new to you friday–an open letter

This post resonated with a lot of people—several left comments on my Facebook page, a few mentioned it to me in person, and others commented on the original post. Apparently many of you can relate to my desire for formulas and “fairness” in relating to God. Or perhaps you share my super healthy and productive spiritual gift for comparing myself to other people.

Maybe we can negotiate a group rate for therapy. In the meantime, share your thoughts in the comments (or wherever brings you joy). I wonder if there’s a Facebook fan page for the elder brother…….?

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Dear Dr. Keller,
Thank you so much for speaking at Christ Presbyterian last week. I love that you still make time for the handful of churches that helped plant Redeemer 20 years ago. Thanks for traveling so far, and on such a brutal travel day, when Nashville received a whole 1/8″ of snow—almost enough to cover the grass. Sheer bravery, sir.

It seemed everyone was reading your latest book during Christmas, and I enjoyed the opportunity to hear your own summary of its message and the application to church life. Your description of healing spiritual communities and our responsibility to them as family members should be required listening for every Christian, both leader and layman, and if you ever release it as an MP3 I’m forwarding the link to everyone I know.


But I’m not as eager to share the first half of your lecture, because it taps directly into the most personal spiritual questions I wrestle with. For those reading this blog who weren’t there and aren’t you (that would be just about everyone), the first half of Wednesday night’s talk revisited the parable of the prodigal son and showed how both the prodigal and his older brother are guilty of disobeying the Father—one through promiscuity and rebellion, the other through self-righteous moralism. They both want the Father’s gifts instead of relationship with the Father, and although the elder brother expresses that desire in more culturally and religiously acceptable ways—obedience, duty, judgmentalism—both are lost. Both want to be their own master and savior, and the only solution for them and for us all is Jesus and his willingness to bring each of us back to the family at his own expense.

As you spoke, I could almost see light bulbs snapping on above people’s heads. Most of us have heard this parable dozens of times and think we understand our role as the prodigal and God’s role as the Father rushing to extend grace. I’m sure your brilliant exposition of the story caused many in that audience to realize for the first time their identification with the older brother and their own tendency to choose rules instead of relationship.


But here’s the thing: I get than I’m an elder brother.

Whether it’s this parable or the one in Matthew 20, I always identify with the long-suffering character who feels cheated. Like the prodigal’s brother or the early morning vineyard workers, I show up and do my job and fulfill expectations. I work hard and remain loyal and try to be obedient. I do stuff I don’t want to do and give money I don’t want to give. I demonstrate character when it would be easier and more fun to throw a screaming fit. I try to take the high road although traffic is light.

However, I don’t feel cheated because the prodigals receive grace and blessing just like me. I feel cheated—no, I believe confused, frustrated, and furious would be more appropriate—because they often receive way more blessings, the blessings I want, the blessings I deserve not because I am a righteous person but because God promised them.

Both the elder brother and I may be too rules-focused, but neither one of us set up the rules—the Father did. He promises to fulfill our hearts if we delight in him (Psalm 37). He promises to make our paths straight if we acknowledge and follow him (Proverbs 3). My heart is less than fulfilled and my paths are more crooked than Bernie Madoff. So either He changed the game or He wants the rules to remain unclear—is it really that terrible to feel betrayed?

I’m continuing to obey despite my limited understanding. But I do wish the parable had a third sibling—the sister who doesn’t want to control the Father, she just wants to understand His actions once in a while……even if it’s as infrequent as Nashville getting a real snow.

Thanks for reading.

Jen

things I don’t understand, part 8

<====  Really?

Why just one small section of my hair is naturally wavy.

Voluntarily checking carry-on luggage.

Most of what my neighbors do.

Dry-clean-only pajamas.

Sororities. So with enough votes she’s your lifelong “sister”—without them she’s a nobody?

Couples who sit side-by-side instead of across from each other at restaurants.

Long nails, real or fake. How do these women get anything done?

Buying expensive baby clothes.

How men are brave enough to storm the beaches of Normandy with a canteen and a bowie knife but can’t initiate a ten minute conversation to break up with a girlfriend.

Enjoying winter.


Yes, there’s more.

new to you friday–from larknews.com

Lots of opinion-y stuff on the blog this week, so we’ll finish out with a re-post of one of my favorite articles from LarkNews.

Okay, one opinion—sometimes Christians can be exceedingly literal and lacking in a sense of humor. So I’ll spell it out: this is satire. It’s not real. Please do not send me nasty letters, okay? But I’ll take one of these.

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Edgy church breaks old rules, insists on new ones
ROCHESTER, Minn. — At The Circle, a young, innovative church which meets in a renovated bus depot, there is no pulpit, platform, or pastor, as such. The congregation rejects the labels “Christian” and “congregation,” preferring “followers of Jesus” and “friendship community.”

There are no ushers, but rather “helpers.” There is no worship team, but rather “God artists.” And woe to anyone who affixes traditional church labels to any of it.

“God’s doing a new thing here,” says Mitch Townsend, the leader of the church. He shuns the “pastor” label and insists people call him, “Hey, man,” or simply “Dude.” If someone slips and calls him “pastor,” he bristles and gently rebukes them.

“We got rid of all those old labels,” he says. “There’s no going back.”

At the church office, which they never call a church office but rather “the Hub,” secretaries, or “community action facilitators” as they are called here, tap-tap on computers (which they still call computers) and take calls.

When a visitor slips up and refers to The Circle’s “sanctuary,” Dude Townsend cuts him short.

“Listen, it’s not a sanctuary, it’s a meeting place, a gathering place,” he says, flushing red.

“Sorry, pastor,” the visitor says.

“Not pastor,” says Townsend. “Dude, or friend. Or just hey, Mitch.”

“Sorry, Dude Mitch,” the visitor says uncomfortably, and slinks away. Mitch quickly goes to him and hugs him.

“We’re all about love and freedom here,” he says. “I know it’s hard to get used to.”

At a Sunday morning “gathering,” as services must be called, people sit in chairs arranged in circle around a “focal point” (not a platform) and listen to the team of God-artists play instruments and sing “songs of adoration and devotion to the Creator,” as opposed to praise and worship music. The gathered “posse of Jesus followers” is free to sing along and to express themselves in any way that seems “real and authentic.”

“We strive to be genuine here,” says non-pastor “Hey, Jim” Richards, who in another setting might be called an associate pastor. “It’s about being who you are, not fitting into a pre-determined box.”

Before Dude Mitch’s personal sharing time (which markedly resembles a sermon), one visitor raises her hand and says, “Is there going to be an altar call? Because I really want to give my life to Jesus today.”

Dude Mitch answers quickly, “We don’t have altar calls here; we have ‘God moments’ or ‘Creator re-connects.’ And we don’t say ‘give your life to Jesus,’ but you may begin a lifelong love relationship with the Creator-Friend, if you like. But please wait until we are done with sharing time.”

After the service, “new friends” join in the “kick-back hall” for refreshments and conversation with the Dudes and other Hub personnel. They may also join a mid-week “hang-out crew” of 10-12 people which meets in a home, and which is steadfastly not referred to as a “small group.”

“Anyone who wants a break from normal, rigid church life is welcome at The Circle,” says Townsend.

does the nacc have a future?

Apparently I offended someone with a recent post because I said the NACC was dying.

Maybe (probably) I offended more than one of you, and that’s okay. It’s never the goal of any post, but why would anyone read a blog they always agree with?

(A brief reminder: the opinions in this blog are solely mine, NOT necessarily those of Christian Standard or Standard Publishing.)


I worked on staff at the NACC for five conventions (1998-2002) with two managing directors and two executive directors. Since then I’ve served as a Continuation Committee and Executive Committee member and planned last year’s “conference within a conference” for women. I also write for CS, of course, plus manage our “denomination’s” online directory and news site at CCToday.com.

So, I kinda know this movement, and I really know the NACC. If I offended you with my statement, at least I’m informed enough to make it.


The plain truth is that attendance at, financial support for and interest in the NACC continue to drop off. I could spend this whole post exploring the various reasons why (less institutional loyalty throughout our culture, growth of specialized and niche events, an “uncool” reputation) but I’m more interested in thinking about whether it matters, and what can be done.

Most of my cooler, hipper friends will say it doesn’t matter. I’ve written about this before—because there are so many other events offering amazing resources and access to the preeminent Christian leaders of our time, they ask, why do we need another one?

It’s true; the broader evangelical world offers tons of events, podcasts, videos, books, networks and relationships to help our ministries. Why should we care about this network, about these relationships?


It matters because everyone needs a tribe. I read Andy Stanley and listen to Tim Keller and watch Rob Bell and follow Carlos Whittaker but none of those guys took me aside last month to hear my story and offer encouragement and mentoring. It was someone in “our” churches who has known and worked with me for years, someone who had a history with me.

On a broader scale, the same is true for all of us who affiliate, however loosely, with the Restoration Movement. Without long-term teamwork and relationship, organizations like Christian Missionary Fellowship, Orchard Group, Church Development Fund and our colleges—not to mention many of our individual churches—would be less effective (or non-existent), and the kingdom would be smaller for it.


So connections matter, and for some of us that connection is found in the independent Christian churches. Great. But that happens all year long, and would happen even if the NACC died tomorrow. We really don’t need a convention with big speakers and exhibit halls and Babyland to work together.

Because it’s really not about the event, it’s about the mission.

And that’s what needs to change. Getting together for the sake of getting together isn’t enough.


The convention’s current decline happened not because people don’t attend conferences, but because this conference no longer has a clearly-defined mission.

Is it for leaders or entire families? If leaders, vocational, volunteer or both? It’s “the connecting place” but to what end? Who’s connecting? Why is it valuable? How are the connections different from the other ways people are already working together?

It’s a hard truth and those are tough questions, but they offer hope: if the NACC can identify its unique mission, if it can connect us while celebrating our independence, if it can become indispensable in helping us plant churches and bring the Gospel to Nairobi and educate a new generation of leaders, it will thrive. If it doesn’t, it not only will die, it probably should.


Ben Cachiaras, Senior Pastor at Mountain Christian Church and president of the 2010 convention, gets this and has planned this year’s convention with a focus on going “BEYOND.” Francis Chan, Rick Warren, Gene Appel, Brian Jones, and many others will push us to move out of our comfort zones and think more deeply about evangelism, discipleship, racial and justice issues and our own calling. (You can read more, including a great interview with Ben, on the CS site.)

Say what you will about the NACC, this is as strong a lineup as any conference out there. But it’s just one year.

One of the convention’s systemic problems is the lack of continuity caused by annual changes in executive and board leadership. To reverse the convention’s decline, we need a multi-year leadership team committed to one easily-articulated mission, an overhaul of messaging methods and branding, and the money that (in theory) follows mission to pull it off.


“Keeping up with [Jesus] means leaving certain things behind,” Ben wrote about his 2010 theme. “And those who dare follow him quickly discover Jesus always takes you to new places.” Some people who love the movement need to leave behind their outdated cynicism about the NACC and give this year a chance. But the convention itself must leave behind old glory days to discover a new identity. If it does, the results could be beyond exciting.

a global warming rant

If I hear one more comment about global warming I am going to scream.

The real issue is climate change, and the current weather craziness could just as easily be proof of it as it could be proof against it. I don’t know and you don’t either because there is evidence both ways. But I know this—”global warming” doesn’t mean you never feel cold.

And I’m tired of it being a political issue instead of a scientific debate.

And I’m tired of the Christian/conservative kneejerk dismissal of it. (For the record, I’m tired of those on the other side, too.) Why is the prospect that we might actually be harming our world so threatening to these groups? No one’s blaming them for it.

That is all. (Although you can read more here.)

new to you friday–first, do no eharmony

I continue to meet couples who discovered each other via eHarmony and other online dating sites………and I continue to be skeptical based on my own experience. Bottom line: if I’m compatible with some of these people in 29 different ways, I have no business dating—I need to go work on myself.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone……….

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Neil Clark Warren must be laughing all the way to the bank. Millions of people have subscribed (at $20-$50 a month) to his online dating service, eHarmony, since its launch in 2000. In 2006, the site announced over 16,000 eHarmony couples had already married, and hundreds more hopefuls join the site each day. Users are attracted to the Christian branding (Warren initially marketed the site through Focus on the Family) and patented “personality profile” which allegedly matches you to singles with whom you share sociability, energy levels, intellect, and other characteristics.

This weekend I’m in Colorado for the wedding of one of my closest friends, who met her soon-to-be-husband online, and in the past couple of weeks I’ve reconnected with several other friends who met their spouses through online dating services. Online dating seems to have lost its stigma (although several of those friends still hesitate to tell others they met through a website), but I remain skeptical.

Time magazine recently named eHarmony one of its 5 worst websites; “Our main beef with this online dating site is its power to cause utter despair,” they wrote. I experienced more disbelief than despair; one match was most passionate about, and I quote, “Wielding the sword of truth against the powers and principalities of darkness” (yikes). Another claimed to routinely fall asleep in the shower (how is one question; why he chose to reveal that to a total stranger is another). I “talked” to a variety of others, including one I dated for several months before realizing we were actually spectacularly incompatible. Thanks, Neil Clark.

Perhaps despair IS more like it—this is who I’m most compatible with in “29 different dimensions”? What does that say about me??

Whether it’s Match.com, Yahoo Personals, or eHarmony, I’m glad my dear friends are finding love online. But I don’t plan on trying it again. Maybe it’s pride—I’d still rather tell my grandkids a meet cute story than a met online one—or maybe it’s just dating fatigue.


“I’m terrible at matching my clothes,” said one of my eHarmony matches. “This is kind of a last-ditch effort at finding someone,” said a second. “I really like to give high-fives,” shared yet another. Even The Committee seems successful compared to this.

my name is jen and….

This weekend I finished reading Lit, Mary Karr’s memoir about her relationship with her husband, her addiction and her God.

Every page was a poem—no wonder the book appeared on dozens of “best of 2009″ lists last month. But what struck me most was her experience in Alcoholics Anonymous. As she gets sober and commits to daily meetings, Karr encounters a corps of unlikely comrades: a well-known musician who brings homemade cookies. A black man with tattoos from the Khe Sanh Combat Base in Vietnam. A classics professor. Hookers and bankers. Rich women in Chanel suits and mechanics picking at the grease under their fingernails and still-drunk lawyers and a young man with schizophrenia who once attended a meeting wearing a helmet made of tinfoil.

Karr joined the group after hitting bottom—ending a professional appearance by drinking martinis and wine and chartreuse until blacking out, then trying to drive home until a concrete road divider stops her progress and shoots her out of the moving car.


“A moment of deep self-loathing makes not drinking seem your only conceivable option,” she writes. “But I know that day how swiftly such moments pass, how cunning, baffling, and powerful my own logic can be….for the first time, the disease idea isn’t just metaphorical.”


Although every person at AA can tell a similar—or much worse—story, each one is welcomed, valued, listened to. Jack, the schizophrenic, created his tinfoil hat because he was “convinced his girlfriend was beaming messages to him through the radio,” Karr writes. “It’s a tribute to the radical equality of the room that I never overheard anybody challenge the reasoning.”

This radical equality permeates the group because everyone acknowledges their lives “have become unmanageable” and they cannot successfully and sanely live life without help from each other and a Higher Power. There is no pretense about being more together or less sick than anyone else. The meetings and the community and the prayer save their lives.

And so I was deeply moved by Karr’s experience and deeply convicted about the different experience to be found in many churches—places that, after all, should have the corner on the Higher Power.

We do not admit our lives are unmanageable; in fact we usually find our faults both manageable and excusable. We do not pray and admit our past wrongs and make amends with the desperation of an addict out of better options. We do not find it impossible to go on without submitting our will in complete humility.

Because most of us have not hit bottom in our addiction to sin.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe your church accepts anger and skepticism and even hostility toward the Higher Power. Maybe your members regularly take a moral inventory and confess “the exact nature of their wrongs” and “defects of character” to one another. Maybe they daily help each other fight the disease of our fallen natures. Maybe Jack and his aluminum helmet would fit right in.

If so, I haven’t been to your church. But I’d like to, because my name’s Jen, and I’m a sinaholic.

new to you friday–watch it

Last week Jon Acuff wrote about his new book Stuff Christians Like on his blog of the same name. In the comments, several of us launched a side conversation about the passive-aggressive book purchase—buying a book for someone, ostensibly as a gift, but really as a way to communicate your opinion about some facet of their life. (My favorite comment: I had some friends that gave their whole family Christian self-help books custom tailored to each of their specific glaring issues. They look back on it as “the quietest Christmas ever.”)

Most Christians are guilty of this; with every good intention we give our skeptic friend a book on theology or apologetics and believe it will change his mind. I’ve done it.

These books serve a purpose, but only at the right time and only after earning the right to share your perspective. And that can take months or years of showing up and shutting up and simply loving the person without strings attached.

Whether or not you watch the two movies discussed below, consider some ways you can listen instead of lecture in your relationships with unbelievers. One of my non-negotiables is I won’t foist a book on someone without first offering to read and discuss one of her choosing—in effect, giving the other person first dibs at the “here’s your problem” interaction. The results are always interesting……

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The God Who Wasn’t There, a new documentary directed by a former Christian, “irreverently lays out the case that Jesus Christ never existed” says Newsweek. The film includes interviews with Sam Harris, Richard Dawkins, and many others.

You’re probably more aware of this one; Entertainment Weekly called comedian Bill Maher’s Religulous “a blasphemous detonation of all things holy and scriptural.”

A few friendly wagers:

While watching these trailers, at least ten of you inwardly bristled and began running through your mental filing cabinet of apologetic arguments. (Bonus points if “liar, lunatic or Lord” crossed your mind.)

At least seven of you thought something like, “Maher protests too much about the foolishness of religion. It’s like he’s trying to push away what he knows in his heart must be true.”

Most of you felt angry, offended, or embarrassed.

None of you rushed to add these films to your Netflix queue.

I’m really not picking on you—after a long day of work who wants to watch two hours of someone mocking your most cherished beliefs? Even though Maher does occasionally make me laugh out loud (“no one powerful enough to cause nuclear war should be overly eager for the Rapture”), neither movie will offer a relaxing and fun experience for those of us who believe in Christ.

But we need to watch them anyway. Because here’s another bet: at some point you have purchased a Christian book—The Case for Christ, perhaps, or Mere Christianity, or Keller’s Reason for God—and foisted it on your skeptic friend/neighbor/coworker/relative. You knew if they would just read it with an open heart it would change everything. You imagined them studying it, maybe with a highlighter, and coming to realize the foolishness of their doubts and disbelief. You glowed with the thrill of evangelism.

Did you ever consider how your friend or family member felt about that book?

My guess is they read part of it (if they opened it at all) or skimmed a few chapters so they could fake their way through a conversation with you later. They may have considered buying you a copy of The God Delusion. Despite your good intentions, they probably resented your gift as much as you resent Religulous.

Which is ironic, because ultimately the movie is less an attack on God than “the vain, deluded things human beings say and do in His name,” EW writes. American evangelicals’ tendency to stubbornly lecture instead of calmly listen invites the very critiques in these movies. Watching one of them won’t immediately change that, but thoughtfully attempting to understand the frustrations and doubts of unbelievers can. There are worse places to start than an open DVD drive and a closed mouth.

a question for pastors

Pastors, a non-PC question: Did it bother you to see so many of your church members give money for Haiti relief when so many aren’t giving to the church?

In January, US nonprofit groups received $528 million in donations for Haiti. Yet recent studies by LifeWay Research indicate that more than 50% of US churches have been negatively affected by the country’s recession and 3% are considering closing their doors. The Barna Group reported similar findings; about 20% of churches have had to cut staff and, ironically, 1 in 25 churches have also cut missions support. (Interestingly, only 3% cut back on building plans and facility improvements. But that’s a subject for another day.)

I’m not saying we shouldn’t give to Haiti relief efforts. But it must be hard to support the Haiti push with an undivided heart when the offering comes in below budget every week and you’re deciding which staff person to lay off next.

People love to give to big causes, but they don’t want to pay the light bills. They’ll give $100 one time but not 10% every week. It’s understandable (as noted earlier, I hate tithing) but our churches are suffering.

Does it bother you? Be honest. It would bother me.