Omnicompetence is the New Pride

"Just as there is no way we can serve both God and money, so there is no way we can (openly or secretly) believe in our personal omnicompetence and at the same time believe in Jesus as the Savior of sinners."(1) When you ask people about pride, few consider it a bad thing any more. School pride, national pride, (insert social cause here) pride ... pride has been moved off the moral no-no list in modern American Newspeak. That makes it very hard to locate. But, locate it we must. Just because we've become more cozy with the sin of pride doesn't make it any less that — sin. And I think I may have found where this particular devil has been hiding out: Omnicompetence.

Omnicompetence is not a word, but if it were it would describe our (my) deep, personal conviction that I can do pretty much anything, and that I need very little help. "I've got this," is its confession. "I can handle it," is its mantra. And, "I'll be alright," is its rather unformed eschatology.

I can see omnicompetence when I skip reading the Scriptures because I'm busy.

I can hear omnicompetence when I lie to a friend who asks how I'm really doing.

I can feel omnicompetence when I'm short-tempered with others and difficult to get on with.

Omnicompetence is the new pride. It's the way we modern people have made a virtue of personal utility and a vice out of humble needfulness. It's the rebranding of the one sin that lies at the root of all the others, and makes the heart so hard that it refuses to ask for help. In fact, if you're a devout believer in your omnicompetence, Jesus came to empower you, perhaps, but not to save you. I mean, you've got this, right?

Right?

Right.

Omnicompetence is the ultimate expression of practical atheism. But, take a minute to examine it up close. If you look deeply into the shiny surface of this idea, you'll begin to see the fissures. Those small, nagging ways we fail, falter, and miss the mark. Omnicompetence has a real problem with recognizing sin, and the humble vulnerability that such a recognition produces. But, like paint over rotting wood, omnicompetence can't hide our true nature for very long. No set of skills, no matter how great, can ever overcome our deep need for help.

For grace.

Lord, help me part ways with the belief in my omnicompetence — my pride. Hold my neediness before my eyes long enough to cause me to voice my need for the Savior.

(1) Alec Motyer, Isaiah by the Day, 93.

Social Justice Needs Personal Righteousness

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly." - Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Letter from a Birmingham Jail

We live in the day and age of the social justice warrior — the young man or woman committed the ideas of making the world "out there" more just. Conveniently, you can qualify for this job without any concern for your personal righteousness — a grave injustice itself. But, since today is MLK day, I feel it's important to remember that King (and Paul, and Jesus, and all the prophets) didn't share this rather modern (rather ridiculous) view.

When Dr. King wrote his now famous Letter from a Birmingham Jail, it included the oft-repeated phrase, "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." And, that's true. But before you ride your noble steed off into the unjust world to "fix it," it would be helpful to remember the rest of the idea. "We are caught in an escapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly."

In other words, it's not just morals "out there" that matter — what we often call social justice. It's also our personal righteousness "in here" that counts — what we call morality. If we're really serious about pushing back racism, sexism, classism, and the many other ills from which our culture suffers, we must also be serious about personal righteousness. They are all connected — we are all connected. If I'm struggling morally, somehow that will affect society. Conversely, if society is riddled with injustice it will affect me. It sounds counterintuitive to us, but it's true.

Scripture declares that righteousness and justice are the foundation of God's throne. That explains why God connected the ideas in Jesus' great commandment — to love God and other people. Because, they are connected.

All this means that I'm personally very grateful for Dr. King. His struggle for justice is connected to even my personal righteousness. I can't be who I'm called to be without his efforts to make the world better. In response, let's commit to grow more personally righteous through Christ. Only then will this work look more like Heaven. As righteousness and justice meet in our lives, they'll meet in our world.

The Romance of Regularity

"I stopped reading my Bible regularly because I just wasn't feeling as close to God as I used to." "Nah, we haven't been on a date in a while. The last time we did, we got in an argument."

"I don't know where he'd been. We used to hang out a lot, but then it just trailed off for some reason."

...

We have romanticized our relationships way, way too much. We've made them center on feelings over commitments — emotions over reality. Here's the simple fact: If you want a great relationship with God, with your wife, or with your friends, regulate it.

I don't mean make a bunch of rules for it. I mean that you must make it regular — scheduled, written, and active. We must learn to detach commitment to a relationship from the floating non-foundations of our feelings — doing something with someone only when it feels right.

Want to hear God? Get up every morning, read your Bible, and pray. Do that most days for a year. Feelings will follow.

Want to have a great marriage. Get up every day, thank God for her. Make her coffee, without the snark, and serve her.

Want a great friendship? Commit to walk out life with someone else. Use a calendar. Make it happen.

This is the romance of regularity.

5 Ways to Friend Well

I'm not sure how it happened, but somewhere along the way I never picked up the "how you're supposed to be a friend," lesson. This has led to me alienating (mostly by accident) people who have tried to befriend me over the years. None of this comes very naturally to me. Despite my disfunction, there have been some men along the way who've stuck it out with me and friended me very well. When I'm around them, I'm better. Here are 5 ways they friend me that really stick out.

1. Friends Communicate They operate the phone. Not just satisfied with emails and the odd Facebook hi-five, they call me, and we connect. Friends communicate, they don't wait to be communicated to.
2. Friends Encourage When I'm around my friends for an extended period of time, I feel stronger — braver. I think that's what encouragement really means — to be filled with courage.
3. Friends Pray My friends pray for me. Good friends do that, regularly.
4. Friends Play I can be the fuddiest of all duddies, and my friends get that. So, they drag me out of my study and my "seriously-guys-I'm-an-adult-doing-adult-things" attitude and make me have fun.
5. Friends Build My closest friends are the guys I've built something with. Whether its a company, a church, or a project, friends lock arms and accomplish things bigger than themselves.

So, I'm learning from my friends how to friend well. This is what I've got so far. Did I miss anything?

"Is" Can't Make "Ought"

For a long time, philosophers have made the case for God's existence based upon a moral argument. Rationally-minded atheists have countered by saying that one can be good without believing in God. And that's true — one can act in a way that most of us find morally praiseworthy without believe in God. You just can't explain why.

Here's the point: the rational sciences are quite good at making "is" statements. Light is both a particle and a wave. Water is two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen. Eating a pound of bacon a day is bad for your health (but really delicious).

But rationality alone can't take you from "is" to "ought." Just because we can scientifically demonstrate that eating the aforementioned daily pound of bacon will have deleterious effects on your heath doesn't mean you ought not do it. In order to believe you ought not do that you must first have some pretty strong beliefs (on faith) about human nature, its value, and that living a long time is more morally praiseworthy than choosing to die and early death for the love of pork products. In other words, you need more than mere rationality.

Alvin Plantinga warns us against placing all our epistemological eggs in the basket of the rational sciences, saying:

Some treat science as if it were a sort of infallible oracle ... Many look to scientists for guidance on matters outside of science, matters on which scientists have no special expertise. They apparently think of scientists as the new priestly class; unsurprisingly, scientists don't ordinarily discourage this tendency. (1)

Before your take all your oughts from the "sciences," do a little thought experiment with me ... if you're brave enough to be unsettled. Ask yourself, what are those "ought" statements that you believe so strongly? Now ask yourself what beliefs you have to believe to believe so strongly in those statements?

Where do those strong beliefs come from?

At the end of that chain of reasoning, you might find yourself standing next to God. Which isn't a bad place to start figuring out the "oughts" of life.

(1) Alvin Plantinga, Where the Conflict Really Lies: Science, Religion, and Naturalism (Oxford, 2011) 18.

3 Reasons to Keep Going

You're in the middle of something right now — maybe even something great — and you want to quit. Don't.

Some activities, habits, and attitudes we should quit. I'm not talking about those. I'm talking about quitting on your calling, your relationships, your work — the things you know you should do. Do you ever just want to tap out on those things because they're just really hard?

Again, don't.

Here's three good reasons not to quit on good things:

Your Not Supposed to Quit Things like your calling — your real purpose in life — you're not supposed to quit. You can't tap out of being who God made and appointed you to be. "It's really hard, though," you say. Yes. Yes it is. That's because it's good, and everything good is hard. An unhealthy side effect of our overly-coddled culture is the belief that when opposition comes (or just when the good vibes leave) we must be in the wrong lane. That's not true. If God commands it, you're to do. Don't stop.

Jesus Didn't Quit Let's talk about the archetype for perseverance a moment. Jesus didn't quit. He didn't hang up his gloves because his team still didn't get it. He didn't roll back when his family thought he was nuts. He didn't even quit when the Roman soldiers were ripping the flesh of his back, nailing him to a cross, and watching him die, slowly. He didn't quit.

Maybe you're suffering right now. Suffering doesn't mean you should stop. God uses our suffering to build our character, purge our sin, and make us stronger. I'm really glad Jesus didn't quit when it was hard. Don't quit.

God Gives Persevering Grace to the Persevering God doesn't abandon you when it's tough. The genius of the Christian story is the way God remains omnipotent while entering into human suffering, and overcomes. Because Jesus overcame this world, he can now give overcoming grace to those of us still in it. I know it's tough right now. God gives grace when it's tough. He is with us when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. His grace is there to sustain.

Whatever you're in the middle of right now, don't quit. Show up, ask God for help, keep going.

Dangerous Doubt and Why You Need It

Let's talk about doubt. For some, doubt is a big bogeyman. Feel doubts about your faith? Expunge them with all haste!

Well, maybe.

I depends on the kind of doubting you're doing. But you may be surprised by what the Scriptures actually say about doubt.

You're Commanded to Doubt

You may not know this, but the Bible actually commands Christian to doubt. At least, a kind of doubt. Paul wrote, "Test everything, but hold fast to the good." (1 Thes. 5:21) This the wise, soul-protective doubt that keeps faith filled disciples from becoming foolish chumps who believe anything that looks vaguely Christian. Understood in this way, I can't help but think that a whole lot fewer end-times books would sell if Christians took Paul's command to heart.

When Doubt is Dangerous

Doubt is dangerous when it metastasizes into the cancer of cynicism. Cynicism is a false epistemology — a way of knowing that says, "You can't know that," about everything. It takes the position that truth can't be found. But saying "I don't believe that," about everything is just another way of saying "nothing is to be believed," about anything. C.S. Lewis exposes the foolishness of cynicism when in The Abolition of Man,

You cannot go on 'seeing through' things forever. The whole point of seeing through things is to see something through it. It is good that the window should be transparent, because the street or garden beyond is opaque. How if you saw through the garden too. It is no use trying to 'see through' first principles. If you see through everything, then everything is transparent. But a wholly transparent world is an invisible world. To 'see through' all things is not to see.(1)

Look, I get cynicism. Cynics sound smart, but they're not. They're fools engaging in a sophistry that hides the fearful insecurity and lack of trust that marks hurt hearts.

Some Things You Should Never Doubt

There are some things that you should never doubt. God's character, never doubt that. God gave you his Son when you gave him the finger. That's a good God. God's love, never doubt that. His love for you and I cost him everything. There are more things not to doubt, surely. But of all people, Christians shouldn't fear doubt. We should fear the slide that doubt may place us on toward the cancer of cynicism. So, doubt well.

(1) C.S. Lewis. The Abolition of Man. Pg. 53-54.

4 Questions to Ask Yourself Before Planting

This post also appears at NewChurches.com As the entrepreneurs of the church world, we church-planters tend to have strong opinions on the kind of church we want. So once we get the idea of the future church in our heads, we go after it. We raise money, find the venues, and organize the team to get to the goal that (we hope) was given to us by God.

While this goal-oriented nature can be a huge blessing in the life of the planter, it can also be his demise if his goals aren’t good. I’ve had the privilege to train, equip, and coach a lot of godly planters with godly goals. I’ve also seen a few whose goals were suspect. So how do you know if your goals are godly? Try answering these four questions:

1. Why are You Planting this Church?

If I had a dollar for every guy I’ve met who had a bad answer for this question, I’d be able to buy myself at least two Ed Stetzer books. “There’s nothing like this church in my town,” or, “There’s no Reformed (or charismatic, or missional, or whatever your thing is) church around here,” are bad answers. Also unacceptable are, “I’m ready to be the boss,” “I’ve got a great vision for how church could be done better,” or my personal favorite, “I’m not really sure what else to do.”

The only correct answer to this question sounds something like, “Jesus has commanded me to go make disciples. Planting a church seems like the way God wants me to do that.” If you’re not doing this to form and fashion followers of Christ, you’re not doing it for a good reason.

2. What are You Reacting Against?

Many a church planter has a bad PH balance in his soul. You’ve probably met them — guys in their 20’s and 30’s who are reacting against their mega-church leading, boomer Pastor dads. Such reactivity makes their work acidic, dripping with the “I’ll show so-and-so,” attitude that may doom their work. Have you ever stopped to ask yourself what you’re reacting against? What way of doing church, or denomination, or leadership style, or theology are you determined to avoid? Do you want to lead a house church on its merits, or because you just hate how “corporate” church has become? Is ancient/future worship your preference because you’re listening to the leading of the Spirit or because you heard about it through a podcast?

Church planter, don’t be reactive. All things are yours in Christ (1 Corinthians 3:21). Take the best, leave the rest, and don’t succumb to the pressure to form opinions on other church’s methods or leaders.

3. How Will You Make Disciples?

Do you realize its entirely possible to gather a mass of people without ever actually making a disciple? That’s the scary thing about church growth techniques — most of them work really well. When I’m coaching planters I always want to know how their why (Question 1 above) connects to their how (How they make disciples). Now I’m no anti-church-growth guy. Who doesn’t want the church to grow!? I simply mean that attendance and decisions are not the metrics Jesus asked us to track. He told us to make disciples. If you can’t figure out how to do that, you’re probably in the wrong business.

4. Who is Pastoring You?

Church planting is difficult, soul-draining, devil-fighting, marriage-stressing, and financially-challenging work. You need a pastor. Scratch that, you need pastors — individuals committed to telling you the truth, asking you about your marriage and kids, and keeping your soul healthy. Ideally they will be older and wiser than you — people to whom you’ve given permission to speak into the deep, dark recesses of your soul. Our church is doing really well right now, but I’m convinced I’d have wrecked it at least three times without the men who pastor me. Church planter, who is pastoring you?

Answer these questions, planter. The future of your work — and probably your soul — depend on it.

Leaders Must Pull Close

Relationships are hard work. What kinds of relationships, you ask? Only the ones with humans.

I find within myself and the people I'm privileged to pastor two forces. First is the force which compels us into relationships. Call it love, society, or whatever you like — it's a strong force. And largely, it's a good force. You don't have to be too much of a theologian to find solid, biblical grounds for this desire to be in relationships. God is a unified society — a oneness in relationship. That's what Trinity means.

But then there's the other force. Call it self-protection, shame, or fear. This is also a strong force, but it's not so good. This force is the drives us away from relationships because, often, they're painful. That mask you wear, the hard conversation you avoid, and those lies you tell others — they're all this contrary force at work.

Here's the point: Leaders must pull close. If we don't we're colluding with the relational entropy that signals the beginning of the end of the relationship.

As a leader, you'll find it most difficult to pull relationally close to someone when:

• They disagree with you.
• They hurt you.
• They talk about you.
• You hurt them, and you know it.
• You have bad chemistry.
• You sense it's time for a change.
• Trust has been broken.

Sounding more familiar? We all want to have deep, abiding relationships with those we lead. But the leader who becomes relationally distant and emotionally aloof won't be leading those same people for long. Pretty soon, the team will leave, the band will break up, or the staff will turn over. Leader, if you want to lead well, pull close.

• When they disagree with you, talk to them. Don't email them. Talk to them.
• When they hurt you, buy them coffee and ask them about it.
• When they talk about you, don't talk about them. Talk to them.
• When you hurt them, repent. Quickly.
• When you have bad chemistry, acknowledge it to them.
• When you sense it's time for change, be honest. Be their ally.
• When trust has been broken, let them know. Seek to repair it.

Leader, if you'll pull close — if you'll fight the shame-fueled isolation — you'll lead well. How do I know? Well do you remember all those ways we hurt each other? We did all that to God. Thankfully, God pulled close. That's the gospel story.

Let's go live it out among those we lead.

Data Streams | 6 Places to Go

What are your data streams? I've got a theory about data streams: most of us have way too few, or too many that are too alike. One of my aforementioned measurable goals is to add a number of new data streams to my life. Data streams are those watering holes of information from which you drink. For me, they look like this:

1. Bible Highly important data stream for me. Should be for you, too.
2. News You've gotta get yourself some diverse news sources. I'm talking to you both, Connie Conservative and Libby Liberal. Read Fox and Drudge and MSNBC and Huffington Post. And more.
3. Tech If you live in the West, you live in a world increasingly dominated by technology. Get a few data streams about technology, and what's coming soon.
4. Podcasts Super helpful data streams, especially if you're an aural learner like me. Get some good Christian podcasts, and also grab some things that will stretch your brain in different directions.
5. Books Apparently folks used to publish their thoughts in an edited form on paper. I think that may be a fairy tale, but this website called Amazon.com may know something about it.
6. Think Tanks These are groups of smart people who research stuff. Again, you need some good conservative and liberal ones, but know you know they're there. Go research some stuff.

A final word of warning... social media is an insufficient data feed. It's the junk-food of the mind. Easy, cheap, and tasty (who, after all, doesn't like to chow down on a good buzzfeed from time to time). But thinking well on the basis of social media is like trying to live well on Doritos and Skittles — not going to happen.

For more details on what exact data streams I enjoy, just ask :-)

3 Great Expectations for 2016

Expectation is a very visible emotion in my house, especially at this time of year — especially among my kids. Expectation for fun, presents, and all-around Christmasy goodness. I'd imagine they have such great expectation because, for the most part, Hope and I are pretty good parents who like to give them good stuff. Well, God's a better dad than me. So as his kids, we should approach this new year with some great expectations. Here are three of them:

Expect Evil to Persist I know, not the most encouraging one. But seriously, why are (Christians especially) so surprised when evil rears its ugly head? It's horrible, yes, but hardly surprising. We've got a whole theology about evil that does a pretty good job explaining why it's there. Unless Jesus returns in 2016, evil is will remain. You can expect it.

Expect the Gospel to Work In the face of evil and brokenness, here's another sure thing — the gospel will still be the power of God for the salvation of all who believe. In fact, as evil gets worse, the power of the gospel to rescue and redeem gets bigger and brighter. So let's not skulk into 2016, pining for a so-called Christian culture of a by-gone age. Let's charge ahead with the confident expectation for the gospel to bring the Kingdom.

Expect God to Do Great Things If you expect God to do very little, you'll probably get what you expect. You're facing some giants in 2016 — health, money, dreams, and destiny. So show up like my kids do this time of year. Don't let disappointment drain your faith. Don't allow disillusionment to lead you into doubt and despondence. God is great, so expect Him to do greatly. You will not be disappointed.

Measure the Resolution

Each year around this time I engage in a little ritual. I review the passing year up against my goals that I set at its beginning, to see how I did. But here's the problem with a lot of this past year's goals — they're immeasurable. I'll give you an example. Last year, in a pious moment, I wrote, "Pray more powerfully." I also wrote, "Be a better father," and "work on my character."

"But Adam," you say, "how will you know if you've actually achieved any of these goals?" Heck if I know. And that's the point.

So here's my approach this year: Measure the resolution. I'm going to set goals that I can measure in some quantitative way. I'm reading a biography of Jonathan Edwards at the moment, and have been blown away by the specificity of his resolutions. So, here's mine:

Resolved: to make resolutions I can measure, so I can know if I've actually achieved anything.

If you make some measurable resolutions, let me know how it goes.

Rivers Crossing

Recently I had the privilege of preaching at a great church called Rivers Crossing. Here's the video!  

Campus Harvest 2015

I was recently privileged to be asked to speak at Campus Harvest. Here's the message I preached.  

Hey Critic, Go Create

In the movie Ratatouille, the character Anton Ego uttered profound truth when he stated,

In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so.

I can't but help think about this quote as I scroll through my social media feeds. It seems that one can get a rather popular little blog following by criticizing something or someone else. And it's especially popular amongst my fellow Christians who stand ready to crank out negativity at a pace and volume that would be impressive were it not for the content of their rather prolific sludge.

So, here's my challenge to me, you, and everybody else. The next time you (I) feel tempted to write that "Open Letter to ____" (Where ____ is the person or thing I'm really annoyed at/tired of/offended by), sit down with a blank sheet of paper and take an hour to come up with a better way to do what ____ is doing. The worst that could happen is that you make the world better while not contributing to the volume of complete garbage on the internet.

There ya go, two birds with one stone.

Far harder it is to build than to break, Far tougher to tend than to tear, Far better to create than to critique, More loving to rejoice than to despair.

MLK Day

Today is MLK day. On August 28, 1963 he gave his famous speech, "I Have a Dream." May we believe the Jesus he believed, who enables the only love great enough to over come the hate in our world.  

7 #TrueFacts About Leadership

It occurred to me recently that much of what I know about leadership I know axiomatically. There are some pithy truths that, while completely unoriginal to me, mark a how I lead. Here we go:

1. Leaders Rise. This basically means that leaders will, more often than not, show themselves as leaders and get out in front of the pack.
2. Shared Leadership Starts Nothing. I'm a big believer in shared leadership of a thing. But shared leadership can almost never start at thing. Or, as Bill Hybels like to put it, "Everything good starts with a team and a leader."
3. Anger Confuses Leadership Decisions. Making important leadership decisions when you're angry is unwise, and you almost never make the right decision. Reaction is not a good starting point for decision.
4. Say Nothing Important in Emails or Texts. A huge mistake I've made as a leader has been to correct someone through an email. Tone is hard to communicate for the best of writers. Probably best just to send an email that says, "Let's have coffee."
5. Remember How Unqualified You Were. There's a tendency I see in myself: In handing off leadership, I feel like they must be more qualified than I was when I started. Never mind that God called me when I knew nothing. Leaders risk their reputation on newbies they believe in. If they don't they're not leaders.
6. Leaders Follow Well. No one deserves followers who has never followed another well. Leaders who can't follow well are proud, and their demise is assured.
7. Great Leadership Makes the World Better. Jesus was the greatest of all leaders — all powerful, completely humble, totally secure, self-sacrificial. Leaders who lead their homes, companies, teams, and churches like this will make the world better.

Why I (blank)

Why is a powerful and obnoxious word. Powerful, because it forces us to see behind results and façades, to their origin and meaning. Obnoxious, because sometime ignorance is bliss.

I've been asking why more lately. Why do I write? Why do I preach? Why do I tweet? Why do I get angry? Why am I sometimes afraid? Without boring you with lots of navel-gazing, here's what I'm discovering:

1. Asking why is like hitting the reset button. If I start out preaching because I love God, but somewhere along the line I'm doing it because I love compliments, the rush of the moment, or whatever, why lets me see that, and reset.
2. Asking why makes me see sideways energy. "I want to get a Ph.D.," I say to myself. But why? Would that help me achieve the goals God wants from me? Maybe, but maybe not. Why allows me to see the good that might kill the right.
3. Asking why of my situations reminds me that I'm not in control of much. If something good happens, why makes me see it was, in the final sense, because everything good comes from God. If something bad happens, why reminds me that, in the final sense, it's all for my good.

So here's my encouragement: let why interrupt your what. It may annoy you, but it'll definitely help you.

Highways in the Heart

"Blessed are those whose strength is in you, in whose hearts are the highways to Zion..." Psalm 84:5

Yesterday I preached a completely different message at church than I had planned. As I prayed on Saturday night, I knew very clearly wanted that he wanted me to change my plans. I preached from Psalm 84.

Since yesterday, however, verse 5 has been lodged in my mind like song I can't stop singing. There the psalmist speaks about the blessing and strength that come when we've got highways to God paved in our hearts. According to the writer, all kinds of benefits follow: strength, endurance in suffering, flourishing, etc. What the psalmist assumes, however, I think needs some explaining. How in the world do you lay a road in your soul from your heart to God's house? What does that even mean? Here are my highly un-edited thoughts:

Survey Before a road is built, a crew of trained surveyors and planners must work hard to plan the route. Similarly, if we're going to build a highway in our hearts to Heaven's gates, we've got to know how. It is surely a trail through the foothills of prayer and repentance, across the mountains of Bible study. It's path curves through the deserts of fasting and the forests of worship. All of this road's ways must first be known before they can be travelled.

Clear the Road Next, the ground must be prepared and the land must be cleared. Rocks must be moved, trees cut down, and even mountains blown out of the way. Similarly, we've probably got some things that need to be cleared out of the way so we can construct this highway in our hearts. Schedules will need to change, priorities shifted. Time must be given to prayer. Money must be spent on a great Bible. Effort must be invested in study.

Pave Paving a road is a slow process. We've all seen it — driving along, we see dozens of workers and huge pieces of equipment devoted for months at a time to preparing just small portions of a highway. Similarly, paving the highway of the heart may take some time. Prayer is a discipline that takes time to learn. Reading the Bible is a process that requires effort. Learning to hear God — to listen to his Spirit speak — means doing some listening. Staring may seem daunting, but as you do you're building the road you'll travel to connect to God almighty.

Travel Once you've paved this road, you can now travel! This highway in the heart — the path for the Christian to connect with God — is a road meant to be travelled on. Rise early in the morning and commute toward communion with God.

Maintain One more thing ... roads must be maintained. Just as overgrowth must be trimmed and potholes must be filled on any road, so too must the highways of the heart be maintained. Distraction can grow like weeds and hurts of the heart threaten to break the pavement. This road must be traveled and inspected in order to be maintained.

I don't know about you, but I've got work to do on the highway of my heart.

Disagree ≠ Hate

In her biography on Voltaire, Evelyn Beatrice Hall wrote, "I disapprove of what you say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it." For many years now her words have been the mantra for freedom of speech in Western society. And for many years, most of us have simply presumed that the right to say what’s on our mind (even if others think it to be wrong) was, indeed, right. In recent years, however, this basic foundation of American (thus, Western) society has come under pressure. As the internet has connected us more than ever, it's also divided us more than ever. Instead of connecting all of us to each other, we have preferred connections to others most like us. Instead of one shared set of values, we now hold the values of whatever subculture to which we're most inclined. This means that today there is not one American spirit, for example. Now there are a myriad of cultural nation-states which hold our allegiances far above our country. So what do we do when those values come into conflict?

Formerly, we would argue vigorously. Our shared set of values meant that, ideally, we would listen, presume the best intentions of our opponents, and seek to find some kind of working consensus. But today such work is rare. Why? Because we have come to believe that to disagree with someone is equivalent to hating them.

That is a lie.

Here are the basic ideas I'd like to make clear:

1. To disagree with someone is not to hate them.
2. Love disagrees, often very passionately, with the beloved.
3. Freedom of speech exists in direct proportion to love.
4. Therefore, the action of disagreement should be an action of love.

First, we must rid ourselves of this idea that disagreement is hatred. That's just obviously silly and false. I disagree with my wife quite a lot and I love her more than anyone else on this planet. Is she to take my disagreement as a sign of hatred? Certainly not. Further, I pastor a church filled with people with whom I disagree about a ton of things: politics, ethics, the superiority of mac to pc ... the list goes on. Do I hate them? Good grief, no. I'm their pastor for goodness sake. If I hate someone (and I shouldn't, but if I did) I would probably disagree with them, but the reverse is not true. If I disagree with someone, I do not therefore hate them. Thus, (1).

In fact, the opposite is quite true. If I am passionate in my disagreement with you, it is more likely to be a sign of my love for you. Again, take my wife, for example. I love her. I've made a life-long covenant with her. So if I disagree with her about, say, how to parent one of our children, or where we should live, or how we should spend our money, I don't hate her. I love her, and am so committed to her welfare that I want her to get it right. And she wants me to get it right, so she pushes back. In fact, I want to get it right, right along with her. I want agreement on the good, and that may involve the passionate exchange of ideas (a euphemism for arguing). Therefore, premise (2).

Let's expand the analogy to society. We're supposed to live in a culture where the marketplace of ideas weeds out the good ideas from the bad ones through debate, honest disagreement, and passionate dialogue. But what makes such a marketplace possible? Love. Without a deep love for the image of God in you, I won't care to passionately debate you. I'll just want to silence you. But far from being a sign of hatred, vigorous, careful disagreement is a great sign of love and respect. Hatred silences, love discusses (even at painstaking length). Hatred freaks out when challenged. Love sees a challenge as an opportunity to refine one's position and win the other to it. Without love there is no real freedom — to speak, or to do anything else for that matter. Thus, (3).

These basic (and sadly no longer obvious) premises bring us to (4) — disagreement should be an action of love. As a Christian who holds to more or less really old beliefs about God, Jesus Christ, the Bible, money, sex, humanity, etc., there is a lot to disagree with these days. So when I write, speak, and argue for the veracity of these ideas I'm often called a hater. Have I been hateful before? Probably, but my point here is that I shouldn't be. We shouldn't be.

Think of it this way: If I find a truth that others don't believe, the most hateful thing I can do isn't to argue with them, but to leave them in their error. If they really are in error then their error will probably not bring about their ultimate good. But in withholding that fact I haven't loved them, affirmed them, or tolerated them. I've hated them. I've preferred myself, my comfort, my good name, and my ease of life to their good, their joy, and their prosperity. The opposite of love turns out to be selfish apathy toward others.

Furthermore, if disagreement is hate, then Jesus Christ is the most hateful being to have ever lived. Why? Because he came in complete disagreement with every human, of every culture, at the core of their belief structures. His hate speech included calling everyone wrong (Mark 12:27), telling them that they are following the father of lies (John 8), and correcting the wrong moral behavior of all of us (John 3, 4, Matt 5, et. al.) He was such a hater that the progressive, tolerant, and culturally savvy Romans decided to execute him. And what did he say as he bled? "Father forgive them, they don't know what they are doing." Even with his dying breaths, he begged our forgiveness on the basis of our error and ignorance.

That's because he loves us. This man who disagreed with the whole world did so not from hate but from love. In fact, so great was his love for humanity that he willingly embraced death both to show us the error of our ways and open the way for us to live in accordance with the truth.

Shall we be a people who really love one another enough to painstakingly, passionately, and carefully argue for truth? Or, shall our hatred for one another run over the banks of our better natures, silencing, shouting, and insisting that to disagree with you is the same as hating you? Apparently, I love you enough to ask you.