I just came across an article about a male Gordon-Conwell student (the seminary I attended) who allegedly broke into a female student’s dorm room and setup a video camera with the intent of filming her.  You can read about it on the Boston Herald or the Salem News sites.  I feel badly for this young woman.  I can’t imagine the feeling of invasion of privacy and the lingering effects of this incident.  I also feel badly for the student that broke into her room.  He’s clearly a troubled person who is dealing with some difficult desires that led him to make a life-altering decision — very sad.

What I find interesting is the responses to this story in the comment section on these two newspapers’ sites.  There is a sense of derision and mocking aimed at this young man.  There is even a sense of delight in reveling in his downfall as a person seeking pastoral office.  To be honest, I’m not sure what to think.  I get why people feel this way.  They think judgmental evangelicals are just as sinful as everyone else, and therefore they should keep their mouths shut.  And, I agree that this guy shouldn’t be doing this or anything like it, but I’m not surprised it happened.  I also don’t think this makes pastors who talk about sin insincere or necessarily hypocritical.   As a clergy member myself, I’m aware of the standard to which I feel called, but I’m also aware of the fact that I don’t measure up.

I’ve never broken into another person’s room to film them (nor done anything illegal), but there are undeniable ways that I fall short of God’s standard.   If my qualification for ministry was based on my personal performance, I’d be out of a job.  If I had to master every sin before I talked about it, there’d be a lot of things I could never preach on.  I’m not God.  I’m not perfect.  I sin, sometimes boldly.  What am I to do?  What are clergy to do?

Most hide it.  They put forward a portrait of perfection, but as I mentioned in my last post hiding it makes things worse, because hiding it gives the sin more power.  It isolates people and prevents them from receiving grace.  What we, the church, need to do is come to terms with the fact that our clergy are just as sinful as the rest of the world.  Our desires are just as dark and perverse as everyone else’s.   We’re broken too.  My hope is only that our hearts are receptive enough to grace and that we’ve experienced a deep enough level of transformation that we are safe to lead and wise enough to put parameters in place that protect us from personal pitfalls.

We need to be honest about our clergy, and honest about God.  This is no surprise to God, and it’s no disqualifier for grace.  My hope is that churches can be honest about sin so that they are able to call people to repentance, and serious enough about grace to provide a place that’s safe enough for confession and repentance to happen.   Often times this culture starts in seminary.  Pastors try to replicate the culture they experienced in seminary in the churches they lead.  Gordon-Conwell was a place that was safe enough for me to confess and experience grace while I was there, but I wonder if it was for this student.   For the sake of our pastors and the future churches they lead, I hope he is the exception.  My prayers are with the GCTS community.

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From Flickr

Secrets sabotage relationships like poison destroys the body.   When we keep secrets, we do damage to the relationships with the people we keep these secrets from.  Whatever we are hiding becomes less damaging than the fact that we are hiding something at all.  The secret ruins the relationship not the thing that is kept secret.

I think that’s why Paul said,

“Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of God.”

(2 Corinthians 4:2 NIV)

When we keep secrets, we don’t believe that we are loved as we are. We don’t believe we can be forgiven.  We don’t believe in grace.  We succumb to the belief that our weakness, our brokenness, our failures are too embarrassing.  We are too bad or too selfish or too shameful to be accepted by the person from whom we keep the secret.  In this passage, Paul was tempted to cover up his ministry failings to be more appealing to the Corinthians, but this would have minimized God’s grace and call in his life.  It would have meant that his success and not the gospel was the foundation of his identity and ministry.  When we keep secrets, it is a sign of sickness in our own self-understanding.

That’s why we renounce secrets with the antidote of confession. In order to confess we must believe in grace.  We must trust in forgiveness.  We must find our worth in God.  He accepts us, not because we are flawless, but because his love is unconditional.

Confession is never easy though.  It’s never easy to admit to our spouses that we were wrong.  It’s never comfortable to confess we were selfish.  It never feels good to shine the spotlight on our darkest moments.  And that’s why, I have to regularly remind myself of the insidious nature of secrets and the transformative power of confession.  The practice of confession is the pathway into grace.  It’s the place where secrets are destroyed and healing happens for my soul.

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Abraham Lincoln is a legend.  He is known for being a wise, steadfast, and visionary leader who moved the United States through the Civil War and out of slavery.  But that is certainly not how he was known during his lifetime.  He was perceived by many as waffling, inexperienced, and a failure.

Lincoln faced repeated setbacks and discouragement.  He was dirt poor growing up and at times he had to forego even the most basic comforts.  He struggled to succeed in business early on, and then lost election after election in politics.  He lost more elections than he won before he became President, and he was largely unknown and unproven as a national politician.

He also made a lot of mistakes.  He was less of a visionary leader who pushed the country ahead into new territory and more of a reactor to the circumstances that were thrust upon him.  The Civil War happened to him.  It was a forgone conclusion before he was sworn into office.  The decision to free the slaves was an arduous and difficult one for him ultimately driven by a desire to recruit more men for battle than out of philosophical or visionary zeal.  His plan for solving the slavery problem was to colonize slaves in Central America.  He did not believe slaves were intellectually, morally, or culturally equal to their white masters.  He was a flawed president who was trying to do the best he could.  As Lincoln himself commented, “I claim not to have controlled events, but confess plainly that events have controlled me.”  But isn’t that true of you and me too?

No one wins every battle and we all make lots of mistakes. The difference between Lincoln and most of us is that we give up.  What Abe had, and what we all need, was perseverance and integrity.  When life gets hard, really hard, we are tempted to give up or compromise our character to get ahead or get out of our struggle.  We quit on jobs, relationships, and God if things don’t go well for us.  We give up playing by the rules and rationalize cheating because we’ve got it hard.

Lincoln is remembered as a hero of American politics because he never compromised and he never gave up. He isn’t remembered for knowing everything or always doing things right.  He is remembered for being honest.  He is remembered for persevering and leading the country through tremendous hardship.  He is remembered as a legend because of how he responded to pain not because he avoided it.

We do not get to choose what difficulties befall us, but we can choose how we respond. We can choose to take shortcuts out of our difficulties by giving up or compromising our character, or we can persevere and become legends.  One doesn’t become great because life is easy and things go well.  We become great when we respond well to resistance and persevere through our problems.  If we avoid hardships, we miss out on our opportunity for greatness.  Maybe that’s why Merton said,

“Be anything you like, be madmen, drunks, and bastards of every shape and form, but at all costs avoid one thing: success.”

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Last week Stanley McChrystal said some bad things about President Obama.  For most Americans, this isn’t a big deal, but for McChrystal it spelled the end of his job as commander of the Army’s operation in Afghanistan.  It’s hard to know why he said things like “Obama looked uncomfortable and intimidated by the roomful of military brass” and more in an interview with Rolling Stone.  An NPR commentator suggested that McChrystal did it to shift the blame of a poorly advancing war off of his shoulders.  McChrystal was pre-emptively protecting himself from the forthcoming criticism of the war in Afghanistan.  In essence, McChrystal was trying to secure his reputation by distancing himself from what he predicts will be a failure.

I’m not sure if this is accurate, but if it was it didn’t work.  When an Army general bad-mouths the commander-in-chief to protect his image, he does the opposite.  He just looks like a jerk.

David Petraeus made this object lesson all the clearer by providing a compelling counter-example.  As Obama is forced to fire McChrystal and appoint a replacement, he chooses David Patraeus who had been working above McChrystal as head of both the Afghanistan and Iraqi wars.  Taking McChrystal’s job then was essentially a demotion.  It would appear to be harmful to his public image.  He went from being in charge of two wars to just one, and conventionally wisdom would suggest that his position and his status decreased.

But what I find fascinating is that the opposite happened.  The American people have generally lauded his action and his public persona has swelled to heroic proportions.  He is seen as the self-sacrificing public servant who has stepped in to save the day.  In a phrase, “Sacrifice sells.”  When leaders swallow their pride and choose to sacrificially serve their community around them, they win tremendous favor.  McChrystal’s image-driven actions backfired and he has come out the other end looking bad.  Patraeus’ sacrificial service which on the surface appears to decrease his stature has had the opposite effect.  This is so obvious that it appears axiomatic to me.  It’s sort of like what Jesus said, “The greatest among you will be your servant.” (Mt. 23:11)

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This has been a busy month.  Mary and I went to Singapore for a week at the beginning of the month.  I had the privilege of officiating a wedding for two good friends and former members of the Highrock College group.  Ken and Hui were integral parts of our ministry in Boston, and it was great to see them and be a part of this special day.

After Singapore, we flew back through Hong Kong and spent two days sight-seeing.  Derek Dieu and Judy Kim accompanied us, who were also a part of the college group.  We saw a lot of Hong Kong in a short period of time.  Here we are crammed into Judy’s hotel room.

This week, the Evangelical Covenant Church is holding its Annual Meeting in St. Paul.  Covenant pastors from all over the country have come to town for the meeting.  It’s at this meeting that all the denomination’s business happens as well as the ordination of new pastors and the acceptance of new church plants.  A bunch of pastors that I worked with or have become friends with during Covenant events came to town earlier in the week and we all went up to my parent’s cabin for a few days.  We had a blast.  One of the fun things the kids got to do was fish…not with a pole, but with a net.  They would just scoop the sunfish right out of the water and then they stored them in this huge Tupperware container.

Mary’s mom came into town today, and I get ordained tomorrow.  It’s been a busy but fun June.  I’m looking forward to having things settle down again so that I can get back into our church routine, but I’m also very thankful for good friends and time to relax!

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So Mary’s pregnant.  She just returned from the doctor today, and they told her that she will likely deliver early next winter.  She also came home with some ultrasound pictures.  The baby is 3.9 cm long.  You can see his/her little arms and legs and head.  Crazy.

Mary and I think we have the most fantastic kids, and we can’t wait to have another one join our family.  I’m so thankful for them.  I believe that one of the most powerful kingdom impacts we can make is in the way that we raise our kids.  There are no other people in the world on whom we will have greater influence.  For better or worse, they will end up looking a lot like us.  I also believe that our family system is a ministry in and of itself.  The way we love our kids and open our home is a great way for us to do ministry.

I can’t wait for the next little March.  When we ask Josiah and Mercy whether they want a little brother or sister, we get two different responses.  Mercy wants a brother.  Josiah wants a sister with a mustache.   What a joker!

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Alyosha Karamazov, the protagonist in Dostoevsky’s novel The Brothers Karamazov, disappoints me as I’m sure Jesus would have if only I understood him as a first century Jew would have.  Alyosha is described from the outset as the hero of the story, and as I progressed through the novel, the author repeatedly promised tales of Alyosha’s forthcoming heroics.  I eagerly anticipated learning of what Alyosha would do that would qualify him as the hero of the story.  I thought, maybe he’ll sacrifice himself for one of his brothers.  Or, maybe he will intervene in some violent affair and save the day.  Surely, he will do something dramatic to save others and earn the label of hero.

But I was wrong.  Alyosha appears powerless to save anyone.  At the end of the novel, everyone is left in a pitiful state (the details of which I will refrain from describing for anyone planning to read the book).  Alyosha may be the “hero of the story,” but he doesn’t save anyone from suffering.

I wonder if I would have felt the same way about Jesus?  If I were a first Century Jew suffering under the oppression of the Roman Empire and feeling rejected by God, I wonder if Jesus would have similarly felt like a heroic disappointment.  When he died on the cross, he too failed to actually save anyone from suffering.  The few miracles that he did accomplish were hardly exhaustive.  They merely pointed to a future that was still out of touch.  By and large he didn’t help people.  Those around him were left in their suffering, just as the Brothers Karamazov were.

In this way, Dostoevsky helped remind me how disappointing Jesus can be to us today.  He frequently doesn’t save us out of our difficult situations.  He’s not the type of hero who swoops in to save us from all our problems.  He doesn’t rescue me from my mortgage payments, from my illnesses or from those difficult people in my life.

But that doesn’t me he isn’t powerful.  Alsyosha, despite not literally saving anyone, did have a profound effect on everyone with whom he interacted.  He reformed some troublesome youths.  His presence with each of his brothers helped them persevere through great difficulty.  He offered a concrete example of moral rectitude in the face of deep depravity, and when he was assaulted violently (even to the point of almost having his finger bitten off) he responds peacefully and with forgiveness.  In his own way he did offer a saving presence to those around them.  He loved them purely and was a witness to truth and grace in their midst.  Everyone knew that he could be trusted, and he seemed to brighten the day of every person with whom he spoke.  Alyosha was light in the dark lives of all those around him.

Jesus does the same thing for us now.  His loving and constant presence with us is transformative even though it doesn’t change our circumstances.  He doesn’t remove the things that afflict us from our lives, but his presence, like Alyosha’s, helps us to do that which is right.  Jesus’ presence with us enables us to find meaning and joy in the midst of the mundane and painful.  Dostoevsky’s book did an excellent job of highlighting the power of Christ and the call of Christians to follow in his footsteps as light in a suffering world.

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Over the last few years, the number of immigrants coming to the United States from Mexico has become an increasingly contentious political issue.  Politicians have flirted with comprehensive immigration reform at times, but the explosive nature of the issue in the public’s mind has mostly kept politicians from doing anything substantial at a Federal level.  Now states like Arizona have passed new laws to combat the problem.  Other politicians, like a Republican candidate in Alabama, has used the issue to rile his constituents when he promised only to offer driver’s license tests in English.  This has left illegal immigrants who have lived here for years in a difficult position.  They feel at home in the US, and to send them back to Mexico would feel like exile.  It would tear families apart and even hurt our economy.  Recently, President Obama and Mexican President Calderon met to discuss among other things immigration reform.  I hope it went well.  Our country needs immigration reform at this systemic level.

As a Christian, I feel it is important for me to talk about this polarizing political issue.  I’ve witnessed what appears to be an increasing hostility and even bitter resentment towards Mexican immigrants, and this sort of attitude has no place in the church.  Here are a few reasons why, we as the church should value, speak up for, and seek to be in relationship with immigrants, Mexican or otherwise:

1. Jesus was an immigrant. While Jesus was just a small child, Joseph and Mary were forced to flee from Palestine to Egypt because of the genocidal decree issued by Herod.  He spent many years in Egypt, and then his family finally returned to Palestine after Herod died.  When God deigned to put on humanity, it was in the cultural dressings of an illegal immigrant.  Not only is God not far from those on the margins of society, he himself was on the margins of society in the person of Jesus.

2.  All humans are created in the image of God. Jesus exhibited an incredible ability to cut through the prejudices of society.  He loved the people that no one else seemed to be able to love.  Paul said the gospel tears down every dividing wall that keeps people at odds with one another, whether racial, social, gender, or economic.

3.  Ancient Israel was meant to be a place hospitable to the alien, sojourner, and immigrant. After Israel entered Palestine, God commanded them to care for immigrants and wanderers, because that’s what they themselves had been for so many years.  (Ex. 23:9; Lev. 19:33-34)

4.  We are all immigrants and sojourners in the world. As Christians, our primary allegiance is to God and to God’s kingdom.  We are first and foremost citizens of heaven.  Often times immigrants understand this intuitively because they are outside the dominant power culture in the country to which they come.  White Christians living in the suburbs of America (like myself) are wise to recognize this implicit advantage immigrants have in living as though they are aliens and sojourners in the world.  There is much we can learn from them. (1 Peter 1)

Immigration reform is complicated.  I get that we need laws that govern our borders.  We need rules for how people enter our country, and they need to be enforced.  Currently, those laws do not work well, and that’s why immigration reform is so crucial.  The system is broken and it needs to be fixed.  I hope it includes some pathway to citizenship for illegal immigrants who have lived here for many years and are more at home in this country than their country of origin.

In the meantime, I plan to love and welcome anyone and everyone, regardless of legal status.  My allegiance is first and foremost to the Kingdom of God, and in God’s government acceptance is preeminent.  Join me in loving immigrants and learning from them as we hope for immigration reform that results in a more just and equitable treatment of all people in this country.

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Here’s the Car Talk Prayer of the day:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to hide the bodies of the people I whack who annoy me today.

They promised this would help me find peace in my everyday life.  Thanks guys!

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I love Jim Gaffigan.  His routines are funny because they humorously describe the most common human experiences.  He has great bits on recycling, bacon, watching TV, and working out to name a few.  In the clip above, he captures the awkwardness of evangelism.  He perfectly portrays the discomfort that comes when someone says to you, “I’d like to talk to you about Jesus.”

There is ample reason for us to feel uncomfortable when a complete stranger approaches us and says, “I’d like to talk to you about Jesus.”  You never quite know what you are going to get, but it’s very likely that you are going to come out the other side of the conversation feeling guilty.

It’s not supposed to be this way.  The gospel, or the message about Jesus, is supposed to be good news.  The word gospel translated literally means “a message of good news.”  So why is it that it so often comes across as bad news?

This Sunday at New City Covenant, we are going to explore what’s good about the Good News, and we are going to talk about how we can communicate it in a way that actually feels like good news.  If you’re in the area, I’d love to have you join us!

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