. I tried hard not to reflect frustration as this wasn’t my usual running routine, but had instead decided to encourage my young daughter's running aspirations. We went into another jog. Three minutes later… you guessed it… we stopped and Lauren said, "I think I'm going to walk back to the condo." "Are you sure?" I cautiously asked. "We can make it. We'll just take our time. You've gotta try," I chided. Nothing doing. Lauren walked back to where the rest of the sleeping Scotts lay unbothered by sweat, pain, and weird distant goals.

I managed to reclaim my usual morning run, but a nagging thought hit me as sweat started to sting my eyes... "Why didn't I just walk to the pier with Lauren and spend some good beach relational time with a daughter I’m crazy about?” I turned around to see her short, skinny frame, but she was out of sight and probably back in bed.

My early morning routine this year seems to be running two miles to the pier, taking a walk through Myrtle Beach State Park, and then running two miles back to the condo. It’s a bit further route than in years past, but I think it’s a good niche to get into for a couple weeks.

When I exit the beach to take an introspective stroll through the state park, I wind up walking on an extended, winding, calming boardwalk. I love the smell of newer wood the boardwalk was boasting. The sea oats off to one side and the wild flowers on the other gave intriguing aromas to mix with the intoxicating sea breeze so many poets and musicians have drawn from. I could hear the distinctiveness of each step I took on the board walk. It almost sounded as if there was someone else walking with me. Indeed there was. Jesus seemed to be prodding me with, “Now this is nice. I just wanted to walk with you. What you should have done with your daughter, I want to do with you.” Ouch…

As I slowed my pace on the boardwalk, I let my thoughts go adrift (or maybe be guided). What if all the streets in heaven weren’t made of gold? After all, gold streets would require a lot of maintenance, and I’m quite certain would smell of Super Walmart gold cleaner. What if there were streets in Zion that weren’t streets at all… but rather boardwalks. What if heavenly streets weren’t so much about the quality and kind of pavement, but rather quality of experience… and smells, and emotions, and who you get to walk with to make it all feel like home? McManus writes (“Soul Cravings”), “Home is ultimately not about a place to live but about the people with whom you are most fully alive. Home is about love, relationship, community, and belonging, and we are all searching for home. Sherry is anxious for both a home and home.

I’m finding myself still mulling over the whole Biblical worldview thing. I really like Barna’s book, “Think Like Jesus.” It is, however, more than just the ability to answer the 7 questions espoused in the book. It’s living them out in the small and large moments of life. It’s believing that Jesus talks and walks with you on a boardwalk. What kind of shape was my Biblical worldview in? How would I put my Biblical worldview into story form? Stephen did this in spectacular fashion in Acts chapter 7. His world view was evident in his story.

I finished George Barna’s “Think Like Jesus,” and I’ve slowly decided I really like this book. It came to me as a bit of a literary sleeper, but I think it SHOULD have profound impact on my own Biblical worldview… and that will undoubtedly affect my teaching and trying to help people with their Biblical worldviews. I’m also sure that if I’m not careful, the words “Biblical worldview” will get very tiresome for many if it’s not an authentic, transformational, and a culture-shaping paradigm shift.

Barna writes about putting Biblical worldviews into practice… “Realize that if you simply engage the culture but do not transcend it, you have become just another option for is consideration, failing to give it good reason to take the Christian alternative seriously. If you transcend the culture without truly engaging it in the process, you become a self-absorbed, arrogant, isolationist, abdicating key kingdom responsibilities and privileges in favor of personal enhancement.

Around 5 p.m., the beach umbrellas and chairs magically start disappearing as supper draws its beneficiaries home. Feeling my own hunger pains, I decided to draw my day of reading, thinking, praying, and just being to a close.

But wait… something in the waters began to stir. It’s why I love the ocean. There’s a never two days exactly alike! Two bald, tattooed, burly guys came barreling loudly out of the water’s fury yelling, “Shark!” I put everything down and went to check out the salty hubbub. With eyes as wide as a non-anesthetized dentist patient, these two manly men had barely survived a vicious attack and were now making their way down the beach to warn other unsuspecting shark bait bathers.

Family after family were bolting out of the water with shrieks of horror. Mom’s were grabbing kids. Dad’s were keeping watch for deflated and shredded rubber rafts. Dogs once barking were mysteriously gone. Just kidding. Actually someone finally identified the two brown, flat, just-beneath-the-surface creatures as a couple of sting rays. The gathering crowd promptly went from horror back to curious tourists. (Side note: After the sharks turned into sting rays, I had to laugh at how funny people’s faces were when they thought they were boogie boardin’ with death! I know, I know… I have a long way to go on living out my Biblical worldview towards others…)

What intrigued me was how fast a couple bald guys could influence an entire stretch of beach. With a few simple words, opinions, and quickly-expressed beliefs, immediate lifestyles were altered. Worldviews and oceanviews alike were quite easily influenced and changed.

How easily is my worldview changed? How many of culture’s popular worldviews have already invaded my thinking and life (naturalism, nihilism, existentialism, or postmodernism), and have become dangerous sharks circling to steal, kill, and destroy? I can only hope that tomorrow morning, back on the boardwalk, Jesus and I can keep working out my story… my practical and working Biblical worldview.

At Water's Edge

2008-06-02T23:14:00.001-07:00

June 2, 2008
Study Break

It was a cloudy and somewhat chilly beach morning, so I broke my hard slumber with an a.m. power smoothie. I'm not exactly sure what constitutes a power smoothie, but it does have a powerful ring to it, doesn't it? There's something about a plain smoothie that just doesn't communicate my real and proper place in the world. Riiight.

I took said smoothie and meandered outside to the balcony to begin my first morning of reading. I'm studying through the book of Acts, and was struck with the awesome onslaught of God's power visibly demonstrated in the first few chapters. In chapter 5, more power is on display as Ananias and Sapphira were decidedly struck down for lying to God, and the first century Jesus followers were struck with fear. God's hand was active with the supernatural and miraculous, and a complimentary, unmistakable, and healthy fear of God became a normal part of a disciple's life.

To what level do I fear God ... or take him for granted? What factors in my life detract from a healthy and Biblical fear of God? Good questions, but I was in my study break zone. Onto a little Henry Blackaby... Blackaby's June 2nd reading was entitled: "The Terror of the Lord." Hmmm... here we go again. Was this my focus for today? Have we lost a fear of God? Have I? "Knowing, therefore, the terror of the Lord, we persuade men; but we are well known to God and I also trust are well now in your consciences." (II Cor. 6:11)

Something was bugging me as I fastened on my iPod earbuds, and headed off for a run. How could the Lord be whispering to me as a friend just yesterday, and now throwing the concept of fear in my face? Erwin McManus only stirred the pot with musings about my extreme need for love in the first five chapters of “Soul Cravings.” However, it was a poignant line from "Experiencing God Day-By-Day" that helped push me down the beach: "We are God's adopted children... even friends with Jesus, but we are not His equals. He is God and we are not!"

Fear and friendship. Can they coexist? I pondered and sweated along to The Afters tune of "Beautiful Love." Two miles down to the pier, and I took a break. A diversion walk through the Myrtle Beach state park, I hoped, would clear some of the fear and fog.

It was around camping site 184 when thoughts of an old friend popped into my head. A few years ago I had a good friend whom I enjoyed hanging out with. This guy was a big dog business leader. In fact, he mentored, counseled, and consulted with major, Fortune-500 corporations around the world. In the process of our grabbing some early-morning breakfasts, taking in a few football games, and getting our families together, I was being mentored, counseled, and consulted with as well.

While my big dog business friend and I were enjoying a solid friendship, I distinctively remember a healthy fear being put into place. When it came to leadership and management insights, this guy was just flat out scary. I learned to simply nod and bite my tongue when Curt would ask his unique brand of rhetorical, confidence-melting questions. We enjoyed a budding friendship, but in terms of leadership expertise... a sense of fear on my part became necessary for sanity and survival. Friendship and fear were coexisting.

Jesus calls me a friend, AND the Bible says the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. Friendship and fear together. Fear of God, according to the Bible, is attached to nothing less than life itself. Have we let go of life? George Barna seemed to know the answer with his shocking data in "Think Like Jesus." 91% of born-again adults do not have a Biblical worldview (98% for teens). There is no spiritual cause and effect because there is no Biblical worldview. Is it any wonder the American Church has lost it's influence in society? So few of us actually think like Jesus. Could this be symptomatic of a fear-lacking epidemic which effectively blocks our wisdom to think like Jesus? (Biblical worldview)

Barna writes, "It seems that Christians are more affected by society than society is affected by Christians. Why is that? Perhaps because more than nine out of every ten born-again Christians fail to think like Jesus; they think like the rest of the world, so they naturally behave like the citizens of this world, too."

As of 5 p.m., I had made my way through half of "Think Like Jesus." Forming a Biblical worldview, according to Barna, necessitates answers to the following 7 questions:
1. Does God Exist?
2. What is the character and nature of God?
3. How and why was he world created?
4. What is the nature and purpose of humanity?
5. What happens after we die on earth?
6. What spiritual authorities exist?
7. What is truth?

Yikes ...just a few tiny questions to wrestle with! I do like these questions though. I can see how authentic, lived-out answers could influence your lifestyle (a Biblical worldview), and bring friendship, fear, and God all into an eternal alignment.

After lunch, my short-legged beach chair was sinking deep into the hot South Carolina sand. I watched my son and wondered... "Do I only play at water's edge?"

My six-year-old son, Michael, will kick at the ocean, yell at it, run along the edges, but he doesn't seem interested about going in. I don't blame him. That's one big swimming pool, and it's full of blonde-haired-boy-eating sharks! I still can't wait for Michael, however, to experience the jolt of a crashing wave, body surfing, jellyfish dodging, and wiping stinging salt water from his eyes. As I watched Michael flirt on the edge of God’s awesomeness, I wanted him to actually experience HIM and get in. Instead, he was content with playin’ at water’s edge.

How often do I settle for only needing God as a Savior and not as Lord (with an incomplete Biblical worldview)? Am I content with playin’ at water’s edge? There’s so much more for me to experience, but it all starts with a Godly fear that can supernaturally coexist within a grandiose friendship.

So much was running through my mind, and I began to feel an irrepressible, pastoral need to sort it all out verbally. My compliant family became my captive audience around the dinner table. Somewhere after a sneaky, “Pass the salad,” I tried to explain the importance of a Biblical worldview. I think I was a bit preachy. I got mostly blank stares… especially from my red-headed nine-year-old. My point was made, I think, as we worked on our study break scripture memory, talked about God, and prayed. Somewhere just before we cleared the table, I think maybe… miraculously… there was a merging of our friendships with God to a motivating and healthy fear of Him. Thanks God. I always appreciate it when you pull some things together.

Beach Church

2008-06-01T22:35:00.000-07:00

June 1, 2008
Study Break

After rolling into South Carolina last night, I rolled out of bed at about 7:30 this morning and hit the beach for a run. It was a couple miles down to the nearest pier. Not even one lonely cloud was marring the spectacular blue sky I ran beneath. The warm sun began to smile on my face and transform my pale, winter-stained legs. Good thing there weren't too many others out on the beach. Like a Green Tea Frappacino boldly ordered at a NASCAR race, I was creating a few stares from the glare!

It's an amazing thing to experience the warming love of a heavenly Father in specially created moments. That's precisely what I felt on this run. I wasn't a pastor getting psyched-up for another Sunday morning. I wasn't a servant working feverishly to please my task master. I was a son... a child... a friend of an awe-inspiring creation's Creator.

I could hear the whispers of an Almighty friend saying, "Listen. I want to speak to you. Let's reconnect. Let's run together." Does this sound wierd? Was it all just an emotional sidebar that sand, ocean, and sky are fairly good at manufacturing with just about anyone? Maybe... according to Dr. Phil or Oprah, but I am choosing to believe the SON was smiling down on me. I'm confident He was calling me "friend" all day today. I wondered why the message of "friend" felt so strong and deep? Had I been on task mode and in my leadership gears so dangerously long that I had skimmed over my relationship with Jesus? Had I spent too much time praying and bldindly working for God to move, that I had actually missed God?

After making my way back to the condo, I found the Scott clan making breakfast, getting ready for church... and some still desperately denying the onslaught of 9 a.m. This was a rare morning for a pastor to make his family banana-strawberry smoothies, wake up slumbering kids slowly, and all walk out the door at the same time --- on a Sunday morning!

We made our way back to Myrtle Beach Community Church. This is our favorite church to visit while we are on study break. I feel like we've watched this church struggle, transform, and grow over the many years we've been coming here. MBCC used to be a very strict, Willow Creek model of a church. It was one-hour long, with usually a drama, just a couple, short worship songs, and a topical message. For years we watched this struggling church try to replicate the Chicago-based Willow Creek in South Carolina. We saw the founding pastor come and go. We saw staff people leave. We saw the theater-style building and desperate parking lot beg for people to come. Most of the time it was to no visible avail. However, in the past 2-3 years, something different has been taking shape. A new pastor from California has come in with a whole new vision. Instead of Myrtle Beach Community Church, a large sign outside simply says "Beach Church." I like that. Today the parking lot was full for the second, 11:15 service (did I mention the kids sleeping in?). Over 1,200 people are coming in and out the doors. Things were quite a bit different on the inside as well. The service was about an hour and twenty minutes long. There was extended worship. I had never seen as many hands raised in this church than on this morning. Creatively, they featured a creative scripture reading and some video clips. It almost seemed as if the people of Beach Church went running this morning too, and were hungry to corporately meet up with their Friend... Jesus.

I did make it back to the beach for a little family time, Sunday afternoon nap, and a bit of reading. Henry Blackaby's (Experiencing God Day-By-Day) entry for this first day of June focused on our friendship with Jesus. Wierd, huh? Blackaby expounded on John 15:15... "No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things tha tI have heard from MY Father I have made known to you."

And then... just to drive a daily theme's nail right into my heart, I finished reading the last two chapters of "The Gospel According To Starbucks" by Leonard Sweet. Sweet reflects on Jesus' final words before he makes his way to Calvary. "Jesus final directive is not a work assignment: "Serve." Jesus' final directive is a renaming embrace: "Friends." Think of it: the Savior of the world wants me not to be his servant but to be his friend, even his child."

Message recieved loud and clear... and it's a good one. I'm anxious to get started on this study break, and spend more time with my Friend. I will fully dive in with the sun's rising tomorrow morning. My book list includes:
"Soul Cravings" by Erwin McManus
"Unchristian" by David Kinnaman
"The Culurally Savvy Christian" by Dick Staub
"Contrarians's Guide To Knowing God" by Larry Osborne
"The Creative Leader" by Ed Young

And I will start with...
"Think Like Jesus" by George Barna
Looking forward to more themes and messages. God never let's me down on study break. Thanks to everyone at Cumberland for making this study break possible.

2008-04-26T09:29:00.000-07:00

Photographs And Glory

April 26, 2008

Yesterday I took pictures of my two oldest daughters, Brooklynn and Lauren. We have been home schooling them this year. Since we just got the official public school pictures of our two youngest, Morgan and Michael, we decided to take our own home school pictures of our teens. This task landed squarely on my capable (and cheap) shoulders.

I’m no photographer, but I think these pictures turned out fairly well. With a digital camera, you can take as many shots as required to get what you want. I think I took around 200 poses to finally get the final four that we all liked. That’s a bunch of photos. Mind you, I have beautiful daughters, so maybe the insinuated indictment is more for the camera operator than it’s subjects.

These photos will be great memories of a year working hard from home, working with mom, and experiencing a taste of what home schooling is all about. These pictures will help create a great scrapbook. These digital snapshots will forever recall a unique time in the life of our family and our two oldest girls.

However, there’s nothing really like the real thing. Oh sure, my photography prowess abounds with astounding brilliance, but the living presence of my girls is what’s really spectacular. A great photo is cool, but just hang out with my kids and you’ll know why a photograph will always rate as second best. There’s really nothing like being in the presence of my kids.

I’ve been reading in I Kings lately. There’s some interesting ideas attached to an aging King David, and to Solomon. I’m gleaning some cool thoughts, and I’m taking notes on things I need to dig deeper into. For instance in chapter six, why wouldn’t Solomon use hammers or chisels at the construction site of the temple? What’s going on here that I need to uncover? Someone recently told me that great Biblical insights occur when you dig deeper into the verses that raise questions or aren’t making much sense. I’ve got to figure this one out.

As I read through chapters six and seven, the Bible goes into great detail concerning the architecture of the temple. I found myself skimming. Have you ever done that? You skim when you are reading something deemed trivial. You skim when you are reading, but you really want to get to the good part. Like a kid hurriedly swallowing a bite of green spinach because chocolate pudding is waiting, I think I got to the good part. In chapter eight of I Kings, the temple is finally finished and properly dedicated. In a moment that must have been nothing short of Grand-Canyon-like amazing, God’s presence fills the temple. Smoke was everywhere. A cloud was so thick the priests couldn’t even see their own religious robes. The glory of the Lord filled the temple. This is where the Lord would dwell and hang out.

That must have been a very satisfying moment for Solomon. After all those details, all the costs, all the headaches, and all the years (seven to be exact) of preparation, God was there. Not a photograph of Yahweh, but the real thing. There’s nothing like being in the presence of my God.

Suddenly the details I had skimmed in chapters six and seven of I Kings began making sense. The cedar walls, the carvings of pomegranates, the gold overlay, the olive wood doors, cedar-plank roofs, and other tedious specifics all began to become necessary review instead of relegated skim. The hard work was meticulously carried out because the end goal was the presence of God. The temple was outlandish, but the living presence of a living God is what’s really spectacular. The hard work became worth it.

Growing up, I can vividly remember a picture of Jesus hanging in the main lobby of our church. For 18 years I stared at this photo. A brownish tinted picture of a demure Jesus with the back lighting of a faint halo is something you don’t easily forget. It was a great photograph, but did my childhood church have the presence of God? I think so. I hope so.

In my mind, there are great times I’ve shared with Jesus. Retreats, prayer times, circumstances, Sunday mornings, brokenness… moments and memories that are great to remember. These are snapshots that create a great mental and spiritual scrapbook for me to fall back on. However, there’s nothing like the presence of Jesus. What am I doing these days to practice His presence? What details am I paying attention to that will fill my life with his glory? How meticulous (and sometimes tedious) are my plans and schedule towards God that my life will be thick with His presence? Am I skimming over the hard work and missing the glory? Perhaps in asking the question, my answer is somewhat obvious.

Thanks God for being more than a great memory or photograph. Thanks for mornings like these to remind and prompt me into your presence. God, I’m sorry I so often skim. Fill my life with so much glory and smoke that I can’t see my own religious robe.

2008-03-18T09:21:00.000-07:00

Expecting or Desperate?

March 11, 2008

I'm strangely (hopefully supernaturally) drawn to verse 40 of our Easter text... "... they were all expecting him." (Luke 8:40-56) I do a lot of expecting when it comes to Jesus and his power. I expect him to move in power. I expect him to heal. I expect him to powerfully and miraculously move in my life and ministry. Why don't I see more of what I expect?

I have a friend who is a missionary in the middle east... in war-torn Lebanon. He tells me how the good news of Jesus is really taking hold. Not Christanity, mind you, but Jesus. There are people there who are desperate for a Savior. They are crying out and seeking in amazing, painful ways. My friend, Carl... the missionary... says with a straight face, "And Jesus is actually raising people from the dead there!" Hmmm... I didnt expect that.

There's pieces of me that's not real sure I even believe that. I want to. I want that kind of resurrection power to pulse through my life, but do I actually believe it's possible? On this day, a better question for me may be: How desperate am I? The bleeding woman and Jairus, found in Luke 8, were desperate. The people in the middle east are desperate. Those I lived with for 9 days in Kenya were desperate. I expect. They are desperate.

I am hoping and wishing to experience the rez power of Jesus. They do. Does the power of Jesus reverberate through lives that are desperate ... instead of those whose are demanding and expecting? I'm anxious for Easter. I want to wrestle with and teach this amazing text. Can't wait to hear what God says through me!!

2008-02-26T15:53:00.000-08:00

I Gotta Do What?

2/26/08

Yesterday morning our Student Ministries guy led the staff worship/devotion time. Jeremy is a sandal-wearing, untucked, postmodern, roughly bearded, anti-most things, Khaki hater, guitar playin’ Jesus follower pastor. It shouldn’t have surprised me what he asked the staff to do in order to connect and “hang out with God”, as Jeremy so often says.

We were given several exercises to facilitate this Monday morning experience with our Creator. We could paint a picture that describes our thoughts and feelings of Psalm 51. We could select a black and white photo from a pile of many, and write a story about what we see. We could write words of thanksgiving on a black piece of poster board using a silver Sharpie marker. Or… we could sit and stare at two mirrors. One mirror had words of blame and hate. The other mirror had Biblical words of affirmation and verses to look up --- which would prompt you to write your own words of encouragement. This particular mirrored exercise used vicariously chosen black or red Sharpies. Someone less focused than I may assume there were sneaky, subliminal messages attached to the variety of Sharpies to choose. Perhaps it was the pungent, toxic smell of the opened Sharpies that would help stimulate or enhance my whole hippie, Ophrah-approved, spiritual experience.

Can you tell I was a bit skeptical going into the whole thing? What I really needed was a good John Piper sermon and several cleansing choruses of “Just As I Am.” Now that would have been a good quiet time. But nooooo… Jeremy had to take the entire, gullible staff down some artsy-fartsy road that, I assumed, would leave us shoeless and yoga bended in less than an hour.

Before I continue my rant, I should quickly repent of my boxy attitude and say I was wrong. Hard words for someone who has it all figured out.

I chose a black and white photo and began writing. The photo is at the header of this blog, and here’s what I wrote: “Hearing and listening like a child is a blessing that we tend to lose with age. This is an old man who has been weathered by the storms of life. The definitive wrinkles are discarded evidence of days gone by without trusting, loving, and obeying a God who desperately loves us. This old man is coming to the end of his earthly days. There’s nothing he can change about the way he has chosen to live his life, but he would sure like to. He wishes he would have loved more. He longs to have taken more risks. If only he would have obeyed God when God was trying to push his life out to the edge. Regrets are the substance within the deep cracks of his face. Oh to have lived more like a child. The child had been kept locked up. The child is still inside this old man, but it seems too late to let the trusting, loving, child out. God whispers in a voice that sounds conducive for a child to hear, “My child, I STILL love you. Those wrinkles will someday soon be erased from your hardened face. Someday soon you will be able to be a child again… free… for eternity.”

Where did THAT come from? How long had those words been camping dormant inside of this type-A, high-D soul of mine? Could a psychologist afford a new BMW on just those quickly written words alone?

I moved on to the painting. Reading Psalms 51 was good. What a great chapter. There was much my soul resonated with. You should read it… but I’m not necessarily recommending the painting part. What were the instructions again? PAINT your FEELINGS or EMOTIONS as you read through Psalm 51? You might as well say, “Choreograph a ballet that would reflect the colors within your being as you are miraculously touched by the paint brush of God.” What? Anyway… I did it. My painting is cautiously posted at the beginning of the blog.

I flailed a glob of black paint on a piece of white paper and surrounded a previously brushed swatch of red. The black became my expression of the cloud of darkness and evil that so often envelopes me. The red was an attempt to display my heart that is marred with my own sin. The blue above the black strokes became my artistic attempt at grasping how Christ washes away my iniquities and blackened realities. The yellow is the light of truth… Jesus… that I desire to come into my heart and inner-most parts. This same yellow, then, is able to flow out from me ---directed to others who wrestle and struggle with similar human, fallen tendencies.

WHAT? Where did THAT come from? Had I been horribly manipulated by a Fair-Trade-coffee-drinkin’, pierced, presumably-tattooed freak of a youth minister? I was beyond all of this. I knew myself better this. I knew exactly what God wanted to say to me on a Monday morning after previously delivering a smoking sermon on Sunday. Right?
You don’t have to get all creative and weird to connect me to MY Creator. Right? I did, however, seem to have a great time losing myself in the healing power of Psalm 51. What just happened?

Deep called to deep. Places that needed to be explored were being prompted by the great Spelunker himself. It makes me wonder what other insights, promptings, teaching, and joy have gone undiscovered because I’m unwilling or SET IN MY WAYS.

Wow. My grandfather was set in his ways. I’ve heard that the person most set in their ways is the corpse at a funeral. Set in my ways is so embarrassingly close to being in a rut. I also remember hearing how a rut is merely a grave with two open ends. I do not want to grow old. I do not want to be set in my ways. I need to avoid closed-minded ruts like a Rembrandt avoids a Motel 6. I absolutely do not want to miss the artistic pearls that God has in store for me when Deep calls to deep. I hope I'll always be open and ready for the possibilities.

I finished off my morning by writing a word of affirmation on a mirror. The word “formed” seemed to be resonating with my soul. I also confidently took the silver Sharpie and wrote words of Thanksgiving. After participating in such a great, wonderful, freeing, exhilarating exercise... that was the easy part.

2008-02-22T17:37:00.000-08:00

Practical Athiesm

February 22, 2008

What I wouldn't give to take a flight out to Denver and have a cup of coffee with my good friend, Greg. Actually, Greg would order an icy green tea and raspberry Frappacino and I would most likely get a piping hot cinnamon latte... non-fat, soy, whipped.

Greg, first introduced himself to me as an agnostic, alcoholic, licensed counselor. I knew immediately this was going to be a keeper friendship. Sometimes Greg really tries to push my pastoral buttons by dropping a few cuss words, questioning my previous week’s sermon, or verbally leaning more towards a brash atheism than not. I like hanging out with this guy because he’s real. Greg is laughingly unlike others who often work way too hard to project an approved image of Christianity. I confidently abhor people who pursue this type of image management... probably because this feels like a freshly Windexed mirror being held in front of my white-washed, Sunday School face.

Sometimes my friend Greg talks about God in ways that I’m not sure he even realizes. He’ll be talking about his Cinderella-like daughter, Ruby Grace, and Greg will say something like, “God showed me a glimpse of heaven when I sat and silently watched Ruby sleep.” In other moments gathered around a cup of coffee, Greg will be informing me of a nameless client who has had an amazing breakthrough with an addiction problem. With as much animation as a trained counselor can muster, Greg will say, “Man, God showed up and kicked this guys butt and now he’s seeing the proof of a real higher power (often times Greg slips in and out of his names for God).”

My point is this: Greg believes. In real-life, practical, there’s-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel ways, Greg believes in God. Greg relies on a force, higher power, or God who is greater than he… AND who steps into our lives and shows himself to be real and active. My friend has been known to say a cuss word in the middle of communion at church, but he also believes in a God who wants to commune with us.

Do I... believe? Well of course I do. I’m a pastor for heaven’s sake, or is it more for my own?
Have I moved so deeply into the forest of church world that my true focus is on my own limited abilities and agendas and not God’s supernatural possibilities? Do I still believe God can move, or… not? How is it possible that I’ve become so self-centered and impotent in my faith, that a mere glance at my friend Greg makes me reflect on what God-centeredness use to look like? That’s a lot of serious questions for a pastor to be asking of himself.

Recently I heard Craig Groeschel, pastor of a huge mega church in Oklahoma (author of “Confessions Of A Pastor”), speak at a conference in Atlanta. Craig challenged some 10,000 deep-in-the-forest pastors about being practical atheists. Say what? Yep… this guy was talking to a bunch of professional religious folk about preaching and teaching God, but not actually living lives that trusts, believes, and hopes in a real higher power to be unleashed in our lives and churches. Practical atheism.

Am I a practical atheist? A humble, quiet-spirited woman of our church has made me wonder. She has been struggling with a son who exhibits some serious life issues. Not knowing what to do, this hopeful congregant came to me and a few church leaders to ask for prayer. We talked politely, prayed, and then moved into a very logical conversation about governmental agencies that might be helpful. We conducted ourselves with incredible professionalism and tact. Our gracious mom left with a smile and gratitude for our time. A few weeks later, this same burdened woman approached me about taking a different approach… one that would require more God. Apparently she had been systematically going from clinic to clinic… counselor to counselor…state agency to state agency, and not given any tangible hope or answers. I’m not sure how much she got from her pastor or church leaders either.

Now, however, she was intensely inquiring about really crying out and depending on God for answers. Could we pray for healing? Would we ask God to identify and remove her sons demons? Would we… could we… have we ever… do we believe? Do I believe God will move, heal, cast out demons, and bring hope and life into this poor woman’s soul? Well of course I believe this. Why then had I pointed to governmental agencies more heartily than I pointed to and relied on God? Practical atheism?

It’s funny… I always thought God had directed me to my friend Greg so I could work my ministerial magic and erase his agnostic, sometimes borderline atheistic ways. Maybe instead God has used Greg to challenge my faith beyond it’s seminary-trained borders.
I don’t want to be a practical atheist. I want to live, move, and breathe in an unending season of faith that would please God and not myself. I really want to have a cup of coffee with my old friend, Greg. Something about the caffeine that I’m sure would awaken me, and hopefully my faith as well.

2008-02-15T13:20:00.000-08:00

All Dressed Up
2/15/08

“And may the Lord make you increase and abound in love to one another and to all, just as we do to you… But concerning brotherly love you have no need that I should write to you, for you yourselves are taught by God to love one another.”
- I Thessalonians 3:12; 4:9

Valentine’s Day brings out the best in people… especially early morning at Walmart when husband’s and wives spare no expense in finding just the right card, box of chocolates, or package of flowers from what’s been brutally picked over the night before.

I, however, like to plan ahead and score big, juicy points on Valentine’s Day. Why not? All the pieces of the puzzle have been clearly laid out before me --- starting about a week after New Years. This really is a no-brainer circumstance for any old schlub to express some creative, heart-felt lub (embarrassingly stolen from Adam Sandler in Mr. Deeds). Unashamedly I freely admit that this is one holiday I have wholeheartedly embraced and thoroughly enjoy. For my gorgeous wife, I did an exhaustive internet search and ordered a basket of smaller, growing roses about a week before the big day. They arrived on the 13th with a note just like I had typed on the order. Perfect! I also penned some lengthy love letters to my wife and all my kids. They woke up on Valentine’s Day and found their sealed letters on the kitchen table. Each letter was personally customized to my much-loved recipients, but each had this same exact closing: “I love you so much.” I say this all the time to my loveable wife and kids, but writing a letter and closing with these words seemed to put a needed, eternal, forever, permanency to it all. The letters were extremely fun to write. It was good for me to see how easily my thoughts would flow for each one of my precious family members. This intentional exercise also made me feel a bit guilty because it takes an annual holiday to motivate my sorry, usually selfish agenda into action.

Then last night, with the big day in full swing, we partied. We had our annual Scott Family Valentine’s Day Fancy Dinner. This gem of an evening had been in the works for quite some time. It’s an ongoing, annual thing for us. This year, best we can recall, was the fifth annual Scott Family Valentine’s Day Fancy Dinner. This is a decidedly formal event. We all get decked out… suits, ties, dresses, and fancy footwear. It’s a hard fast rule for the Scotts (and any invited guests) to get all spruced up because dressing up accentuates the “fancy,” and we're better able to make a permanent photographic record of each year’s dinner. A part of this highly-anticipated evening is the fun, creative, RED food. This year’s menu included red punch, red sparkling grape juice, red focaccia bread with red pepper dip, red lasagna with mozzarella hearts on top, strawberries, watermelon in the shapes of hearts, red salsa, red applesauce, red cupcakes, red cookies, and red chocolate hearts. One of our rowdy, unruly guests brought some red wine, but we didn’t have a cork screw to open it!

After dinner, we had our usual Scott Family Valentine’s Day Fancy Dinner creative activity. Last year we made each other cards and learned how to dance. This year we designed our own photo scrap book pages and had everyone write lovey-dovey notes on them. I’m only guessing, but upon completion, I could easily project how those fun-filled pages would someday become pricless treasures to help ease the pains of growing old and gray... or bald.
For me, it’s easy to love on my kids. It’s just a blast to go a little overboard for my wife on Valentine's Day. I’m not exactly sure who created this little economic stimulus holiday, but I for one am gratefully glad they did. I’m planning on taking full advantage of Cupid’s February gathering until my final Necco Sweetheart candy heart says, “You’re Dead!”

My question on the morning after (and remember, there was no hangover because we couldn’t get the wine open) is simply this: How can I love others with the Godly ease I love my family? How can I creatively express love to people that I’m pitted against in either real or perceived ways. What keeps me from going overboard with someone who’d rather throw me under the bus? I’d like to learn how to love and give someone the benefit of doubt when something funky is happening in our relationship. Would I ever have the heart to break red focaccia bread and drink some sparkling red grape juice with someone who turns to the door instead of to my face?

I’m not sure I can do this. I can, however, ask Jesus to make me increase and abound in love to all. My own human love is so obviously weak. What credit is it for me to love those who love me? I can have a blast on Valentine’s Day with my family and people I like, but can love win out when I feel like blasting away with someone on D-Day? With the Spirit of Jesus living inside me, only then can He make me increase and abound in love when my instincts are telling me otherwise. To that end I will attempt to live the other 364 days of the year. I wonder who I should write a letter to now?

2008-02-07T09:51:00.000-08:00

Fort Building
February 7, 2008

“For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him. You have done a foolish thing, and from now on you will be at war.”

II Chronicles 16:9

Yesterday afternoon I meandered into the house and was immediately barraged with questions and possibilities of playing outside. I needed some fresh air, and I hadn’t seen my kids all day… so I gave a quick and resolved “yes!”
Once outside, my nine and six year old directed me to their respective forts. Sticks, twine, a jump rope, and some pine needles were put to great, creative use. These were really good forts. Having recruited some help from an able 13-year-old sister, these two forts were standing with pride and child-like imagination. Maybe all kids make forts, but without a doubt, fort making runs in the Scott family genes.
I can remember all too well making impenetrable forts as Fall was visibly turning into a blustery harsh Winter. I was always fully committed to the project. With adolescent vigor similar to a New Kids On The Block concert, I had to get my fort finished so I could winter with warmth and safety. Of course, around five o’clock, mom would call me in for some supper, homework, and warm reality of our well-built home.
Building forts was such a character and memory-making thing for me. As I watched my own kids relish in the glory of their forts, I wondered where my fort-making instincts had gone. I’m reasonably certain my dark, looming 48th birthday has something to do with it.
I’ve grown up. I’ve moved beyond silly fort making. I have way more responsibilities and much less time to play in the woods. The demands, worries, and the mature riches of life keep me from even considering building a good fort these days. Too bad… fort building was such good exercise for building character and memories.
Lately I’ve been stewing over the nagging thought that the older I become, the less likely I am to radically obey a prompting from my heavenly Father. There were great times in the past, being a much younger man, when God would speak and I would swing into action fully committed. I distinctively remember times when God issued a stretching challenge, and I responded by moving my life out to the edge where faith and action were supernaturally joined. Those were such character-building and memory-making times. Some of those same things that have kept me from fort building, now keep me from abandoned obedience to Jesus… demands, worries, and riches of life. Broken down even more specifically: I have four kids, a wife, a mortgage, a car payment, gas prices are rising, the kids need braces, and vacation decisions are somewhat ominous. I’m just not as care free as I use to be. Footloose comes to mind… not the movie, but a much younger, radical lifestyle. These days I’m tied down more. My present day reality seems to make it harder to obey an ever-present God. Being fully committed seems to have faded along with my 20’s and 30’s. Surely God understands this.
Actually God is still looking for a few good men who are fully committed. Maybe even old guys like me. He’s fully committed to strengthen those who are fully committed no matter what age. And to those who have stopped fort and faith building exercises... there are strong words: “… from now on you will be at war.”
I can relate to that. Life is a battle, isn’t it? Being a slave to demands, worries, and life’s pleasures makes for war. I want to get back to a place of faith and action. I want to experience God’s loving and strengthening hand when, by faith, I decide to obey and build a fort in spite of what conventional, mature older wisdom may say.
My kids showed me the beauty of fort building. I want to show my kids the beauty and strength of faith building obedience --- coming from their old dad who, once upon a time long ago, was also very good at building forts.

2008-02-06T11:12:00.000-08:00

Jesus, What Can I Learn From The Super Bowl?

Feb. 6, 2008

I had reluctantly decided to watch figure skating instead of the caving to the global peer pressure of watching the big game… The Super Bowl. Because my veins run true electric Colts blue, how super could this bowl game really be without Peyton, Marvin, Joseph, Tony, and the rest of my crew from Indianapolis? I had resigned my soul over to figure skating on ESPN.
Having surfed over to watch ice and tights in action, I began wondering why the world’s leader in sports television would actually be featuring figure skating on such a day? Maybe they knew all normal people would be tuning to the real sports spectacular, and thus decided to capture a market share audience of freaks! I quickly scrambled in the backfield of freakdom, and turned over to the big game.
It was a good one. Of course, if Peyton Manning couldn’t be in the Super Bowl, then taking sides with his little brother Eli seemed appropriate. However, they were playing THAT annoying team from New England featuring Tom Brady… the world’s perfect quarterback. Dare I even mention, Coach Bill Belichick… the world’s best caught-cheating coach? How could an inferior, underdog team ironically called “The Giants” have any chance against a team named “The Patriots” just two days before a patriotic institution called “Super Tuesday?”
And then it all started to unfold right before my eyes. It’s almost as if those guys from New York took an oath… loudly, and with great animation. Defensive End, Michael Strahan, was leading the way with shouts of determination. Plaxico Burris, a wide receiver for the Giants, sounded like obnoxious trumpets and party horns as he predicted a New York win. That made me very nervous. However, the entire Giants team seemed to display an heir of quiet confidence… as if they had all wholeheartedly sworn an oath on Fran Tarkenton’s hallowed statue. I’m betting all of New York was seeing this too, and a fair share of lively rejoicing was happening throughout popular watering holes in places like Queens and Brooklyn.
It was in the fourth quarter, though, when I really saw things come together for the Giants. The heavily-predicted losers were trailing with just under two minutes to play. Eli Manning, however, visibly sought his Super Bowl ring with great eagerness. On a third and five passing play, Eli (who by all indications just got his driver’s license and first pimple) scrambled out of the grasp of a big-time, clutch, NF-honkin’-L sack, and threw an amazing pass to David Tyree to take his team down to the thirteen yard line. This eventually led to a jaw-dropping touchdown pass to Plaxico Burris to win the game and destroy a near-perfect season for those whiney Patriots. The Lombardi trophy had been found by unlikely giants.
Wow. I had completely forgotten about seeing a triple Lutz with a toe loop on the figure-skating channel. What did strike me was how the Giants could now rest. On all sides, there could be a blissful season of rest. Plaxico could rest from his outrageous prediction. Coach Tom Coughlin could rest from almost being fired in week three of the season. After fifteen seasons in the NFL, Michael Strahan could rest because now he had finally scored his big, fat, championship ring. And Eli Manning, after being obliterated in the media for being weak, non-aggressive, passionless, and inferior to his older brother, could now rest when all the Mannings gather for a great big Thanksgiving feast. Little Eli will no longer be served crow at the little kids table.
While I thoroughly enjoyed this Super Bowl, I wondered, "Jesus, is there anything I can learn from all of this?" Early this morning, I read out of II Chronicles 15:14: “They took an oath to the Lord with loud acclamation with shouting and with trumpets and horns. All Judah rejoiced about the oath because they had sworn it wholeheartedly. They sought God eagerly, and he was found by them. So the Lord gave them rest on every side.”
I need these words to be truer of my pursuit of Jesus than they are of a football team winning a trophy. I don’t want my walk with Jesus to be lulled into a boring figure skating routine that impacts no one. God, help my life and oath to You be loud. With an intensity of an NFL lineman, I want to live for Jesus wholeheartedly. I want to find Jesus and the Word in deeper ways… and rest on every side doesn’t sound too bad either.

2008-01-23T08:38:00.000-08:00

January 23, 2008
Wide-Spread Panic
Philippians 4:6-7

Last Saturday I was driving home from our annual staff retreat. In the car with me were two music lovers talking about a group named “Widespread Panic” --- which I found out later was a southern rock band from Athens, Georgia. After hearing my two friends talk about the music of Widespread Panic, I then turned on the radio and actually heard some. Not the music mind you, but some real, authentic wide-spread panic.
Snow and temperatures were falling in Atlanta, and by 3:30 in the p.m. the radio stations were playing their own renditions of wide-spread panic. I got home and the TV stations were adding to the chaos. Predictions were calling for ice, high winds, and temps in the teens by next morning. As one radio announcer voiced, “It’s going to be bad in the morning.” Wide-spread panic.

Of course, most of us know what happened. Wide-spread panic. By late Saturday afternoon church after church was being listed as cancelled for the next morning. By early evening my email and phone was being lit up. Were we going to cancel, or were we going to boldly ignore the hysteria and laugh in the cold, cold face of wide-spread panic?

We succumbed. We reasoned it would be better safe than sorry. To value our many staff and volunteers, we decided to make the call by early evening on Saturday. We rested on our teaching that it’s not about going to church, but rather BEING the church… and people could stay home and do this with the advent of the winter weather conditions.

By late night on this fateful Saturday, I heard a TV weather man sheepishly begin talking about the high winds that were coming into Georgia. He said (and I quote with an attitude), “The winds are going to dry off most of our road surfaces, but the church parking lots are going to be very icy.” What did I just hear? It seemed as if the very guy who created the wide-spread panic was now back peddling. He was trying to justify why so many Atlanta churches had consequently shut down. After moving here from Denver, Colorado, I did think this whole episode was a bit strange. “Only in Atlanta,” I thought to myself. And then I decided to go get me some… Widespread Panic that is. I needed a good CD of a southern rock band from Athens just to calm me down.

How often do I allow fear, doubt and wide-spread panic to debilitate my thinking? Have I caved to the power of uncertainty, and then consequently wished I had been more bold? Where is God in all of this? How can He help?
The Bible tells me not to “fret.” (Doesn’t “fret” sound like a good word found in a song of a southern-rebel-boogie-rock band from Athens?) Instead of opening the flood gates to worry, I am instructed by God’s Word to pray. Why do I allow wide-spread panic to run it’s course, AND THEN I decide to pray? There must be a way I can start allowing prayer to shape my worries and concerns. I know how Jesus can displace my fears. My consistent handicap, however, is not letting Him.

God, help me to believe you love me and want only the best for me. Help me to believe how you work in everything for my good. Help me to pray first, and fight off the fear and sin whose name is Wide-Spread Panic.

2007-07-14T00:41:00.000-07:00

July 13, 2007

The sunrise on this particular morning created such a visible dichotomy. Turning east, I had the rare joy of seeing a slowly blossoming sunrise with colors hard to match on any artist’s palette. With a slight turn to the west, I saw a barrel overflowing with unsightly trash. Each directional picture seemed to detract from the other. The electric color stemming from the dawn of a new day was being tainted by the garbage. The garbage sat stubbornly in full defiance of the ecstasy of God’s artwork. Sometimes I have these weird moments when nasty visuals get stuck in my mind, thereby ruining a really good mental image I’m trying to forever capture. This was one of those times. Internally I began complaining and begrudging those who trashed God’s creation and then slept like babies on whole milk. I’m no tree hugger, mind you, but this whole rubbish (the Greek here is skubulon) thing was ruining a potentially awesome beginning to the last day of my study break.
It was somewhere between my environmentally righteous diatribe and one of my sunrise-stirred ahhhs that I saw two prisoners picking up trash. They had on matching blue outfits with “HCDC” stamped in large white letters on their backs. These two jail birds we’re being followed closely by a sheriff in a county SUV. I’d bet my mother’s recliner that this sheriff had a gun by his side --- in case one of these hardened criminals made a run for either the sand dunes or the … uh, ocean.
I had this ridiculous thought: If I ever have to be a prisoner doing time, I’d want to do it in South Carolina because I could go to the beach every morning. Like Paris Hilton trying to study for a breathalizer test, I officially labeled myself as a nincompoop. A pastoral idiot. How could such a stupid thought occupy my limited brain space?
This whole mental and emotional exercise has been sticking in my study break crawl all day long. I think I know why…
There seems to be a revolution of God that is grabbing many people. It’s a movement within God’s Church (big “c”) to simplify. Because so many lives deal with distractions and blurred activities, Americans are feeling stressed, fatigued, and unable to find deep satisfaction within most, if not all, of their pursuits. With so much overload, a thirst for the eternal is elevating, and keen awareness is pushing people NOT to cram God into everything else. At the same time, God is being portrayed by most local churches as busy, works-centered, and not grace-focused. People are tired, and they just want to know Jesus and how to serve Him. Local churches, for the most part, are not helping people with their deeper spiritual pursuits, so people are going elsewhere. No longer are people wanting to be held captive by empire-building churches who promise the moon and promote unbiblical habits --- therefore negating any engagement with God.
Didn’t Jesus say something about if we stay focused on Him, we will be set free? Isn’t there a way to BE the church and be free? Seems like there is a wonderful God-painting of how His Church best functions, and we settle for frustrating trash details like prisoners. The faithful who remain in the pews can be heard to say, “Well, if I have to be a prisoner, the local church is a pretty good place to do my time.” What a ridiculous thought. We are supposed to be free INDEED.
It seems little “c” churches have made prisoners out of free people by guilt-strapping them to lifeless trash, programs, buildings, family-zapping activities, classes of all sorts, and theology that points to GOING to church. It’s the same spiritual dichotomy between a sunrise and trash. Isn’t it?
As a pastor and leader, I’m totally convicted of the need to simplify. Purpose needs to be our process. Love, Feed. Connect. Motivate. Do these four simple things take us back to Jesus and His mission? Can this intentional simplicity give us clarity, movement, alignment, and focus? What if all we did fell under these four, Biblical (Acts 2) headings of loving, feeding, connecting, and motivating … and if something didn’t fit into this purpose/process, we didn't do it?
What if we (little “c” church) could powerfully and intentionally supplement someone’s life to go BE the church… and begin to grow actual disciples that stop merely going?
Could we serve the family better by helping them love, feed, connect, and motivate?
In “Revolution,” Barna reported that the family, as a means for primary spiritual experience and expression, was used by only 5% in 2000 … and the same 5% will hold true in 2025.
Is there something we need to be doing that helps the family BE the church? How can we supplement and help the family? How can we connect families and marriages instead of adding to their hyperactivity? How can our ideas of family broaden to powerfully include, single-moms, singles, divorced, widowed, etc.? There’s something here God is wanting us to creatively and innovatively figure out.
As a result of this study break, I also am realizing I need to spend way more time working ON the church instead of IN it. I want to keep working on connecting the Bible with our culture. I’m not exactly sure what all of this will look like, but I sense the truth of Driscoll’s words.
I believe I need to continue leading the mission of the church through strong teaching, and not get caught in the ego-massaging trap of trying to be everyone’s pastor. Everyone needs to know someone (Community Groups, Joe!), but not everyone needs to or can know me.
God… like a late-night ocean sky filled with a zillion gripping stars … silent mysteries swirling in the blue like jazz … keep me real. Allow me to have the courage to be authentic. Help me to discard the invented me. Please keep my efforts at real-ness from being abrasive, and help my Christ-centered authenticity to be a breath of your sweet grace in a stagnant and often smelly culture.
God, my final study break prayer is this: Teach me to take advantage of the life I have. Show me how to number my days aright, that I may gain a heart of wisdom. Relent, O Lord! How long will it (my life) be? Have compassion on me. Satisfy me every morning with practical evidences of your unfailing love. I want to sing for joy and be glad all my days. Make me glad… for as many days as you have allowed me to suffer. Let it all even out, for I have seen my share of difficulties lately. May your visible deeds be seen by others. Let my kids see your splendor. May your favor rest on me… us… Your Church. God show me what to do. Establish the work of our hands for me. Yes, you can do that… establish the precise, exact work you want me to do.
(Psalm 90:12-17)

BTW... I'm wondering if it would be good thing to pray through a Psalm or section of a Psalm every Sunday. This stuff is so real and relevant to where most are living.
There is much to talk about with the elders and staff. I wonder if everyone is ready to simplify? How will we shape or re-shape the upcoming fall? Has God has prepared us to practically BE the church? Will it be a battle to make Jesus essential and the church (little “c”) supplemental?
As I finish out this final blog for my ’07 study break, I’m ruminating on something Mark Driscoll wrote about within his final chapter of “Confessions of a Reformission Rev.” Ironically, this was the very last thing I read today as I was wrapping things up.
In his final chapter called “Jesus, We’re Loading Our Squirt Guns to Charge Hell Again,” Driscoll gives thoughts about focusing his church to reach the 10,000 mark in attendance. He interviewed several pastors to gain wisdom and insight for such a monumental task. One memorable mentor/pastor ignored all of Mark’s questions about structure, leadership, and attendance barriers, and asked Mark about his family. A most penetrating question was asked of Driscoll: “Is being a good husband and father more important than growing a large church?.” Driscoll answered a resounding yes, and so would I.
My wife and kids are what’s most important. I follow Jesus as a husband, dad, and then… pastor.
Although we’ve had a great study break, and everyone in my family would answer a “how are you” with a pretty strong “good,” I have this unmistakable inner burden.
The past two years have been rock hard for my family. I really can't stuff or deny this any longer. Moving from Indiana to Colorado was a clear mistake and sin of my pride. I will forever regret that decision. Colorado was a tough road, but God worked and caused great growth and connection for us in the spectacular Rocky Mountains. We loved living in Colorado and made some great friends there. Eventually though, even those friendships got ripped apart by a church infected with power, control and sin. We had turned our beautiful Colorado house into a home, but it was sitting way too empty way too soon as the moving truck was moving again.
Our move to Georgia and ministry has been good. There are great people at Cumberland. I love the staff. The elders are amazing. God has really turned things around in a hurry at CCC. (This positive build-up is obviously and pointedly coming to a “but.” Can you feel it?) BUT… my family is just not stable. We have not found a house to turn into a home. At certainly no fault of our real estate agent… we just can’t seem to get a grasp on the whole “settling” thing. After seven months, over 100 houses, and four offers gone south… we are really struggling. To say that we’re struggling is really one of those cheesy-but-true understatements that most pastors hate to admit. However, if I’m going to be real, then I’m going to share this struggle.
I’m asking God for some quick answers to prayer. It has been incredibly hard to work my way through this study break while having my family heartache constantly nagging me throughout these past couple weeks. It’s tough trying to lead and move a congregation ahead, when your own family feels stuck. Our relationships, love, and connectedness within the Scott household is very strong, but being unsettled for too long is overwhelmingly unsettling. None of this is written to freak anyone out, but it is my reality. I’m trusting God. I’m praising God. I’m waiting on God.
God, you know my heart. My family IS more important than growing a church. My role as husband and father takes absolute precedence over being a pastor. Show me what I need to do to live out this truth.
And so after two weeks, four books, 103 Psalms, and thirteen blogs later, it comes down to this... I choose Your sunrise over earthly trash. I choose NOT to be a prisoner… even if prison is deemed as “success” and a great place to be in many people’s eyes. God, through your Son Jesus, you offer us so much more. You offer us freedom. Set me free. Set me free, indeed.

2007-07-12T21:25:00.000-07:00

July 12, 2007

For several years now, I’ve been given the great privilege of doing summer study breaks at the beach. My daily routine starts at about 6:30 a.m. with running, worship, reading, and thinking. I’ll stick at this til about 4 p.m. each day with eyes, ears, and heart open to ideas God may want to implant into my soul. I can’t think of one year when God didn’t show me challenging, convicting, and applicable principles that need attention in my life and leadership. This year has been no exception.
It takes a bit of planning for all this to unfurl the way I’ve come to expect. I usually try to find our rental in the early Spring, and then I begin gathering books, ideas, CD’s, and other aids to make my time away as productive as possible.
I’m always amazed how God weaves things together to paint a very clear picture each year I have done this. Again, God’s Word belts out truth because we are promised that when we draw close to God, He draws close to us. God gets intense when we get intentional.
I don’t believe I had a premeditated scheme on how this year’s study break books would mesh, but they have. I saw “Simple Church” on Amazon.com, and thought it would be another great read from Rainer. “Blue Like Jazz” had been on my shelf for sometime, and for an equal amount of time, guys back at the office like Joe & Jeremy have talked positively about this culturally edgy work from Donald Miller. Barna’s “Revolution” had been mentioned by some former staff members back in Indiana. I had already read “Confessions of a Reformission Rev” by revolutionist Mark Driscoll, but threw it somewhat mindlessly in my black bag just before leaving for break. I didn’t think I would ever get to it… but now only have one last chapter to re-read tomorrow. God has used all of these randomly picked books to speak, clarify, and give voice to much I have been feeling and wrestling with.
Additionally, Oswald Chamber’s (My Utmost For His Highest) daily readings have had a unique way of blending in nicely and divinely to the other books as well.
During this study break, my time in Psalms has helped me stay real, raw, and expressive to God with my prayer, worship, and journaling times. I don’t think I’ve read through the Psalms like this before. It has been extremely beneficial to read the Psalms and know that I’m not the only spiritual yo-yo out there. I have personally and painfully related to the many songs. I have been able to pray better. I trust God has understood me and that I have understood God.
I also love how God points me to and teaches me through ordinary things like water bottles, sunrises, my kids, seaweed, sand sculptures, boogie boards, life guards, people fishing, and people parading around on the beach in basically their underwear. I think it’s incredibly cool when the lines between sacred and secular get fuzzy, and yet you see God more clearly.
Today was Morgan’s … my new nine-year-old … birthday. She wanted to see the new Harry Potter movie as part of her big celebration. As a pastor who has been confronted on subjecting my kids to previous J.K. Rowling flicks, I had absolutely no problem seeing this new one. With each of the other Potter books and films, I have been able to have great conversations with my kids about real, spiritual, God things. “Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix” had even more talking points to engage my kids with. Immediately after this exhilarating 2-hour cinematic ride, we talked about really cool things like the absolute importance of community, the choices we make with light and darkness, and love. During this study break, my kids have been working on memorizing I Corinthians 13, and Harry Potter displayed much of what they had committed to memory. Truth in Harry Potter? Yep. Outside the church walls? Yep. God’s there too. Finding God and truth outside the walls of a local church, and having dialogue that represents BEING the church in an oblivious culture is exactly what and how I want to teach my kids. Sounds simple. Revolutionary like.
As a part of Morgan’s study break birthday bash, she also wanted to go down to the local arcade after dinner. She loves this place. All games are just 25 cents. I use to go to this same arcade when I was Morgan’s age. The games were 25 cents back in 1969 when I had turned nine. At this particular arcade, there’s not a lot of frill, or bells and whistles, or flash, or even air-conditioning … but this beach arcade sure is fun. We blew our way through fifteen dollars worth of quarters, but got 640 tickets to buy amazing-but-completely-useless junk and trinkets. After we ran out of quarters, Lauren and I began subversively checking coin slots for Tim LaHaye quarters… those left-behind. This is something every cheap pastor teaches their second born. Man we had fun… and I think the kids enjoyed it too! Isn’t that the point? Fun.
I also noticed how the other fancier, more-expensive arcades across the street had a lot more going on, but a whole lot less people going in.
All of this sounds strangely familiar to me. Related to the church, isn’t this what I’ve been reading about? So many churches have lost their purpose and focus by being so complex, busy, and “successful.” There is a spiritual hunger for intentional simplicity. Getting back to the basics of the mission of Jesus. Isn’t that the point, after all? Jesus.
Oswald writes in today’s reading: “The church ceases to be spiritual when it becomes self-seeking, only interested in the development of it’s own organization.
See what I mean about study break? God weaves and threads and cements and meshes… in very cool, clear ways.
Oh… and one more thing from today. As I was running this morning, I went back to some old-school Tommy Walker worship --- “Live At Home.” The next to last song on this album is a tune called “Amen.” I love this song. We use to sing it back in IN with a full band and mass praise choir. We rocked on this song.
As I ran, I turned up my Ipod a bit more when “Amen” began to play. I have listened to this song hundreds of times before, but something new rang in between my ears. I had never heard this before. Tommy Walker was playing and then said, “I’m gonna let someone else sing…” I was surprised to soak in some unbelievable vocals by a guy I have been recently getting to know and who has been attending Cumberland for the past eight months. How cool was this! Just a little something for me and my silly jogging goose bumps. It felt like God was putting his own “Amen” on my heart, my thoughts, and my ideas as this study break comes to a close. Amen. I agree. So be it.
Tomorrow will bring one more final day. I’ll write one more blog... and I’m anticipating how God will allow me to summarize and pull the past two weeks into one, God-created direction.

2007-07-11T22:39:00.000-07:00

July 11, 2007

Sherry and I rolled out of bed early, and quietly snuck out for breakfast while the kiddos were still fast asleep. We headed for the 2nd Avenue Pier. Their breakfast served outside on the pier and next to the compelling coastline is as good as it gets. This worn and tattered establishment, affectionately named “Big Daddy’s” by the big guy behind the cash register, has been one of my favorite study break hang outs for years. Sherry and I soaked in the sights and smells and placed our order. Trying to revive and restore my southern ways, I even had grits with my eggs, bacon and greasy hashbrowns.
At about 8 a.m. there were two cussing salty dogs who came in and sat a couple tables away from us. Their repetitive use of the “f” word and other verbal bombs were indication of either occupations involving the sea… or their grits were overcooked. They ordered Bloody Marys. A few minutes later, a couple of loud, female, vacationing carnival workers came in and sat right behind Sherry and I. Their language seemed equally colorful, and their early-morning thirst had a bend for frozen daiquiris… “as strong as you can make them.”
Somewhat sheepishly, I sipped on my water… with a lemon.
With the many pages that have been unfolding during this study break, it occurred to me that on a pier in South Carolina where salty dogs and carnival workers are ordering drinks way too strong for a breakfast of champions --- this is where the Church is supposed to BE.
So why did I feel such a distance, disconnect, and pious wall between myself and these who are closer to the Kingdom than they know? Why was one of my initial reactions leaning towards how my breakfast company needed to GO to church… and not for me to BE the church right there at Big Daddy’s?

Oswald Chambers says the aim of a spiritually vigorous saint is to achieve the realization of Jesus Christ in every set of circumstances --- not dividing life into the secular and the sacred.
I sat on the beach today and read more of Mark Driscoll. More great stuff. Driscoll tells a funny but insightful story about a pervert in his church that was caving in to porn. This perv called Driscoll in the wee hours of the night wanting help. Driscoll writes: “The church phone in our house rang at some godforsaken hour when I’m not even a Christian, like 3 a.m.” Driscoll ends the story giving the wayward sinner this advice: “You need to stop watching porno and crying like a baby afterward and grow up, man. I don’t have time to be your accountability partner, so you need to be a man and nut up and take care of yourself. A naked lady is good to look at, so get a job, get a wife, ask her to get naked, and look at her instead. Alright?” (The guy actually did what Driscoll said and today has a wife, some kids and no longer watches porn.) Just a bit further in chapter two, Driscoll muses: “I decided that though a pastor was supposed to answer the phone and help people, I would end up with a gun to my head if I did. And since I had no boss and the church was not paying me, I decided to just keep doing what I thought Jesus wanted me to do instead of doing what the people in the church wanted me to do.”
Is the church (little “c”) doing much, but not doing what Jesus wants? Am I? Has the idea of what a successful church (little “c”) looks like so infected us that we have become blind to the mission of Christ and the desperate needs of culture? Is there so much crippling activity in our local churches that no one has time, as Driscoll suggests, to work on the Church (big “c”)… consequently we have been doomed to merely work in the church (little “c”)?
I laid Driscoll’s poignant paperback on my chest, and contemplated an empty water bottle lying in the sand. Another scorching-hot July day had descended, and my two oldest daughters lay on the beach next to me trying to golden up. They each had full, cold bottles of water by their sides. I heard Brooklynn say something about how she could just keep drinking and drinking her water because it was so terribly hot. A full bottle of cold, purified water on a hot beach is like a steaming hotdog at a Braves game… necessary.
However, I noticed how an empty water bottle in the hot, white sand becomes trash nobody even bothers picking up. Nobody wants to claim or touch it. This became my afternoon metaphor for, perhaps, what many local churches have become. Empty. While thirst and hunger is increasing, few are looking to the church (little “c”) for quenching. Some may even go as far as seeing the local church as useless trash… unnecessary for their spiritual journey. Some won’t even touch it.
Dear God, please help me to lead Your Church in ways that dispense your Living Water.
Jesus, you are stirring millions to BE Your Church. Many are growing divinely tired of merely going to church. For the sake of salty dogs, carnival workers, and Your Kingdom come, please show me how to simplify, clarify, seek movement, lead alignment, and stay focused on your mission, Jesus.
Too much sun on my already burnt and glowing face pushed me to do additional reading from the condo balcony. The view from the 5th floor is relaxing and conducive to reflect on more Psalms (74-80). The Psalms, I’m finding, are great prayer companions. There’s so much bona fide soul to these Biblical songs. Personalizing and praying through them make for great connection times with a sovereign-yet-personal God. It felt right and good to write my prayers out in my journal.
On a final note... Somewhere in between our rationalized eavesdropping at Big Daddy’s, Sherry said the phrase that all study breaks dread… “Only a few more days left.” Two more days, to be exact, are on this study break’s calendar. They will be full days. I’m praying and anticipating God will being tying many thoughts and ideas together. I sense He already is.

2007-07-10T23:38:00.000-07:00

July 10, 2007

My mind, heart, and soul is still reeling from reading George Barna’s “Revolution” yesterday.
Although I read it in one day, it’s going to take me some time to sort through it all. Much of this was making me feel a little on overload today. I ran early this morning, and had a great time of worship and connection with the very patient and accommodating God of the universe. He really does draw close to us when we draw close to him.
Today, as far as study break usually plays out, was a bit out of the norm. Because I buzzed through Barna’s “Revolution” book, I began a re-read of Mark Driscoll’s “Confessions of a Reformation Rev.” I got about 60 pages in.
Driscoll is a great, living example of a George Barna revolutionary. He’s doing simple church that focuses on people BEING the church. I love the way Driscoll writes. He makes you laugh out loud. He writes about the place where his church plant first met: “The upstairs room at the fundamentalist church was so hot that everyone was sweating like Mike Tyson in a spelling bee.” I love that kind of creative imagery.
Driscoll has recognized the revolution and focuses his church on proper 1) Christology --- who Jesus is and what He wants us to do. 2) Ecclesiology --- what structure of church does the Bible promote to impact culture? 3) Missiology --- how can we most effectively expand God’s kingdom? 4) Ministry --- how does Jesus want us to serve his mission in our culture through the Church? Simple and back to Jesus. Brilliant. Genius. Rare.
Reading, again, “Confessions of a Reformission Rev” will be a good follow-up read after being flattened yesterday with Barna’s Revolution.
Reading today was slow though. Tedious. I was easily distracted. I read more Psalms (70-73). “God you bear my burdens, and you save me.”
God, you know what’s going on in my heart. You know the burdens bouncing around in my head and heart. I trust you to save me, and help me sort through things.
I sat under the umbrella with Sherry and talked through some of Barna’s insights… and how they fit into our marriage, family, and ministry. Have we veered off course, and what will the next 20 years of ministry look like for us? This stuff has been more challenging than what we normally are exposed to on study breaks.
Why are so many church (little “c”) people burned out and tired? Why is it so hard to raise up leaders and volunteers in the local church? Why so many fights and disagreements? We quizzed each other… “Why are people getting very weary of buildings and capital campaigns and dominating personalities?” There is a palpable hunger beyond what is being spooned out on Sunday mornings in “little c” churches. We’ve sensed it all for some time. Apparently, so have many others. What’s going on? What does all of this look like for us?
As we talked, we were somewhat oblivious to the cloudless blue skies and searing sun that was baking all living things below like a glowing toaster on 6. I didn’t know you could get a blistering sunburn while sitting in the shade of an umbrella. Apparently umbrella fabric is not as great a SPF or UV protection agent as I thought. Who knew? Actually, I think Sherry may have known because she eventually left me to my own design for another three hours of vicious, unsuspecting umbrella shade. I can now cook an egg on my face.
During my lonely afternoon, I continued to read Driscoll but was still distracted like a sand-castle-building dad spotting a frozen lemonade cart.
There is a burden on my heart. There’s something stirring deep inside of me. It’s this revolution stuff… church with a little “c” or Church with a big “c”.
I put Driscoll down and plugged my Ipod back into my wandering head. I’m not sure if this was to give my brain relief or travel further down some mental rabbit trails. Jackson Browne, Chicago, The Afters, Jars of Clay, Taylor Hicks… and then Tait. Michael Tait began to ring truth in my ears: “I got caught in a hurricane. No one but my self to blame. I got lost in the rain. Like a raging sea, fear wants to swallow me. I’ve searched but there’s no peace without you. But if I lose this life, I know I’ll find in you. So won’t you take my life. Cause I surrender to You, I’m running back to the truth. Your Word is clear. I’ve got to believe it.”
That was it. I think I’m feeling like there’s a hurricane looming. The skies are perfectly clear, not many are alarmed or motivated, but it’s coming. There’s an unsuspecting but very real burning. There’s fear… and it’s wanting to swallow me like several waves have done this week.
What’s it mean for me to lose my life as a pastor? Is it surrendering my 20+ years of trying to lead and grow a “successful” church (little “c”)? Dare I admit my leadership has been more about programs, buildings, numbers, empire building, and not near enough about Jesus? Maybe this is why, too often, my pride and ego have spun out of control. I’m amazed at how God has so consistently used me in spite of me. With all of my poor decisions, screw-ups, and sin... it seems like I should have been disqualified from being a pastor a long time ago.

Back to my Ipod... I clicked quickly to Audio Adrenaline. "Ocean Floor" was perfect, Godly medicine. All my sins... my pride... can be forgotten... washed away by a mighty, mighty wave. All aspects of my embarassing and checkered past can be thrown and left forgotten on the bottom of the ocean floor. After a decided few hours of burning and beating myself up, I needed this song. I've always liked "Ocean Floor," but on this day it providentially became even better.
Tonight after supper, I talked with a former colleague of mine back in Indiana. He’s read “Revolution” too. He’s not sure he can just “do” church like he’s been doing for years. He’s struggling with attending the very church that writes his paycheck. Sounds and looks strangely familiar… like the outer rings of a forming hurricane.
At 8:30 all the Scotts gathered for another family movie night. Sometimes the two older girls moan and complain of forced compliancy with such scheduled events, but eventually they come around. We popped a few bags of popcorn and watched “Facing The Giants.” At first I had internal sarcasm for the less-than-stellar acting on yet another “Christian” film. I did several “I’m-more-hip-than-this” eye rolls during the first fifteen minutes. As the DVD rolled on, however, I caught myself wiping surprised tears from my skeptical eyes. The film’s obvious question was clear: “Is there anything God can’t do?” The answer came in one word… “nothing.” In the middle of my floundering thoughts and deepening burdens on this day, I needed this reminder.
I’m going to bed…

2007-07-09T23:03:00.000-07:00

July 9, 2007

When I peeked out of our balcony into the early morning light, I noticed there wasn’t much… light, that is. By the time I hit the stairs to descend our five flights, I could sense this was another “iffy” blustery day that potentially was a wash. I took my beach chairs, umbrella, and black bag to the beach with great resiliency and hope. There wasn’t too many others on the beach with my flavor of optimistic hope. I pressed on.
Instead of walking or running, I decided to stay in my chair to soak in a somewhat private screening of an incredible heavenly premiere. The ocean was in spectacular form. I spotted some dolphin… or porpoises… I’m not really sure of the difference. Nobody seemed to see these creatures of grace but me. I knew they weren’t sharks because they kept surfacing in a rhythmic and mesmerizing circular motion. God, did you provide this just for me?
I had Chris Tomlin’s “See You In The Morning” CD playing brilliantly and loudly on my Ipod. “How can I keep from singing Your Praise… I am loved by the King… I am loved by the King, and it makes my heart want to sing.”
I read Psalms 59-69… and found myself praying pieces of these incredible worship songs back to God. “Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer… lead me to the Rock that is higher than I… my soul finds rest in God alone … You, O God, are strong… You, O Lord, are loving…may God be gracious to us and bless us, and shine his face upon us… Your love is better than life.”
I have been so refreshed to find myself in the middle of David’s Psalms… in the good, during a fight, with deep tears, through sin, through regret, and engulfed in necessary praise.
Then the rain drops started popping on the flimsy white pages of my Bible. I grabbed my umbrella, and cranked it down around me with only my feet exposed to the elements. My initial resolve was to bravely wait the storm out… these things usually only last a few minutes in the Carolinas. After riding out a 45-minute rain delay, I decided to pack it all up and head for the condo. When I finally shook off the sand and rain and walked through the door, my obnoxiously-dry family amusingly guessed that I had been sitting snuggly and stubbornly underneath a half-way opened umbrella like a kid in his first homemade fort. I wanted to lie as if to say, “You don’t know me,” but simultaneously remembered the ultimate demise of liars. Sherry and the kids proceeded to inform me about the Weather Channel’s bleak forecast for a wash out. So… someone said “mall,” and off we went.
I now understand why I needed to camp out at Starbucks for several hours today. While the family shopped, I read through George Barna’s “Revolution” with speed, intrigue, and anxiousness. One tall Cinnamon Latte (non-fat, decaf, whipped), several bitten nails, and hours later, I had devoured 144 pages of dynamite. This really was an amazing read. Alongside of “Simple Church” and “Blue Like Jazz”, there are many things within me that are being confirmed and highlighted. Things only felt before this study break are now becoming attached to words, definitions, and labels.
Something is happening within people’s hearts. There is a hunger for God. Buildings, empires, programs, capital campaigns, classes, worship bands, sermons, and carefully orchestrated Sunday services are leaving many people feeling unconnected from the very God they want to know. People are becoming weary of the church trying to help them fit God into their already packed schedule. There is a new and growing sense that people’s schedule, perhaps, need to be built around God. Because of this, many are becoming revolutionaries in how they are living out their walk with Jesus.
For some time now and before reading this book, I have been questioning if church (small “c”) should be essential to someone’s walk with Jesus or if it should be supplemental. Should someone’s life revolve around church (little “c”), or should church supplement someone’s life so they can BE the Church (big “c”)? I think Erwin McManus was the first to help me get my brain wrapped around this.
BEING the Church (big “c”) is the very heart of what Barna’s book is shouting. It’s notable to mention that Barna wrote the groundbreaking and best-selling “Frog In The Kettle” many years ago. This particular book helped the Church to understand undercurrents, trends and culture… in order to make necessary adjustments. Most of the ideas lurking on the horizon in “Frog In The Kettle” came to pass with amazing and almost prophetic accuracy. Geroge Barna is very good, and knows his stuff.
With “Revolution”, Barna is predicting seismic shifts in how people approach faith --- unlike anything we’ve seen in this young century or the previous.
Statistically, George Barna cites how the church isn’t working… mega or otherwise. We are not producing disciples who are statistically different from the world. Maybe the way the church currently works was never how it was intended to work in the first place. Maybe.
Many, including myself, have been schooled and “conferenced” on the idea that the local church is the hope of the world. Is it? Or is Jesus the real hope, and the church (little “c”) is one supplemental way of pointing to Jesus? Isn’t God’s plan to work through the church? Yes… but is that with a little “c” or a big “c”?
In 2000, 70% of Americans experienced faith and spirituality in a local church. By the year 2025… according to Barna’s research… only 30% will continue to look to local churches (little “c”) for expressions of faith. The hunger for God will increase, but our buildings and institutions and programs will be in serious trouble.
Many will argue and preach that we should not “forsake the meeting together as some are in the habit of doing…” However, as Barna argues, our current brand of church is neither Biblical or unbiblical… it is a-biblical. Our method of church (little “c”) was developed many, many years after the New Testament was written. The essentials of New Testament Church (big “c”) were: Jesus, love, the Word, worship, community, giving, and serving. Many want to get back to these simple essentials, and are finding ways other than through the local church.
Just to underscore the gravity of “Revolution,” listen to these bold-faced words found on page 102: “The Revolution of faith that is swelling within the soul of America is no different in scope. It will affect you and everything you know. Every social institution will be affected. This is not simply a movement, it is a full-scale reengineering of the role of faith in personal lives, the religious community, and society at large.”
And if your love for the institution of church (little “c”) is greater than the influence it was supposed to exude… don’t even think about reading page 107. Oh my.
So what will we do? What will I do? Should I stop reading and run towards the fuzzy-but-comfortable light of ignorance? Maybe I should consider fighting against this revolution for the sake of job security? I (we) could co-exist with such a revolution, or just wait and see how it all pans out.
There is one other option. Maybe I should admit my own frustrations and seek to satisfy deeper hungers… and become a revolutionary myself. This could get me fired.
There seems to be an opportunity at hand perhaps greater than any of us have ever seen. What if we all jumped into something we see God’s hand at work in? Instead of asking Him to bless our ideas, maybe we should ask if we could join something that He is already stirring and accomplishing in the hearts of people everywhere.
It’s the old and new wineskins thing. Here we go again… I thought I was part of a great and bold generation who had brought new wine and wineskins to the church with rock and roll worship and un-tucked shirts. Now I’m discovering all the progress I worked so hard at for so many years is becoming old, stale, useless wine.
God, if this IS Your new wine being poured out, help me to embrace new wineskins in my life and in my church. Like a kid defending his homemade fort, I pray I won’t hide beneath a half-cranked umbrella of fear or stubbornness.

BTW... there's truth to be found on Starbucks cups. "The most relevant pieces of advice I received regarding marriage: You can only be as happy as the least happy person in the house, and two bathrooms are mandatory."

The family is doing great. Everyone is happy and enjoying this study break, and we have two bathrooms!

2007-07-08T18:26:00.000-07:00

July 8, 2007

What a joy for a pastor to be afforded the opportunity to roll out of bed at 6:30 and go for a long run on the beach… ON A SUNDAY MORNING!

I ran down to the first pier going north. Then I kept running to the next distant pier lurking in the ocean mist. I just kept running. I was hoping someone wouldn’t yell, “Run Forrest, Run,” because I might have ended up in New York.

God was smiling as I ran. I had some old-school Tommy Walker worship music playing on my Ipod. “Make It Glorious” had a perfect rhythm with my cheetah-like pace. (Overdue side note: My running will impress someone only through my writing, and never actually through my running.)

The warm morning salt air mixed with the unbelievably calm water to my right… which stirred my soul and actually gave me goose bumps as I ran and worshipped God on this brand new, glorious day. It’s hard to run with goose bumps, but it sure was fun. I felt so very close and connected to my Creator.

On my way back I stopped by the state park where Sherry and I use to bring teens on annual summer trips. I’m going way back here… 15-17 years. I walked through the narrow, curvy roads of the state park. I tried to remember and imagine where we set up camp so many years ago. On one summer trip we took 29 kids from southern Indiana to this exact state park. Sherry was 7 months pregnant! What was I thinking? I did make our prenatal stay very comfortable as I gave Sherry an air mattress and ran a shiny new extension cord into our tent for a fans and hair dryers. I’m such an unbelievable romantic slob.

As I walked through the campgrounds this morning, I vividly remembered faces of teens we had brought here. Jeremy (aka “The Nighthawk”) who was loved by many of the girls, but would never commit to any one. Steve was going steady with Jodi, and all the adults made good guesses these two would get married. Christi played football and body surfed with all the guys. Steve eventually married Christi, and they now have twelve or so kids living on a farm back in rural Indiana. I could see the faces of Ben, Anne, Dustye, and Mindy. One afternoon at the beach, Mindy started playing very rough tackle football with all the guys. That night a few kids began telling us how Mindy had just found out she was pregnant and wanted to try and lose the baby. What a defining moment that was for many of us on this particular beach excursion. We had hours around camp fires doing “the love chair” where we spoke truth and love into the kids. We did unforgettable beach devotions. We had great times and deep moments of God-touched breakthroughs --- and that was just within me.

I wonder where all these kids are today? They probably now have their own kids going on youth group trips. I hope more than anything they have Jesus. All of these retro thoughts make me feel very old, but also extremely grateful for the deep, undeniable, unshakeable connections with people back in southern Indiana. God reminded me of so many faces as I walked through the state park.

Back on the beach and running, I decided to switch my music to some U2. First song… “Beautiful Day.” It so was.

It takes planning, extra work, and intentional intensity to get to such moments, but God was etching this one deep into my psyche and spirit for me to hold onto as the future months roll by. God was smiling, I was worshipping… it WAS a beautiful day.

Next song rolls… “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” There was definite truth creeping out of these songs and sinking into my tired, sweaty, but exhilarated soul. I struggle with the way we label things secular and sacred --- especially music.

My earplugs were filling me with what most would consider to be secular (especially on a Sunday morning), but the words and sounds were giving me distinct truth and Spirit challenges. “I have climbed the highest mountains, I have run through the fields… only to be with you, only to be with you. I have run, I have crawled, I have scaled these city walls… only to be with you. But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

My brain and heart started hurting as much as my calf muscles. I have traveled far to the Rocky Mountains. I have ran through southern Indiana cornfields. I have ventured into the steel and concrete of Atlanta… all in attempt to follow and find God. Sometimes I regret decisions and moves. Other times I’m overwhelmed with thankfulness for adventure. Mostly I long for a sense of stability. I’ve wondered, at age 47, if I have yet to find what I’ve been looking for.

I asked God to show me, and then God seemed to say, “Alan, I want you still searching, climbing, and running when you’re 57 and 67.” And that was the final prayer of my morning run. God, please keep me running and searching after you. Help me to never arrive. Keep me forever hungry and open. God, thank you for these special times when I am incredibly blessed and privileged to read, run, worship, pray, write, and just hang out with you.

After I got back to the condo, we loaded up the family and went to a church building. After my early morning, I struggled a bit with going to church. We went to a different church today. There were no Bibles. No scripture was even flashed on the screen. There were lots of lights and smoke and video screens and hip musicians. They had great donuts and cold, tiny bottles of spring water. There were actually lots of people at this church. In fact, many people wore the same colored shirts. The choir wore matching, bright green, untucked-but-uncool t-shirts. The greeters and offering taker-uppers all wore special matching polo shirts. Jeremy Hazelton would have looked really sporty in one of these shirts. I’m reasonably sure membership at this church requires losing any individualized taste for fashion. I quickly and cynically surmised that all the inner-circle leaders wore matching outfits... just like Jesus and his posse of twelve.

The worship leader, for me, was over-the-top and a bit in-your-face. She would flash multiple signs to the band like a third-base coach flashes signals to a batter. Needless to say, I felt a bit distracted and lost in the whole ordeal. I’m sure this is a good church. A lot of people clapped after the songs.

Perhaps ideas of simplicity and BEING the church have somewhat tainted my ability to go to church. Reading David’s authentic Psalms, “Simple Church” and “Blue Like Jazz” have definitely become new, viable filters for me to think through things.

Tomorrow I start reading “Revoltion” by George Barna. The front cover reads: “Worn out on church? Finding vibrant faith beyond the walls of the sanctuary.” I’m anxious to read and listen and pray and think…

I wonder if any of this is going to get me fired?

2007-07-07T21:11:00.000-07:00

July 7, 2007

Sherry and I took a walk on the beach yesterday. We snuck away from the kids and took a long stroll through the shallow waves that were stirring the sand and shells. At one point we held hands. That was rather cool and nostalgic. I asked Sherry about the book she is reading. A friend back in Atlanta gave Sherry a book to read for study break. It’s called “And The Shofar Blew” by Francine Rivers. Sherry has been engulfed in this thick novel, so when I asked about it… she tended to monopolize our beach conversation with an excited retelling of the story line. I listened because I love Sherry… not so much thick novels.
I asked Sherry if she thought her book was a divine appointment thing that God had placed in her hands. She wasn’t sure if it was or not, but she did think there was a theme that was beginning to bubble up in our annual study break. Sherry has been reading my daily blogs and some excerpts from my study break books… and along with her book, and the fact that our kids are trying to memorize I Corinthians 13… Sherry thought we were are seeing a theme of love. Simple love. Not the soap opera kind, but rather the God type of love that pushes aside labels, judgmental attitudes, preconceived ideas, and just loves.
I have noticed people loving other people here at the beach. There was a dad carrying his tiny infant son in a wrapped-up towel, and as he was climbing some wooden, ocean-worn stairs he said, “Daddy’s got ya. I’ll take care of you.” I saw a somewhat weathered man stoop low to the ground with his digital camera. He was trying to get just the right shot of his wife. You would have thought he was taking Cover Girl photos of a hot new super model. She was definitely not the most beautiful bathing beauty on the beach. In fact, she was stooped over and made to look a bit awkward as the waves were affecting her balance. Soaking it all in was a husband who saw nothing but a future-framed prize possession photograph of the woman he loved.
We took our kids to our annual study-break midnight breakfast last night. I didn’t think we were going to make it. At about 11 p.m. my tribe was looking weary as we awaited our departure time of 11:30. We arrived at Denny’s at 11:45. We placed our order at 11:50, and our food came… no kidding… by 11:55. Michael was still trying to talk with a British accent. He moves his body in funny, contorted ways as he says, “Pip, pip old chap…bloody good!” The manager came over to our table and showed the kids how to shoot straw wrappers more efficiently. I think I have great kids who already could shoot straw wrappers with great animation, but I think he was enjoying watching our family and wanted to join in some how. We all laughed and wondered why so many other people were at Denny’s at midnight. Sherry and I split a Grand Slam… because after all, do you really need to sleep on a whole Grand Slam?
I hope my kids remember study breaks. I hope they remember midnight breakfasts.
I hope they remember me taking some study break down time on Saturdays and Sundays just so we can hang out. I hope they feel loved.
I finished reading the last two chapters of “Blue Like Jazz” this morning. I dreaded coming to the end. "Blue Like Jazz" became a much-needed friend and companion these past couple days. Donald Miller talks a lot about love in this great, thirst-quenching book.
He says it’s so important to love people because God is love… and other’s will have such a hard time getting to know and understand God if they are not loved. I want so desperately for my kids to know God, and I think it’s all very much dependent on how I love them. Miller also wrote poignantly about receiving love, and how he had such a hard time doing this. I love this… Miller writes: “If it is wrong for me to receive love, then it is also wrong for me to give it because by giving it I’m causing someone else to receive it, which I had presupposed was the wrong thing to do.” Miller had a epiphany-type break through of allowing himself to receive God’s love which broke open the dam for others to love him as well.
I’m not writing much or doing much today… because I just wanted to hang out and try to love on my family. We’re going to watch Dream Girls tonight and make slushies. Tomorrow we’ll go to church and hang out some more. It seems that even on study break, it’s healthy to take a break.
If I write great blogs, and read many books, and impress people with my study break insights… but have not love… I’m but a clanging, cheap, beach-shop wind chime… and a very bad dad.

2007-07-06T18:52:00.000-07:00

July 6, 2007

“Blue Like Jazz” is such a good book. I’ve really enjoyed reading the challenging, engaging, personal, and freeing thoughts of Donald Miller. This book makes you think. Not like a chess game, but more like a hearty game of Battleship where you express demonstrative emotions and laugh out loud.
I think anyone who wants to be an honest-to-goodness authentic Christian, and help create a very real church, should read “Blue Like Jazz.” It has forced me to evaluate things a bit deeper. For instance…
We hit some beach shops last night… the gaudy ones advertising t-shirts for $1.99. They have those t-shirts alright, but they are in a rack in the back of the store, and have been there since 1974.
One of the very upscale stores we ventured into was called Shell World. They had it all. It really was a world of shells and cheap ash trays with sharks and porpoises glued to the side. I’m not quite sure why people buy stuff from Shell World. My best guess is that most plop some cash down at Shell World because they want to take home a decorative souvenir to remember their enchanting time at the beach. I’m also fairly sure that these impulse purchases eventually make for great conversations with people going to garage sales somewhere in Ohio.
I spotted an irresistible classic in Shell World. It was a funky Jesus clock. In a stylish mirrored frame, this funky Jesus clock depicted Jesus dying for our sins --- with a spinning, colorful disco effect whirling behind the cross. The funky Jesus clock seemed to be attempting to merge theology with clubbing. It’s almost as if the clock was trying to make Jesus more attractive and appealing. I asked my thirteen-year-old what she thought of the clock. She rolled her eyes and said, “Pssshhhh.” This is what Lauren says when something is beyond ridiculous. With that, I knew I had to buy the clock.
There was something else going on with this funky Jesus clock. It seemed to capture how weak and impotent I have made Jesus by trying to be seeker-sensitive, believer-focused, purpose-driven, right-winged, and cutting edge. In trying to be relevant, effective, and successful, what have I done with Jesus? Have I made him something he’s not? Corporate? Is it my job to make Jesus more attractive? Does He need me to do this? Sometimes I wonder if I’ve made Jesus more rigid and less appealing.
Strangely enough, Donald Miller and this funky Jesus clock made me think about Lance McKinney and Barry Combs. I haven’t thought about these guys in years. Lance, Barry, and I came up together in the Sunday School ranks. We painfully endured promotion Sundays when the teachers would parade us up in front of our parents as we moved on to the next grade and class. I remember how promotion Sundays were embarrassing for 7th graders, but the little kids seemed to love the whole parade thing.
There were never any new kids in our class. It was always just Lance, Barry, and myself, and the only time we would interact with each other was during the nine o’clock Sunday School hour. Other than our time with the flannel graph board, we never spent much outside time together. Our Sunday School teachers seemed content, and perhaps a little apathetic, with the three of us remaining the three of us. Sometimes Charlotte Kruer would join us for class because she lived just a short walk from our church. Charlotte began blossoming in the 7th grade and high school boys started becoming intrigued with her maturation process. After this, she stopped coming to church.
There came a time when Lance and Barry stopped coming to church as well. I think it was later in our high school years. Maybe one of them started dating Charlotte and she convinced them to stop going to church. Definitely by college, Lance and Barry had drifted far from the church. I kept going to church, but for a time was merely going through the motions. I still felt better about myself though… especially when I compared my Christianity to Lance and Barry’s.
Lance went off and studied at MIT. He wanted to become a big-shot car designer. During my college years, I remember bumping into Lance. I went to a restaurant with a friend and decided to exert my independence and legal age. I ordered a beer. To this day, I don’t like beer. Sometimes I wish I liked beer because drinking an occasional beer as a pastor seems to help dissuade people’s boxy ideas of how nerdy pastors are. Of course there are others who think pastors drinking a single beer are a horrific, sinful example, and a terrible stumbling block for everyone’s fragile Christianity. I’m quite certain my mother, who raised me in the church and got me to Sunday School with Lance and Barry, would be shocked to know that I had ordered a beer in college.
I did… and then Lance walked in. This moment is etched in my mind with a full dose of legalistic guilt and condemnation attached. I didn’t even drink the beer, I just remember feeling like a sinful slime ball as I said an awkward hello to Lance.
Lance did become a big-shot car designer. Last I heard, he was rolling in the big bucks and enjoying the good life apart from God. Lance became skeptical and eventually a non-believer.
Today I questioned that beer I ordered. After years and years of Sunday School (and VBS, and camp, and memorized lines in Christmas pageants, and youth group), was the totality of my spirituality defined in one guilt-producing beer? Was this the Jesus I was taught? Was Jesus reduced to a rule book of do’s and don’ts that only worked well inside the church walls? Where was the Jesus who worked practically Monday through Saturday, and was more powerful than any evils unleashed in a great big world?
I’m sure many great things and values were drilled into my thick skull as I grew up in church. They had to give me some good stuff, right? But what about Jesus?
Where was Lance? What happened to Barry? Why did Charlotte quit? Why is one, untouched beer so memorable? Was Jesus taught as a guarded God of legalism? Was Jesus held up as a Savior reserved only for 9 a.m. on Sunday mornings?
Jesus, help me to show people the real you. Please guard me from trying to make you more attractive, more appealing, watered down, or propped up with too many rules. Help me to simply teach and reflect you. Help me to love and connect people to You and each other.
The new funky Jesus clock in my office will be my daily reminder and prompter.

2007-07-05T18:37:00.000-07:00

July 5, 2007

The people sitting behind us today were speaking in tongues. Not the real, pew-jumping and tambourine playing tongues, but rather a different language. My daughters were curious as to what language they were speaking. My girls were wanting to know what exotic land these fast talking foreigners were from. So I did what any good, eaves-dropping father would do…I took hold of the chair arms and pushed my beach chair as far back as I could. Then I faked taking a nap. I pulled my hat down over my eyes, laid motionless, and listened. I heard a “mag – niff – icko” uttered from the peculiar crowd. Seems like I once saw a TV French chef say “magnifficko”, so I told Brooklyn, Lauren, and Morgan our beach neighbors to the rear were French.
There is something intriguing and mysterious about someone from another country who speaks fluid jibberish.
Earlier this week all four of my kids had decided to fake British accents when they were out in public. All of the Scott’s wholeheartedly bought into this… with a “mum” and a “cheerio” and a few “bloody goods.” Michael, our five-year-old with a thick southern Indiana accent, sounded like he had the leading role in a bad high school play. I’m not sure we successfully fooled anyone listening in on our beach conversations, but we sure had a good time trying. Last night the whole British thing fell apart for us when we went to see fourth of July fireworks at a large pier. I reluctantly reminded my clan that some die-hard Brits wouldn’t celebrate a holiday that remembered American rebels violently and successfully gaining independence from Great Britain. With that, one of my kids let out a boisterous, “Ooooh, right you are old chap!”
Why do most of us have such strong propensity for wanting to be something or someone we are not? I do.
I have used a very pious sounding “God bless you” not to recount a stranger’s sneeze, but rather to help someone think I’m more spiritual than I am. Sometimes I will use such phrases to be accepted by people I like… and want to be liked back. I’m just not a “Praise You Jesus” kind of a person. I’m not a “hallelujah” kind of a guy.” Saying “Thank You Lord” during someone else’s prayer is not a part of my wiring. Sometimes I think it should be. Sometimes those people who say such things are very intense and intentional with their relationship with Jesus. Maybe I want to be more like them… or at least thought of by others as being very spiritual. I think such church phrases are good if they are real. I’ve caught myself saying an “Uh huh” or a whispered “Yes” during someone else’s prayer --- and I’ve wondered if that was really me or if I was doing some kind of weird, selfish, spiritual, image management in the very throne room of God. Think about that one for a moment. Could I be more concerned about the people around me who don’t know me than a God who knows and knit me from the inside out? How absurd.
David is so real in the Psalms (35-45). His words, poetry and music are not fake. He goes back and forth from calling down God’s wrath on his enemies to trusting God for deliverance to questioning God’s silence to admitting his sin to blaming God for everything. And in between his real life thoughts, he reminds himself to wait on God. Does David know he’s all over the place with his spirituality, and so he dares not make a move without waiting on God … who, by the way, is an unmovable, steady-as-she-goes Rock? Instead of faking it, David waits on God. Brilliant.
Donald Miller’s writing is resonating with me because he seems so real and authentic. I called my alcoholic, agnostic, counselor friend in Colorado, and told him he had to read Miller’s “Blue Like Jazz.” Miller writes : “It feels better to have people love the real me than the me I invented.”
Sometimes I get so tired of the me I invented. The pastor who thinks he always needs to be “on.” I flipped the switch on even at the beach today. A lady by the name of Darlene came up to me and asked if I was a pastor. Is it stamped on my forehead or something? Do I look and act like a pastor? I tend to abhor and fight the typical pastor stereotypes. Maybe it was the simple fact that I was reading my Bible on the beach while wearing a goofy t-shirt that said “Jesus Christ… He’s The Real Thing.” How’s that for authentic Christianity? Anyway… Darlene asked me to pray for her. Her husband of 35 years, Virgil, had just left her for another woman. Without thinking (click) I went into my pastoral counseling mode and asked all the right questions: Do you have kids? Have you been to counseling? Is He a Christian? Nothing wrong with the questions, mind you… but what I really wanted to say was: “That sucks!” However, I’m not completely sure pastors are allowed to say the word “sucks.” I’m very sure my mom would want to wash my mouth out with Ivory soap. There was an odd little pastor in Colorado who once called an entire staff meeting just to ban the word “sucks” from his staff’s vocabulary.
What’s my point here? I’m not sure. Maybe I just want to start using the word “sucks” so I can fool younger generations into thinking I’m a cool pastor.
I think I’m mostly tired of church games, and politically correct churchy words, and programs, and of the me I’ve invented, and church activities that keep a system of Christianity alive, but have nothing much to do with Jesus. Maybe I’m just not a very good pastor. What if people find out?
Miller writes: “Satan… wants us to believe meaningless things for meaningless reasons. Can you imagine if Christians actually believed that God was trying to rescue us from the pit of our own self-addiction?”
Could all of my self-deception and in-authenticity really be symptomatic of the fact that I’m, as Miller writes… “passionate about nothing?” Are our churches programmed with crammed-full calendars of good stuff --- and potentially passionate about nothing?
(Psalm 40:6) “Sacrifice and offering you do not desire.” Programs and activities don’t seem to impress you… no matter how religious they seem to be. “My ears you have pierced.” Lord, you have my attention. You’re opening up my understanding.
“Burnt offerings and sin offerings you do not require.” I’m starting to get the picture.
Lord, show me how to be authentic. Can I lead a real church that is passionate about important things… things that are important to You?
I (the real me, I think) love you, Lord.

ON A SOMEWHAT RELATED SIDE NOTE: My kids are real. As we were soaking in the afternoon beach rays, a bunch of seaweed floated in and took over the beach. Most adults were disgruntled and left the beach complaining. My kids embraced the gross stuff. They played with it. They piled it up. They found and collected nine tiny shrimp living in the seaweed, and thought that was so cool. Kids know how to keep it real!

There was another little gang of three boys who were building something massive and impressive in the sand. I’m not sure what they were building, but they were working with great intensity. Although every morning the ocean has leveled the previous days sand handiworks, these boys were determined to do something of lasting value. Perhaps their legacy was hinging on their creation. Maybe they actually believed they could hold back the waves come hell (can I say that word?) or high tide? I loved their intensity and unbridled convictions. Kids know how to be real! No faking it.
Maybe that’s why Jesus said we need to become more like them.

2007-07-05T00:11:00.000-07:00

July 4, 2007

I worry a lot. The air conditioner on our van was making an almost indiscernible “sphwiit” sound about every 10 minutes, and I began to worry. My four kids went swimming on their own (out of sight of Sherry and me), and I began to worry. Gas prices inch higher and higher… and you guessed it… my worry increases as well.
Today I worried about getting just the right spot on the beach for our Scott family enclave. We need more space than the average couple with 1.3 kids. There are six of us.
Yesterday I found just the right spot, but had my space invaded by obvious beach rookies who did not know the legal, non-familial proximity you can get to someone’s beach chair. When I can smell the scent of someone’s SPF, they’re sitting too close.
So my new plan worked like a charm. I took Lauren and Morgan with me in the morning, and had them spread their sand toys out and make sand sculptures. Turtles, alligators, cakes, umbrellas… it didn’t matter. What did matter was how the sculptures around my temporary sand spot residence became holy ground. No one would walk near them, let alone place their chair on them. Everyone stepped lightly around my kid’s works of art as if the ground had been deemed a natural sanctuary. Even as the crowds came and filled up the rest of the hot sand, my spot remained secure, open, and worry-free.
I know I worry way too much. Some call this fretting.
Oswald Chambers says fretting comes from our determination to have our own way.
Yep… that seems about right. Oswald has penned a very honest estimation of who I am and how I operate. I’m determined to have my own way.
I want just the right house. I want specific and certain ideas to unfold at church. I can see them… sometimes even taste these thoughts. I want a certain path for my family. I have my own ideas about how the future should unfold.
And so I fret. Worry.
Oswald goes on to say, “Our Lord never worried and was never anxious, because His purpose was never to accomplish His own plans but to fulfill God’s plans.
Uh oh, I feel my own sermon coming on. It’s about that “coming to the end of yourself” thing, isn’t it?
Honestly, I wrestle with thoughts of plans and ideas. I question things like: If God has given me my desires, then why can’t I pursue them with all I have? Is it unholy to be aggressive? Is type-A a genetically disposed type of sin?
Reading more of the Psalms struck a chord with me. David has been struggling with enemies and struggling with God. He needs rescued. He’s depending on God one minute and unsure the next. Then David, like a soulful riff on a Les Paul, hits this amazing rhythm of cognitively stating things like: “All the ways of the Lord are loving and faithful… The Lord is my light and my salvation… Wait for the Lord… The Lord is the strength of His people… I will exalt You, O Lord… In You, Lord, I have taken refuge.”
It’s as if David is force feeding God to his own brain because he knows his own diet of worry and fretting is killing him. He must know … cranially and cognitively … who God is, and then simply BE.
David doesn’t dive into programs or activities or religion like most of us would.
Donald Miller (“Blue Like Jazz”) says that the Devil’s best success is when he can get Christians to be religious. When we sink our minds into habits, our hearts are prevented from engaging with God.
David focused on God. With great discipline and in the middle of fights and doubts, he kept reminding himself of God. This brought about great peace, and probably, I’m assuming, less worry.
This morning… playing directly in front of my beach front property (that I had ruthlessly and fretfully claimed with asserted squatters rights), was a little girl who had definitely not seen the light of two years. She was probably a few months over one. With pigtails bouncing and sunscreen smothered on her frowning face, she hit the ocean with her brand new boogie board. I have never seen such a small boogie board. (Boogie boards are those pieces of cheap foam shaped like miniature surfboards, covered with colorful cloth, and sold to gullible tourists at outrageous prices) I’m pretty sure she got her boogie board at the beach shop that was advertising with a giant banner being pulled behind an airplane. “Boogie Boards Just $2.99,” was waving in the wind above the beach and forcing vacationing moms and dads to discuss savvy marketing techniques with pre-schoolers and teens alike.
This young girl’s name was Annabelle. I don’t know that to be true, but it makes my story all the more believable. Annabelle would take her midget boogie board, Velcro it to her arm, and then pull it in the shallow water. That’s it. She pulled it like one of those Fisher Price squeaky, slinky dogs. That’s not how you use a boogie board! I wanted to leap out of my chair and correct her flawed technique. You’re supposed to take your piece of over-priced foam and ride the waves, baby! That’s what I wanted to tell her and her grossly naïve parents.
I didn’t say anything. I just worried and fretted.
But Annabelle didn’t … worry that is. She didn’t care her boogie board only cost $2.99. She didn’t care about riding the crest of crashing waves. She didn’t fret. She just pulled her boogie board behind her, and her parents beamed smiles of money well spent.
I started enjoying her child-like, uninhibited, carefree playing as well.
And then tonight, I sat back and simply, uninhibitedly, and carelessly enjoyed some fourth of July fireworks. I didn’t worry about a thing. Somebody somewhere had laid out a well-thought-out design of pyrotechnics, but I didn’t care. I just was glad to be a part of their finely executed plan. Boogie-boardin’ Annabelle would have been proud of me. Jesus, I’m reasonably sure, wants me to be more like this with his well drawn blueprints. Maybe tomorrow I will worry less and cognitively know the Lord is the strength of His people… including me. Maybe then I could focus on fulfilling God’s plans and not my own.

2007-07-03T15:59:00.000-07:00

July 3, 2007

People who go to the beach early in the morning are a strange lot. Today was no exception. There were fishermen who seem strangely content to catch nothing but seaweed. The familiar treasure hunter was there --- outfitted with a metal detector, earphones, a scoop/sifter, and black socks. The serious runners dotted the beach, including one guy sporting a pair of pastel green 1970’s shorts and matching tank top. What was that about? There were also the vacation-only runners. You may be familiar with these whimsical athletes. They should have been running January through May, but they just kept putting it off. Therefore, vacation time became a great motivator to begin shaping and sculpting. Obscure, early-morning, vacation running was the least noticeable platform for such procrastinating, athletic, monsters. The soon-coming Halloween candy will probably make these fleeting summer efforts a distant memory.
Before all the normal people came out at about 9:30 a.m., all these eccentric folks had their glorious time in the sun.
I was there too.
I joined in with the sunrise crowd by sitting in my beach chair, reading my Bible, eating an apple, closing my eyes, praying, and listening to some worship music. Listening to Chris Tomlin sing, “… the waves are crashing, the sun is raging… it’s all for You,” while sitting directly in front of land, sea, and sky is one of my favorite things to do. Another one of my favorite ocean-side antics is putting my hands to both sides of my face and creating blinders. I block out everything to my right and left so that I can only see creation. Assured that none of the other really strange people are looking, I pretend to be an eye witness of the first, original seven days when God called everything good. I know, I know… strange. Maybe on this morning I was the strangest one on the strand. Sometimes… often times… my life feels that way.
One day I’m up and life is good. God is on his throne. Jesus is the Lord of my life and I’m glad. Then the next 24 hours unfolds and I’m at war with myself and sometimes God. My praise can so quickly turn to cries of doubt. My awe and wonder of God can morph overnight into my wonder of where God is. It feels so strange. Spiritually schizophrenic.
I read more Psalms (9-24) today and I was flooded with gentle reminders that I wasn’t alone in my strangeness. One minute David and his musicians are exuberantly praising God and shouting, “The Lord reigns forever.” Then comes what seems to be a sudden mood change and David let’s out an Alan-like blurb, “Why, O Lord, do you stand far off?” THAT is my life.
“In the Lord I take refuge… My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Strange. Spiritually schizophrenic. Me.
The Bible is real. Somehow God seemed to be telling me that my struggles are normal, human, and even Biblical. To be in the company of someone like David worked on my heart this morning. God seemed to be giving me permission to be strange. In fact, somehow and someway, God can be found in the ups and the downs if one is looking.
Again, my attention turned towards the church. Could many churches be strange… schizophrenic… in a bad, non-Biblical way?
Thomas Rainer and Eric Geiger (authors of “Simple Church”) seem to think so.
Without alignment and focus in one direction, churches get pulled and default into strange, schizophrenic, complexity --- and complexity can be synonymous with mediocrity.
Could the Church really be doing more and more, and the Church, as a whole, is making less and less of a difference? Wow.
Rainer and Geiger reminded me of a gross-but-convicting movie I saw about two years ago called “Supersize Me.” Have you seen it? I haven’t been to McDonald’s since.
In short, the movie points to the fact that fast food is killing us. Our lives are so busy, so hectic, and moving in so many directions, and fast food has become an ever-increasing menu of convenient poison. The busier our lives spin, the better served we are by the Golden Arches… with expanding selections that are expanding our waistlines (of the latter expansion, I have been privy to first hand evidence while sitting in my beach chair).
Have our churches bought into the cultural phenomenon of offering an ever-expanding bulletin full of opportunities to attempt to fill quickly, cheaply, and conveniently?
Is it killing us? Is it creating weak, sick disciples? Are we spiritually schizophrenic… in bad ways? Have we labeled this as successful… millions served?
Can we simplify? “A simple church is a congregation designed around a straightforward and strategic process that moves people through the stages of spiritual growth.”
Love. Feed. Connect. Motivate. Can we move people through this in all we do? Can we have totally alignment in every area? Can we stay focused and eliminate (or not start) anything that doesn’t fit into this simple design? Can people simply become Jesus followers?
I finished “Simple Church” today. Great stuff to consider. I start “Blue Like Jazz” (by Donald Miller) tomorrow. My plan is to join all the strange people again in the morning. Didn’t God say something about how He uses the strange to confound the cool?

2007-07-02T22:47:00.000-07:00

July 2, 2007

I hit the beach early before the crowds invaded. It’s incredibly soul-filling to worship next to God’s amazing and spectacular creation… with a little Hillsongs United blaring through my Ipod. What a great way to usher in a new day. Oswald warmed me up, and six more chapters out of Psalms allowed me to do have some beach-chair prayer time. One chapter of “Simple Church” was all I could muster through the almost gale-force, hurricane-like winds that were pummeling me. Okay… it wasn’t that bad, but the life guards were having a difficult time putting up their umbrella rentals.
This day was incredibly windy. The sun kept trying to poke through the overcast skies, but finally and forcedly gave way to a rather bleak and blustery day at the beach. What do you do when your summer study break gets rudely interrupted with wind gusts of 25 miles per hour? You head for the mall.
So we packed up the family and made our way to the Coastal Carolina Mall. The plan was for Sherry and the kids to take in a movie, while I camped out at Starbucks and did my thing. I was hoping for a quiet corner where I could resume my reading along with a tall, cinnamon latte (non-fat, decaf, whipped). What I hadn’t calculated was that every tourist in South Carolina had also transformed from beachcombers to mall rats. It was crowded. The line at Starbucks was relentless. I never did satisfy my distracted taste buds, but I did get through three more chapters of “Simple Church.”
While reading, I was also able to observe a few interesting things. For instance: Do families sometimes so focus on the “cause” of a vacation, that they forget the people involved? I listen to the conversation next to my small, round table (A practice which Starbucks freely promotes by putting their tables so closely together). I tuned into some intriguing tension. “I don’t want to sit at Starbucks and eat my pizza alone,” bemoaned a cranky teenager. An obviously agitated mother replied, “Well why didn’t you tell me that before we came over here?” At this point I was reluctantly hoping the somewhat bratty teen would cut her losses and remain silent. That didn’t happen, and so I listened some more. The teenager fired back at mom, “I told you I wanted to go with you to get some noodles! I didn’t want to come here in the first place, because you wanted noodles! Aaaaghhh!”
I’m not sure I really know how to spell “aaaaghh,” but I understood the communication completely.
Was this a family extremely focused on the “cause” of their vacation, but they had lost the focus on the important people involved? It seemed they were going to make their way through this highly-planned, much-anticipated getaway … even if they killed each other in doing so.
And then I remembered how Oswald Chambers wrote something about this in my morning reading. Aren’t I, at times, so committed to the “cause” of Christianity that I miss the person of Jesus? Isn’t it even easier to focus more on doctrine, programs, and righteous causes, than to spend disciplined time knowing and hanging out with Jesus?
Isn’t this what gained simplicity in our churches would look like? More Jesus and less stuff. The cause (s) of Christianity is great, but the person of Jesus is even greater. Why have we settled for good, when the best has been afforded at great price?
There are a few emerging churches who are beginning to get this right. There are a few churches who are able to do things so well because they have chosen to only do a few things. These few things always point people towards the person of Jesus.
Simple churches are willing to stop hiding behind good things like Christian schools, midweek services, adult Sunday school, special holiday programs, and other such sacred cows. They are giving up good things because they are hungry for the best. Jesus.
I recall that Jim Collins penned the line: “Good is the enemy of best.”
As I read through Psalms 3-8 this morning, I was struck by David’s struggle with enemies. He is at definite odds with an enemy. He needs rest. He needs rescued. He needs to push the pause button on life (selah) because life has gotten treacherous.
Who are my enemies? I can’t conjure up faces that I would declare as my outright, evil enemy. Could my enemy be “successful” church? Should I be at war with programs and activity that any good lead pastor is supposed to be about? God, I need a selah pause to really figure this one out.

Effective simple churches aren’t afraid to draw lines of war in the sand. Simple churches want to develop real Jesus followers and have simply combined their purpose with their process. A multiplicity of purpose statements, vision statements, mission statements, values, and strategies seem to be in retreat as a result of a front-line attack. Maybe this is war. Maybe I need to recognize and face my enemies.
Deciding to do only a few things well to connect people to Jesus is slowly and somewhat covertly working across the country. There is clarity, movement, alignment, and focus within simple churches because it’s simple … and it’s all about Jesus.
Love, feed, connect, and motivate. Do we have clarity? Is there movement? Alignment? Focus? Do these four pistons point people to Jesus? Is it simple? Could this be our purpose and our process?
At about 5 p.m. the movie was over and my family came to rescue me from the Starbucks chaos. We drove back to the condo, and I went for my evening run. I like to think… and pray… while I run. I call it “sweatin’ with the Ancient of Days.” I’m thinking about making my own exercise video!
When I got back from my run, Michael and Morgan wanted me to get in the pool. It was time to quit being so serious and simply play. It was time to let go of the “cause” of my study break, and enjoy the people I love to do study break with. Michael jumped into the deep end. This was a first. A huge five-year-old breakthrough. I called him “the man,” and he flashed me two elated thumbs up. I would have hated to miss this unforgettable Kodak moment with my son for any good, worthwhile cause. This was simply the best.

2007-07-01T23:23:00.000-07:00

July 1, 2007 (late night)

I have a theory I’m working on. It goes something like this: When you finally make your way back to the beach and you sink your feet deep into the hot sand, the length of your immediate and first “Ahhhhhh” is in direct correlation to the thirst of your soul.
I’m thirsty. I think that’s a good thing. I think it’s a God-thing that I’m here.
There are some pieces of my life that don’t make much sense right now. Why has finding a house in Atlanta been such an agonizing process? Why were great relationships suddenly jerked out from underneath me back in Colorado? I’m thirsty. I’m hungry.
I don’t really think it’s a hunger and thirst for just a house… or even just for friends that I dearly miss. I think this is a God-hunger. I think there’s something deeper going on that I want to discover.
Sometimes it seems like God’s mercy and love are a bit waning as I trudge through my questions. And then Oswald Chambers beats me over the head today with this: “Yet you ask, ‘Is this a God of mercy and love?’ When seen from God’s perspective, it is a glorious ministry of love. God is going to bring you out pure, spotless, and undefiled, but He wants you to recognize the nature you were exhibiting --- the nature of demanding your right to yourself.” Ouch.
Lord, how can I plainly, simply, and yet powerfully be a tree that’s planted by streams of water (Ps. 1:3)? As I write this, the ocean breeze is swirling about our 5th floor balcony. Below, I can see a stately palm tree sway and drink in the late-night sea mist. Not much doing… not much running around… not much activity… and yet prospering in whatever it does. As the palm tree’s branches rustle in the wind, I’m reminded how even creation praises and recognizes the Creator in ways that I perhaps never have. A planted tree. Imagine.
How can I simplify? Can I be simply and plainly and yet powerfully planted in God’s purpose?
Lately I’m attracted to ideas of simplicity. Is there a simpler way of getting to and from work in Atlanta traffic? Can my Ipod help me simplify my music choices? Is there really a chance my bank can simplify all my banking, financial, and bill-paying needs? It’s why I love the “install now” button on my computer. Simplicity.
Seems like many are in pursuit of this elusive state. Madison Avenue and marketing gurus everywhere seem to be tapping into this quest for simple.
And what about church? Can it be simple? Have we made it too complicated? Is a successful church supported by a bunch of programs and activities? Are the programs and activities helping or crippling people? My problem is that I’m not a very good programmer. I’m more of a designer. These days I’m more and more convinced there is a simple design for church that makes disciples. Maybe it’s as simple as love, feed, connect, and motivate. Maybe.
I’m two chapters in with a great book called “Simple Church” by Thom Rainer and Eric Geiger. The writers suggest: “Perhaps we are losing ground not despite our overabundance of activity but because of it.” This has been my sense even before picking up this book. Confirming the “stuff” that’s going on inside of me, Rainer and Geiger again prod my thinking as they write: “Instead of a chasm of separation existing between purpose and process, could the two be the same? Instead of distancing the “what” and the “how”, could they be combined?” Genius. Great thoughts. Simple.
Can a church really do this? What about all the conventions and conferences I’ve been to that say otherwise? There are many models for complicated church.
This morning we took the family to our favorite church we like to visit when we come to the beach (see attached pix). Man they do church well. The band was outstanding. The programs and classes offered in their very active lobby (whatever happened to the “narthex?”) were enough to make your head and the fish on your car swim. I picked up flyers and brochures and handouts and anything free I could grab. I was very impressed. I was immediately flooded with guilt for not attaining such high levels of activity and “success.”
But then I started thinking about simple church. Making disciples. Didn’t Jesus confront the Jewish leaders because they had made God too complicated?
What’s the lesson for me as I watch a simple palm tree BE so magnificient?
God, show me what’s really stirring inside of me. Pour into me. Please help me to see what my real thirst and hunger is, and then fill me up (and oh, by the way, I could still use a house!!).