Everybody’s watching you now
Everybody waits for you now
What happens next
What happens next

– Switchfoot, “Dare You To Move”

Switchfoot lead singer Jon Foreman had a bit of run-in with Tampa police this past Sunday night. After playing their regular show, Foreman performed a couple of songs on his acoustic guitar in the parking lot for anyone who wanted to drop by, a regular occurrence he refers to as “after-shows”. But one Tampa cop wasn’t having any of it and ordered Foreman to shut it down. Encouraged by fans, though, he kept playing until finally being escorted away. The event, naturally, was caught on video by several fans and even made it to CNN.

Foreman later wrote on the Huffington Post that in retrospect, he would’ve done things differently:

I would have pushed for communication instead of one more song. I wish that I could have pulled the officer aside to hear his thoughts about the situation. I would have asked him why we were getting kicked out. I would have asked him, “Is there a more appropriate place to play one last song?” I wish I would have asked him why he was yelling at these kids. I wanted to understand the situation, to shake his hand and speak like grown-ups rather than being yelled at.

It’s admirable that Foreman admits he could’ve handled himself better, although it’s interesting to note that he never apologizes for being out there in the first place. Nor does he consider that once he was asked by the officer to stop playing, he probably should’ve just cooperated no questions asked.

My point is that while we often talk about making better choices with our actions, usually it’s how we react that’s more important. Sure, you could make the argument that Foreman wasn’t doing anything wrong and certainly nothing illegal. But you could also argue that the cop was just doing his job to control the crowd and prevent a more serious outcome.

At the end of the day, though, it doesn’t matter.

Whether Foreman was right or not, what mattered was how he reacted once he was asked to stop.

Of course, I’m the first to concede that I react very poorly most of the time. And if I had been in that situation, I probably would’ve done the exact same thing Foreman did. But I think this incident serves as a good reminder that others are watching us. Our spouses, our children, our friends, our co-workers, our neighbors. And while we can’t always control what happens to us, we can always choose how we respond.

Previously:
‘There is no song louder than love’
You obviously haven’t met my neighbors
The goal must be love

Source.

Previously:
‘Lord, Save Us From Your Followers’
The goal must be love
You obviously haven’t met my neighbors

I finally got around to watching Man on Fire. In the movie, Denzel Washington plays a bodyguard named Creasy who pursues the kidnappers of a little girl named Pita (played by Dakota Fanning). In the end, Pita is rescued unharmed and returned to her mother but only after Creasy willingly surrenders his life in exchange for hers.

Christian blogger Jon Acuff has written about how the movie is a perfect metaphor for how Jesus willingly gave His life as a ransom for us:

I missed it the first ten times I saw the movie. Missed that I’m Pita. I’ve lived most of my life under the stairs in a dark, dirty cage. But unlike Pita, this is the place I deserve. For although she did not ask to be kidnapped or receive this experience as a consequence of her actions, I did. If this were the story of my life, justice would have already been served. The prisoner’s life is the life I deserve. But God is like Creasy. In Isaiah 30:18 it says “he rises to show you compassion.” …

God’s love has no limits. If violence is what it would take to rescue me, I have little doubt that He would be violent. That He would remove an entire planet in a flood to save the righteous family of Noah. And even though He is blessed with the ability to open the core of the earth with His fury, it is love and ultimate surrender that shows us the true depth of His heart. In the movie, Creasy could have easily continued killing the kidnapper’s family. The brother could have been tortured, the pregnant wife and unborn child of the kidnapper murdered. But it wasn’t about revenge, it was about rescue. And when Pita was discovered to be alive, he stopped everything. He surrendered and walked willingly into a certain death. …

I’ve written about it before because the scene really shook me. It made me realize, this is the Christ I serve. Powerful, fearful, able to heal the sick and blind, capable of walking on water. But willing to give it all up upon realizing I am found. Willing to pay the ransom with his own life. Willing to free me from a prison of my own design. And whether he’s crucified on a cross or forced to walk across a bridge in Mexico, he’s willing to do it all over again for me. And for you.

Previously:
Rescued

Previously:
Quitting Christianity
The goal must be love
You obviously haven’t met my neighbors

For those who care, and I understand if you don’t: Today I quit being a Christian. I’m out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being “Christian” or to being part of Christianity. It’s simply impossible for me to “belong” to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I’ve tried. I’ve failed. I’m an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else. …

As I said below, I quit being a Christian. I’m out. In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.

Her statements seem to indicate that she hasn’t specifically given up on her faith but rather on other Christians. And certainly I can understand that. I can understand the frustration of other Christians who don’t share my particular views or beliefs. Christians who are either completely close-minded about everything or completely unwilling to define any absolutes. Christians that use the pulpit to advance their political agendas. Christians who equate the Bible to a self-help book or a get-rich-quick scheme. Christians that are quick to talk about fire and brimstone but never mention love and grace. Christians who only talk about love and grace but never mention the consequences of sin.

But however frustrated I am, I have to remember that we’re all still human and we’re all still defective. Even as Christians — who should know better — we’re pretty stupid sometimes. Actually, most of the time. Which is exactly why we needed a Savior in the first place. If we were able to live up to God’s perfect standard, we would’ve done it already, on our own and without Jesus. But we aren’t, which is why God gave up His Son to pay the price for our ridiculously stupid mistakes.

Further, as frustrated as I sometimes get with my fellow believers, I have to realize that we’re all still part of the body of Christ. All of us. As Paul explains in 1 Corinthians 12:

The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ. Some of us are Jews, some are Gentiles, some are slaves, and some are free. But we have all been baptized into one body by one Spirit, and we all share the same Spirit.

Yes, the body has many different parts, not just one part. If the foot says, “I am not a part of the body because I am not a hand,” that does not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear says, “I am not part of the body because I am not an eye,” would that make it any less a part of the body? If the whole body were an eye, how would you hear? Or if your whole body were an ear, how would you smell anything?

But our bodies have many parts, and God has put each part just where he wants it. How strange a body would be if it had only one part! Yes, there are many parts, but only one body. The eye can never say to the hand, “I don’t need you.” The head can’t say to the feet, “I don’t need you.”

By “quitting Christianity”, Anne is not only hurting herself but is hurting the entire body of Christ. And that’s heartbreaking to see.

Previously:
The goal must be love
Church dot com

The good news — if you want to call it that — is that I’m not the first Christian to make a complete fool out of myself. And really, compared to people like Pat Robertson or Fred Phelps, my overreaction was extremely minor. Nevertheless, it wasn’t right, and as I said, I don’t want to live that way anymore.

Timothy, a young pastor in first-century Ephesus, ran into a similar situation. Even though the Christian church there had been growing, some within the church had veered away from the Gospel and had started teaching things that weren’t in line with Scripture. It would’ve been easy for Timothy to go off on them, to fight fire with fire, and in all likelihood he had every right to do so. But Paul had different ideas.

Yes, Timothy had a responsibility as the pastor to confront the false teachers, but Paul made it clear that the goal of such a confrontation must be love, “which comes from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith” (1 Timothy 1:5). It wasn’t about who was right and who was wrong. It wasn’t about winning an argument or proving that Timothy was better than them. It was about showing them love. That didn’t mean excusing their behavior, which is often the case in many politically correct churches today. But it didn’t mean shouting at them that they’re all going to hell either.

So what did that love look like?

Paul explains that even though he was a “a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus” (vv. 13-14, emphasis mine). He goes on to say, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners — of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life” (vv. 15-16, emphasis mine).

Mercy. Abundant grace. Unlimited patience. The faith and love that comes from the Holy Spirit through Christ. That was Christ’s response to Paul, and it was to be Timothy’s response to those who had “shipwrecked their faith”.

And it should be my response as well.

Previously:
You obviously haven’t met my neighbors

Sunday morning our youth pastor preached in “big church” on the parable of the Good Samaritan, about how we as Christians should be pouring out Christ’s love to the people around us, to a world that is lost and broken and desperate. I sat and listened intently, agreeing with everything he said and telling myself I would be the kind of neighbor that Jesus described.

And then I went straight home and failed miserably.

That evening I was mowing the yard and honestly wasn’t in a very good mood. I didn’t want to be out there, and I was tired and sweaty and cranky. And above the roar of the lawnmower, I could hear my next-door neighbor’s rap music blaring from his open garage. So I walked over to him and gently asked him if he wouldn’t mind please turning it down a bit. Then I shook his hand and said thanks and prayed for his salvation.

OK, not really. In reality, I stormed over and yelled sarcastically, “Do you have to have your music so loud?”

Smooth, right?

I completely blew it, and I immediately felt like a horrible, horrible person because of it. And the thing is, it’s not like my wife and I even have a very good reputation among our neighbors to begin with. There are three families next to us whose favorite pastime is to stand around outside at all hours of the night getting drunk and cussing loud enough for the people four blocks over to hear. That and getting into fights and shooting off fireworks and doing anything else to generally disturb the peace — including playing really loud gangsta rap in their garage on a Sunday night.

And because they know we don’t like it, they don’t like us. They refer to my wife as “The Bitch”, and Lord only knows what they call me. Of course, it probably doesn’t help that we’ve confronted them about their antics before or that we’ve had to call the cops on them a couple of times when their behavior went too far.

Yeah, it’s a veritable lovefest around our neighborhood.

The truth is, though, I don’t want to live like that. I don’t want to be “that guy”, the stereotypical closed-minded, Bible-thumping Christian who shouts at people to repent and gripes at kids to get off my lawn. I don’t want to reinforce their notion of a God who cares more about what rules everybody is breaking than about whether they know how much He loves them in spite of it. I don’t want to respond to hatred and contempt with more hatred and contempt.

I want to love them.

I want to show them grace.

I want to give them another chance, just like God continues to give me chance after chance after chance, even when I’m a complete jerk to everyone around me.

Because that’s who God is. And that’s who I should aspire to be like.

But the problem is, love always costs. It requires our time, our money, our energy, our pride. It’s hard, especially when the people we’re supposed to love aren’t so lovable. Selfishness, on the other hand, is easy. Selfishness is quick and cheap and safe. It doesn’t require any effort on our part, which is why it’s so often our default choice.

About a week and a half ago, Christy and I went to a concert in the Deep Ellum neighborhood of Dallas, a part of town you generally want to avoid after dark. As we were standing in line waiting to get in, a homeless man who obviously had mental health issues walked up to us, freaking out because he was convinced there was a snake in his shirt. I had no idea what to say or do. I tried to reason with him, hoping he would calm down, but when that didn’t work, I humored him, telling him it was just a little snake and that he wasn’t in any danger. Honestly, I was just hoping he would go away. And mind you, this was at a Christian concert while we were in line with a bunch of other Christians. Did it cross my mind to help him take his shirt off (as the guy in front of me did, after which the man seemed to come to his senses)? No. Did it cross my mind to give him the 20 bucks I had in my wallet so he could at least buy a meal or two? No. Did it cross my mind to pray over him or tell him how much God loves him? No. Why? Because that would’ve cost me, and I was way more interested in what I wanted than what he needed.

I failed, and I’m not proud of it.

I want to have a heart for God and a heart for others. I want to love. Genuinely and openly and unselfishly. Even though it’s hard. Even though it costs.

I did apologize to my neighbor the next day for yelling at him. Hopefully that’s at least a start. Hopefully there’s still time to be the neighbor that God has called me to be.

Let it rise above, rise above
There is no song louder than love

– Switchfoot, “The Sound (John Perkins’ Blues)”

About civil rights activist John M. Perkins, Switchfoot lead singer Jon Foreman writes:

Over the next few decades Dr. Perkins’ outspoken nature and leadership in civil rights demonstrations resulted in repeated harassment, brutal beatings and imprisonment. Yet even in the hands of his oppressors he chose the path of love over violence, of compassion over hatred. His story is the story of the struggle for true freedom, freedom from even the knee-jerk reaction of retaliatory violence. His song is the song of the blessed community. His dream is the dream which Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King and so many others died for. His story is living proof that love is louder than violence, louder than hatred, and louder than racism.

The world is filled with enough noise. As Christians, we need to remember that Christ’s love speaks louder than all of it.

Perhaps we have misunderstood sin though. The overarching theme of scripture is that sin is a condition, not necessarily an action. Jesus seems to speak directly into this concept when he addresses the faithful Jews at the beginning of Matthew, “You have heard it said do not murder… but I say do not have anger in your heart for another man.” Essentially he spends an entire afternoon telling these people, “you have heard the law and followed it, but now listen to the heart of the law, it’s a new command I give you. Love me. Love others. That is the point.”

Sin is a condition that indicates our separation from God. Jesus focuses less on the sin action and more on the person and their separation from God. Sin is simply that. Our separation from God. Our less than holy nature. Our blemished existence. An incomplete way of being. That is sin.

Read the whole thing. It’s long but worth the time.

Previously:
Casualties of the American dream