SUPERMODEL JESUS

EVERYDAY WONDERINGS ABOUT FOLLOWING CHRIST




TABLE OF CONTENTS
(click the link to skip to that chapter)

Supermodel Jesus

Don't Hit the Rabbit

Church Clothes

Dumptruck Jesus

Rain

Jesus for President

Bob's Store-N-Lock

The World's Scariest Animal




SUPERMODEL JESUS

Was Jesus attractive?

Some prophet wrote some things that were a foreshadowing of Jesus.  He wrote that there wouldn't really be anything striking about his appearance.  The prophet said there would be nothing about Jesus' looks that wold draw us to him.

But I don't think that means Jesus was ugly.

And I still think maybe he was attractive.  I wouldn't necessarily say I think he was good looking.  I wasn't there to see him.  But I've known a lot of people who were pretty average in the looks department, but still pretty exceptional on the attractiveness scale.

And we've all known people who were easy on the eyes, but not the least bit attractive.

So, i think probably Jesus was attractive.  People wanted to be around him.  They wanted to be with him.  His personality, his demeanor, his words... everything about Jesus attracted people.

Even when he was a baby, people were drawn to Jesus.  Not because of his physical appearance, (At risk of sounding cold and heartless, most babies are not necessarily attractive.  Unless they are yours, they generally look the same) but because of something else, Jesus was attractive.

When he was a child, his inquisitive nature and his uncanny perception attracted the religious leaders of Jerusalem.

Have you ever heard the story when Jesus said to James, John, Peter and Andrew, "Come, follow me."?  They quit their jobs, left their homes and followed.  That's the kind of behavior reserved for the extremely attractive.  No one leaves their job for something that repulses them.

When you read the Jesus stories, you can't help but notice that Jesus seemed to always have a massive entourage.  Once, when Jesus was approaching a city, a blind man asked what was happening.  He couldn't see a thing, but there was so much noise, he knew something unique was happening.  Can you imagine how many people were traveling with Jesus to have made that much noise?

Of course there are other "crowd" stories.  There was a house so full no one could get in.  There was the crowd at the beach that pushed Jesus out into the water.  There were the thousands of people so engrossed by Jesus' teaching they forgot to eat.

Now that's attractive.

Can you imagine being so attracted to someone that you forget to eat?

I think most people think of super-models as being a little shallow.  I don't know.  I've never really talked to one (although, probably if she had wanted to, my wife could have been on).  Sometimes, I think people see super-models as representing a lot of things that are wrong with our society.  They see super-models as causing poor self-esteem for girls, they think they represent a false ideal of beauty, they think they overly emphasize the importance of fashion.  So maybe a super-model isn't the best thing to compare Jesus to.

But, have you ever seen a video clip of a fashion show?  The people are packed in around the runway, cameras are flashing like a lightning storm, and the air of anticipation is just electric.  Everyone is there for one thing.  They all want to see the unveiling of the newest styles, worn by the world's most "attractive" people.

Supermodel Jesus walked the runway once.  People had come to Jerusalem from all corners of the world.  When word got out that Jesus was coming to town, everyone started to gather.  By the time he reached the city, they had lined the main street of Jerusalem.  The people were chanting, cheering, and eagerly anticipating the arrival of the most attractive man in Palestine.

I don't know if it was his compassion that made him so attractive.  Maybe people were drawn to him because of the way he could bend the laws of nature.  Some people probably wanted to be around him because he stimulated their minds with his revolutionary teaching.

Here's what I do know.  Jesus was attractive.  He wasn't good looking (so says that one prophet), his attractiveness was not a surface-thing.  It was rooted in his personhood, who he was, what he did.  People were just drawn to him.  Jesus was like a supermodel.

I have a problem, though with Jesus being a super-model.  It isn't that I don't like supermodels (remember, I don't know any).  I'm just afraid that if Jesus was a super-model, then maybe I'm supposed to be one too.

As far as I know, no prophets have every written about me.  I'm pretty sure that if they did, they would say I'm not one of the beautiful people.  I think they would not expect anyone to be drawn to me because of my looks.  So, at least in the looks department, I'm a little like Jesus.  I think, however, the comparison should stop there.  I'm pretty sure I'm not attractive the way Jesus was.  But maybe I should be.

Right before Jesus left the earth, he told his followers that their job was to go out and be witnesses for him.  He wanted them to be his representatives to the world.

There are a lot of ways to represent someone.  The other day, I saw a representation of Jimmi Hendrix that had been created by Andy Warhol.  It was very colorful and cool to look at.  But I decided it probably was not a very accurate representation of Jimmi Hendrix.  It was just a good piece of art.

I once saw a picture hanging at a friend's house once.  It was very colorful, and I'm sure it was probably very expensive.  I'm still not sure what it was a representation of.  I was too embarrassed to ask.  But I would guess everyone thinks it's a good piece of art.

There is a picture of Jesus in the front of one of my Bibles.  He has long, flowing blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard.  He has blue eyes.  I've heard people call this picture, "Caucasian Jesus".  I'm not sure this picture is good art.  I'm pretty sure it isn't a good representation of Jesus.

Maybe I'm just a simpleton, but it seems like the clearest kind of representation is a reflection.  The mirror, while not usually flattering, is typically quite honest.  So maybe, if I'm going to accurately represent Jesus, I need to try to accurately reflect Jesus.

Why reflect Jesus?

When God first created humans, he said we were made "in the image of God".  He gave us the assignment of being his representatives in creation.  Most people who worship other gods build idols so they can have a representation of their gods to look at.  God doesn't allow us to build idols representing him. We are the idols of God.  That's what it means to be created in God's image.

Adam and Eve served as God's co-regents of creation.  They maintained the garden and cared for the animals in precisely the same manner that God would have.  They were ideal representatives of God because every evening they would have a debriefing session with him.  God revealed himself to them and they revealed God to creation.  My guess is that Adam and Eve were attractive, not just physically.  I think the animals probably loved them because they looked a lot like God.  They looked like God because they spent time regularly with God.

They ruined it.

One day Adam and Eve decided to act in a way that wasn't representative of God.  The results were catastrophic for them and for God's creation.  The greatest tragedy was the loss of their evening debriefing sessions.  Even though their relationship with God was not completely severed, their time in the garden was over and they were forced to move out into the world, without their regular face to face meetings.

The longer they went without spending time with God, the less they looked like him.  The effect was passed to their children who looked less like God than they did.  One of their sons killed his brother.  The effect multiplied itself as humanity multiplied.  The further we get from Eden, the further we get from God, the less we are able to represent him.

Our inability to be good representatives of God is reflected in the woes of the world today.  Every war is a result of people not representing God.  Every child that dies of hunger is the result of people not representing God.  Every person who suffers through a lonely holiday is the result of people not representing God.  We are a long way from Eden.

Life away from Eden is not very attractive.  There are no supermodels outside of Eden.

God still wants us to represent him.  He sent Jesus to earth to show us how.

John wrote a book about the life of Jesus.  He started his book by proving that Jesus was God.  He said, "In the beginning was the Word [Jesus], and the Word was with God and the Word was God."  I think it is pretty cool that John started his book with the same words that Moses used to describe creation.  In the beginning God created us in his image.  Jesus was there when that happened.  He had a hand in it.

He came to earth to recreate us.  John wrote that "no one has seen God."  The problem we have is that we are so far removed from Eden and so far removed from God that we cannot possibly hope to represent Him accurately.  Then John wrote that "God the One and Only [Jesus] who is at the Father's side has made him known to us."  Jesus came to earth to make God known to us.  We can't look at God.  Moses tried, but God would only show Him a glimpse of His back.  Jesus came to show us what God looks like.

If we want to get back to Eden, we have to learn to represent God.  Representing God requires us to look at Jesus, he is the perfect representation of God.

Why reflect Jesus?   Jesus showed us God.  Reflecting Jesus moves us back a little toward Eden.  Reflecting Jesus makes us a little more attractive.

Reflecting Jesus means being attractive the way Jesus was attractive.  People should want to be around me the way they wanted to be around Jesus.  This doesn't seem to be a terribly complicated principle to understand, but based on what my experiences, it's pretty tough to pull off.  I have too many "warts".  People just aren't drawn to me.

I think Ghandi once pointed out that he found Jesus very attractive, but he thought Christians were quite repulsive.

Jesus told his followers that it was okay if they were mistreated for being like him.  He said mistreatment for his sake would really be a good thing.  In some places in the world, persecution is a reality that is faced daily by Christians.

I think some Christians in America have misunderstood Jesus.  It seems like they are trying to be mistreated.  It's almost like they intentionally act in such a way that people won't like them.  They rejoice when people shun them and they get excited when no one wants to be around them.  I'm pretty sure that wasn't what Jesus had in mind.

Some Christians are the most unlikeable people you could ever meet.  I am too.  They think that not being liked is a positive thing.  (they "count it all joy" even though it's their own fault)  I don't think that is a very good representation of Jesus.  Jesus was likable.

This is hard for me because I'm not really a "people person".  I would score as an introvert if I wasn't too shy to take personality tests.  It doesn't usually bother me if people don't like me.  So I'm not typically too worried about being "attractive."  But when I start thinking about Jesus, and I realize that people really liked him, I realize that this is a character flaw for me.  If people were drawn to Jesus, they should be drawn to me.

The reality is that if I look like Jesus, I'm not really drawing people to myself.  They're being drawn to Jesus through me.  I'll never be a supermodel (I don't have high cheek-bones or striking features), but maybe if I let Jesus shine through me I can be attractive, his way.

I want to be likable.  I want people to want to be around me.  I don't have some self-esteem issues (I probably do); I just want to be a good reflection of Jesus.  When people find me attractive, I want them to know Jesus made me that way.  I want them to know Jesus is attractive.  I want them to know Jesus can make them that way too.


DON'T HIT THE RABBIT!

Several years ago, the church I work for built a new building.  We bought property out in the country so we would have room to grow.  One night, my brother-in-law was in town to visit so we decided to drive out to the construction site so I could show him around.  It was fun to walk around and see the half-finished walls and imagine what they were going to look like.  We walked through the project and I explained what each room would hold.  Once it got too dark to see we headed home.

Since we were out of the city, I was driving at a good clip (under the speed limit of course).  As we came around a curve in the road, we encountered a frozen rabbit.  The temperature had nothing to do with the state of our bunny friend.  He was frozen by my headlights.  Initially I wasn't sure what to do.  Fortunately, my mind quickly flashed back to driving school.  I remembered my Mr. Moseley teaching us that we should always seek to avoid hitting animals (not only is that the kind way to treat animals, it is the safe thing to do).  However, I also remembered his clear instructions that if the animal was small and we were travelling at a high rate of speed, it was safer to hit the animal than to swerve.

I have issues with death.  Not only am I not looking forward to my own, I'm generally sad about the death of other creatures.  My wife is petrified of spiders and she compels me to kill them, and every time I feel bad about it.  When I see the remains of a deer or a dog on the side of the road, I typically feel bad knowing that earlier in the day a living creature had met the end of its life.  I got a lump in my throat when our children's hamster died.  Generally I do all I can to avoid death.  I absolutely do everything possible to avoid being the cause of another's death.

I didn't want to kill the rabbit.  In the few micro-seconds that ticked by while I was bearing down on the rabbit, I made what I thought would be the "best-case scenario" decision.  Rather than swerve to avoid the rabbit, and likely endanger my brother-in-law's life and my own, I chose to attempt to miss the rabbit by going directly over the top.  I aimed the middle of the car right at the rabbit, hoping he wouldn't move too far right or left and my wheels would miss him.

It didn't work.

Have you ever wished you could peer into the minds of others?  Have you ever seen or heard someone say or do something so incredibly ridiculous that you wished you could know what they had been thinking?  I had a friend in high school who was regularly asked by teachers, "What were you thinking?"  I wish I could have gotten into the mind of that rabbit.

Perhaps he wasn't aware of my unending benevolence toward God's creatures.  Perhaps he didn't understand that if he had just remained still I would have passed safely over him and he could have crept back to the side of the road.  In retrospect, I think he probably just panicked.  Whatever it was that he was thinking, it caused him to make a deadly mistake.

He jumped.

Had I been driving a normal car, the rabbit would have met a quick and likely painless (although perhaps gory) end.  His jump would have placed him squarely in a collision trajectory with my car's front grill.  But I wasn't driving a normal car that night.  I was driving my wife's Honda Accord.  The bumper was lower than normal, and the hood was sloped down a little further than most cars.  And when the rabbit jumped high enough to clear the bumper, he jumped squarely into the slope of the hood.  His jump combined with my 55mph velocity caused a most unexpected reaction.  The rabbit flew straight in the air.  Maybe as high as twenty feet.

After hearing the thud and watching the launch, my eyes were immediately fixed on my rear view mirror.  Several seconds later  I watched him fall to the ground and roll off the side of the road.  I didn't go back, I assumed he was dead.  I did know for sure that I had just witnessed one of the strangest events I would ever by privy to.  I can't begin to convince you how odd it is to see a rabbit fly twenty feet in the air.  I'm quite certain it is just something you have to experience for yourself.

In the end, although my car was the instrument, it wasn't the cause of the rabbit's death.  His decision to hang out in the middle of the road wasn't even the cause of his untimely demise.  What ended the life of the rabbit was simply indecision.  When he caught sight of my headlights rounding the curve he was transfixed.  He couldn't think, he couldn't make a choice, he couldn't move until the very end when his inability to make a decision left him to rely on his instincts which led him horribly wrong.

A really smart man once said that "Fools rush in where angels dare to tread."  I don't have any disagreement with that statement.  Too often I have made hasty decisions that I soon regretted.  But sometimes, we find ourselves in situations that demand choices, and usually when we hesitate in these situations, we are lost.

Sometimes we find ourselves in life situations which require immediate decision making.  If we aren't prepared to make the right decision, the results can be disappointing, depressing, and even devastating.  I recently watched the movie "Invincible" with my son.  Since we enjoy watching football together, we figured we'd enjoy the story of Vince Papale, an unemployed teacher who miraculously made the Philadelphia Eagles football team.  Early in the first game of Papale's career, according to the movie, he ran down field to tackle the Dallas Cowboy kick returner only to hesitate just before he reached the ball carrier.  As he stood frozen, the Dallas player ran past him.  Papale's coach reminded him when he reached the sidelines that his job was simply to run full speed and make tackles, not to worry about which way the runner was going to go.  Vince needed to make a choice to play with abandon or his career in the NFL would be very short.

Even thought it was only a game, Papale's indecision nearly cost him his job.  Too often we are like Papale.  We are unable to make choices in the crucible of the moment because we haven't taken the time beforehand to make the important decisions of life.

I have a friend who lost his family.  He wasn't faithful and it ultimately cost him his marriage, his home, and his children.  When he found himself slipping into a situation that he knew was wrong, he didn't have the ability to make right choices, because he hadn't prepared himself.  He had never made the bigger decisions regarding his faith and his commitment to his family that could have helped him avoid the later choices which ruined his life.

Elijah was a prophet in Israel.  In his day, the people of Israel found themselves in a situation not unlike my poor rabbit friend.  They were riding the fence.  The king's wife was an ardent worshiper of the false god Baal, and so most of the people devised ways to syncronize the worship of God with the worship practices of Baal.  Elijah gathered as many together as he could and preached a very short sermon.  He simply said:

“How long are you going to sit on the fence? If GOD is the real God, follow him; if it's Baal, follow him. Make up your minds!”

I need to hear that sermon.  I have a tendency to be a bit of a fence rider from time to time.  I profess to be a follower of Christ, but a lot of me chooses other people and things to follow.  Too often I prioritize things that don't reflect the values of Jesus.  Jesus said that we can't serve both God and money, because they have a tendency to get in each other's way.  I don't have a lot of money, but I think I often lead toward serving some of the things money brings.  I like having cool stuff.  I want to be comfortable.  I appreciate the security of a nice pay check.  But all these things have a way of overshadowing trust and faith and generosity and love and all the other things a follower of Christ should be pursuing.

Neglecting to completely give myself over to the values of Jesus leaves me a little like Vince Papale.  I know the best way to live is to go top speed after the values of Jesus, not worrying about what the consequences might be.  (after all, Jesus' way did get him killed...)  However, too often I find myself, like Vince, freezing up worrying about what is about to happen.  In that moment, I revert to fence riding.

My daughter is a gymnast.  Sometimes gymnasts get hurt.  They do crazy things like hanging on to bars and flipping around then flying off.  They do cartwheels and flips on a piece of wood no more than five inches wide and four feet or more off the ground.  The craziest thing they do is the vault.  They run as fast as they can for forty feet directly at a completely immovable block of metal and fabric.  They never slow down, instead they jump on a springboard and leap over the block, flipping and spinning as they go.  This is very impressive to watch, but I imagine it must be quite frightening for seven year old girls.  Once, my daughter had an accident while vaulting.  She missed the springboard and jumped directly into the vault horse, leading with her chest and face.  It was very scary.  Gymnasts are like hockey players, though.  She shook it off and several minutes later was hanging from the bars flipping around and flying off.

After her accident, she had a hard time vaulting for a while.  Sometimes she would peel off the runway just before she got to the vault.  She couldn't commit herself to go all the way.  She had too many frightening thoughts in her head.  A few times, her indecision cost her points at her meets.  Eventually, she got passed it.  Today she's one of the best vaulters on her team.

The secret to the vault is to not worry about it.  You have to let yourself go, and trust that your speed combined with the springs in the springboard are more than enough to propel you over that massive obstacle.  Once my daughter was able to run full speed and trust the springboard, she was able to vault again.  She was able to rid herself of the indecision that was holding her back.

Faith seems to be an awful lot like vaulting.  I can say I believe the springboard is enough to get me over the vault until I'm blue in the face.  Until I run full-speed at that obstacle and trust myself completely to springboard, my words are empty.  I can say forever that I am a Christ-follower.  I might endlessly repeat that I have placed my faith in Jesus to extend his life to me.  But if I don't run full speed toward him, I'm just like the rabbit on the road.

Just like the springboard, Jesus is all I need to hurdle life's obstacles.  But my faith won't do me any good if I'm constantly veering off the runway.  I need to hear Coach Elijah yelling at me, "Don't sit on the fence.  Choose your direction and run toward Jesus...as fast as you can!"


CHURCH CLOTHES

I ran into a guy I knew from church the other night.  I was at Subway with Emma when i saw him standing on the other side of the restaurant.  I waited to catch his eye than gave a subtle, manly wave of recognition.

"I didn't recognize you in your work clothes," he said.  He asked if I was taking the day off.

I explained that I was actually on vacation.  I was taking a couple days off to catch up on some projects.  We talked for a minute, then it was his turn to order so the conversation ended.

I wasn't wearing "work clothes".

In fact, I wasn't wearing anything that I don't wear any other day.  I had jeans on, and they're frayed at the bottom of the legs.  But all my jeans are frayed at the bottom, because no one carries jeans short enough for my stubby legs.  I also had a jean jacket on.  So maybe "work clothes" was just a code word for "lots of denim."

I suppose that someone who didn't know me well might draw the same conclusion about my outfit.  That probably speaks to my lack of fashion sense.  I guess I could have said to my friend, "Oh no, these aren't work clothes... You should see my work clothes!"

My work clothes are mostly paint splattered shirts and shorts that my wife pulled out of circulation because they have holes in them.  My work shirts also double as "spaghetti shirts" for the kids so they have a nice blend of orange stains to offset the paint.

I find it interesting that a concept of "work clothes"  exists which is shared by everyone.  As I think about it, I realize that a vast number of categories exist into which we can place our various outfits.  I suppose the typical American family has any number of work clothes, play clothes, dress clothes, winter clothes, summer clothes, rain clothes, and of course, church clothes.

I hate church clothes.  I don't really have anything against the clothes people wear to church.  And I don't really have anything against people who get dressed up for church.  I just hate getting dressed up myself.

I do my best to avoid all situations in which dressing up is required.  Sometimes, I pretend to get sick if I'm supposed to attend a wedding (not adviseable on one's own wedding day!).  I look for schedule conflicts to avoid dinner parties.  Something about dress pants and suit coats and ties just doesn't work for me.  I like my frayed jeans and denim jacket.

Growing up, I loved going to church, but I hated the clothes I had to wear.  Sweaters made me itchy, I couldn't keep my dress shirts tucked in, and even clip-on ties felt like they were strangling me.  I don't know whose idea it was to get all fancied up on Sundays, but I'm certainly not their biggest fan.

Now that I have that off my chest, i should be fair and mention that church isn't the only setting for which people get dressed up.  The business arena has an implied, but fairly strict dress code.  I'm not sure, but there may be a hidden clause in all elementary teachers manual pertaining to the wearing of wooden jewelery.   My favorite dress codes, though, are those of professional sports coaches.

Coaches of professional sports teams are some of the best, and some of the worst dressers.  Basketball coaches are typically known for their dapper appearance and Armani suites.  Football coaches seem to emulate the American ideal of the "guy next door" usually wearing sweatshirts or sweaters with their team logos.  Baseball managers are priceless.  They wear a full uniform.  Few sights are more odd than sixty year old men with huge guts wearing baseball pants.  Some of them even wear cleats.

Why?

I have no idea.  Maybe they want to be ready just in case everyone on the team gets hurt.

I play sports recreationally, so I have a drawer at home for some of my sporting clothes.  Mostly, it just holds my soccer shorts, but I feel more athletic if I call it my "sports drawer."

What if the clothes we wear had the ability to change us?  What if I could become a world class soccer player just by pulling on my Ronaldo replica jersey?  What if I turned into a succesful businessman everytime I wore a suit and tie?

Isn't this kind of the idea behind some superheroes?  Batman's suit gives him a lot more options for dealing with bad guys.  Growing up, I always thought that heroe's ability to fly was a result of the cape they were wearing.

Of course this is ridiculous.  It is physically, chemically, genetically, and even spiritually impossible for a person to change who they are on the basis of a wardrobe change alone.

No one pulls a tweed jacket out of their closet hoping to become a college professor, and of course getting married requires more than just putting on a wedding dress.  I've never met anyone who became an Olympic track star by pulling on a wind suit, and I've yet to meet the professional football player who did nothing more than put on a helmet one day.  Strangely, though, I've known a lot of people (probably myself included) who suddenly become Christians when they put on their church clothes.

I wonder sometimes if people have several different closets at home.  In one they keep their business clothes, in one are their recreational clothes, in one is their church outfit and in one they keep their work clothes.  I think that maybe on one hanger in each closet they keep a different personality to match the clothes.  The result is a neat and clean compartmentalized life.

The upside of such an arrangement is that recreational Joe doesn't ever have to be bothered by office Joe.  Office Joe stays in the closet all weekend.  The downside is that family Joanne is not impacted at all by Christian Joanne.  Christian Joanne only comes out on Sundays.

Paul wrote about having a compartmentalized lifestyle in Romans.  He said, "don't be conformed to your surroundings."  Conforming is changing shape to match the surroundings.  Water always conforms.  No matter what you pour it into, water takes the shape of its surroundings.

Compartmentalized Joe and Joanne are just like water.  they change who they are depending on their situation.

Do you remember the story of Samson?  He was a classic case of compartmentalization.  He began as a judge of Israel, his job description was to protect the Israelites from the Philistines.  While he was in this role, he spent his time hitting Philistines with donkey skulls and burning their fields with torches made of foxes.

Later he decided he wanted a woman.  He shifted into a new stage of life and became friends with the Philistines.  He was even the star of their parties.  Apparently their women were better looking than the Hebrew women, so he became like the Philistines so he could marry one of their women.

Another time, he was hungry.  Even though he had taken a vow strictly prohibiting contact with dead bodies, he allowed the situation he was in to dictate that he pull honey out of the carcass of a lion.  All that mattered to Samson was the moment he currently found himself in.

He live a classically compartmentalized life.  He had conformity down to a science.

Compartmentalizing life didn't work out so well for Samson.  Ultimately, all his compartments imploded and he had to figure out who the real Samson was.  Unfortunately it was too late.  Even though Samson finally figured out who god wanted him to be, it was too late to save his life.  He ended up dying with the Philistines.

Compartments kill us.

Every time i change my shape to match my environment, I get a little bit further from who I really am.

Some people have been compartmentalizing for so long they don't even really know who they are when they put on their church clothes.  It's just another identity they wear during the week.  When Sunday is over, they put that person back in the closet and leave him or her there until next week.

Paul said not to be conformed.  If you are regularly changing into something or someone you are really are not, you're a hypocrite.  Living in compartments is hypocrisy.

The next thing Paul said was, "be transformed."  Transformation is the opposite of conforming.  Transformation is an inward change that eliminates the potential of conforming.

When water changes properties from liquid to solid, it has undergone a transformation.  Water as ice will no longer conform to its surroundings.  Its shape is certain.

When we undergo the transformation of spirit that Paul talked about we become a person that looks like Jesus no matter where we are, not just when we put our church clothes on.

I have a friend who thinks the word "Christian" should be used as an adverb more than any other part of speech.

Sometimes I use "Christian" as a noun to represent the different compartments of my life.  I think of myself as a father, and a friend, and a writer, and an athlete, and a Christian.

Sometimes I use "Christian" as an adjective to segment parts of my life.  I wear a Christian t-shirt, as I listen to Christian music at the Christian skate-night with my Christian friends.

God didn't make me to live in compartments.  He made me to live the same all the time.  He made me to live Christianly.

I need to get beyond being a just a businessman or even a Christian businessman.  I need to live Christianly at work (an everywhere else).

I don't need separate closets for recreation David and Christian David.  I need to play Christianly.

I should be able to wear my denim to church and my church clothes to work because my appearance and my environment should have nothing to do with what I look like.  Wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, whatever I'm wearing, I should be doing it Christianly.

I guess that's what Paul meant when he said, "Whether I'm eating or drinking or whatever I'm doing, i should do it to the glory of God."  My identity as one who lives Christianly doesn't change as I move through the compartments of my life.  My identity as one who lives Christianly is who I am, and it should pervade all I do...

no matter what closet I get dressed from.



DUMPTRUCK JESUS

Have you ever wanted to be a garbage man?  All things considered, I think it would be a pretty good gig.  The winter weather would be a downer, and the occassional wet and slimy  trash bags would be bothersome, but one man's trash is another man's treasure; and that means every day would be a treasure hunt.  But the biggest benefit would be driving that great truck with the cool moving parts in the back.

Little boys are fascinated with trucks.  Most of us grow up and outgrow our "truck obsession", but if other men are anything like me, they would have to admit the dumptruck is still a pretty fascinating vehicle.

Certainly, there is no other vehicle that has made as significant a contribution to our society as the dumptruck.  Airplanes are great, and race cars are fascinating, but without the dumptruck we'd still be stuck in dark ages fighting off the plague.  Every week the dumptruck weaves through our neighborhoods taking away all the things that attract bugs and rodents and things we no longer want.

I don't know my garbage man's name.  I'm always gone by the time he swings by my house on Thursday.  As I think about it, I'm not even sure I've ever seen my garbage man, but I love him.  I say that because he is one of the most stable, trustworthy, and dependable people in my life.  He never lets me down, he never questions my decision, and he always keeps his commitments to me.  If all my relationships were like that, I'd have the world's easiest life.

I really just expect three things from my garbage man.  I want him to pick up my trash and not bring it back.  I don't want him to lecture me about the things I'm throwing away.  I want him to come back next week.

I did have a bad experience with my garbage man once.  He didn't pick up the trash.  I got home from work and my garbage was still piled at the curb.  I assumed I had forgotten about a holiday and he would be by to pick it up the next day.  When I got home the following day, my garbage was still there.  I'm a pretty patient guy, but three days later, my garbage was stinking, and the neighborhood dogs were starting to circle our house.  After the phone calls and two hours of clueless customer service, I finally explained that if my garbage was still at my house the next day I would be depositing it on the lawn of their corporate headquarters.

The garbage was gone the next day.

Needless to say, we hired a new waste management company.  My new garbage man has never disappointed, and I think he drives a cooler truck.

I have a lot of garbage in my life.  I'm not talking about the left-over food, the junk mail, or the piles of things I need to throw aways.  I'm talking about things like jealousy, hypocrisy, dishonesty, or slander.  I'm pretty sure it's the garbage in my life that keeps me from being a good representative of Jesus.  It's my garbage that keeps me from being attractive.

The process of looking like Jesus requires me to get rid of my trash.  In the letter Peter wrote to his Christian friends, he told them to rid themselves of all hatred, pretense, envy, and hurtful talk.  Ridding yourself of something is a lot like taking out the garbage.  Peter's advise to those Christians is still pretty relevant today.  We need to get serious about taking out the trash in our lives.

I think there are some places that don't have garbage men.  I've driven through areas where it looked like people just took their trash out to the yard and left it there.  I can't see any advantage to this methodology.  I guess the only reason I would want to leave my trash in the yard would be so that I could go out and get it back if the mood ever hit.  While that may seem like an okay idea, I'm pretty sure that it was leaving garbage in the streets contributed to the devastating plague that nearly wiped out Europe a while back.

I know a lady who never throws anything away.  She just makes new piles.  Visiting her is an adventure; to get anywhere you have to follow a path through the piles.  I'm not sure how she ever finds anything.  Maybe she doesn't.  I am pretty sure that isn't the healthiest way to live.

The whole point of taking out garbage is to get rid of it.  Permanently!  Garbage is, by definition, the stuff we don't need.  When we hold on to our garbage, it only gets in the way of the things we really do need and probably keeps us from having the things we really do want.

That's the point of having Jesus as your garbage man.  When I'm willing to take out my trash, he always takes it away and he doesn't bring it back.

I have a really hard time getting my own garbage all the way to the curb.  Even though I know I want to rid myself of those things that make me unattractive, I just can't bring myself to really turn them over to dumptruck Jesus.  So I end up coming back to my garbage over and over and wallowing in my unattractiveness.

I'm not the only one.  You do it to.

The Bible talks a lot about repentance.  That's the seminary word for taking out your trash.  A lot of people don't understand what repentance really means.  They are under the idea that repentance means apologizing.  They think so long as they pray an "I'm sorry, God" prayer, that everything will be okay.  That's like taking your garbage to the backyard.

Repentance is about change.  Repentance is about releasing your garbage to Jesus so he'll take it away and you'll never take it back.

Most churches include a baptismal rite in their church practices.  One church tradition calls for the baptismal candidate to renounce Satan, his works, and the world before being baptized.  Once they've renounced their former way of life, they are dunked.  All the garbage that was in their life, is left under the water because in the water, they've symbolically died to that way of life.  In reality, when we're willing to "die" with Jesus, he's willing to remove our garbage, if we'll let him.

I talk to people sometimes who are wrought with guilt because of their past.  They don't think they are capable of doing anything good in life, or ever being worthy of Jesus because they have so much garbage.  Jesus is just like my garbage man, because he doesn't come back to my house to "talk" about the things I'm throwing away.  He doesn't look at my garbage, he doesn't think about my garbage, he doesn't tell anyone else about my garbage, he just throws it in the redemption truck and drives it away.  If my garbage is still bothering me, it's because I need to stop thinking about it.

One thing I've noticed about garbage is that I keep having to take it out.  No matter how much I brought to the curb this morning, I'll have to do the same routine next week.  We never get to stop taking out the garbage.  Fortunately, the garbage man comes back every week.  So does Jesus.  This process of ridding myself is not a one time deal.  I have to do it weekly, daily, sometimes hourly.  I'm constantly creating new garbage in my life, so I need to constantly be taking it to the curb for Jesus.  What I don't need to do is worry about it after that.

Jesus, as garbage man, makes it possible for me to be attractive like him.  I just need to rid myself by getting the bad stuff to the curb. 


RAIN

Rain is hot.  Not in a temperature kind of way, in a steamy, romantic, almost lustful kind of way.  The best movie kisses always happen in the rain.  When I was a school teacher, I remember hearing the freshmen discussing their dreams of meeting the perfect guy and having him kiss them in the rain.  They had clearly been influenced by scenes on television and in the movies.

I think Casablanca is the best movie ever.  The best scene in the movie is the last scene at the airplane hanger.  I think it happens in the rain.  If it doesn't, it does in my mind.  Rain is hot.

I've got a great picture of my wife in my mind.  She's in the rain.  She's wearing a green rain jacket with a hood that you can fold down into the pocket, and it's raining.  Green is my favorite color, especially when my wife is wearing it in the rain.  She has reddish blond hair that has a little bit of curl to it, and when it rains and her gets wet it frames her face perfectly.  She has a great face.  She's like a supermodel.  Rain is hot.

You probably know what I'm talking about.  There's just something about being in the rain with the person you love the most.  Of course if it's a cold, driving rain in hurricane force winds, things are a little different.  But dashing together through a warm shower is definitely romantic.

What is it about rain that we like so much?

I think it's because rain washes everything fake away.  Makeup, mascara, and hairspray don't stand a chance against rain.  Rain causes the natural beauty of people to shine through.  Rain makes us more attractive because rain makes us more real.

We're attracted to authentic people.  Strangely, our society has embraced a kind beauty comprised of unnatural add-ons like plastic, silicone, aerosol, and face paint.  But beauty is not synonymous with attraction, and in the end, we like the rain because it washes all the artificial beauty away.

I was a youth pastor once.  When I got old, they told me I couldn't do that anymore because it was time for me to grow up and get a real job.  Not really.  But I'm not a youth pastor anymore.  The other night I was at church, and I walked out into the hallway where the teenagers were hanging out.  I was surprised to see many of the girls looked like raccoons.  Almost all of them had dark circles around their eyes.  I think they did it to themselves intentionally.  I thought to myself, if I was still a youth pastor, I would have to teach about not overusing the eye makeup.  I guess if Brittany Spears and Jessica Simpson wear too much mascara, that makes it appropriate for everyone else to have those ridiculous black circles around their eyes.

Plastic is the word that best describes the kind of "beauty" being pedaled these days.  It seems that everyone wants to look like Barbie.  Some people even go so far as to have plastic body parts surgically implanted.  I suppose the look sells a lot of movies and magazines, bu in the end, I'm not sure that all the makeup, plastic and hairspray really makes anyone more attractive.

America has this funny ideal called "the girl next door".  Sometimes this is a phrase that is used to describe a cute girl who sports a more natural look.  One of my favorite TV shows when I was young was Gilligan's Island.  The two girls on Gilligan's Island represented the two ideals I'm contrasting.  Ginger, the movie star, was the plastic but beautiful girl.  Marianne was the girl next door, and in many people's eyes (mine included) was the more attractive.

If Marianne and Ginger were in the rain, Marianne would still look attractive and Ginger would like like a halloween monster.  The same rain that accentuates natural beauty, smears and ruins plastic beauty.  Rain exposes hypocricy and accentuates authenticity.

Authenticity is attractive.

People crave authenticity.  They are drawn to it.

Jesus didn't need makeup.  Jesus could be completely authentic because he had nothing to hide.  No one was more authentic than Jesus.  He was always willing to say exactly what he thought no matter who was listening.  He wasn't concerned with impressing the the popular people or with advancing his own popularity.  He didn't mince his words to satisfy the celebrities.  He said what was true and didn't pretend to be someone he wasn't.  If Jesus was authentic, then I should be too.

Sometimes, I get very concerned with what other people are thinking about me.  I especially struggle around those I think are important.  I want them to think I am an impressive person.  I would never wear foundation or mascara or blush, but I spend a lot of time covering myself with false attributes so that people won't see the real me.  Sometimes, I try to talk in a way that makes me sound smart.  Sometimes I nod in agreement when someone is talking about something important, even though I don't have a clue what they mean.  Sometimes I throw in a slight exageration here or there to beef up my story.  When I start acting this way, I need a good rain to wash all that junk away.

I had a friend once who lied all the time.  They seemed to be mostly lies that didn't really matter.  He would lie about how fast his car was, how many girlfriends he had and how low his golf score was.  My other friends always hung out with him when he was around, but I knew they didn't really care for him.  They didn't find him attractive.  He needed a good wash in the rain.

No one is fake all the time.  But all of us are fake some of the time.  I've often heard people suggest that thing they dislike most about churches is that they are filled with hypocrites.  A guy I know grew up going to a traditional, fundamental, ultra-conservative Baptist church.  He doesn't go to church anymore.  He told me once that he couldn't understand why all those people show up on Sunday and dress a certain way, talk a certain way, and act a certain way; only to look, talk, and act completely different on Monday morning.  I know what he's talking about.  I do it sometimes.  I pretend more at church than anywhere else.  Next time it rains on Sunday, we should take the roof off the church building.

I think the reason people act differently at church is because they think church is a place where everyone has everything figured out.  They think that on Sunday the sinners are sleeping in bed and the saints are sitting in the pews, and since they are surrounded by saints, they're afraid of what might happen if people find out they are a sinner.  The funny thing is, the "saint" next to them is thinking the same thing.  My guess is that everyone in the church is painfully aware that they are a sinner, but they've spent all morning applying their saintly make-up so there is no way they're going to let anyone think otherwise.  Maybe the church needs more than rain, maybe the church needs a fire hose.

If I'm going to represent Jesus, I need to learn how to be authentic.  I think that's what he wants from me.  I'm pretty sure that's why he died for me.

Jesus isn't surprised that I am a sinner.  He expects that from me.  He isn't shocked at the words I say, the places I go, and the things I do.  Sometimes he's probably disappointed, but he's not surprised and he doesn't write me off.  He's okay with me.  He wants to fix me.  He wants me to be a saint, but not the kind that washes away in the rain.

Have you ever had a friend that you can tell anything?  Those kind of friends are hard to find, but they're the best kind of friends.  When you have a friend like that, you can be completely authentic.  You don't have to pretend to be someone you aren't, because you  know they'll accept you.  If you have a deep dark secret, you probably won't tell it to someone you just met last week.  You might not tell it to anyone, because you are afraid it might change the way they think about you.  If you do tell someone, it will be a friend that you have shared secrets with before.  You know they'll continue to treat you the same no matter what you say.

If I am going to be authentic, I need to begin by realizing that Jesus is the kind of friend I can share my deepest, darkest secrets with.  Jesus accepts me no matter what I tell him.  Jesus accepts me no matter what I do or say or think.  Jesus accepts me.  Period.  And if Jesus accepts me, I don't need to worry if you do.  I don't need to worry if the popular guy at work accepts me.  I don't need to worry if the saint in the pew next to me accepts me (after all she's a sinner, too).  Authenticity happens when I release my fear of being rejected and embrace my ability to just be who I am.

Imagine church in the rain.  Imagine if all the saintly mascara got washed away and everyone was okay being just a sinner accepted by Jesus.  It would be hard to accuse a church like that of being full of hypocrites.  It would be hard to not be comfortable in a church like that.  It would be hard to say anything bad about a church like that, because the people there are okay with their badness.  They understand they are all bad, and they aren't trying to hide it.

I suppose the church is made up of people.  I suppose I'm part of the church.  I suppose that means I need to embrace the idea that Jesus accepts me and that means I can start taking off my "saint" make-up.  Maybe I just need to step out into the rain.

Maybe if we all just step out into the rain, the church can be hot again.


JESUS FOR PRESIDENT

I drink too much coffee.  I used to drink those fancy coffees with names like macchiatto and mocha misto, but my doctor told me I had to stop because I have high cholesterol.  I guess that's okay since I didn't even know what macchiatto means.  I'm still allowed to drink my coffee black, though.  Right now, I'm drinking a black coffee from Starbucks.  I'm not someone who has to have Starbucks and nothing else, but i go there because I can always count on my coffee tasting the same, and because a black coffee at Starbucks is a lot cheaper than those fancy drinks.

My wife drinks coffee too.  She still drinks the fancy drinks because she doesn't have high cholesterol.  She's perfect.  So the other night, we decided to try Caribou Coffee.  Her sister said it was the best coffee in town, so we decided to check it out.

From the moment we walked in, we were bombarded with the mantra that this was not one of those "big chain" places.  (Ironically, it is.)  A sign on the counter informed us we would get a discount if we used a coupon from Panera.  A poster on the wall chronicled victory over Starbucks in a recent taste test.  The real story, though, came from our barista.

I don't remember if he had a name-tag.  So, instead of making up a good coffee name for him like Fritz, or Franz, or Frank (pronounced with an "ahh" sound), I'll just refer to him as "Coffee Boy".

Coffee Boy looked to be somewhere between the ages of 18-20.  He was no taller than me (which means he wasn't tall at all) and his boyish face with red cheeks was framed by strikingly black hair which I assume was dyed that way.  His piercings were mostly relegated to his ears, including an approximately four inch stick-like thing which I struggled to keep my eyes off.  His mohawk was held up by Elmers Glue.  He said the all-purpose glue works best.  It will hold his hair up for three days as long as he stays out of the shower.

When he heard that this was our first trip to Caribou Coffee, he quickly launched into his "we're better than that one chain that starts with an 's'" speech.  I don't really remember his reasons, but what struck me was how important it was to him to not be identified with the most identifiable coffee chain in America.

I'm not sure how it happened, but our conversation ranged to politics.  Apparently coffee houses are a place where politics is not a taboo conversation topic with strangers.  Coffee Boy began waxing eloquent about his ideal president.  Oprah was his first choice.  Coffee Boy felt the queen of talk was representative of all the marginalized groups in society: women, blacks, and Christians (he quickly changed his mind on the last one, opting instead for Muslims).

After a few minutes, Coffee Boy abandoned Oprah as his list of marginalized people groups needing representation grew.  As I remember, he felt the perfect president would be black, female, Muslim, handicapped, gay, blind, and have down syndrome.  I think if he hadn't finished making my wife's drink, the list would have grown.  Even though I don't meet any of his qualifications, I suggested Coffee Boy write my name in at the next election.  He chuckled as we walked out the door.

Why was Coffee Boy so obsessed with being not Starbucks?

Why did he want a president that could identify with the under-represented?

Is it possible that there is a certain level of attractiveness in being marginalized?

America loves to root for the underdog.  Our favorite sports stories are those which mirror David and Goliath.  We revel in the 1980 Olympic Hockey gold medal we won by defeating far superior teams.  When our local favorites are not playing, we typically find ourselves rooting against the favored team, hoping for a "Cinderella-type" result.  In a strange way, we're attracted to the little guy.

I think Jesus intended Christianity to be a religion in the margins.  I'm pretty sure that Christianity is more attractive when it is an alternative religion instead of a mainstream force.

History demonstrates that things can get pretty ugly when Christians seize power and become the controlling force in a society.  The Crusaders, the Inquisition, the Wars of Religion in France, and the Salem Witch Trials are some of the tragic examples of true Christianity being corrupted and exploited in the name of political control and for the purpose of gaining and maintaining power.

Jesus suggested a different, almost subversive approach.  He said that being "poor in spirit" and "meek" and a "peacemaker" are the preferred ways to live.  These sound more like traits of the marginalized more than those of systemic power brokers.  Those who choose to live as meek peacemakers run the risk of being ostracized by a society that values strength, advancement, and position.  Yet Jesus said His way was the blessed way.  As it turns out, history repudiates his claim.

In the story of history, Christianity is better in the margins than as the main plot.

The church spent the first three hundred years of its existence in the margins.  Christians found themselves outside the power structures looking in.  The result  was the greatest period of growth in the history of the church.  Christianity spread like wildfire while forced to be a subversive force. Upon being declared the official world religion, the rapid growth of Christianity ground to a halt.  The movement became an institution and Jesus' way lost out to those seeking power and control.

It seems that people are more attracted to a counter-cultural Jesus than to a Jesus who is in charge.  Jesus appears to be more appealing as a character on the edge than as a representative of the majority.

One time, when Jesus was getting ready to leave his disciples, he asked them if they had any swords.  They said they had one.  Jesus thought that would be enough for them.  One sword is plenty if you need to defend yourself or prepare food, but it isn't going to do you much good if you're trying to seize power.  I don't think Jesus really intended his disciples to gain or seize power through the existing societal structures.

When Jesus arrived in Jerusalem, massive crowds of people were ready and waiting to follow him.  Control of the city was probably his for the taking.  If nothing else, he could have become the voice for the "silent majority" in Israel.  Instead of capitalizing on his opportunity, he spent an entire week ticking people off.  Finally, they killed him.

Jesus chose the margin over the mainstream.

We look more like Jesus when we are marginalized, than when we pursue power.

Something is very unattractive about people who clamour after power.  Jesus got frustrated with his disciples because they were always arguing about who was the greatest in God's kingdom.  I get frustrated with myself when I obsess about establishing position and gaining influence.  Why can't I be content in the margin?

Living in the margin means I'm choosing to let others be the center of attention.

Living in the margin means I'm more concerned with the needs of others than with my own needs.

Living in the margin means I'm okay with being insignificant.

When Jesus wanted to show his disciples how much he loved them, he washed their feet.  I think some people would say that was poor leadership.  They might suggest that Jesus should have delegated that job to someone else.  Perhaps the contemporary leadership gurus would have said, "Foot washing is not something for important people to do, let the less significant characters do it."  I know no one would really say that, because we never say bad things about Jesus.  But I know lots of people who are unwilling to do things they perceive as being beneath them.  I know plenty of people who evaluate each life decision with the criteria of personal advancement.  I know I do it sometimes.  I know I do it many times.

Living in the margin means I'm seeking to serve instead of being served.

Living in the margin means I'm content to not know and be known by important people.

Living in the margin means being willing to live with others who have been marginalized.

I don't really like being around people who are trying to grab power.  They make me feel insecure.  I always wonder if their relationship with me extends only as far as my usefulness to them.  I wonder if I am their friend or just a pawn in their cosmic power-snatching scheme.

I think maybe people feel that way about Christians sometimes.  They wonder if their relationship with us is only valid if they vote against abortion, or with the "religious right".  They hear more from the church in the month of November than they do the rest of the year combined.  I wonder if sometimes the efforts of Christians in the political arena feel a little like the Crusades or the Inquisition.  I think maybe the more Christians pursue  control, the more they lose their ability to impact lives.

I wonder if people would be more excited to hear about a Jesus that wants their life more than their vote.  I think maybe Jesus is appealing when he is represented by people who aren't interested in seizing power.  I think we make Jesus attractive when we aren't worried about being marginalized.

People who are content to be marginalized are attractive.  People who are grasping for power are usually not.

Jesus lived in the margins.

I wonder if Coffee Boy would want Jesus to be president?

I think he probably would.



BOB'S STORE-N-LOCK

One of the problems with living in an older house is that the closets aren't very big.  I don't know why not.   It's almost as if people didn't have as much stuff sixty years ago as we do now.

When we first moved into our current house, we discovered very quickly that we wouldn't both be able to put our stuff into the closet in our bedroom.  In fact, I'm pretty sure my wife didn't even put all her stuff into the closet.  Fortunately, we had two closets upstairs so I got one and she got one.  These days, we have some weird complicated system in which we both have several closets and keep different stuff in dressers, and have boxes in storage, and even have a pile or two.  It would be a lot easier if we just had a big closet.

The same problem rears its ugly head when we try to find places to store all our stuff.  We have a room in the basement that serves pretty much as a junk room.  I'm pretty sure I don't have a clue of what half the things in there are.  A few years ago we bought a new shed and I put it up in our back yard.  We keep our bikes and sleds in it.  It is also a convenient place for the lawnmower, rakes, shovels, and the snowblower.  When we first bought the shed, I thought it would be a place we could put some shelves in and maybe move some stuff out of our "junk room."  It's full already, and we didn't move anything.

At first I thought I shouldn't write about our organizational woes.  I was concerned that maybe no one would know what I was talking about.  I thought maybe we are the only family in the world who feels like we don't have enough storage space.  Then I realized I was being foolish.

I think Americans are pretty much obsessed with storage.  Since Muskegon isn't very big, our Barnes and Noble isn't huge.  The "home" section here, though, has nearly 20 shelves of books devoted to house issues.  Approximately a quarter of those books specifically deal with getting organized and utilizing better storage solutions.  I would guess that the big city bookstores would have even more books about storage.  If you watch TV a lot, you know that some channels are nearly devoted to home makeover shows, where the homeowners are almost always given better systems and furniture for organizing and storing their stuff.  Most stores have sections devoted to storage solutions, and several specialty stores like Pier One, Crate and Barrel, and Ikea have made an industry of attractive storage.

Drive through a new housing development sometime.  The houses being built these days have garages larger than my house.  I don't think this reflects a change in the size of automobiles (although more people are driving SUVs and mini-vans because they are more efficient for hauling our stuff... but that's another issue).  I think we're building bigger garages because contractors and architects realize that garages are more than just covered parking places.  They are storage areas.

A few years ago my brother moved across the state.  He had to be out of his current house before his new house was ready so he rented a small storage unit.  I hadn't been in one of these before, so being a bit of a simpleton, I was fascinated.  It was like he had rented his own garage.  He could keep anything in there that he wanted.  Day or night, he could just drive out there and get his things.  And it wasn't taking up any room in his house.  The whole storage unit thing seemed like a really good idea to me.  I thought it was something that had a real chance to become popular.  On the way home, I noticed several self-storage facilities.  I realized the idea had already caught on.  I just didn't know it.  There was even a self-storage place around the corner from my house!

I started to keep an eye out for these "garages away from the garage".  They were everywhere.  I realized I couldn't drive anywhere in town without seeing one. Amazingly, they are still being built at break-neck speed.  It seems there is no end to our need to store things.

I started to wonder if one of these self-storage units was the solution for my closet problems.  Obviously I couldn't store my clothes at Bob's Store-N-Lock.  Apparently law enforcement officers look poorly on driving without clothing.  My clothes need to stay in the house.  I began to think about the things I could store away from the house.  My list slowly grew, but eventually I decided I couldn't justify paying out a monthly fee just because I had too many things for my house.  Maybe, I thought, it would be better to just get rid of some things.  Since then, I've become a regular contributor to our area thrift stores (This is another issue that should be addressed, why do we think it is okay to "charitably" give away the stuff we don't want?  Are we supposed to feel good about ourselves when we do this?).

One summer I spent a week in Chicago with a group of high school students.  We went to several different soup kitchens and helped make the food, set the tables, serve the meals, and clean up.  During those evenings I felt alive and in touch with the mission of Jesus.  I also met some incredibly fascinating people.  After the men and women ate their meals, some of them were willing to stay around and talk.  I listened to their stories about which church's served the best meals in their basements, and which parks the police were most likely to kick them out of, and what was the best way to keep your bag full of things from getting stolen.

They didn't talk very much about their storage problems.  No one complained that their closet was too small.  One guy commented that he wished the basket on his bicycle was larger.  It wasn't quite big enough to hold all his stuff.

All his stuff.

He could almost fit everything he owned in a bicycle basket.

The first time I left the country, I went to Jamaica.  I was in ninth grade.  I remember riding in a van through Kingston and seeing real poverty for the first time.  Our driver pointed to what appeared to be a dumping ground for old waste lumber.  "That's one of the poorer neighborhoods in Kingston", he said.  I couldn't get my mind around that on several levels.  I wasn't seeing anything that even remotely resembled a house, let alone a neighborhood.  Looking closer, i realized that the piles of scrap lumber I was looking at were really houses the size of refrigerator boxes.  Once I understood that I was actually looking at a neighborhood, I realized that our driver had said, "one of the poorer neighborhoods."  I couldn't believe that he was implying there could possibly be a poorer place than what I was looking at.  "Yeh Mon!"  he said when I asked.  There was much poorer.

Until that moment, I really didn't know how good I had it.  Now I know that Kingston, Jamaica is not even as bad as it gets.  Plenty of places exist which are far poorer.  One thing you'll never find in these places is a self-storage facility.

An enormous number of people in our world would look at our Bob's Store-N-Lock and wonder if they would ever be able to look inside such luxurious townhouses.  We just open the door and throw in the stuff we don't want to have around.

Although writing about this makes me feel guilty, that's not my point.  I don't think God expects us to feel guilty just because we have more than other people.  I don't believe there is an inherent spiritual value in being poor.  I think it is altogether possible (although arguably more difficult) for a rich person to be a deeply devoted follower of Christ.  Jesus did not say "Blessed are the poor".  He did say, "Blessed are the poor in spirit."  Throughout history, many Christians have chosen to take vows of poverty, to give away all they own, and even to become destitute for the sake of their relationship with Christ.  While that may work for them, I have yet to reach the conclusion that every Christian is compelled to rid themselves of all wealth.  i think Christ is far more concerned with how we use our wealth.

God has always been concerned with the plight of the poor.

If you spend some time reading through the writings of the Jewish prophets, you'll quickly discover that one of the main reasons God allowed the Israelites to fall to the Assyrian empire was because they were oppressing the less fortunate.  Several of the prophets wrote at great length of the evil being perpetrated on the poor by the privileged.  Amos wrote,

"You trample on the poor
       and force him to give you grain.
       Therefore, though you have built stone mansions,
       you will not live in them;
       though you have planted lush vineyards,
       you will not drink their wine." (Amos 5:11)

These are some of the kinder words you'll find written on the topic.  In the previous chapter, Amos calls the women of Samaria "cows" because they were crushing the needy.  The prophet Micah wrote that God detested the worship of the Israelites because of the great lack of justice.  Jeremiah warned the king of Judah that his palace would become ruins if he did not take action to end the oppression of the innocent.  History demonstrates that the warnings of the prophets fell on deaf ears.  The rich and powerful of Israel and Judah continued to accumulate stuff (I wonder if they had extra storage facilities?) at the expense of the poor and under-privileged.  Finally, God intervened through the empires of Assyria and Babylon.  The oppressors were killed, captured, and imprisoned and the sovereign nation of Israel disappeared from the face of the earth.

After Jesus left earth, his followers had a pretty good grasp of the purpose of wealth.  Around AD 100, a guy named Justin wrote about what happened when Christians got together.  He wrote:

"there is a distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons. And they who are well to do, and willing, give what each thinks fit; and what is collected is deposited with the president, who succours the orphans and widows and those who, through sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds and the strangers sojourning among us, and in a word takes care of all who are in need."

In those days, the "well to do" didn't accumulate stuff and fill their storage units.  They gave it to the orphans and widows and those who were in need.

God doesn't want us to be destitute.  He doesn't mind if we are wealthy.  He does want us to utilize our wealth rightly, though.  He wants us to think about others rather than ourselves.  He wants us to use our money and possessions to demonstrate love to those who are hurting and oppressed and needy.  I don't think He expects me to give all my money away, I think He expects me to think about Him and others before myself.

Apparently, in Jesus day, some people were already building storage units.  He told a story about a farmer who had a great harvest.  He accumulated so much grain he couldn't keep it all in his current house and garage.  So he began to draw up plans to build an off-site storage unit.  Since Jesus lived in an agrarian society, he called these storage units "barns".  Then the man died.

Jesus called him a fool.  He said, "That's what happens when you fill your barn with self and not God." (Luke 12:21)

I can't look at Bob's Store-N-Lock the same anymore.  It's become a constant reminder to me.  I've got a lot of stuff.  Am I using it for me or for others.  Is it bringing pleasure to me or to God?


THE WORLD'S SCARIEST ANIMAL

I don't like Madagascar.  Even before the animated movie came out, I didn't like Madagascar.  I disliked Madagascar when most people didn't even know there was a Madagascar.  Some people are surprised by this.  They wonder why I have such strong feelings about a place I've never been.  There are really two reasons.

Typically, I'm anti-island.  I don't think islands should get to be their own country.  I think islands should be owned by other countries.  Hawaii understands this.  They are part of the United States.  The Falkland Islands understand, they are a part of Argentina.  Some islands are really big, and qualify as continents.  If you are big enough to hold more than one country, I don't really have an issue with you.  Australia is really pushing it.

(Right now, some people are getting really mad.  They might be frothing at the mouth and drooling on these pages.  "Hey, moron!" They're shouting at me, "Haven't you ever heard of Japan?"  They think that I've really gone over the edge this time.  Hang in there, I'm going somewhere with all this.)

There are plenty of quality countries on the Southeast coast of Africa.  I'm sure any of them would be willing to take in Madagascar as a part of their country.  I just don't think that an island the size of Madagascar should get to be its own country.  Perhaps I'm a bit neurotic.

The real reason I don't like Madagascar is the high concentration of lemurs on the island.  Unfortunately, the animated movie portrayed lemurs as lovable clever little animals.  This may be the second greatest lie ever perpetrated on humanity (after the whole serpent in the garden thing).  Lemurs are in reality a combination of the two scariest animals on the planet, raccoons and monkeys.

Typically masks are worn by thieves and other common criminals.  People wearing masks are not to be trusted.  Raccoons are the mask wearers of the animal world.  It is impossible to know whether or not you can trust a raccoon because they are always hiding behind a mask.  Raccoons are also one of the most ferocious animals alive.   You don't want to wake up one morning to find a raccoon sharing your bed.

I don't need to spend a lot of time explaining why monkeys are frightening.  I just need to mention three words: "Wizard of Oz".

What could be worse than a monkey or a raccoon?  A combination of the two, a lemur.  Madagascar is host to a higher concentration of lemurs than any other country in the world.  Just the thought of Madagascar gives me nightmares.  Terrifying.

Just kidding.

I don't really hate Madagascar.

I don't even think about it that much.  (I am frightened of lemurs, and you should be too)

But what if I did hate Madagascar.  What if I hated it so much I started an organization known as AMSA (Anti-Madagascar Society of America)?  What if i spent millions of dollars getting the message of AMSA out?  What if I created t-shirts and bumper stickers and put up billboards and had a killer web-site?  What if the popularity of AMSA grew so that we opened chapters all over the United States?  What if the catch phrase of AMSA became, "Blow that little island right out of the water"?  What if "Blow that little island right out of the water" started showing up on the sides of buses and trains?  What if the catch phrase was on the radio and on television?

And what if you were from Madagascar?

And what if you lived in America?

And what if your job was to be Madagascar's Ambassador to the United States?

How would you feel about me?  How would you feel about AMSA?

I think if you were the ambassador from Madagascar, you might not want to attend the fund-raisers.  You might not buy tickets to the rallies.  You might not even wear the t-shirts.  You would probably make it a point to not support the organization.  You probably wouldn't be best friends with me, the founder of AMSA.  But if you were a good ambassador, you would still engage the members of AMSA.  You would be kind when their telemarketers called.  You would talk to the AMSA protestors outside the UN building.  You would invite them to meet you at Starbucks.  You would spend as much time with AMSA'a members because you wanted them to change their mind.  That's the job of an ambassador.

An ambassador represents their homeland to others.  The heart of their mission is to lead people to think well of their country.

Your ability to successfully accomplish your job will be tied to how you perceive yourself.  This is a true statement no matter what job you have.

While I was in high school and college I spent many hours of my summer break working at Burger King.  The level to which I was able to fulfill my purpose in that situation was directly correlated to my perception of my identity. (Remember that statement, I'll say it again.)

My purpose as an employee at Burger King was to deliver a fulfilling dining experience.  I know that sounds a little far-fetched for a burger joint, but if you love Burger King, nothing is more fulfilling than one of their beautiful flame-broiled burgers.  If you've ever been to Burger King, though, you know that most of the employees are not all that excited about delivering a fulfilling dining experience.  You're probably happy just to get out with most of your order being correct.  Why is that?  It's because most of the employees at Burger King haven't bought into their identity.  They don't see themselves as Burger King employees.  Perhaps they think of themselves as students or athletes or something else, but their goal in life is not to be a Burger King employee.  I was the same.

Because I never really wanted to be defined as a Burger King employee, I was typically unable to effectively deliver a fulfilling dining experience.  Because my perception of my identity did not match with the organizations definition of my purpose, things didn't work out.  Eventually I became a lifeguard.

If you were the ambassador of Madagascar, the level to which you could fulfill your purpose (representing Madagascar to the world) would be directly correlated to your perception of your identity (a citizen of Madagascar).

Peter wrote a letter to Christians in which he appealed to this principle.  He suggested that our identity as believers in Jesus is like the ambassador to Madagascar.  We are "aliens in a foreign land."  He also suggested that our purpose is to live in such a way that we give a good representation of God.  Like every Burger King employee, and like the ambassador from Madagascar, the level to which we fulfill this purpose is directly correlated to the perception of our identity.

In other words, my ability to appropriately represent God will be directly tied to my willingness to embrace my identity as a foreigner in this culture.

From the time of Abraham, the people of God have referred to themselves as Aliens.  Abraham was living a comfortable life in the city that would have been the equivalent of New York in his day.  When God told him to get up and leave, Abraham began a pilgrimage that would last the rest of his life.  Everywhere he went, he was a foreigner, he didn't belong.  His descendant shared the same identity.  Neither his sons nor his grandsons were ever able to lay claim to a land that was their own.  Finally, his great-grandson brought the family to Egypt where they settled for hundreds of years.  Even in Egypt, though, they were foreigners.  Eventually, they were forced into slavery until God rescued them and miraculously brought them into Palestine and gave them their own land.  Eventually, the descendants of Abraham developed a national identity, and were even able to establish a monarchy.  The greatest king, David, in a ceremony dedicating the temple proclaimed to all the people and to God that he considered himself to be a foreigner like his fathers before him.

Why does all this matter?

Just as the ambassador from Madagascar is a foreigner in America, followers of Jesus are foreigners in this world.

Just as the ambassador from Madagascar is more concerned with the advancement of his own land, followers of Jesus ought to be more concerned with the advancement of the Kingdom of God.

Just as the ambassador from Madagascar doesn't embrace the sworn enemy of his country (AMSA), followers of Jesus need to be careful about the relationships and alliances they enter into.

Sometimes I forget I'm an ambassador for the kingdom of heaven.  The world I'm journeying through can be pretty attractive.  I'm easily seduced by the local values of popularity, status, wealth, and success.  I regularly find myself far more concerned about building up my treasures here than in heaven.  I forget my identity.

Embracing my identity as a foreigner means I'm no longer concerned with being the most popular guy in the crowd.  It would be better to be the most loving guy in the crowd.  That's the kingdom value.

Embracing my identity as a foreigner means I'm no longer concerned with gaining status at my job.  It would be better to find ways to serve my coworkers.  That's the kingdom value.

Embracing my identity as a foreigner means I'm no longer concerned with piling up money and possessions.  It would be better to generously give to those less fortunate than me.  That's the kingdom value.

Embracing my identity as a foreigner means I'm no longer concerned with being a smashing success.  It would be better to be merciful.  That's the kingdom value.

When I live just like everyone around me, I'm not attractive, I'm a clone.  When I'm a clone, I don't make Jesus attractive either.  When I live in a way that reflects the values of the kingdom of God I look different.  I look real.  I look attractive.  Most importantly, I make Jesus look attractive.