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.

The Genius of Relational Leadership

"Do it!" I said to her. Why did I need to say it again? Why couldn't she simply obey? "Why?" She snapped back. Her big, beautiful eyes glistening with frustrated tears.

"Because I said so. I'm your dad." I thundered.

...

This was my conversation with one of my daughters recently. I'm ashamed and embarrassed by it, but I recall it here because it was the starting point of a revelation.

With my wife away that morning, I began the day with a plan for parental awesomeness. I laid out the plan, and the little people cheered. So, I led my brood of four to the playground. Next came an invigorating walk, with nature lesson included (bonus points). There was laughter. There was learning. All that was left was the walk home, where my pre-made lunch was awaiting us. Slow clap for dad of the year.

And then the wheels fell off. Whining, heat, sweat, scrapes — all results of our little journey — began to take their toll on my beloved brood, and by the time we walked up to the house, we looked less Swiss Family Robinson and more Children of the Corn. Oh, and the lunch I made? No one wanted it. Yeah. That.

My flesh began to show through my garments of grace as I commanded these little creatures to eat. Eat! Then the push back came. Then, the conversation above happened. Finally, I pulled out my big ol' trump card and slammed it on the table. I'm the dad, I'm the boss, eat your food, or it's gonna get unpleasant around here.

But this blog isn't about parenting, it's about leadership. See, I made the mistake I've made a thousand times before, and you've probably made the same mistake too — the error of leading from position instead of relationship.

Positional leadership says, "Follow me because I'm the boss." And, while most of us want to be the boss, leading from the position of "boss" is actually the worst way to lead. The real genius of leadership happens when you don't do what I did with my kids. The real genius is in relational leadership.

Relational Leadership is Strong The strongest leaders are looked up to by those who follow them. How does that happen? Among other things, it happens when leaders are related to their followers. When they can say, "That guy is one of us and I trust him," they will not only achieve their short-term goals, but establish the strength of their long-term leadership.

Relational Leadership is Safe Leaders make mistakes. Only one leader never did, and you're not him. So how can we trust and follow someone who is not perfectly trustworthy and always worth following? When we know them, not just their position. Had I been more concerned about relating to my kids rather than commanding them, I might have cared a little bit more that it was 91 degrees outside, and they'd already walked 3 miles, and that's quite a bit for a little squirt. They would have been safer if I'd leaned into my relationship with them, rather than my rulership over them.

Relational Leadership is Loving Simply put, if you don't care to know the people you lead, you don't care about them. While the CEO can't know everyone in the company, he can certainly know his direct reports. He can be a hero to his VP's wife and kids, rather than a villain. I didn't act in love in my conversation with my daughter that day, I acted in pure authority — something God doesn't do, so why should I?

Relational Leadership is Christ-like Speaking of God, let's talk about how he leads. God doesn't lead us like some despot on a power trip. God leads us — his people — like a great dad. Jesus said, "I only do what I see my Father doing." The Son of God taught us to follow God as our Father, not just our ruler. God cared enough for us to relate to us personally, not just command us with mere authority. We're safe in that kind of leadership because we're known. We're known because we're loved. And because we're known and loved, of course we can follow God's leadership. Who wouldn't want to follow a leader like that?

The good news is, aside from moments like the one I mentioned, I've got a pretty good relationship growing with my kids. I came to them later and repented for my bad leadership. They forgave. And we all talked about the good leadership of Jesus, and how we both — leaders and followers — better be led by him. Only when we're led by Jesus, can we ever be any good at leading like Jesus.

Kill the Christian Criticism Culture

The crazy culture of Christian criticism has to stop. Alan Noble recently wrote a piece on the Evangelical Persecution Complex — essentially offering insight into our odd, self-identification as people under persecution. It seems to me, however, that given the regular number of hit pieces from Christian leaders on other Christian leaders, we like to dish out the hate about as much as we take it.

That is a problem. And, it's probably sin.

"But Adam," you say, "some Christian leader that I vaguely dislike is being scorched online. I need to let all my friends (most of whom aren't Christians) know that I have a disagreement with this fellow." Well, that's a pretty compelling reason to cheer on his or her public demise, isn't it? Oh wait, no. No it's not.

Not surprisingly, we're not the first generation to vent our intramural disagreements outside the walls of fellowship. The Corinthians did it too. And when Paul found out, he was so thrilled about it that he wrote this encouraging little "ataboy" to them:

When one of you has a grievance against another, does he dare go to law before the unrighteousinstead of the saints? I say this to your shame. Can it be that there is no one among you wise enough to settle a dispute between the brothers, but brother goes to law against brother, and that before unbelievers? To have lawsuits at all with one another is already a defeat for you. Why not rather suffer wrong? Why not rather be defrauded? (1 Cor 6:1, 5-7)

To answer Paul's rhetorical question, we would rather not suffer wrong because we don't believe him. We don't believe that it might be better to be quiet publicly about our offense with someone else. We do what the Corinthians did — we air our grievances against our brothers and sisters outside the family. This is, according to the Spirit who I believe inspired this text, to our shame.

"But Adam," you might protest, "someone needs to let the world know these people are wrong!" I get that. I get that from the inception of the church, Christian leaders have had to fend off heretics, rebuke the wolves in sheeps' clothing, and all the rest. I'm not suggesting we stop defending against bad doctrine. But the social media feeding frenzy that occurs when a leader screws up is nothing like Iraneaus' Against Heresies, for example. You aren't Augustine battling Pelagius. You have a Facebook page. Settle down.

Not one to simply complain, let me suggest five ways we can kill the Christian criticism culture, and just act like Christians:

1. When You Have a Problem with Someone you Know, Have the Guts to Tell Them, Not the Internet. Crazy idea, right? But go with me for a minute.

I pastor a growing church in Boston and Cambridge, MA. I preach a lot, which means I offend people. One of my favorite things in the world, however, is when someone in our church loves me enough to tell me about it. I feel so loved! So cared for! Why? Because someone in my very own church had the guts to have an uncomfortable conversation with me for my good, and the good of the church. They didn't blog about it, tweet it, snapchat it, or make it a "prayer request" (which often is a Christian euphemism for gossip). They just put on their big kid britches and acted like a Christian.

2. When You Have a Problem with Someone You Don't Know, Have the Character to Pray for Them, Forgive Them, and Reach out to Them if you Can I disagree with all kinds of Christians leaders all the time. I read their books and hear their sermons with reactions ranging from, "Hmm, I wouldn't have said it that way," to "Heresy!!"  So what's a Pastor like me to do? Whatever I should be doing, I almost certainly shouldn't be echoing the stories of their humiliation in public. I most definitely shouldn't be jabbing them with my most pithy and piercing 140-character line. And, I certainly shouldn't be merrily celebrating their problems in front of a world that watches how Christians treat each other.

I probably should pray for them. And I try to, I really do. I want the current Christian rockstars to look progressively more like Jesus. But when Mark Driscoll, Rob Bell, John Piper, N.T. Wright, Pope Benedict, Brian McLaren, Tim Keller, Bill Johnson, T.D. Jakes, or anyone else of the Pro-Preacher class have a problem in public, we should not be among the crowd chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!" like adolescents in the school yard. We should weep. We should pray. If we know them, we should call. And, we should hope to God in Heaven that some of them will call each other, too.

3. For Sake of the Gospel, Stop Reposting, Retweeting, and Otherwise Dancing Around the Graves of Fallen Christian Leaders by Echoing the Stories of their Screw Ups I wonder if there is nothing left of the fear of the Lord in us. Does no one remember the story of Noah's kids? Go back and read it. God's not cool with publicly shaming his people — especially when his people shame each other. We don't need to echo the horrible stories of someone else's sin. We should be telling good stories of gospel glory, not salivating over the demise of a popular preacher we don't like very much. That impulse is called hatred.  It is to be avoided.

Just stop doing it. With the measure you use it will be measured back to you. Think about that before you hit the repost button next time.

4. Be Free from the Obligation to Judge I think it wonderful news that I do not need to judge other leaders. Jesus will hold me responsible for my family, my leadership, my words, and my church. Mine. He will not hold me responsible for anyone else's. Therefore, I do not need to be in charge of the social media trial and execution of anyone. I don't even have to show up for it. I can just ignore it. When a whiff of weirdness comes across my nostrils from another leader, I can call them, pray for them, and then trust Jesus to govern his church just fine. It's really quite freeing.

5. For the Love of God, Celebrate the Good Because it's not my job to judge another man or woman's work, I'm actually free to appreciate the grace of God in them, despite them. Do you get how great this is? That means I can appreciate my favorites and my not-so-favorites amongst the Pastoral Illuminati, by God's grace. I can actually look at someone with whom I wildly disagree and honor God's grace in them enough to be private and discreet about my problem with them. How lovely.

Let's all join together and kill the Christian criticism culture. If we could, that would be a great story to retweet, and an entirely appropriate grave around which to dance.

In Praise of No

No has fallen on hard times lately.

With more technology and more competition, we're saying yes to more to stay ahead.  FOMO flings us into more yesses than we can take. Where no once stood as a fence between work and life — no calls after 9, no texts at dinner — yes has taken over. Yes to the iPhone everywhere. Yes to one more email when the kids stand longing for father. Yes to the conversation with your forehead when I talk to you, and you talk to the internet as you say yes to other peoples' lives through likes and hearts and favorites and ... Hey, are you even listening to me?

No?

No also once guarded our souls. No was the bulwark keeping us from self destruction. Human flourishing at stake, we said no to immorality, infidelity, and inch-by-inch compromises of our consciences. But the seductive yes has supplanted the stalwart no. Suffering follows.

We used to shout, "Yes!" to those who used no well. They were the heroes — the leaders. They were the ones who said no to so many good things so we could say yes to the right things.

Jesus was great at no. No to demonic temptation. No to law's demands for conformity. No to those who condemned the sinners. No to getting down off the cross as mockers jeered, disciples feared, and angels watched.

Today, one of the few places no is to be found is in the way respond to this man. In a terrible irony, the only no many of us are comfortable saying is to Jesus — the One who died to say yes to us.

So, here's to no. May this powerful word once more find its proper place in our lexicon. Wielded against all that is wrong, so we can say yes to all that is right.

Biblical Fidelity and Our Times

In every generation there is some challenge to biblical fidelity. Discussing this with a friend and pastor I admire deeply, Nic Gibson, he said this. I want to share it with you.

Arguing that the Bible isn't all that clear isn't actually all that hard or all that clever. This is the major tactic of almost all revisionist biblical interpretation – that the text allows for many interpretive options, and that its message is woefully ambiguous to careful observers with more advanced knowledge. And yet almost none of these people would accept that this is true about virtually anything they themselves have written. They think of their own writing as clear, accurately enunciating a definite meaning. They would see doubts raised against their sentence structure, philological choices, and presumed assumptions as unwarranted and unnecessary speculations marshaled against the otherwise clear meaning of a straightforward and unadorned text. But this is modern biblical interpretation, if not all modern literary interpretation. This is the end of all schools of deconstruction and accommodation – the refusal of the surgeon to submit to his own knife ... [A]t the end of the day there is one incision of logical division that they cannot stomach – that the embracing of logical honesty will not uphold the desires of their compassionate sentiment. It is because it is unthinkable that they should believe that their compassion isn't compassionate because what they believe is loving isn't love. Such a moral accusation coming from the word of God or from our very conscience is too much for the deconstructionist to admit and bear – as it would be unthinkable for any of us. But, what we would refuse to be done to text that we write ourselves, we must refuse to do to the apostles, to Moses, or to Christ himself— and all the more if we believe in the divine authorship of all these texts. It is too often those who try to have it all that have nothing. The one who stands with one foot in two boats ends up terribly sore. It is the one who lashes his wrists to two departing trains who holds fast to the trains, but not to his own torso.

Resolved: No Resolutions

I'm kicking off 2014 with a rebellion against the new year's resolution. That's right, no resolutions in 2014. "Now wait," you might say. "Isn't having no resolutions really a resolution itself?" Perhaps. But what I'm interested in is what the resolution does to the soul. I'm not rebelling against goals, I'm rebelling against the list — the wishes we all make of pie-in-the-sky dreams that would be awesome to achieve but will largely go undone. Don't believe me, though. This phenomenon has been pretty heavily researched, showing that we're not very good at resolving. We make the list, most of us don't achieve it, and then we settle ... or get depressed ... or get cynical ... or worse.

So, no to resolutions.

But for those of you who know me, you'll know that I'm an achiever. I'm a living, breathing stuff-getter-done-er. I can't even relax without planning out how I'll achieve relaxation. So how can I say such a thing as no to resolutions? Because resolutions don't work. But goals, with plans ... they do. In fact, setting goals and making plans works quite well.

So, no to resolutions. Yes to goals, with plans.

Here's how this works for me...

Goal I make a huge list of goals. I pray over it, talk to my wife about it, and edit it. But in about a week, I'll have settled on it. I put those goals in different categories (9 of them to be exact). Spiritual, physical, emotional/mental, marriage, kids, work, financial, educational, and miscellaneous. I write them down, print them out, and put a laminated list in my journal, on my iPhone, and a few other places where I can see them.

Plan For each goal, I make a plan. If I say I want to read my Bible in a year, how am I going to do that? If I want to write a new book, what's the schedule? What are the little goals to get the big goal done? I write those plans down and put the important dates in iCal, with reminders.

Maintenance I have a weekly, 1-hour appointment with myself. Phone is off, computer is closed, journal is open, list in view. I'm simply asking myself and Jesus, "How am I doing? How's the plan going? Holy Spirit, what needs to be added or changed?"

Celebrate When I achieve a goal, I celebrate! Not usually in a big way, but I at least thank God, buy a coffee, high-five my wife, or something. When you win, thank God and throw a party!

None of this is Bible, and none of it is law. But it's been working for me pretty well in 2013. In fact, my biggest goal of 2014 is just to do those four steps above more consistently.

Providence, and 4 Wrong Ways to Think About 2013

Here we are at the precipice of another year. The gyms are revving up their new year's campaigns, the self-help aisles in the book stores are fit to burst, and we're feeling the itch to make lists full of to-do's. But before we get too foam-at-the-mouth over this coming year, it may be helpful to think about the one we're leaving. When it comes to thinking about the past, we can make at least four mistakes:

Fatalism The fatalists are those among us who live by c'est la vie. This perspective sees the past as a series of uncontrollable events that "just happened." The fatalist views yesteryear like a line of dominos. One event touches another in a series that never stops. He copes with this by saying, "it is the way it is." He puts his head down. He moves on.

Activism The activist is the opposite of the fatalist. He's the can-do achiever who looks at the past like one big O.T.I. (which, according to previous coaches apparently means, "opportunity to improve.") Life doesn't happen to you, you happen to life, darn it, and life better watch out. The activist has a plan, has the will, and, if he ever references the past, only does so to achieve something in the future.

Futurism Speaking of the future, there's a fourth wrong way to look at the past, which is to neglect to do so at all. There are those among us who are futurists. If life were Disney World, they'd never leave Tomorrowland. The futurist is the one who says, "chin up, tomorrow will be better." Why does he say this? Who knows. But the futurist is convincing enough for himself, at least.

Victim-ism The final wrong perspective that eats our cultural lunch is victim-ism. The victim is like Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh, always wondering, "Why did this have to happen to me?" In our therapeutic culture, blaming everyone else for our own issues is as natural as instgram-ing that totes hilarious situation you were in that one time (See what I did there?) But blaming others for the pain doesn't help it, it just deflects it.

This all begs the question. What is a good way to look at the past? May I suggest the robustly biblical answer, through the perspective of providence? Providence affirms the following:

God is Strong Enough to Order History Only Jesus reveals a God who is strong enough to rule over time without obliterating personhood. How do we know? Jesus had a clear destiny. Born to die and rise. Yet, he wasn't a machine. He was a real man with real experiences. No other religion offers such a Deity. Not a fatalistic tinkerer, a Sovereign Savior.

God is Good Enough to Account for the Pain "But what about those painful parts of last year?" God rules over those too. But only Jesus reveals the kind of God who is good enough to account for the pain. Why? Because he's experienced more suffering than any of his children ever will, he can say, "I know this hurts, but trust me," and we can believe him.

God is Gracious Enough to Gift and to Wound God loves to give gifts to us. Over and over, the New Testament describes God like a great daddy, eager to give beautifully wrapped gifts to his kids. But God does not only give grace wrapped in bows, but veiled in pain. These are those graces that grow us up, prune us, hurt us, and help us. Like weight on the spiritual bar, or surgery on the spiritual problem, it hurts. But a perspective of providence allows us to see that God is the kind of dad who not only gives presents, but pressure. And like a good dad, he's not interested in us just having what we want, but becoming who must.

So before you and I pop the corks and toast 2014, let's look backwards with some proper perspective, thankful to God for those graces that were obvious, as well as the ones that were veiled in suffering.

When our Gospel is Muddy

(I had the privilege of writing for my buddy Trevin Wax recently. This article appeared for him over at his blog for The Gospel Coalition) Missions and church planting is pretty much the only thing I’ve ever done (which means I’ve made plenty of mistakes!). Space doesn’t permit me to share all the occasions where my zeal stiff-armed wisdom. For many in ministry, this is a job hazard.

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only passionate pastor though. Every ministry conference I attend, I find dozens of other wild-eyed church planters, pent-up preachers, and inspired ministers – all adrenalized by visions of revival in their cities.

But lurking behind passion is danger—ways in which we, the impassioned proclaimers of the gospel can muddy the message. If we are truly passionate about Jesus and his Kingdom, then we must become passionate about making the message of that kingdom as clear as possible to our hearers.

Here are four common ways I see us missing the mark and muddying the gospel:

Bad Language I’m not talking about cussing in the pulpit. Our problem is the tendency of the theologically-minded to use language that your neighbor who’s never come to church before doesn’t understand. So cloistered can we become in our own reformed, or baptist, or charismatic, or (fill in the blank with your favorite Christian subculture moniker) language that we’ve lost the missionary edge to speak to everyone else.

I’m not just talking about the pulpit speech. I’m talking about all your language—website, bulletin, announcements, etc. If you’ve got a bad website that can’t be viewed on a mobile device in 2013, you’re using bad language. If your church artwork looks like a poor imitation of Hollywood, you’re using bad language. It’s the essential equivalent to preaching in New York using Elizabethan English. People may understand you if they really try, but you’re not making it easy on them.

Biblical Shallowness Just because you know how to make a few vague redemptive-historical connections in your preaching does not make you biblically deep. We need to know the Bible inside and out. The rays of light which beam forth from the Scriptures burn away the fog which veils our gospel. That’s why we need to more deeply saturate ourselves in it.

Laxity with language is a sign of biblical shallowness. If you read the Scriptures well you can’t help but notice all the great many ways God has set about telling His redemption story. Denying ourselves the richness of God’s literary genius and creative narrative is death to the minister—the sodium pentothal of our preaching.

Why? Because the minister must be more than literate with the Scriptures, he must be fluent. If you’re fluent in the language of the Scriptures, then translating their message into the language of the culture becomes second nature. But if you’re foggy on the Bible, then you’ll fog up the lens of the onlooker, making it impossible for him to see and savor the gospel.

Idolatry of Preference We are masters at enforcing our preferences as if they were biblical norms.

You like hymns because “they’re biblical, after all.” You prefer your music quiet because you read in a book it should be that way. You prefer your music loud because you’re pretty sure worship at the head of the Israelite procession was loud, right? You like your pastor in a trendy shirt, or you don’t.

My point here is that when we make dress code, music, style, meeting times, graphics, and carpet color objects of great concern, we elevate them to a status of importance beyond what they deserve. These are preferences that must be subject to the Scriptures and our mission to clarify the gospel to the culture.

We must be vigilant to resist our preferences in ministry. We mustn’t look not to our own interests, but to the interests of others (Phil. 2:4). Jesus did ministry this way. We probably should too.

Moral Duplicity Pastor, you are not called to be edgy, but holy. When our tongues speak too loosely or our eyes wander too freely, we become guilty of moral duplicity.

Test yourself in this. Is there behavior that you engage in regularly throughout the week that you’d be embarrassed to tell your church about? That feeling you’re having right now probably says enough.

The world doesn’t need worldly ministers. The world needs heavenly ministers who speak their language. Jesus is our great example.

Passion for Jesus should translate into a passion for clarity. When we get out of the way, the world can see the Gospel clearly. The simple question is, are we willing to agree with John the Baptist that Jesus must become more, and we (with our preferences, problems, and proclivities) must become less? For the sake of the gospel, I sure hope so.

How to be Encouraged

We must develop the discipline of encouragement. I say this because most of us (me included) find ourselves encouraged when times are good, and discouraged when they are not. We, like little boats afloat out in the sea of situation, are tossed to and fro by the wind and waves of whatever happens to be happening. So what can be done to change this? Developing the discipline of encouragement.

Now I'm not talking about positive self talk. "I'm good enough, smart enough, and doggonit, people like me." Blech. That, and the nonsense on those "inspiriational" posters with pictures of whale flukes that hung in your high school guidance counselor's office, won't get you very far. I'm talking about seeing evidences of God's grace, even in the midst of trial, and encouraging yourself when the waves of life are crashing all over the ship of your soul. Here are few things encouraging me right now.

The Holy Spirit Duh, right? But seriously, I've had a handful of people just walk up to me this week and give me God-inspired encouragement. It was just awesome. If you've got the gift of encouragement, get out there and use it. People like me need it.

Ministry Look, ministry isn't always encouraging. But right now I can see the deep work that God is doing in my people, and it's awesome to watch. There are tons of challenges too. Money needs to be raised for this and that. Plans need to be drawn up. Sermons need prepping. But if Jesus can change the guys I'm mentoring, for example, then there's hope for the rest of it.

My Wife Who you marry reeeeeaaaaalllllyyyy matters. This week I screwed up a couple of times. Instead of rubbing my nose in it, my sweet wife forgave me. She loves me, even when I'm at my worst. She's constant. Steady. That's really encouraging.

Dreams I'm not talking about what happens in my head at night. I'm talking about some of the big dreams that I've got for the future. It's encouraging to think that some of my dreams have come true, so more can too.

What's encouraging you today? Having a hard time thinking of anything. Well, press pause on the pity party for a minute and pray, asking the Holy Spirit to open your eyes to evidences of His grace. You'll be surprised (and encouraged) by what you see.

You and Future You

You're an achiever. You're here for a purpose and you know it. You've got a plan, and you don't understand those who don't. You are busy building future you. My city is full of people like you. Heck, my house is full of people like you. People like you are people like me, and we are, by default, living for the future version of ourselves. This is my natural mode. Call it a strength, decry it as a weakness—it's who I am. And largely speaking, it's who much of my city happens to be. We live today for tomorrow. And tomorrow we'll be living for the days following.

For me, the rabbit hole goes deeper. I have lists. My lists have lists. There are books I hope to write. Churches I hope to plant. Degrees I've yet to attain. Sermons I'm still to craft ...and that's just work me. Dad me and husband me have lists too. Conversations I've yet to have with my daughters. Adventures with my sons. Dates with my wife. Today I'm thinking about those things. All of those things. I think about all of those things every day. All of the things that future me will do. All of the goals future me will accomplish. All of the ways future me will be better.

And I sort of hate it.

Don't get me wrong, I love achieving. Most achievers do. But hidden within the God-given grace to get it done is a liability so sharp that you can hardly feel it cutting you. That is, until it's in so deep that you're hemorrhaging joy. You achieve and achieve, thinking that tinge of pain is nothing that can't be made better with a little more doing. Then you wake up one day and you feel it before you've done anything. You're already behind. It's 5:30am and you're already oppressed by the lists that future you is demanding you accomplish if you're going to be him one day. You've been cut. Now you're bleeding joy all over the floor.

The future version of yourself is a good guy, but he's a terrible god. He inspires you with his greatness—at least, the selfish, narcissistic you. But when you fail him, his knife awaits. Your holy book is your list, your worship is your work, and your reward is yourself—the "you" you so desperately hope to be.

O fellow achiever, hear these words well as I shout them in the chasms of my own soul:

The present Jesus is better than the future me.

Say it often. Say it in the morning when you already feel behind. Say it after accomplishing a great goal and your joy is full. Say it in the silent daily moments when your lists are pressing in. Say it before you sleep your short, efficient rest. He is better than you, even future you.

Jesus is a better God than future me, or future you. His holy book is the gospel, our worship is our joy, and our reward—thank God—is not ourselves. It is him. Glorious, gracious, God. When you please him and do all your list, remember that without his grace you'd accomplish nothing. When you fail him and your list is undone, remember that he is there with limitless grace for failures. The glory of God isn't in make the good better or the achiever more efficient. The glory of God is to make dead live. So, die to future you. Then, let Jesus make you live again.

How to Accomplish Nothing in 2013

"If you shoot for the moon you'll land among the stars!" I remember reading that sign, probably in a high school guidance counselor's office. The idea, have big hairy, totally irrational goals, and you'll probably go somewhere far. I'm convinced that this kind of thinking is precisely the way to accomplish nothing, or right next to it. So, in line with that bad advice, here's some more to make sure that you absolutely never accomplish anything you want to in 2013, and some tips to avoid doing just that.

Only make goals Big goals that are unaccompanied by a plan and an accountability structure are about as useful as a life jacket in the desert. There's even new research to show that big goal making is, by itself, pretty much useless. So, before you get out a fresh, clean sheet of paper and write down a list of crazy dreams, pause. Do you have any kind of plan? Is there an accountability structure in  your life to make sure things like this get done? All goals and no plan make you sure to fail.

Don't compete your list I'm a goal-oriented man. I can't tell you the pleasure I get from scratching something off my to-do list. But here's what I've learned about goals all alone—they'll kill me if I let them. Make a big goal and then don't do it. Don't lose those 5 pounds. Don't read your whole bible. Don't do whatever you said you'd do, and watch what happens. If you have any kind of soul, you'll feel pretty bad, maybe even crushed. Then, all your energy is sapped for accomplishing more of what you should be doing. Don't turn your goals into your gods. God's your God, and he has grace for you to help you get everything done you need to do.

Compare your goals to others This is a great way to accomplish nothing. This one is bad for two reasons. First, if you actually do achieve more than most, then you're looking to others goals to make you feel good. Do this, and you'll get lazy with your own high-capacity ability for achievement, which God gave you for his purposes and glory, not yours. The other reason this is a sure-fire way to goal failure is if you achieve slower than others, then comparing will only discourage you. Comparing your list to another's list is foolish because you're you, not them. To do this is to wish yourself to be other than you are, which is sin. Goals for the future should be God-centered, not man centered.

Don't plead with God for help Go ahead. Try to accomplish something, even something for God, on your own. And even if you do accomplish something, God won't be honored. That doesn't work. Again, goals should be made prayerfully and hopefully, relying on God not only for the wisdom to make them, but also for the power to accomplish them. Instead,pray, asking God to give you help.

Lord, make me a secure, God-centered goal setter and achiever. Tell me what to do, give me grace to do it, and let me satisfied having done it for you, without reference to anyone else. 

Jesus, Thank You for 2012

I bow down toward your holy temple and give thanks to your name for your steadfast love and your faithfulness, for you have exalted above all things your name and your word. (Ps. 138:2)

Today is the last day of 2012, and for my part, I'm going out on thankfulness. Was 2012 challenging? Yes. Was it hard? Absolutely. But the mercies of God were so apparent in so many ways, that I'd be remiss if I didn't note a few of them.

This year, God grew me. I won't bore you with all the ways, but my Lord loves me, and he's growing me up to be a better man of God. That happened a little bit this year. On the family side, he grew that too, giving us a new son. Also, I've deepened in my love for my wife and my children are growing in grace. On the church front we've made many new disciples, and God has graced our church with phenomenal growth, unheard of in this area.

The point here isn't to list out all my blessings for you read, but to show you just how simple and beautiful the process of doing so can be for you. The simple fact is, without gratefulness for past grace we'll be blind to future grace. I believe 2013 will bring more Jesus-bought, God-given grace than I can imagine. Challenges? Sure. But I want to posture my heart in gratitude to God for all he's going to do in 2013. How do I that? By thankful for some of what he's done in 2012.