Missional Living

While we were out guitar shopping/dreaming a few days ago, my 7-year-old spotted a  red sports car out of the truck window as it whizzed by and said, “Dad, red cars are the fast ones, y’know?”
“Really…?” I responded.
“Yep. The red ones are. Cuz they’re red.”

Flashback: I said the same thing when I was young. Exactly. I remember saying it. It’s perfectly acceptable logic for a first grader.

How much of our understanding of God (theology) is like that? We glimpse a little bit of God working somewhere…doing something, and build an entire construct around what God is like. Next thing you know, we’re spouting off mis-truths like ‘red cars are the fast ones’. And we can easily have our world jacked.

First, God is limitless. Exponentially and infinitely huge. Knows all. Sees all. Nothing slips by Him. His reach extends into eternity. His love is boundless. His mercy wider than can be measured. His grace is deeper than we can ever exhaust. Yet he feeds the sparrows and knows the number of hairs on your head. Huge. Infinitely huge. In fact, he’s beyond words–the  name he has given himself is I AM, because it perfectly and completely defines him. 

Second, we are created, however, with an amazing-but-amazingly-limited brain. Our understanding of anything….everything…is absolutely 100% colored by our perceptions, environment, culture and moods. We can never be objective about anything. When we spot a red car, we call it ‘red’ only because we relate it to how we perceive some former object that someone deemed ‘red’. Of course, that person called the former object ‘red’ because someone told them that something similar was ‘red’…and so on and so on. (Of course, it should go without saying that none of this means that the item is NOT red!) Our understanding of anything is ultimately based on our understanding of other things and assimilating those thoughts into something new.

And to further muddy the waters, our language seems to be even more limited than that. Language is an ever-evolving organism. Ever had a tough time putting something into words? Your heart could express it but English (or Spanglish) just couldn’t get it done?

So we’re stuck trying to express and understand a limitless God with rickety facilities. Like trying to build a staircase to the moon using only Legos. And as an aside, this is my struggle with worship music these days: the greatness of God can never be fully explained in worship…yet we must worship.

The Good News in all this is that God revealed Himself in the person of Jesus. If you’ve seen him, you’ve seen the Father. You can’t read the Gospel of John without hearing how we ‘can know the truth’…God has revealed Himself to us by His limitless Holy Spirit, through Holy Scripture and through the whole of the person of Jesus. As we see and begin to piece together what we know of God, we tend to build theological systems based on those glimpses. Of course, we filter them through our culture. Our perceptions. Our interpretations. Our environment and our mood.

The danger is that we sometimes grasp a (true) nugget of God’s truth and paint a (flawed) picture of what we’ve seen. Without the perspective of ancient church fathers and the abundance of God’s grace, we’d get it wrong even more often than we do. We see the Red Car and how ‘fast’ it is.

I’ve seen this on my own blog. Lately I’ve perused some of my archives and thought, "wow. ..really? I said that?". And I’ve thought of deleting them…a sort of revisionist history of where I am spiritually today. but that would paint a false picture of my journey and it would take glory away from God as he continues to mold and shape and redeem me. More and more I resonate with NT Wright’s quip, "I’m confident that half of my theology is wrong at any given moment…I’m just not sure which half."

Thank you, Jesus, for grace that not only fills in the gaps, but that covers the whole thing.

The annual Breathe Deep conference in Kemah was great this year. At least for Heather and I. We got to hang out and talk guitars and worship with the sparky David Gentiles. I admit, I’m still jealous over his redwood MacPherson 3.5 acoustic guitar. And he’s a great guy as well.

Lance Crowell did an outstanding job in the ‘What’s Your Emergent-cy?’ session. He was able to cover some differences between ‘emerging’ and ‘Emergent’ (as in Village), and discuss some leaders such as Dan Kimball, Mark Driscoll, Tony Jones, Andrew Jones, Spencer Burke, etc. While I suspect most of those who attended his sessions were pretty uninformed on the emerging realm of things, he did a great job in covering the history of the movement and pointing out the percieved dangers and successes of it– he didn’t throw the baby out with the bath water.

Besides getting to catch up with some guys I haven’t seen in a while (thanks, guys!), there were really two highlights of the whole weekend:

First, I got to hang out with my wife without kids around. With everything going on over the past few months, we haven’t had any regular date nights in several weeks. So we got to spend time together walking around, talking about random things, etc., without having to rush back to check on the boys. Talk about breathing deep…

Second, Heather and I got to spend some real quantity time with a couple who is almost in a  desperate survival mode in their marriage and ministry. His ministry is a tough, all-consuming monster and his wonderful wife has gone as far as she can go with it. She’s patiently sacrificed things (even their family at times) for over 15 years of it and now she’s ready to pack her bags and bail. Not that Heather and I have it all together, but it was really great for all four of us to spend time together and unpack what it means to serve God in the local church, and how much of a ’sacrifice’ pleases God. A long conversation that is far from over. I’ve known the guy for close to 15 years and love him dearly. He’s faithful. He’s godly. And we share the same struggles. We all needed to breathe deep this weekend.

Oh…and I got to go on several dates with my wonderful wife who, btw, is the coolest.

iMonk has a great post titled "The Jesus-shaped Question: Are Christians Like Jesus?".  After reading and reflecting on Philippians 3:7-8, he has some great thoughts which may be offensive to some. Something that leaped out at me this morning is this:

Christians are conservatives and liberals.

Christians are culture warriors and advocates of family values.

Christians are excited about the megachurches and busy consuming Christian products, from t-shirts to music to cruises.

Christians are defenders of denominations and watchdogs for doctrinal orthodoxy.

Christians are having their best life now and becoming a better you.

Christians are purpose driven and super spiritual.

Christians are taking back what the devil stole and taking a stand in a godless culture.

Christians have dozens of labels and participate in hundreds of activities.

Christians have their own celebrities, their own cable channels, their own entertainment and their own comfortable subcultures.

But few Christians are like Jesus, especially here in the prosperous Christian west.

It’s not much of a news flash to us to realize that most Christians, if they are anything like me, are not much like Jesus most of the time. The sad part is that I’m not sure we’re really trying to move in his direction either. We are too comfortable for that.  We’d have to give up too much (our own cable channel, our purpose-driven addictions, our music and t-shirts and cruises) to pick up the cross and follow Him. And the last thing we need is another rote, formulaic, 5-point evangelism strategy. I don’t ever recall a time in Scripture when Jesus asked his fishing buddies, "Did you know God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life?…" (Again…that’s for another blog.)

Spencer comments on something a Muslim student related to him about Christians: Most Christians weren’t like Jesus, and the Christian insistence that God was working in and through them was largely undercut by the failure of individual Christians to show character that surpassed what was seen in Muslims or Buddhists.

Yes, Christians aren’t perfect. Just forgiven.

blah. blah. blah.

But when will we get on with the business of being reformed? Redeemed in our character? Recreated in our work ethics and speech and compassion for people? When will we get busy in genuine, loving relationships with non-believers…and do so without an agenda to trump the F.A.I.T.H. card on them in an unsuspecting moment?

Jesus-following people should be Jesus-shaped people. We will never reflect him until we imitate Him… which does not mean we study Him in some discipleship class and let that be it.

I guess what really bugs me is the fact that, as Christians, we are not much like Jesus. And we think that’s normal.

Read iMonk’s post here.  If you’ve got thoughts, I’d love to hear ‘em.

I’ve cried for a week now.

Last August, DaNetta Hagerman, a dear friend ,youthworker, and mother, passed away in a fatal car accident. Last Thursday morning, her husband, Larry, was involved in an accident at work and suffered fatal head wounds. After he was Care Flighted to the ER and rushed into emergency neurosurgery all we could do is wait. The next morning at 4:10am, Larry was pronounced dead (obit). Many of us spent the next 3 days with family members, students, and his two amazing and beautiful kids, Ashely and Weston. I still don’t have the words to adequately express what we are feeling. And I’m not trying.

As is normal, adults and students alike are asking ‘why?’. Why did this happen to such good people? Larry was a ROCK. His faith in God and his love for people of all kinds was evidenced in a standing-room only memorial service on Monday morning.

I can’t tell you that I believe it was God’s will for Larry to pass away.  But I can tell you that we live in a jacked-up, sinful world. Fill a planet with sinful, fallen, jacked up people and sinful, fallen, jacked-up things will happen. We live in a world where good people lose their jobs. Where good families suffer divorce. Where good men and women make bad decisions. And where good people like Larry and Danetta die and are taken from us. We realize that. Still, death is hard for us to handle…because it was never meant to be that way in the beginning.  We were designed to live forever.

In the Garden, God and Man walked together in harmony. Talked together. There was no pain. No hunger. No sickness. No poverty. No innocent children born with HIV/AIDS. No death.

Fast forward to the end of the Scripture and you’ll see it’s the same: man and God together in harmony. But in between Genesis and Revelation is the struggle where we live. Jesus has died on the cross, resurrected and ascended into heaven…but has not yet returned to establish his kingdom on earth. Meanwhile, we live in the now-but-not-yet of history. Jesus is truly King–but his kingdom is not yet fully realized. There’s still a battle going on between His kingdom and the enemy’s kingdom. Threads of shalom may abound, but it is not yet complete. That’s why we’re still chasing it..

The good news is that Jesus is still King. It doesn’t matter if He’s in the castle or in the field. Whatever he says is still law…because he’s King.  So we can be confused and mad and trust in God. We can be heartbroken and know that in the valley of the Shadow of Death, he still walks with us through this.  And in our pain and suffering we can know that there are better days ahead.

I thought I was dried up from all the crying. Until I heard Robbie Seay’s Better Days this morning. Wherever you are, breathe out and breathe again. Life is hard but it’s worth the breathing. Love is waiting for you, just to say: Here come better days…grace has found me, shaken up my soul…

We don’t mourn like those without a hope. There has been an amazing outpouring of friends and family who’ve lended their support. We hold tight to the promises of Scripture, knowing that His grace is sufficient for our needs. And trusting that to be enough for today. Believing that if Larry is with Jesus… he’s not far away, for Jesus, the Immanuel, is near.

On Sunday afternoon, a very well-meaning gentleman asked me how I was doing.

"It comes and goes," I said.

"That’s good. You have to be strong for the youth, and for Larry’s kids and family. You’re their rock." he continued.

I replied, "Then we’re screwed."

I don’t think he appreciated the humor.

Jesus is our rock. This tragedy has shaken us to the core. We mourn and words fail. But just knowing that Jesus is enough… is enough. He is our Hope. Our Fortress and Deliverer. Strong Tower. Wonderful Counselor. He Himself is our Peace. And in Him alone, better days are ahead.

Pray for the family and our ministry.

I’ve been kicking this post around in my head for a while. The hard thing is that blogs have inherently short posts, and this is not something I can express in 200 words or less. Nevertheless…

As I posted not too long ago, a very dear ministry friend of mine emerged from rehab a while back and recommended Nate Larkin’s Samson and the Pirate Monks to me. As a book that recounts Larkin’s own struggles with addictions, from sexual issues to pride and ego issues, it’s absolutely great. He paints the portrait that we are sinner-saints: beautiful monsters that are at once theiving and pillaging Pirates as well as God-chasing Monks. It’s about him finding God in the midst of struggle, addiction, and destruction of his personal world. To be honest, I was expecting someing along the lines of Elderedge’s Wild at Heart. But what I found was incredibly more honest. Vulnerable. Refreshing. Dare I say… ‘balanced’?

Just like Fight Club, I have to add, the I-Ching-search-for-God flick of our generation. I can imagine meeting Larkin on the street at night, downing a couple dozen glazed Crispy Cremes (ala ‘Bob’). When I ask him why he hasn’t been at our local men’s retreat lately, he replies, "Oh…I’ve found something so much better. But the first rule is…I’m not supposed to talk about it. And the second rule is…I’m not supposed to talk about it. And the third rule is…"

So, to Nate: I’m a member. I’ve joined the Samson Society. No, it’ s not a secret underground boxing club. It’s an online group of men who are looking for authentic brotherhood, encouragement, friendship and accountability.

Some are alcoholics.

Some are porn addicts.

Some are cancer survivors.

Some divorced.

Some sexually abused or verbally abusive.

Some are struggling musicians and artists.

Some are just tired of the macho, chest-thumping that poses for manhood and want a group of friends they can count on to share their hopes and fears and dreams. A group they can count on to walk their rocky and uncertain journey with.

Check out the book, Samson and the Pirate Monks, as well as the Samson Society online.

Remember, ministry (and life) will kill you. It’s supposed to. It’s designed to reveal God’s strength through your weakness. His success in the midst of your failure. His greatness among your feebleness. And mine.

The story goes that Mother Teresa was approached by a young man who wanted to know God’s will for his life. As he pleaded with her to pray for him, she asked why he needed her prayers.

“So I can do something great for God.”, the man replied.

“I will not pray that you will do something great for God”, she answered, “but I will pray for you.”

She did pray. And years later, artist Kendall Payne put her prayer to a beautiful, haunting song called ‘Pray’, which cries out:

May your heart break enough that compassion enters in.
May your strength all be spent upon the weak.
All the castles and crowns you build and place upon your head,
May they all fall, crashing down around your feet.

May you find every step to be harder than the last,
So your character grows greater every stride.
May your company be of human insignificance.
May your weakness be your only source of pride.

The most beautiful thing I love about Wayne is his weakness. His insignificant balance. He is at once full of passion and life and fire…and yet weak and feeble and wounded.

Being a disciple of Christ requires the balance of both. Not the tension of both, but the balance. We must pursue our calling with everything in us. We must pour out unfailing love on our spouses and children. We must cultivate our character and integrity with diligence. And we must constantly be a genuine friend of sinners and those who would despise us.

It’s a pretty exhausting job description.

Rest assured it will drag all of your insecurities and weaknesses into the light of day.

It will expose the Imposter within you.

It will ensure that your failures and feeble attempts at success will be broadcast unsparingly.

It it will demand that your weakness reveal God’s strength (2 Cor 12:9). After all, that’s the plan, remember? In his second letter to the church in Corinth, Paul reminds them that he would not boast in himself. In fact, God Himself told Paul, “My grace is enough for you. My power is made perfect (complete) in your weakness.” Paul goes on to add that he will gladly boast…but about his weakness, so that the power of Christ will show up in him. So, for Christ’s sake, he is content with weakness, insults, hardships, persecution, and disaster. “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Wayne’s weakness, as well as my own, reminds me of the immortal words of Tyler Durden: “Congratulations. You’re one step closer to hitting bottom…[and] it’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.”
 

I recently met up with a long-time ministry friend who just got out of rehab. Let’s call him Wayne.

I first met Wayne while I was serving at my first church. He was one of ‘those guys’: the ones with an amazing journey of finding Jesus. His life-story included being raised by a cocaine-using father, being left by the untimely death of his mother, and the religious and social tension of a sister involved in lesbianism. Wayne’s conversion story was a Damascus Road of walking away from heavy drug and alcohol usage and traveling the US as the youth ministry sidekick of a famous evangelist. Since 1993, he’s been a close friend, brother, and unfiltered confidant. The Focker’s ‘circle of trust’ wouldn’t be complete without Wayne in my life. We spent summers together leading camps, training for his Ironman competitions, and learning how to minister to students while dodging paintball fire.

For years, he struggled with alcoholic relapses. Binge weekends turned into binge weeks. He started a new campus ministry that began to reach thousands of middle and high school students. Being on the road to insure it’s success and growth meant leaving the wife and kids alone in the daily grind of living. While the ministry accolades grew, the weariness of it grew as well. Without support, encouragement, and accountability, temptation and relapse were soon a part of his daily life. Nearly two years later, his wife and some friends convinced him to commit to an 8-week treatment program.

When he got out, I called to check on him. We joked around. Laughed together. Cried a little bit. When the conversation turned serious, I told him I loved him and that I was glad he was in recovery. I didn’t expect the response I got.

“In those 8 weeks, I didn’t find God. I looked…hard. I prayed and fasted. I cried. I read Scripture. I did everything I’ve told others to do, but I didn’t find Him there.”

There was a very awkward silence (as you can imagine). I struggled for a response.

But he continued. “Dude, for 8 weeks I worked in the cornfields and kitchens with alcoholics and crackheads. They became my friends and my support. Only a few of them were ‘christians’, but they are my brothers. Tom, I looked hard for God those two months and didn’t find Him. But He found me…” His voice trailed. “And for the first time ever, I feel like a friend of sinners. And I feel balanced.”

I didn’t quite know what to say.

We get so caught up in life. On the treadmill. So consumed by our calling to ministry, to teach, to fix, to do whatever we were born to do, that we become unbalanced and unstable. And in our instability and weariness, we get sucked into a devastating and destructive spiral. We mask pain, loneliness, and feelings of inadequacy with anything. Everything. Something that will get us through.

Remember, ministry (and life) will kill you. It’s supposed to. It’s designed to reveal God’s strength through your weakness. His success in the midst of your failure. His greatness among your feebleness. And mine.

In continuing my evolving thoughts in Philippians 3, it’s brought me to this thought: There is something mysterious and other-worldy about conversion, whether you experience it as a moment-in-time experience or a series-of-steps-on-a-journey. I grew up hearing the gospel as a child and heard it for years..over and over and over. Until one day…BAM! Like Paul on the Damascus Road, it lights me up and after all these years, I have yet to recover. But godliness never accidently happens. No one wakes up on a random Tuesday,  transformed into somethin "godly." That’s why Paul says ‘I press on…’

Which led me to I Corinthians 9:25, where he writes that every athlete competes for a perishable reward, but our rewared is eternal/imperishible. That’s become more true and evident to me as I’ve been training for the AT&T Austin Marathon. For instance, I’m NOT a real athlete. (Winning some dopey college intramural doesn’t count. And though I played soccer in college, I’m not sure that counts either…) At the highest level of athletics, everything is done to reach a goal. Lance Armstrong. Tiger Woods. Michael Jordan. Tony Romo. Well, probably not Romo. But for the rest (and multitudes of others), every aspect of life is carefully calculated: how much i sleep. what i eat. how many ounces of protein/carbs/fat I take in. a particular kind of shoe i wear. my sunglasses. how many ounces of water i drink per hour. what kind of ‘free time’ recreational activities I participate in. Everything is designed for them to peak at an optimal performance. They do it for a reward that is perishible. The implication is that WE do it for something imperishible.

Paul confesses, "I don’t run aimlessly without a goal. I’m not some kind of shadow boxer beating at the air like some kind of weekend warrior. I beat my body and make it my slave. I know where I’m going. I have a goal and a plan and I’m fighting the enemies of my plan. I don’t just show up and hope for the best."

My confession is that when things start going bad for me I don’t want to stick to my plan for godliness. You know what i want instead?  Starbucks. Because caffeine will make it better for me for a while. Or I want a double swiss and mushroom burger with curly fries and a bladder-buster Dr. Pepper. Or I want  sleep. Or sometimes, I want to strap on my iPod, select some Demon Hunter or some Rage Against The Machine (Kiling In The Name Of will do nicely) and run at full speed for an hour. Or find some one i can pummel. 

For the record, there are times that everything in me cries out to medicate and numb the frustration and angst. But that’s the last thing I need to do. What I need is Christ. I need to press on and press in. Pray. Throw my life at feet the feet of Christ and confess that, once again, I’ve screwed it up and  am trying to do it my way. What my flesh wants is not what it needs. So I beat my body, make it my slave, and fight the enemies of where i want to go.

 Paul tells us to ‘train ourselves for godliness’ (I Timothy 4:7-10), which comes from the Greek gymnopsium (we get ‘gymnasium’). It means ‘to sweat’. So, sweat yourself to godliness…don’t just ‘try to get into better spiritual shape this year. The problem is we set pseudo spiritual goals: I’m gonna pray more. I’m gonna get in the word. Plug into REMIX or Chasing Shalom this semester. Good for you, I guess. but godliness doesn’t happen out of ‘want to’. It happens out of discipline, sweat, straining, striving, commitment. Otherwise our whole spiritual life will turn into ‘“want to’s”.
Marathon….train. run when I don’t want to.

I think some people live life. But most people have life live them.

So, where are you running? What are the enemies of that? Have you defined them? Do you know them? For example, I’ve got friends who love to study. They study all the time and if I ever want to talk theology with them, they tcan alk circles around me. But they can’t seem to pray to save their lives. And then I have other friends who have powerful prayer lives…but I’m not sure they can read. And when I speak (or blog) about spiritual things, they sometimes email me and ask me how much time I’ve spent in prayer, because it seems to be lacking in power…The deal is that I need to both of them in my life. Closely.

If I’m ever going to become Philippians 3, it won’t be while on cruise control. It will be fought for. Labored over. Sweated for.  Ever thought how strange it is that Paul says to ‘labor with me in prayer’?…

(thanks to MC for getting me to chew on all this…)

If you know me well, you know I get really passionate about a few things. At the height of those things is a ‘moral gospel’. You know, a certain, arbitrary set of rules that determine your degree of holiness. The problem with that kind of gospel is that you always have someone who attains it…and leaves in their wake nothing but self righteousness and pride.  Yet there is Paul, who says “I’m still not there yet…”

In Philippians 3 (from Part One) he says in verse 13, "I don’t consider myself to have attained it yet. But forgetting what is behind, I press on…" He says there is ‘one thing’ to do (of course, he then lists 3 things!) : forget, strain, and press. But as I read (and try to hang my life on it) it’s become apparent that there can always be things in our past that can make it difficult for us to pursue Jesus now. Things we’ve done. Periods of time in our life. Things we’ve been a part of. etc. But the good news is the life of Paul. If you rewind to Acts 7, you see Stephen preaching to the Sanhedrin when things get stirred. The crowd turns into an angry mob and decides to stone him (bludgeon him to death with big freakin’ rocks).  Saul, who will become Paul in a few chapters, is there with teh jackets of the men at his feet. It’s almost as if tells the crowd, "Look, you can throw harder and faster if you let me hold your jacket…"

In Acts 9, it’s not just jackets anymore. While he is ’still breathing out murderous threats’ against the disciples, he goes to the high priest and offers to travel to Damascus and find anyone who is a follower of The Way, bring them back, strip them naked and have them paraded through town, beaten, humiliated, imprisoned and/or killed…’if you would just give me the word’.  Saul is not taking orders from the high priest, but begging him for permission to round up and exterminate believers.

So it occurs to me: do you think there’s a possibility that years later when Paul writes ‘forgetting what is behind’…he’s writing about his own demons? His own shame and failure? (Shame is an pretty weighty thing we don’t easily forget…) for most of of us, we’ve got that ‘thing’ that we just can’t believe we did. Or were a part of. Or participated in. And we feel dirty. Guilty. Shameful. So we stuff it way down inside,  and every time we draw near to Jesus, we remember that time. Or that thing. And it begins to define us. And Paul stands, saying ‘forget what is behind.’

In 1 Timothy 1,  Paul says mercy, grace, and love was shown to him, an insolent, murdering blasphemer, so we could see the limitless patience of Christ. So when I feel guilty, shameful, my sin doesn’t seem to trump Paul…
Paul says to me, “So…what did you do? Did you kill anybody? Were they church people? Did you ever tie them up, strip them naked, beat, humiliate and parade them thru town and then kill ‘em? No…? So the cross can apply to me but not to you? Did I ever tell you about the time I held the jackets of men as they pelted God’s servant to death with rocks?”

Forgetting what is behind.

Forgetting what is behind.

Forgetting what is behind.

The problem is I can’t seem to remember to forget. Because I remember the things I did in rebellion to God. I remember how I persecuted believers. I remember when I was violent against those I had prejudice against. And it breaks my heart to remember what I did. How I acted. What I approved of.

There’s a beautiful moment in The Bourne Ultimatum. TreadStone black ops member Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) has suffered amnesia and is being chased by all kinds of interpol agents. He offers a girl $20,000 for a ride to Paris. She accepts and they spend hours in the car together on beautiful backroads. When they finally arrive at his flat, she comments, “I hope you don’t forget me.” Bewildered, he replies, “How could I forget you? You’re the only person I know.”

What if we forgot what was behind? What if Grace was the only person I knew? What if Mercy was the only person I could remember? What a wonderful time to forget. If only we could be free to forget.

(Part Three next week…)

One of the greatest movies of the last few years has to be Memento.It’s one of those stop-what-you’re-doing-and-rent-it-tonite flicks that don’t come around very often. Guy Pierce plays Leonard, a man on a search to find his wife’s rapist/killer. The glitch is that while trying to rescue his wife during the ‘incident’, he suffered a head wound and now has this ‘condition’, as he calls it: he can’t seem to make new memories. Every 15 minutes or so, his current, real-time memory fades and he has to start over. Imagine being in the middle of a conversation and asking, “How long have we been talking?” or “Do I know you?”. His memory, up to the point of the ‘incident’, is perfectly fine. So, in order to keep on the trail of the killer, he musk keep a constant log of sticky notes, polariods, and freaky tattoos, because his current memory keeps fading…

See, there are scriptures that I absolutely love. And I’m not alone. If I asked my circle of buddies to name their top 10 favorite scriptures, they’d probably name many of mine as well. We probably love the same 10-12 verses. And that probably holds true for nonbelievers as well, IMO. For instance, I love reading things like Philippians 4:13. Psalm 23. Joshua 1:9. Romans 8:37-38. Isaiah 40:31. Love ‘em.

But , like Memento, sometimes I read things and it bothers me. it doesn’t encourage me, it discourages me. sometimes, if i’m not careful, it will paralyze me. Case in point: I was reading through Philippians this week and was chewing on the words of Paul in chapter 3.
"But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as dung (gk, skubulon), in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead…"

I’ve loved this for a long time. it’s romantic and powerful and idealistic and beautiful. Until i try to lay my life on it. Because what Paul says is, “I’ll pay any price to know Christ more.”  Take my health. My family. My wife. My kids. My friends. My job. My ________.  And after 20 years of this journey, I’m not anywhere close. Because what Paul doesn’t say is "I count these things as secondary to knowing Christ". He says they are rubbish. Dung. Excrement. Caca. (Do you need another word here?) And that those of us who are mature will go on to think this way as well…
There seems to be this sense of discontenment in Paul’s life. He goes on to say (v.12) ‘not that I’ve already attained this…but i press on.’ He’s passionate about the ‘I want to know him!’ part of this letter.

Yet, as I read it, my response to Paul is, “Dude? Didn’t you get to hear his audible voice? Didn’t you get to go to the ‘third heaven’? I don’t even know what that is… You’re the greatest missionary of Christendom. You wrote 75% of the New Testament. Your worship caused earthquakes in prison. Your handkerchief healed people (Acts 19:12). What do you mean “I want to know him”? I think you know him…”

But when people around here get sick, we ask the church to pray so they will ‘get better’. When Paul ran across the sick, he pointed at them or touched them and said, “Stop that. Get up and walk.” You do understand the difference in power here, yeah? And yet Paul seems to have this holy discontentment that it was all crap (skubulon). That he still wasn’t ‘that guy’ yet who knew Christ and the power therein. He  just wasn’t there yet.

How does that make you feel? Do you feel like I do? Maybe you’re farther along in this than I am. I genuinely hope so. Regardless, what has helped you move more towards ‘counting it all as dung’? I’d love your thoughts.