A few years ago, (maybe more than a few; I can’t remember; plus what number exactly constitutes a “few”?) while I was still employed at Student Life I wrote a spoken word piece. It was my job to write and create lot of things. That particular year this piece just happened to be one of them. I wrote it. Drew Francis directed it. Taylor Robinson shot it. Eric Chapman recorded the audio and mastered it. Jason Poole added some sweet graphics to it. And the incomparable Erin Moon performed it. The piece is entitled “Woman of No Distinction” but it’s much more commonly known as “The Woman at the Well” since that’s the story from the Bible upon which it’s based and nowhere in the video is the title of the piece indicated. You can see the original below. (If you can’t see the piece below, it’s because your reader or device isn’t displaying videos and you should click through directly to my blog.)

Woman of No Distinction from Chris Kinsley on Vimeo.

This video went viral, I guess. I mean, I don’t know what are the precise criteria that have to be met in order for that to be true, but this video started floating around a lot of places and being seen and shared by a lot of people. Well, it wasn’t long before people were simply transcribing the video and using the piece in other venues, even to make videos of their own. Below, I offer to you a selection of those videos.

As you can see, there’s a decent amount of diversity other than all of the performers being women, but that’s understandable. Some of these videos are well produced. Others are amateur shots of amateur performances. Some give credit to me as the author. Some credit myself and Drew, which is also understandable since the credits at the end of the original video are misleading. Some give no credit to authorship. One credits authorship to someone else entirely, namely Amena Brown, who is an extremely gifted spoken-word artist and sister in the faith (frankly, it’s a little flattering to have people think she wrote it). However, none of these people own the copyright for this work. I don’t even own it. Student Life does. As far as I know, none of them obtained permission from Student Life to perform the piece or to make a video of it.

Student Life could have gone after all of these people. They could have attempted to control and “protect” their content. But they didn’t and they haven’t. Whether intentionally or not, they’ve given it away. They’ve allowed it to spread as it would.

I think this is great. On some level I even think this is right. Student Life is a business, yes, but it’s also a ministry. The original piece served it’s purpose, and SL is able to continue to utilize it for ministry. However, by giving it away they have allowed it to become even more valuable. As it has struck a cord with people, those people have been able to freely share it so that it might minister to others, many if not most of whom Student Life would never have the opportunity to come in contact with.

This isn’t an easy thing for creatives to do. But I wonder if it’s an essential lesson for those creatives who are also Christian to learn. God has made us stewards of the creativity with which He has gifted us.

What kind of steward will you be?

What are you currently holding on to that you need to give away?

So, I promised on Monday that when video of this moment became available, I’d post it.  Well, here it is straight from Catalyst.  You might want to prepare yourself a bit.

Catalyst 2009 Compassion Moment from Catalyst on Vimeo.

Remember, you too can be a Compassion sponsor and be a part of changing a life like Jimmy’s.  To do so, click here.

Thanks.

Vitamin Z posted this yesterday, and Michael posted it today.  Of course, you all might not read their blogs (you might want to start, though).  So, I’m posting it here.

Certainly adds a new dimension to our understanding of the crucifixion scene.  I’d never heard this before.

A few years ago I kinda became obsessed with Barnabas.  You know… the guy in the New Testament (particularly the book of Acts) who’s best known for seemingly tagging along with Paul on his first missionary journey.

The more I looked into just who Barnabas was, the more impressed I was with him.  I mean, his influence had huge, HUGE lasting impact on the Church.

In Reverb (our new study from SLBS), we have a course called “Living Loud” that’s basically a bunch of character studies of people who lived out the mission of God in the World.  We end it with Barnabas.  So I made this simple video to go along with it (give me a break; ok; I’m no animator/graphic designer).

Enjoy.

Be a Barnabas from Chris Kinsley on Vimeo.

You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain, for the LORD will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain.

Deuteronomy 5:11

Ok, bear with me on this one.

When I was a kid we were taught the ten commandments (I grew up in a Christian family that attended a Southern Baptist church, traditional and conservative; what we were taught was the actual list of commandments, not the Charlton Heston movie).  It was mostly assumed that we wouldn’t be killing anyone (at least not anytime soon) and that adultery and coveting our neighbor’s wife were at the least a long ways off.  So, attention was normally focused elsewhere.  Things like “do not steal,” “do not lie” (bear false witness) and “honor your father and mother” normally received special regular attention. When it came to the commandments about God, again, there wasn’t much concern about us worshiping idols, and our parents usually saw to it that we observed the Sabbath (in so far as it involved going to church on Sundays), and we were being taught all the time that there was just one God and that His name was Jesus (they didn’t get too much into the concept of the Trinity; I guess they thought we’d be confused; whatever would give them that idea?).  So, from those first four commandments (you can find the whole list here or here), we were mainly taught to not take the name of the LORD our God in vain.

In those years, as my fellow young Christians-in-training and I wrestled with the concepts of sin and depravity we were led to understand that taking God’s name in vain was a really big deal.  Of course we were left with the question of what exactly it meant to take His name in vain.  The way we basically understood it was this: if you use God’s name in any way other than in talking directly to Him or about Him then you’re taking it in vain.  The most common way in which we had seen this sin committed was when people would use His name in either shock, anger or frustration.  You know what I mean.  “Oh, my God, I can’t believe Susan cheated on Rick with him!” (maybe it would have been okay if Susan had cheated on Rick with someone else, I don’t know) or “Jesus Christ!  Get the hell out of here!”  Something like that.  Of course, God has so many names in the Bible, but it never occurred to us to consider any of those.  We were only worried about the names we knew Him by: “God” and “Jesus” (we didn’t really count the Holy Spirit; for one thing, no one ever talked about Him much; for another, His name had an awful lot of syllables and didn’t really roll of the tongue in a way that made His name an adequate exclamation).  The worst you could do though was to combine His name with one of the dreaded curse words like “dammit.”

Below is a short bit from Bill Cosby: Himself that illustrates a bit what I’m talking about.

So, anyway, as a child we already knew that when it came to the ten commandments, at least the ones “they” really seemed to harp on, we weren’t doing too good.  Lying seemed to be a part of our DNA (though we were completely unaware of the existence of DNA at the time).  We regularly committed acts both big and small that not only didn’t honor our father and other but often outright dishonored them.  In fact, most of us had already stolen something, even if it was just the special edition Snake Eyes figure our friends had but we didn’t.

Well, since we weren’t doing too good with the rest, we all somehow collectively resigned that we would at least avoid taking our Lord’s name in vain.  It seemed pretty easy, after all.  Why?  Because we’d still say the same things.  We’d just alter them ever so slightly.  Therefore new phrases entered our regular repertoire of expressions, phrases like “oh, my gosh/goodness/gah” and “jeez” and the ever-so-popular “gosh darnit!”

This compromise worked well for us for awhile.  We were able to “sound adult” (after all, they were the ones we heard using His name in vain, not us) and yet keep a gold star beside one of the big ten and consider ourselves good Christians (or at least better than the heathens around us).  Our idyllic gosh darn life of sin-free expression fell apart, though, once we became teenagers.  It’s not because we just gave up and started talking like drunken sailors come in to port (though some of us did).  Instead it was because we became aware of a sin that had yet to have been revealed to us yet: substitute cursing.  Let me explain.

You see, for years in Christian youth ministry there was a huge emphasis on changing our behavior.  We couldn’t be like all of the other teenagers at our schools who were basically junior hedonists according to the adults.  We had to be different from them.  After all, Jesus was different from the world.  However, the weird thing is that instead of focusing on what we should do or how we should be in order to be different, the focus was instead on what all of these “lost” teenagers were doing so that we would know what we shouldn’t be doing.  We shouldn’t drink.  We shouldn’t smoke.  We shouldn’t do drugs.  We shouldn’t have sex.  We really shouldn’t make out even (dating was often up for debate too).  We shouldn’t cheat.  We shouldn’t break curfew.  We shouldn’t go to wild parties.  Etc.  Of course, included in this list was that we shouldn’t curse (or cuss, as we knew it in the South), and evidently taking the Lord’s name in vain was cursing.

However, it wasn’t enough to simply not curse.  The compromises that had kept our speech sin free for so long were now put on trial.  The reason being that just because we didn’t actually say the curse words themselves didn’t mean we weren’t cursing.  Even though we were using different words, we were still committing the same sins.

“Oh, shoot,” we thought and then realized we had just sinned by thinking “shoot” instead of what we really meant.  “What are we going to do now?”

In response to that question, a split occurred in the youth of the American Church.  Some adhered to these new guidelines.  They embraced them with the hope that they too, along with all the other rules by which we were to live, would keep them from Satan’s clutches and ensure that they stayed in God’s will and came to dwell with Him one day in Heaven for all eternity.  Others gave up completely and decided the whole church/God/Jesus/commandment thing wasn’t for them.  Many were never heard from again (others grew up, got married, had kids, and decided their kids needed all those rules they were taught and are now back in churches all over the place).

The rest of us rebelled.  This doesn’t mean that we abandoned our faith.  We didn’t.  We just saw through the bull-honkey and became cynical about almost everything we’d been taught.  You see, we realized that drinking underage was not only not a good idea but was also illegal, but the arguement that the wine Jesus and His disciples drank in their day was just grape juice didn’t hold water for us anymore.  After all, how did people get drunk on it?  Those of us who adopted the “everything but” strategy of waiting on true love realized that our sexuality was pretty awesome, but we had been led to believe that it was pretty bad, possibly evil even, and something to be avoided all together because it was flat out wrong.  We began to think that words were just words and that useage is what gave them their meaning.  Plus we weren’t too convinced that the Bibles teaching’s against cursing involved specific words that began with “F” and “S.”

Therefore, there were a lot of those rules and commandments that we kinda just stopped worrying about.  We still wanted to know God and Jesus (and even the Spirit).  We just mistrusted that we had really been taught who He was up to that point.  We believed we were somewhat on our own and, also, that we were right.  We began emerging (wink, wink).

A lot of us have grown up, though, and matured a bit.  We’ve let go of (at least some of) the bitterness we’ve carried around with us.  We’ve realized that in some instances we tossed out the baby with the bathwater and have since come around to re-exploring what really is important and sometimes being surprised at what we find.

This al now brings me back to the commandment to not take the Lord’s name in vain.  I’m no Hebrew scholar by any means, but I’ve got a couple of degrees in the Christian religion, and during my time “earning” those degrees I’ve had four full semesters devoted to the Old Testament and three to studying Hebrew.  So, I’ve looked at the Law a little bit.  One of the things I’ve learned is that when dealing with the Law there is a letter and a spirit.  In other words, there is a strict literal applicaiton of what the Law (or a law) says and then the general sense that it may more imply rather than explicitly state.

Let’s take a couple for instance: 1. “Do not murder.”  Pretty straightforward.  The letter is that you shouldn’t kill.  The spirit is that  life is valuable, yours as much as mine, and that it shouldn’t be deliberately denied one of us by the other (this is a gross over-simplification for the sake of illustration; I fully acknowledge the complex nature of what I’m talking about, this comand in particular with how it relates to circumstances of war, captial punishment, self-defense, etc.).  As followers of Christ we have been set free from the Law (Romans 8:2), but that doesn’t mean that we are not called to still adhere to its spirit (Hebrews 10, for example).  With regard to this command, though, in order to keep the spirit of the law I must adhere to the letter of the law.  2. For this one, let’s use one personal to me: Leviticus 19:28.  “Do not cut your bodies for the dead or put tattoo marks on yourselves.”  Now the letter of this law, again, is pretty straightforward, but what’s the spirit?  Well, when you study it in context you realize that the entire block of verses in which this falls is about the people of God distinguishing themselves from the nations who worshiped other gods.  As part of that worship and devotion they would often carve markings into their skin or tattoo themselves with various symbols.  Now, the spirit we are to adhere to, then, is to be about the things of God and not the things of this world or of other false gods.  Not getting a tattoo can certainly be a way in which that happens, but is it essential?  I sure don’t see that it is.

So, let’s take Deuteronomy 5:11.  In order to know the letter we have to ask what it means to take the Lord’s name in vain.  What this verse is specifically addressing is the swearing by God in the taking of an oath or the making of a vow.  The idea was that by invoking the name of a god in an agreement or promise, there would be this magical seal.  It was a way for people to assure others or persuade others.  God doesn’t like to be used like that.  In fact, one of the things God has continuously proved is that He will not be “used” or manipulated at all, hence the forbidding of trying to do so. Okay.  So, what’s the spirit?  Well, as I see it, the spirit of this law is to treat God with the reverence He deserves.  This seems to concern itself with doing this by reserving His name for its proper use (in prayer, praise, etc.) by not having it tainted through improper use.

Now, there’s never a moment when I use His name (whether seriously or flippantly) or hear it used that I don’t think of Him, however brief that thought might be.  Even when I hear His name used in a manner in which I deem it inappropriate, I’m not tainted.  Rather I think of Him and how it must pain Him.  Even if I exclaim, “oh, my God,” in shock at some situation or cry out, “Jesus, that hurt,” when stubbing my toe, my thoughts actually go to Him, though I didn’t really intend for it to be so.  Therefore the spirit and letter of this law can crossover a lot but also contain many more shades of gray than black and white.

I’ve brought this up because of the common uses of “OMG” and “OMFG” (you can figure out what “F” is, can’t you?) and other abbreviations that have become so commonplace.  Yes, it’s an example of what some pastors from my young adult years would call “substitue cursing” and I do think it’s legalistic to start nit-picking on stuff like that.  I just wonder how many people use an abbreviation like that and enver give one though to God whatsoever.

I have no prescription here, no firm stance.  The ancient Hebrews took it so seriously that they refused to even write the name of God (Yahweh) for fear of using it inappropriately (of course we haven’t even addressed the issue of which name of God we should be most concerned about; if it’s Yahweh, then nearly all of us are pretty safe).  I think that’s extreme, but I wonder if it’s not closer to the right thing than we currently are.  I don’t know.  I guess I’m just interested in sparking thought and contemplation in anyone who reads this.  Why?  Because I think it’s important.  Even if we don’t really think it is, if our cynicism or anger over legalistic rules still abounds, if we don’t see what the big deal is and wonder whether or not it really matters, I can’t help but realize one of the big ten is devoted to the issue, which I believe means that it at least matters to Him.

So, yes, I’m for real.

I own a bobble-head Jesus. It was a gift. So, I didn’t buy it, but I do like it. However, in my most reverent and/or legalistic moments I feel bad for having it ’cause of a combination of no-graven-image and taking-the-Lord’s-name-in-vain. I’m able to see some humor in it, though. But this might be a bit much. Never purchase this for Story… please.

I also own a bobble-head Jerry Falwell, but I never feel bad about that.

There’s millions of ideas for blog posts that rush through my mind in a given day (okay, not really, but tens at the least). Finding the time to write them, though… that’s another story. At any rate, I remain committed.

So, I was working on a devotion recently for our new 31 Verses Every Teenager Should Know book (you can check out the others here). The 1 of the 31 I was working on at the time was Luke 14:33:

“In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.”

Now, you’ll notice that this verse begins with the phrase “in the same way,” which makes you wonder, “in the same way as what,” which lets you know that if you’re just reading that verse by itself, then you’re missing out on something, the context. So, you really need to back up and read some more. For the sake of what I’m writing about here you might want to check out verses 25-33 of that chapter. In case you don’t feel like it, let me break it down for you.

Jesus (of Nazareth, the Christ) had just chosen to turn a lovely dinner party with some Pharisees into a series of teachable moments during which He could kinda stick it to them and the other guests (lovingly stick it to them, of course). This culminates in a parable about a wealthy, well-t0-do man who was throwing a great banquet. His invited guests all had other things to take care of. So, they were blowing him off. As a result, he decided to pretty much invite anyone and everyone who would come, including almost exclusively the dregs of society. Well, this sounded great to the dregs and a whole lot of people started following Jesus around wanting to know what He was all about.

Jesus decides to oblige them by fist and foremost letting them know that, just becaue they’re all invited to the feast, it doesn’t mean that life’s simply going to be one big party. He uses some pretty harsh langugage about how a person can’t be His disciple unless they hate everyone in their lives, including themselves. This is obviously shocking (most are probably hoping its some sort of divine hyperbole). So, Jesus uses a few metaphors to explain what He’s talking about.

It’s like a guy who wants to build a really big tower or a king who wants to go to war. Both are facing extremely daunting tasks, tasks at which, left to themselves, they wouldn’t be successful. So, each sat down ahead of time and figured out what it was going to cost them and whether they could and/or were willing to pay that price.

So, it’s in that same way, in the same way as those two guys, that a person who does not give up everything cannot be Jesus’ disciple.

Now, I can’t read this verse and think of Jesus saying something similar to the guy we know as “The Rich Young Ruler” (or RYR for short). During that encounter (which you can read about in Matthew 19:16-30, Mark 10:17-31 or Luke 18:18-30), as I’m sure you remember, the RYR comes to Jesus and asks what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus tells him to keep the commandments to which the RYR responds that he’s done that (impossible, by the way). So, Jesus tells him that the only other thing he lacks is to go sell everything he has, give the money to the poor and then leave his life behind and follow Jesus. When the RYR hears this, it says he was saddened, and from what we can tell, couldn’t give up all that he had.

Now, these two different moments with Jesus are obviously dealing with the same issue, the price one is willing to pay to follow Him. However, with regards to the RYR, it seems that Jesus is making a requirement (and trying to get to the core of the RYR’s obstacles to following Jesus in the process). Whereas, in the previous instance with the crowd, it appears that it might be more of a willingness to give up everything as opposed to actually having to do so. After all, for most of us, following Jesus won’t result in us having to abandon our homes and families, give away everything we have or sacrifice our lives… but it might. So, we just need to be willing to have that happen, should God deem it necessary.

Right?

So, as I was writing this short devotional (less than 300 words) I wanted to make that point in my summarizing sentence. Something like, “Jesus calls us to take the time to determine if we would still follow Him if it costs us everything, even our lives.” And leave it at that. But something kept nagging at me. The idea that it actually does cost us everything to follow. When we do, nothing is our own anymore. It is all His. We may not be called to sacrifice it or abandon it as it might sound, but we no longer control our lives or approach these things in the way we would want to. It’s now all about Him and what He wants, not all about us and what we want. I was trying to water down what He was saying, to make it sound better, feel better, go down easier. I think I was selling it short. So, I wrote a new closing sentence.

“Jesus calls us to take the time to determine if we would still follow Him if it costs us everything, even our lives, because, in a lot of ways, it does.”

Anyway, I know that this isn’t super-deep or insightful or groundbreaking or anything, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a few days now.

You?

Let’s say I told you I was a runner, had been one for years, and this seemed like it could be plausible to you. You began noticing that I wore a lot of Under Armor. I bought some new Nike Shox. I had a iPod Shuffle with a neoprene arm band and wrap-around sports gear headphones loaded with the “Rockout & Workout” iMix from iTunes. I began reading Runner’s World and measuring distances in kilometers. I even signed up for a marathon and said things like, “I bet I could beat you to the end of the parking lot.” I drank a lot of Vitamin Water.

The only problem was that I was obviously carrying around a lot of extra weight and would get winded just walking up to the second floor. You would invite me to go running with you, but I had the convenient excuse of having always promised someone else I’d go running with them. Finally you convince me, and when I show up we barely make it around the block before I’m wheezing and complaining and call it quits to go home and play Mirror’s Edge on my Xbox.

You shrug your shoulders and figure out that I wasn’t really a runner at all. I put up a good front, but my heart just wasn’t in it.

Now, let’s say the more we spend time together you begin noticing that I talk an awful lot about the threat that Malaria poses to those living in Sub-Saharan Africa. I throw around tons of statistics and speak with informed authority about the transmission process from mosquitoes and the latest treatment and prevention options. I decry how uninformed the majority of the world is about this issue and implore anyone who will listen to help eradicate this disease by “Biting Back.”

You figure this must be something I really care about, and my impassioned speeches have convinced you to do something. So one day you ask me what you can do to help? I stare back at you blankly and say, “I don’t know.” You ask, “well what do you do?” I shrug and say, “nothing, I guess.” I then go into WalMart to buy a can of Off.

Again, you shrug your shoulders and realize that despite all my talk, I can’t really care about it that much. If I did, then wouldn’t I be doing at least something.

Later you’re reading your Bible (because you’re a good Christian, did I not mention that), and you stumble across James 2:14-26. After perusing it for a moment, you stop, think, and something occurs to you. “Aha!” you say.

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

He answered: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind,’ and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Luke 10:25-29

I’ve been thinking about this post for a while. Actually, I’ve been thinking about it for a long while, not this post in particular but definitely about the subject. I really started thinking about it more often once President Obama pretty much locked his party’s nomination last year during which time I heard him called a terrorist, a communist, a racist, a murderer, and the Antichrist (and that was all just in emails I received).  Thinking about this subject began to consume significant amounts of my time the night of the election when I sat in bed watching the results come in from across the country while simultaneously checking tweets and Facebook status updates continually.  As I watched crowds of people from all walks of life in Grant Park swell with pride that manifested itself in both cheers and tears, I read comments from my friends, some of you even, from people I respect, that made me grieve.

In all the name-calling I heard thrown the President’s way, rarely did I hear “Christian,” and if I did, it was from political pundits analzing his campaign on CNN or MSNBC (but not Fox News) and not from any of his fellow brothers or sisters.  But I don’t want to talk about President Obama, not specifcially anyway.  He’s not what I was spending so much time thinking about (though maybe I should have).  The topic that has been concerning me so much and that is the subject of this post is simply what I wrote above in the title.

And who is my enemy?

In Luke 10 (in the Bible) we’ve got this great scene that plays out.  Some lawyer comes up to Jesus because he’s sat around and figured out what he considers to be an inquiry that at the very least will test if he’s worth his weight in matzah and at the very best could actually reveal him to be the Messiah.  He asks Jesus what he has to do to live forever  Jesus, being the sly teacher that he is, responds with his own question, basically asking the lawyer to sum up the Law he so devotedly serves.

Now, remember, we’re not just talking about the big 10 here.  The Mosaic Law had been expanded to include 613 different statutes with a bunch of extra rabbinical writing added on top to explain and define the 613.  This was no easy task and was basically a theological minefield that consisted of one giant land mine.  However, the guy gets it right.  He actually gives the exact same answer that Jesus himself gives in Matthew 22 and Mark 12 when asked, “what is the greatest commandment?”  So, this is no late-night-commercial ambulance-chaser.  This guy’s got goods, and Jesus acknowledges it.

“That’s right,” he says.  “Do that and you’ll live forever.”

Now, don’t forget, as smart as this guy might be, Jesus is the teacher in this situation.  He’s leading this guy on.  He knows there’s no way possible for this lawyer to actually keep those commandments.  Let’s forget the other 611 for a moment.  Try for one day to, one hour, even, perhaps just a moment, to live fully those two laws and you’ll come up short every time.  The smart lawyer knows this too.  So, he wants to back himself off a little bit, get himself off the hook.

He asks, “and who is my neighbor?”

Jesus answers with the story of the Good Samaritan.  I won’t exegete the whole parable here (there’s much better people than me who have done so elsewhere).  I’ll just say this.  His answer to this question was basically, “everyone’s your neighbor, even the person you detest more than any other, the most wretched, foul, on-the-fringe human being you can conceive of, whether they can reward or return your love or not… that’s your neighbor.” (Those are my words, obviously… I’m paraphrasing, in a way)

I think we… we who seek the Christ, the Son of the living God, to know Him, to know His will and obey it… we who carry the Gospel of the righteousness of God and serve as His ambassadors to a lost and dying world… we who claim to know and love the Word of God, His revelation of Himself to all humankind… I think we don’t often enough ask, “who is my neighbor?”

Most of us seem to be much more interested in wondering, “who is my enemy?”

Of course we’re not so overt in our inquiry.  In fact, the only reason we want so badly to know who our enemies are is so that we know who we’re against.  And as is the case who were against is directly correlated to what we’re against.  So, once we know what we’re against we can then know what we’re for.  At least that’s how it looks to those on the outside.  This convoluted public persona we’ve propagated has us giving the appearance that our principles, values, convictions and beliefs are much more defined by what we don’t stand for as opposed to what we do.  At the very least this is a colossal image problem in dire need of a makeover.  At the worst, it’s an indictment on all of us (Christians, that is).

My favorite performance poet, Taylor Mali, has a piece entitled Silver-Lined Heart (you can download it on iTunes if you’re interested) that’s pretty much addressed to other poets, particularly those on the slam circuit, that too often distinguish themselves and make their points in a similar way to what I’m talking about.  He ends this poem with following stanza.

So don’t waste my time and your curses on verses
about what you are against, despise, and abhor.
Tell me what inspires you, what fulfills and fires you,
put your precious pen to paper and tell me what you’re for!

I don’t know about you, but I’m with Taylor.  I’m sick of us on TV and in our pulpits and in front of our youth groups and in our endlessly forwarded emails railing against all of “those people.”  Those Gays.  Those Democrats.  Those Republicans.  Those Muslims.  Those Rednecks.  Those Pagans.  Those baby-killing doctors.  Those welfare mothers.  Those gun-toting cowboys.  Those Asians.  Those Africans.  Those Mormons.  Those Catholics.  Those Baptists.  Those crazy Pentecostals.  Those stuck-up Anglicans.  Those Arabs.  Those Terrorists.  Those French.  Most of us can barely tolerate each other (any Christian that doesn’t go to our church and at least half of the ones that do) much less the rest of the people we’re supposed to be introducing to Jesus.

And before you get all over my case and accuse me of being all high and mighty and exhort me to get down off my pedestal, let me be clear that, as the apostle Paul said so eloquently, I am chief amongst sinners.  And so are you.

And sure there are and are going to be things worth fighting for and that require confrontation.  We shouldn’t be a doormat for anyone.  Meek doesn’t mean weak.  Just ask Jesus.  If you believe that as a Christian President Obama is blowing some things, then as a fellow believer you have an inherent duty to call him on it.  But there is a difference between disciplining and damning.  There is a difference between confrontation and combat.  There is a difference being holy and being holier-than-thou.  There is a difference between being righteous and just being right.  There is certainly a difference between love and hate.  And just in case you missed it there are differences between us and it looks to me like that’s how God intended it.  Turns out our Creator is pretty creative.

I’m embarrassed at the picket signs and accompanying shouts touting what some people errently believe God to hate.  I’m embarrassed that the best press a religious youth event can get is when it involves a screaming match outside on the steps between two rival groups of “sinners” and “saints.”  I’m embarrassed when moralism replaces Godly living.  I’m embarrassed about how I’m represented on television by spokesmen for my faith foaming at the mouth in righteous indignation over what they believe they’ve suffered at the hands of the liberal media elite.  I’m embarrassed at the political environments that rule so many of our churches and ministries.  I’m embarrassed… for me… for them… for you.  And the closer I get to the heart of God, however small those incriments might be, the more weary, burdened and sad I get… because that’s how I think He feels about it.

We Christians seem to be incapable (or at least ill-prepared) of combating the evil around us because we cannot separate that evil from people to whom we attach it.  For that reason, we are in constant sin.  Sure there are going to be those who persecute us, who seek our destruction, who want to alienate us and shut us up, who even kill us and who hate us.  Of course there are.  Remember from John 15, they hated Jesus first.  But I want to be hated because I’m like Him, not because I represent Him poorly.  And even when I am hated, I am never justified to respond to anyone who feels that way in the same manner.  Never.

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Ephesians 6:12

You see, the question of “who is my enemy” is a moot point.  It doesn’t matter the least little bit.  Why?  Because anyone who’s my enemy is also my neighbor, and even if they weren’t, I’m to respond to them in kind. “But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you…”  LOVE!!! Come on!

That verse is from Luke 6, by the way.  Verse 27 to be exact.  Now go read the rest of the chapter and think on these things.

That’s all for me right now.  I’ve got to go repent of the hatred I felt for some of my fellow Christ-followers I felt in writing this post.  Hopefully, this was part of the cleansing process for me.  Maybe it will be for you too.

May the grace of God be with you… and with me.

During college I had the privilege to serve as an intern and associate youth minister for the senior high ministry at FBC Jackson, MS.  During the four years I was there my pastor was Dr. Frank Pollard.  I just learned that Dr. Pollard passed away this past weekend.  He had been battling a number of illnesses, and knowing him, I know he’s much, much happier where he is now.  You can read a brief story from the Jackson newspaper here.

To honor the passing of this great man of God, I’d like to share two particular memories of Dr. Pollard.

He was one of the most humble, gracious, godliest and friendliest human beings you could ever meet.  Nowhere was this more evident than in his preaching.  However, if I’m honest, I can’t tell you anything specific about any sermon he ever preached except that he often liked using Dr. Seuss to close.  One of the things I do remember, though, is where he parked.  FBCJ is located in the heart of downtown Jackson.  It looks a bit different now than when I was there, mainly because across the street from the main building is a large multipurpose/education/youth building and parking garage.  For years, especially while I was there, this building did not exist.  Instead, there was just a parking lot with a tower connected to a skyway that you could take to the main building to avoid having to cross the main street, since it was often busy.  Because I was in school at the time, I rarely worked in the mornings.  I usually showed up after lunch.  For the entire time I was there I would often be in the tower waiting on the elevator or something and looking back at the parking lot.  Whenever Dr. Pollard arrived, he would park at the far end of the lot and walk the whole way across.  It was a little thing, but a lot of the churches I’ve been to have assigned spots close to the church for the pastor.  Dr. Pollard always considered it more important for other people to be able to get close.  For some reason that’s always stuck with me.

A second thing I remember about Dr. Pollard is something I heard second hand that he had said, but eventually got him to confirm it.  You see, Dr. Pollard could have been a really big deal in the SBC (Southern Baptist Convention) but all of the politics of it seemed to never really be for him.  Well, there’s this story that Dr. Pollard was at the convention one year and was cornered by a group of the SBC leaders including some people that were presidents of seminaries some of you attended.  They were confronting him about taking some stronger political stances within the convention, as this was still during the time that the fundamentalists had come to power and were fighting to get rid of all of the moderates and liberals, or at least to shut them up.  Anyway, one of them finally got frustrated enought that he said, “Frank, when are you going to get in the ballgame?”  Dr. Pollard simply replied, “I’ve been in the ballgame, but you guys have been too busy fighting under the bleachers.”

We stand on the shoulders of giants.  There is a generation of them that we are beginning to lose.  This is the nature of things.  I pray that the rest of us will have the strength, wisdom, humility and passion to follow their examples.