Smug Has to Go

WSB Radio in Atlanta has the best traffic reports every morning and afternoon during what often seems to be endless rush hours. If you know anything at all about Atlanta traffic, you know that Capt. Herb and his crew on WSB can be a huge help.

The preacher from one of Atlanta’s larger churches often buys thirty second spots on WSB Radio, and sometimes on television stations. (His last name, by the way, isn’t Stanley.) He actually says some pretty good things – often focusing on marriage, parenting, and living a meaningful life. But every time I hear one of those spots I instantly think “he sounds a little smug,” and then I wonder how non-believers respond to them. 

I’m not saying this particular preacher is smug. I met him once and he was very personable and cordial. What I am wondering, though, is whether or not you can really talk about the moral and social implications of the Christian gospel to an audience that isn’t exclusively Christian without sounding a bit smug. While the gospel and its implications for life make so much sense to us, can we discover a way to talk about it without sounding a bit smug to people for whom they don’t make much sense?

Tim Keller, in his book Center Church, says “A missional church, if it is to reach people in a post-Christian culture, must recognize that most of our more recently formulated and popular gospel presentations will fall on deaf ears because hearers will be viscerally offended or simply unable to understand the basic concepts of God, sin, and redemption.” (page 272) In other words, we come off sounding rather smug!

Keller goes on to say, “This fact does not, however, require a change in the classic Christian doctrines, but rather skillfulness in contextualizing them so our gospel presentations are compelling even to people who are not (yet) fully persuaded by them.” (page 272) Clearly the issue isn’t that we have to make the challenge of the gospel go away – but to discover a way to talk about the challenge so that others will listen to us.

There has to be some tension between the content of the gospel itself and our discovery of the most appropriate way to talk about the gospel. And perhaps we could use a reminder that the gospel is, first and foremost, about Jesus. Most of us would probably agree that among the most troubled spots Paul every planted a church was Corinth. Their theological and sociological problems are legendary. Yet Paul can say “we preach Christ and Him crucified.” (1 Corinthians 1:18-25)

It seems odd to me to listen to the helpful tone of Capt. Herb tell me an alternative route followed by the smug Christian voice telling me what is right for my life. Getting your marriage right or your role as a parent right seems a little more complicated that a traffic jam and it will take a little more than the nearest alternative route.  But the gospel so often comes across in such smug, you-know-I-am-right tones that unless I really am committed to following Him, the mere smugness of it all closes my ears.

The smugness factor often makes us appear more anti-culture than cross-cultural. The more cross-cultural we are, the more likely we are to transform the world we live in. The more anti-cultural we are, the less likely others will even hear what we’re saying, much less allow it to transform them. Of course our greatest testimony to the world about the uniqueness of the Christian gospel is not a radio ad we pay for, but our willingness to serve others – “labors of love” as Paul describes it in 1 Thessalonians 1 – as we bring God’s grace to bear on the daily reality of living in this world.

Known by God

Psalm 139 begins with the intriguing reality that God knows us. “O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.” (139:1-4) Verses  1-18 of Psalm 139 speak to God’s omniscience  at every turn – leading some to describe these words as the most detailed text in Scripture about omniscience and God.

At one level this is all very comforting. Later in the text the psalmist declares “even the darkness will not be dark to you.” (12) Those words are, in part, the answer to the great question posed in Psalm 139, “where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?” ((7) Apparently there isn’t a place I can go that is beyond God’s reach. That’s a comforting reality.

But on another level, it could be a bit disturbing. Our tendency to compartmentalize life into public and private categories breaks down at every level when it comes to what God knows about us. What I ought to see as comforting, becomes daunting and intimidating when my life is focused on the compartment that I assume God doesn’t know about. The psalm ends with words that I remember from an old hymn in the old, blue Great Hymns of the Church that was the standard fare in my little home church. “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thought. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” (23,24) More than a request, these words seem to be saying that the psalmist will pass the test – the Lord will find nothing offensive in his heart.  Can I truly pray these words to the Lord with confidence? Or do the words seem to be a bit disturbing?

All of this is a part of why Paul’s words in Galatians 4:9 seem to leap off the page every time I read them. They are a part of a paragraph that begins back in chapter 3 with the reminder that “you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus.”   (3:26)   That is followed by “you are one in Christ Jesus” (3:28) because having clothed ourselves with Christ through baptism, the old gender, geography, and group distinctions disappear. But as is so often the case in Galatians, Paul quickly warns his readers of the danger that comes when somehow gender, geography, and group distinctions reenter the picture. “But now that you know God – or rather are known by God – how is it that you are turning back to those weak and miserable principles?” (4:9)

What is the difference in “knowing God” and “being known by God?” Could Paul possibly be thinking of the words of Psalm 139, reminding his readers that having become a part of God’s kingdom – “Abraham’s seed and heirs according to the promise” – God knows us in ways that are not true in the normal course of God’s omniscience? Should we think that because we are the sons and daughters of God, He pays more attention to our hearts? Did anyone every tell me that when I came to point in life where "I know God," it could mean that I am "known by God" in ways beyond the norm?

In some ways that really is comforting; but in other ways it can be disturbing. It gets me right back to the question asked earlier, “Can I truly pray these words to the Lord with confidence?” If I ask God to “search my heart” will He discover a public heart that people pat on the back and a private heart that would embarrass me?  

I learned in my first theology class that one of the big “o” words to describe God was that He is omniscient. We probably read words from Psalm 139 to show that the Bible teaches that to be true. What I don’t remember learning back then was that it could be possible that God knows my heart as a Christian in ways that go beyond “just knowing” – whatever that is.

“Known by God” is a daunting reality and, when recognized in the context of who God is, could be the impetus we all need to leave the compartmental approach to life behind in the name of “having this mind in you which was also in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 2:5)

All Things

Perhaps there was a time when the non-church going culture and the church going culture were similar enough in outlook and basic values that it was easier for a believer to address the inevitable tension between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of the world. I know the tension has always been there, but it seems as though there are periods where the tension is more intense.

I once heard William Willimon suggest that the bridge over the gap that exists between the gospel and our culture needs to be a one-way bridge.  That is, we must carefully bring the gospel to our culture, while carefully avoiding the temptation to allow our culture to alter our gospel. That’s quite an assignment!

When I read I Corinthians 9:19-23, I wonder if that isn’t the struggle Paul is addressing at Corinth. It is one of those texts from Paul that cracks open the door to his heart and passion for the gospel in ways that can be helpful to us as we seek to live our lives for the sake of the gospel.

I am instantly drawn to the idea that Paul adamantly declares himself to be in a “state of being free” in reference to “all things.” Yet, in the spirit of being Jesus to the world around him, he makes the volitional choice “to become a slave” to all. With a fair measure of emphasis, he says “I have made myself a slave to all.” But this isn’t just for the sake of being a slave – he desires “to win more of them.”

The structure of this paragraph is interesting. Six times he uses a Greek conjunction that often denotes purpose – frequently translated “in order that.” The first five of those six phrases are followed by the verb “to win.” He desires to win Jews, people under the law, people not under the law, those who are weak, and in a final all-inclusive way – he becomes all things to all people. But the final “in order that” gives depth and understanding to his idea of “to win” when it is followed by “to save.”

Near the end of the paragraph Paul reminds himself and his readers of what would motivate him to become so many other things. “For the sake of the gospel” is how he describes motivation. Ultimately he connects his sense of blessing and joy (he uses the same conjunction “in order that”) with the potential of winning other to Christ.

If we look at this paragraph as a whole, at the beginning Paul is willing to give up “being free” and “makes himself a slave.” If you look at the end, it is the very willingness to become a slave for the sake of the gospel that gives him joy in life. It isn’t very often in our culture that we think about giving up freedom in order to experience joy!

Between “the beginning” and “the end” of the paragraph – there is this litany of “I became” statements that speak to the nature of what it means “to become a slave” and to the purpose of that slavery, which is “to win some.”

At some point, a part of growing in Christ requires that we ask and answer the same question that was on Paul’s part. “What am I willing to become this week in my daily life to influence others for Christ?”

We know from reading Paul’s story in Acts and paying attention to the hints he gives in his epistles, that answering that question for him often created tension. It will, no doubt, do the same for us. In fact we live in such a divisive culture, it may create tension that we are not prepared to handle.

But the question can’t be dismissed. Where am I willing to be seen, what am I willing to become, how far out of my normal comfort zone will I step – with the sole motivation of bringing lost people to Christ?

Reflections on September 11, 2001

How could anyone old enough to know what was going on not remember where they were when the news first reached them on September 11, 2001? For me, I had taught an early morning class at Point University (then Atlanta Christian College) and was getting in my little gray Toyota pickup to head to my office at First Christian in Tyrone. As soon as the radio came on, the news of an airplane flying into the World Trade Center in New York was just beginning to break on WSB Radio.

Describing that day and the days that followed as eerie would be to understate reality. I’m old enough to remember where I was when President Kennedy was assassinated, when Dr. King was shot in Memphis, and when Senator Kennedy was killed in Los Angeles. I remember the attempted assassination of President Ford and then President Reagan. I remember the Challenger disaster. But this was different and Americans, along with most other westerners are still adjusting to the post-9/11 world.

What seemed to be a kind of benign naiveté about the post-Cold War world was shattered in ways that few of us anticipated could ever happen. At one level, the evil exhibited by those who took control of the planes and deliberately crashed them in New York, Pennsylvania, and Washington, DC was of such intensity that we had a hard time grasping its reality. At a different level, the bravery of so many first responders served to remind us that even in the midst of incredible evil, the goodness of the human heart could not be defeated. At a completely different level, our hearts were broken by the grief that invaded countless families who loved ones went to work early on 9/11 unaware that they would never return home. On top of all of those deeply embedded emotions the question of how followers of Jesus respond to the people who caused such evil still remains.  How deeply sad it is that, for a variety of reasons, they didn’t know the Prince of Peace who calls on humans to turn the other cheek.

Since that awful day, countless more lives have been lost in places like Afghanistan, Iraq, and other hot spots in the world. The current crisis in Syria and what the appropriate response to despicable evil behavior should be floods the public conversation. And what about Egypt? Or Iran? Or countless other hotspots all over the world? Even in our own culture, we’ve witnessed the tension created by the events associated with 9/11 boiling over in ways that are disturbing.

In Luke 13, Jesus is engaged in a conversation that sounds as though it could have occurred in our own age. Two particular incidents are brought to the attention of those around Jesus. One is an act of evil caused by a pagan ruler; the other a horrible accident. Both incidents involved the loss of what we tend to describe as “innocent lives.” Rather than assuming that those who died in the two incidents were somehow more sinful than others, Jesus reminds those around him that the appropriate response of everyone is simply to repent.

In encouraging those around him to repent, Jesus isn’t condoning Pilate’s awful behavior nor is he discounting the pain of those who lost loved ones in the horrible accident in Siloam. But he is insistent that thoughtful people, upon hearing such news, will quickly realize that no one is immune from such incidents and the best thing we can do is repent.

As the recipients of such awful evil, we may quickly point out that we did nothing to cause the horrible evil of 9/11. We didn’t highjack the planes and cause them to crash, killing thousands of people. Without the awful events of 9/11, it is unlikely that the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq would have been fought. But the same could be said by those whose families were ripped apart by Pilate’s evil behavior and by those whose loved ones were killed when the tower at Siloam fell. So what in the world is Jesus doing saying, “Repent?”

If nothing else, such events remind us of the brevity of life. Who among us has a guarantee of even tomorrow? No one on 9/10/2001 seemed to realize what was about to happen and as long as evil is present in the world there is never a guarantee of safety. What better word could Jesus say than to remind us to repent?

But such repentance is not offered to God in fear. Rather we repent in hope and confident assurance of God’s eternal care for His people. N.T. Wright, in his new book, The Case for the Psalms, reminds us that “The Psalter forms the great epic poem of the creator and covenant God who will at the last visit and redeem his people and, with them, his whole creation.” (page 33)

On this day of remembrance, we must express gratitude for the countless lives that were offered in protecting and rescuing others. We cannot fail to appreciate those who have sought to protect us from other such acts of evil. We must pray that the gospel will penetrate the darkness of the world and bring light to those who cannot yet see the glory of the kingdom of God. Taking Jesus to heart, we should also reflect on our own lives where we will, no doubt, discover a call to repentance.

I don’t fully understand how it is that I was blessed to be born into the family I was, born in a place where following Jesus was an easy choice, and privileged to freely study Scripture as the trustworthy word of God. But I was. For that I remain eternally grateful. But the idea that “to whom much is given, much is required” serves to remind me that the blessing of birth is a call to share that blessing with others. Had the evil doers of 9/11 been blessed to have been born where I was, they would never have committed such evil acts. Until the whole world knows Jesus, His call to us is “repent.”

Andrew's Fifteen Minutes

We first meet Andrew in John 1. Apparently he had heard John the Baptist declare that Jesus was “the Lamb of God.” Andrew and another person decided to follow Jesus around and ended up spending the day with Jesus. Early tradition suggests that this “unnamed” person with Andrew was John, the beloved apostle.  Andrew soon goes and finds his brother Simon, telling him, “We have found the Messiah.”

Simon will answer Jesus’ call in his life and become better known as “Cephas, which, when translated, is Peter.” Of course Peter will become a key player in the story of Jesus found in the four gospels and a key player in the life of the early church described in Acts and the epistles. Andrew is seldom mentioned in the gospels and mentioned only in a list of the apostles in Acts 1 beyond the Jesus story of the gospels. Peter’s name occurs 155 times in the New Testament; Andrew’s name only 13 times.

Apparently not every follower of Jesus is called to be the upfront, well-known leader that Peter became. But, the few things we know about Andrew make him a character that we shouldn’t overlook as we examine people in Scripture who served Jesus effectively!

One of those “few things” is the simple fact that Andrew is the one who “brought Peter to Jesus.” (John 1)Perhaps with all that was going on where Peter lived at the time, he might have “stumbled on to Jesus” all by himself without Andrew’s help. But Andrew was unwilling to take such a risk and “the first thing” he did was to find his brother and bring him to meet “the Messiah.”  Who wouldn’t be happy to know that on the record of our life of service to Jesus was the fact that we brought someone – in this case a crucial someone – to Jesus?

John tells another interesting story about Andrew. This one surrounds the great feeding of the five thousand and the Sermon on the Bread of Life. According to John (chapter 6) a great crowd was coming toward Jesus, and Jesus said to Phillip, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?” John makes it clear that Jesus already knew what he planned to do, but wanted to see what the fledgling young followers of His would do.

Phillip replies that it would take “eight months’ wages” and then some to buy enough bread to give the people even “a bite.”  Not to pick on Phillip too much (I probably would have said something similar) but he falls in to the trap of thinking “it’s all up to us” instead of “I wonder how God can use us to take care of this.” Andrew enters the picture with John taking time to note that he was “Simon Peter’s brother.” Clearly Andrew isn’t occupying a starring role in the story if John feels compelled to identify who he is by saying “he’s Peter’s brother.”

But Andrew says, “Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish. How far will they go among so many?” Clearly Andrew doesn’t see exactly how that meager offering can solve the problem, but at least he doesn’t say “that won’t work!” He seems to be operating with a sense of “I don’t know how this will answer  your question, Jesus, but I’m trying.”

Everyone likely knows how that meager offering was used to feed the multitude of people about whom Jesus was concerned.  In fact, when everyone was fed, there were “twelve baskets with the pieces of the five barley loaves left over by those who had eaten.”  Perhaps a basket of leftovers for each of the apostles, who like Phillip, might have wondered where the “eight months’ wages” was going to be found to give the crowd a bite to eat.

In Mark 13, Andrew, in the company of the more familiar trio of Peter, James, and John, asks Jesus privately about when “the signs” would take place. This of course is a pretty natural question when you realize that they had just heard Jesus say, “not one stone will be left on another, everyone will be thrown down” in reference to the Temple and other “magnificent buildings” in Jerusalem. 

We meet Andrew again during the final week of Jesus’ life on earth when some “Greeks among those who went up to worship at the Feast” requested of Phillip an opportunity “to see Jesus.” Phillip consults with Andrew, and the two of them make the request known to Jesus. (John 12:20-22) We aren’t told that Jesus actually met with the Greeks who desired to see Him, but His response to Phillip and Andrew make it abundantly clear that Jesus sees that request as indicative of the fact His mission is reaching its climax and “the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.” 

That’s pretty much it. Only Andrew’s mention in the list of the apostles in Acts 1 tells us any more about him. In our cultural lingo, “his fifteen minutes of fame” has come and gone. 

But actually that isn’t true, is it? Far more of us can find a soul mate in Andrew than in Peter. Two things stand out in Andrew’s life as we know it: [a] he is willing to bring others to Jesus; and [b] he is willing to offer Jesus whatever he has available, even if it is a meager five loaves and two fish when thousands need to be fed.

It makes me wish that when Luke introduces Peter’s sermon on Pentecost, he would have said, “Then Peter, Andrew’s brother, stood up with the Eleven . . .” (Acts 2:1) Andrew was, it seems, always willing to make Jesus the main thing. And he did that with grace and class. May God raise up a crowd of Andrews in the world around us who will introduce others to Jesus and offer him whatever it is they have.