A Tribute to the Atheists in My Life

Al Mohler, president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, recently accepted an invitation to speak at Brigham Young University. For the non-theologically inclined, that's a big deal. Mohler's fundamental and unwavering belief system stands in stark contrast to the tenets of Mormonism, the rock on which BYU stands. It's staggering. They invited him? He accepted?

Yes, and yes. And in the process, Mohler's introduction to his audience offer great wisdom for us all:

The presence of the president of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary behind the podium at Brigham Young University requires some explanation. I come as an evangelical Christian, committed to the Gospel of Jesus Christ and to the trinitarian beliefs of the historic Christian faith. I come as one who does not share your theology and who has long been involved in urgent discussions about the distinctions between the faith of the Latter Day Saints and the faith of the historic Christian church. I come as who I am, and your leaders invited me to come knowing who I am. I have come knowing who you are and what you believe and my presence here does not mean that the distance between our beliefs has been reduced. It does mean, however, that we now know something that we did not know before. We need to talk. We can and must take the risk of responsible, respectful, and honest conversation. We owe this to each other, and we owe this to the faiths we represent. And we had better talk with candor and urgency, for the times demand it.

My presence here is indicative of one of the strangest and most ironic truths of all - that the people who can have the most important and the most honest conversations are those who hold the deepest beliefs and who hold those beliefs with candor and engage one another with the most substantial discussion of the issues that are of most crucial importance to us. And thus the president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary is thankful to be among you at Brigham Young University. You are a university that stands, as all great universities stand, for the importance of ideas and the honor of seeking after the truth. I come to honor the importance of ideas and the centrality of the search for truth with you.

Responsible, respectful, honest conversation. Candor. We owe this, says Mohler.

When is the last time you thought that you owed something to those with whom you most vehemently disagree about that which you hold most dear? Yet here is Mohler, calling not only for respect, but demanding conversation of us to those around us. With candor and truth and humility, we must not only state our opinion but also ask theirs. What if Republicans and Democrats operated under this assumption? Student peer groups? Communities in conflict? Families feuding? Hawkeye and Cyclone fans? Or, more importantly and more to Mohler's point, what about those of us with vastly differing worldviews and faiths (or lack thereof)?

I have been blessed with many atheists in my life. I've often joked that I've had more good friends who were atheists over the course of my life than I have who are Christian. At this point I no longer believe that's true, but the numbers haven't been as far off as some might assume regarding someone who writes a blog from a Christ-centered worldview. I say that it's been a blessing because most of them have fleshed out Mohler's advice: with candor and enthusiasm we've discussed our respective positions, and I've rarely felt like they were trying to win. Rather, they listened, they rebutted, they questioned, and they shared. And we continue life with a respect for each other. Though we are slow to budge one way or another from our stances, we have not been hesitant to discuss. Despite the fact that I think they are robbing themselves of the joy of the Almighty and will end up in eternal damnation (unless they find Christ), and they think I am wasting my life on a fairy tale, we are friends. And we can talk about that wide gulf in the difference of our opinions.

Perhaps I've just been blessed to find the right atheists. There are plenty irrational and disrespectful God-loathing mouthpieces neither listening, sharing, or filling the air with honesty. And unfortunately there are many who claim Christ who are unable to do this as well. But it begs the question: what if?

If BYU can listen to Mohler, and he can accept their invitation, then why not us? Avoid God and politics at the supper table? No, thank you. I'll take a side of both.

Dangerous Desire

I want something, and it's killing me.

Not literally killing me, of course. It's more like a slow decay. But the intermittent drip-drip of this potential poison that my desire invites demands that I wake up, take notice, and tread carefully.

And what I want isn't bad. Professionally, there's a position I seek. It's good and right and true to want to use God-given abilities in a way that impacts more people. My work should do that. I want to do that.

But when you want something, especially regarding your career, you end up doing a lot of self-talk in your head trying convince yourself and the future people you imagine listening to your earnest pleas that you are in fact the most worthy person for the position. You tell yourself all you've done to earn it, all your qualifications, all the reasons that there's no one on the earth more suited to have what you want than you. You become convincing and all the more convinced of your own worthiness, detail by minute detail. You think about this while lying in bed at night, or while on a walk, or while driving, or while daydreaming at lunch. You don't mean to, but it just keeps coming up: you are awesome, you deserve this thing that you've decided that you want, and you can't wait to convince decision-makers of the blessing that is you. At least that's how I do it.

Confidence is key. I should be confident. If I wasn't, I shouldn't want what I'm chasing. But I've got to be careful. Too much self-praise, self-focus, and self-assurance will rot my soul. I'll drive myself crazy building myself up. And a focus on my own worthiness will slide slowly into reasons why my competitors are not. Pride will turn competitive, and competition will build pride. Suddenly confidence becomes arrogance. Wanting this position for joy turns into wanting to win out of spite.

It's a delicate balance.

I also have to be okay with not getting what I want. Disappointed perhaps, but certainly not crushed. In a solid article that I came upon today, Jared Wilson challenges his readers to clearly see their place in the world:

You know, it's possible that God's plan for us is littleness. His plan for us may be personal failure. It's possible that when another door closes, it's not because he plans to open a window but because he plans to have the building fall down on you. The question we must ask ourselves is this: Will Christ be enough?

Will He? Or will a prolonged focus on self and a consistent desire for a position in this world make me less than willing to be satisfied in all situations? Am I still okay with believing in the sovereignty of God if his sovereign will for me isn't climbing personal mountaintops? I shudder to hear the answers, as long as I maintain this internal dialogue of my own brilliance.

Desire is good. I will not quit chasing this position. But I will recognize the potential pitfalls of this desire, work hard to stay grounded, and put myself in a position daily to be reminded that I am not God. If you see me in the next few weeks and I appear deep in thought, feel free to remind me of that yourself.

Joy and Pizza

You've got to get your money's worth. Get the most bang for your buck. Find the best deal. Check the cost-benefit analysis. Mostly, if you're me, you've got to win, beating corporate America at their own pricing game. Put my wife and I together, and it's twice the fun. I was raised where we competed in a weekly game of "guess how much Mom saved in coupons at the grocery story this week"; she grew up in a family that considered crust a wasteful filler in the eternal quest to outwit the pizza buffet. It's why we have 40 rolls of toilet paper in our house right now.

It is in that spirit of maximizing every dollar that a I read a recent NPR article explaining why ordering a bigger pizza always pays off. Apparently geometric principles involving total area of circles determines that one can often double their overall pizza at a mere fraction of the original cost. That article may have changed my life, granting me a new-found confidence in my future pizza purchases, sure of the path to get more pepperoni per penny.

I may overstate the transformational qualities of this information, but it reminds me of a similar principle in chasing overall joy.

Too often, we settle for the small. We are too busy chasing C.S. Lewis' proverbial mud pies. And we do this by assuming that self-focus will bring self-fulfillment. It is my experience that in both my own life and in the lives of those I'm around (both as peers and as students and players), those thinking solely of themselves put a significant cap on their joy. Entitlement creeps in. So does pride. Satisfaction, however, is slow to follow. Rather, self-focus brings on disappointment, frustration, irritability, and the constant feeling of getting screwed over by the universe.

If you want to increase the overall area of your "joy pizza" and move from a small to a medium, seek satisfaction in service and self-sacrifice, not in self-focus. Be a part of something bigger than yourself. A team. A family. A staff. A community. Ask what you can do to make that something better. When it is, your joy will be double. Serve your spouse instead of waiting for them to make you happy. Cook for your neighbors. Shovel snow that isn't yours. Don't keep score. Work hard for the good of others, and receive twice the good in your own life. It's a good deal, and it requires no coupon.

If you want to really get value and move from a medium to a large, do it all for the Source of all Joy. Do it with an eye towards heaven. Sacrifice and serve out of the humility and gratitude of knowing from where your salvation comes. You will then not only have joy, but joy of eternal consequence.

Happy shopping.

What to Expect When I'm Angry With You

In 2013 I made goals about letter writing, book reading, and blog post writing and reported my progress here. It was a rewarding process through which I held myself accountable for doing exactly what I wanted to do but what for years I couldn't seem to consistently follow through on. I reached the end of the year, celebrated success, and charted a new course for this year. I found to be true for me individually what I knew to be true of teams I've coached: you get what you emphasize. Which also means you don't get what you don't emphasize. Finding my prayer life to be suffering, I placed the sole focus for 2014 on making a regular habit of sitting in front of this screen and typing out prayers on as close to a daily basis as possible.

I will periodically write here what I learn from this prayer journey. Today is one such post.

One of the greatest obstacles to my joy, I've found, is anger. More specifically, ill-will or hostility felt towards other individuals turns me bitter, and that feeling seems to run directly opposite to any sense of personal joy. For whatever reason, despite the fact that our anger actively keeps us from happiness, so many of us (myself included) grip as tightly as possible to the negativity we feel towards those who have drawn our ire. In this way, we poison ourselves. We trade peace and optimism for self-righteous victimhood, opportunities to smile for permanent scowls. Our anger does us no good.

In the past two months, I've learned a simple and full-proof way to combat this: I now pray for enemies. I'd love to say it's earth-shattering advice, but it's not. Effective advice rarely is. Rather, it follows simple logic: if I pray for joy and good and blessings and peace for those who have somehow wronged me or made me angry, I find it impossible not to root for them. I'm forced into a choice when I pray for them; I can either wish well for them through answered prayer, or I make a liar of myself to God. 

I've found that whenever I pray for someone like this, my focus turns from how I've been wronged to what good may come for them. I've got to tell you, it's a freeing exchange. To pray for another is to soften your heart regarding them. To soften your heart is to allow for your own joy. Whatever pride we perceive we may lose in letting go of our grudge is a pittance next to the freedom of moving on in joy.

So this month when someone who seems to have made it their personal mission to be my professional enemy took another shot at undermining the work of myself and others, I stayed angry for a bit. But when I got in front of this screen and started praying and realized it was still on my mind, I prayed for him. I was immediately free.

Occasionally I may be unhappy with a player or two. After all, I work with 16-18 year old's - we're not always going to see things they same way. Instead of stewing in frustration about those players, I sit down and pray for their good. Students as well. And parents. And bosses. Sometimes, when they've disobeyed and screamed all day and destroyed the house and physically assaulted me and used markers on every surface other than paper, prayer for my children necessarily softens this father's heart as well, enabling me to effectively love them and keep perspective, even as I work towards their good.

I don't often want to pray for them when I begin. But like a good workout that my body and mind groans against beginning, I always feel refreshed and glad once I'm done.

Where I'm Supposed to Be

I was angry with Isaiah.

It's difficult to express one's anger to an 9th Century B.C.E. prophet and expect any real results, but I was trying. Charged with the task of creating a sermon outline on Isaiah 65 for my Biblical exposition course, I found myself lost, frustrated, and thinking some not-so-biblical expletives to hurl at this prophet for not delineating more clearly his random shifts in speaker, topic, figurative language, lament, and prophecy. It's never good to be a lit guy struggling with literature. I winced at the thought of showing up to my class and telling the group, "Sorry, I've got nothin'." (I had already planned to drop my g's and use more slang in an effort to downplay my status as English teacher.)

At church on Sunday, my pastor asked me before the service how my preparation for the class had been going. I was blunt. "This is the most lost I've been in this class. I've wrestled with it, and I've got no clue what I'm going to do. I'm have no idea how I'll put something together by Wednesday. I just can't do it."

There are many proper responses here (though few helpful ones), and I expected one of the following:

• "I"m sure it will be fine. Don't worry."
• "No one can make sense of it. We're going to go ahead and skip this week's presentations."
• "I'm sorry to hear you struggling. You're a champion for fighting through and making an attempt."

I got none of that, though. His response to me was, "Just know, you're exactly where God wants you. This is where you're supposed to be."

Where I'm supposed to be? Lost? Clueless? Lacking all confidence? Dependent? Crawling out of my skin crazy because I just can't do it on my own?

Exactly. That's exactly where I'm supposed to be. And so are you.

Comfortable, confident, and capable feel good. So do independence and self-reliance. It feels gratifying to be put in a position where we know we can and will come through, that we are perfectly suited for the task at hand. It's refreshing to effortlessly accomplish what is set before us. But those are not times of growth. Those are not times of risk. And those are not where we are supposed to spend the majority of our time. 

It's hard to be dependent and uncomfortable. It's humbling. But it keeps the idea firmly in our head that we are not God, the world is not designed for our comfort, and we have mountains of improvement ahead of us. This week I battled more than Isaiah 65. I crashed my truck and have had to rely on my wife and friends for rides. I've been sick all week and have been without a voice 3 of the last 4 days, which makes fathering and teaching rather difficult. I have been anything but independent. But in my dependence I've witnessed the love of my wife, the loyalty of friends, the knowledge of my peers, and the grace of God. And I've come out stronger, better, and more grateful.

Coaches, teachers, pastors and parents are there to guide, to push, and to require of us more than our comfort. They are there to put us where we are supposed to be and don't want to go. Christ-follower or not, life is best lived in a state of dependence, in opportunities that require more of us than we can handle on our own. 

And for those of us with the pleasure of finding our identity in Christ, recognizing our dependence for every every breath, every piece of daily bread, and everything good in this world is a true act of worship.

I Can't See the Volcano, But I Know It's There

The first time my wife and I were in Costa Rica, we experienced the wonder that is Arenal. Staying at an inn approximately two miles from this active volcano, we spent an evening with friends watching lava slither down its side while cannon-like echoes of the flaming boulders filled the night-time air. It was surreal, and it was also quite fortunate. Site of the volcano is usually blocked by cloud cover, especially at night, providing us a rare glimpse of Arenal's true majesty.

When we returned a few years later and stayed at the same bed and breakfast, we were not nearly as lucky. Cursed with cloud cover, we could only attempt to explain to the friends who were with us on this trip what we knew to be true. Our story seemed but a fairy tale. But we knew what we saw. We knew the truth of Arenal, despite the clouds.

I was reminded of this story while reading my children a short piece out of Sally Lloyd-Jones' masterful book, Thoughts to Make Your Heart Sing. The book is a collection of short devotional-type reflections on faith and joy and God aimed to be accessible to children. I must admit, they often hit home with me as well. One of the pieces is entitled "Clouds and Mountains and Stars." In it Lloyd-Jones describes how when it's cloudy, you can't see stars. Sometimes you can't even see something as big as a mountain, but that doesn't mean that it ceases to be there. She then drives home her point: "Feelings can be like clouds - they blow in and hide things from us. . . Our feelings come and go. But God stays the same. His promises still are shining."

Feelings don't change facts. What an appropriate message in the midst of a basketball season. Sports are and should be a deeply emotional affair. But that emotion shouldn't hide the truth. In one of the most frustrating evenings of the season, I forgot a lot of truths. I forgot that I had vowed not to run my mouth towards officials, since that's not my job as an assistant. I forgot that bad officiating doesn't make someone any less of a person, or any less of an immortal and immensely important being (as C.S. Lewis would say). I forgot that several hundred eyes were on me, and the words I want them to associate with me include steadfast Christian character. I forgot in my anger that later that night I would go home and still have a great family, a great home, and a great job. Obviously it was a cloudy, cloudy night.

We should feel. We should feel intensely and deeply and be affected by those feelings. Feelings can and should drive us towards and away from all kinds of deeds. Enthusiasm and despair instruct. But they do not change the deep, rock-solid truths in our lives. That's why we need so desperately to remind ourselves of the truth and embed it into our minds when the sun is out. Then anger towards a spouse won't change the truth of their love. Frustration with children won't change the truth of their blessings. The infuriating actions of your boss won't change the truth of your paycheck and the good you do in your work. And the thrill of immediate pleasure won't change the long-term ramifications of your choices.

Gaze upon the volcano. Sit around a table and talk about it. Stand in awe. Share it. Stare some more. The next time you're there you might not be able to see it. But you'll know it's there. And you'll be glad.

Your Work Today Matters, and So Does the Way You Do It

The new year brings with it to blogs like mine posts filled with advice on making your resolutions successful. This is a worthy topic. However, often the goals we have for ourselves involve areas of our personal lives and even of our great passions. It was true of me in my goals of 2013: read books, write blog posts, and write letters. These were (and are) important aspects to me not only being the me I can be, but the me I most desperately want to be. Our resolutions tend to come from such a place.

What is rare to hear or read about, however, is how people intend to approach their job in the coming year. Goals at times involve occupation; however, those goals are typically based on obtaining new positions or climbing some ladder. What I want to take a look at here is an improved mindset for your daily duties, whether they are your passion or not.

Work is a hard thing to figure out; or at the very least, it's proven to be difficult for our culture to balance. On one end, work is what we complain about. We trudge through, survive, grumble about our boss, punch in and punch out, always looking for something better. On the other extreme, work is our identity. It is who we are, defining how others see us and the importance ascribed to us. High school kids are asked "what" they want to be, not "who." College students are told the perfect job, and therefore the perfect life, awaits them and is owed to them upon graduation. We alternatively bow down to this golden calf and curse it's control over our otherwise happy lives.

As always, there is a different way. I just finished reading How Then Shall We Work by Hugh Welchel. Through a study of the history of the views of work both in American culture and in the Christian tradition, Welchel examines how we are called to work. The answers, which should not be surprising, ask for a focus other than the self. The book is worth your time.

I've collected some of the passages I think are best and included them below. Hopefully you find them helpful in your approach this week to your vocation, whether it be part-time or full-time, a dead-end or a dream, with the famous or with your family. Enjoy:

1) The Church’s approach to an intelligent carpenter is usually confined to exhorting him not to be drunk and disorderly on Sundays. What the Church should be telling him is this: that the very first demand that his religion makes up on him is that he should make good tables.

2) From T.M. Moore: “So no matter what your job, or whatever your work might be, God intends that you should devote your labors to something greater than personal interest, economic prosperity, social good, or future beneficence alone. God intends your work to contribute to the restoration of the creation, and the people in it, to raising life on this blue planet to higher states of beauty, goodness, and truth, reflecting the glory of God in our midst.”

3) Because of the curse of sin, our work will be difficult, and we will not feel God’s pleasure all the time or at the level we will enjoy in the world to come. But we should feel satisfaction and joy from doing our best with what God has given us in the place where His providence puts us.

4) Alister McGrath regarding John Calvin: “Work was thus seen as an activity by which Christians could deepen their faith, leading it on to new qualities of commitment to God. Activity within the world, motivated, informed, and sanctioned by Christian faith, was the supreme means by which the believer could demonstrate his or her commitment and thankfulness to God. To do anything for God, and to do it well, was the fundamental hallmark of authentic Christian faith. Diligence and dedication in one’s everyday life are, Calvin thought, a proper response to God.”

5)The Cultural Mandate, according to Richard Pratt: “The Great King has summoned each of us into his throne room. Take this portion of my kingdom, he says, I am making you my steward over your office, your workbench, your kitchen stove. Put your heart into mastering this part of my world. Get it in order unearth its treasures; do all you can with it. Then everyone will see what a glorious King I am. That’s why we get up every morning and go to work. We don’t labor simply to survive, insects do that. Our work is an honor, a privileged commission from our great King. God has given each of us a portion of his kingdom to explore and to develop to its fulness.”