Why Is Church Life So Difficult Sometimes?

Why is church such a hard place to be sometimes?  Why is it so doggone difficult to get along with the people in church?

The people who populate a church on any given Sunday morning (or whenever) are not a typical group of people.  Think about it.  The people that comprise our congregations wouldn't normally be found together outside of church.

As we live out our daily lives, we naturally gravitate towards people who "fit in" with us, or vice versa.  Typically when we gather with folks outside of church, it's because we find ourselves cheering for the same sports team or enjoying the same activities.  You know, the people we jog with, dine with, and go to the movies with.

These relationships happen naturally.

May I suggest that a church body isn't a natural body?  It's supernatural.

Truly, the Church is a ragtag bunch if ever there was one.  And that's a giant testimony to the grace of God.  God sovereignly saves people from all different corners of culture.

Melancholies, cholerics, sports nuts, couch potatoes, fitness fanatics, stock brokers and grease monkeys, who might be down on their luck, high on the hog, crazy as crackers or smart as a whip - all of them inhabit the assembly of the saved.

We are truly a ragtag bunch.  No wonder there is such a strong Scriptural call for unity. Other groups can fall apart if they want to. We must stay together at all costs.  

If somebody abandons State U. to cheer for U. of State, big deal.  If your buddy gives up P90X for pork rinds, it's not the end of the world.  These natural clusters of interest we gravitate to and orbit around are fluid, not static.  People can move in and out because there's not much at stake, really.

But the people within the Church (notice the big "c") must hang together.  We must demonstrate the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.  And that's one of the hardest things to do.  It's also one particularly magnificent way that God is glorified and the Gospel is proved to be real.

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Randy Alcorn, from Stand: A Call for the Endurance of the Saints,

Television and reading both put us in someone's company, and remove us from someone else's company.  You decide:  will you be different because you put yourself in the company of Spurgeon rather than Seinfeld? Over the long haul, will you grow closer to God and your family and your neighbor by watching television, or by turning it off and doing something that matters, something that's an investment in eternity?

Stand: A Call For The Endurance Of The Saints

Been reading a good book called Stand: A Call for the Endurance of the Saints. It's a collaborative effort from Justin Taylor, Jerry Bridges, John Piper, John MacArthur, Randy Alcorn and Helen Roseveare.  Not a bad list.  I had the book on my Amazon wish list for quite a while and finally ordered it.  I won't summarize the book here, but just want to share an excerpt from Jerry Bridges:

It's possible that sometime in your life things will totally fall apart and you will feel that you have nothing left.  Let me tell you, there are two things that God will never take away.  God will never take away the gospel.  IN the most difficult day so of your life you still stand before God clothed in the righteousness of Christ.  Your sins are forgiven.  Even your doubts are forgiven because Christ fully trusted the Father on your behalf.  And, second, God will never take away his promises.  These two assurances will remain even if everything else is stripped away. If you were brought to the point of being like Job, this you can count on. You stand before God clothed in the righteousness of Christ.  He will never, never take the gospel away from you.  And you will always have his promise, "never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."

Castaways In Need Of Ropes

Farther along we’ll know all about it

Farther along we’ll understand why

Cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine

We’ll understand this, all by and by

Tough days.  If you've experienced depression of the type that is more than what so many people define as a "bad mood" or a "ho-hum day", and if you've known melancholy that goes beyond what others understand as a couple days that have been a downer, then you might know what real depression is.  Sometimes it is exacerbated by circumstances, but not always.  It typically appears in cycles that could be weeks, months or years apart, and the duration of the experience can stretch on and on before it lifts.

For me it's a draining of all desire, sadness like a hot uncomfortable blanket, inability to concentrate on work – fatigue of the mental muscle. It means days when frustration and anger and dismal delusions have you so stirred up in your mind that your gut follows suit and you find yourself physically ill as your insides churn.  It means being dulled, sapped and weary.  Too often as well it means becoming reclusive and avoiding people and surrendering to lethargy.

What depression doesn't mean for me is that I've lost hope in my Redeemer, and it doesn't mean that I'm not moved by Truth.  What I'm learning is that my fallen, fault-riddled self is given to these cyclical episodes of serious depression and that in the midst of these periods I don't have to give in to the sins of unbelief and bitterness because Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.

This modern version of "Farther Along" by Josh Garrels fills my heart with hope and healing, and it also happens to sound a bit in places like something Tracy Chapman would write. :) Drink it in.

Can't Be Earned

I've told the teenagers in our church several times that the Lord saved me when I was 6 years old, and after walking with Him for over 36 years, I STILL haven't done enough to earn my salvation.  It wasn't earned back then, it isn't now, and it never will be.  On my deathbed (if I die in bed...) I'll still be miserably, infinitely short of earning my salvation.  It's a work of grace and mercy.  Start to finish.

B.B. Warfield said that there is nothing that we do in oursevles that makes us acceptable to God. 

"We must always be accepted for Christ's sake, or wee cannot ever be accepted at all.  This is not true of us only when we believe.  It is just as true after we have believed.  It will continue to be true as long as we live.  Our need of Christ does not cease with our believing."

 My hope is built on nothing less that Jesus' blood and (His) righteousness.

What's Up With Jesus' First Miracle?

Last night I listened to a message by Timothy Keller in which he gave a fascinating exposition on Jesus' first miracle: turning water in wine at the wedding in Cana. 

You should really listen to the whole thing, but I want to share two points from his talk that were especially interesting.

First of all, this miracle of Jesus buttresses the authenticity of the the Gospel account.  Consider: if you were an author charged with the publicizing of a powerful figure and fabrication of that person's biography, "you would never invent for your inaugural sign a miraculous solution to a mere social embarrassment [the master of the banquet did not plan well enough and ran out of wine]."  The only logical conclusion is that this event must have happened.

Second, Keller does what I consider to be a deft and accurate handling of the question: why this miracle?  I'm withholding a thorough explanation because I want you to listen to the whole message, but I will share one thought, in which Keller quotes another minister.

"Jesus Christ is sitting in the midst of all this joy, sipping the coming sorrow.  Why? Because there is no way that Jesus Christ can think about what it will take to give His bride the cup of joy and gladness without thinking about the cup He was going to drink."

The miracle of turning water into wine at that wedding feast was a profound foreshadowing of the excruciating passion that must occur before the joyful consummation of the Son of Man united with His Bride. 

Jump here to listen to Lord of the Wine by Timothy Keller

Three years ago, my oldest son (then almost 12) and I took a father-son trip to Colorado. We went to the Holy Cross Wilderness area near Minturn and hiked up Notch Mountain for a spectacular view of Mount of the Holy Cross. The real purpose of the journey, however, was to create something special for my son. At the top of Notch Mountain there is a small shelter house built from the surrounding stone. After a pretty strenuous hike all morning, I presented my son with three things: A journal, a knife, and a stone.

The journal contained transcribed letters from some important men in his life: grandfathers, uncles, friends. There were also a few pages from me. We wrote to him about the meaning of manhood and the priority of a God centered life.

The blade of the bone-handled knife was inscribed in Latin on both sides. One side read: Ego et rex meus (I and my God). The other side read: Contra mundum (against the world).

The stone had a very special significance. The previous year, I had taken a solo motorcycle trip to Utah and while I was there I gathered five water-smoothed stones from a stream up in the mountains. Now it just so happens that I have five sons. In my prayers for them, I have often thought of them as the five smooth stones David collected from the stream before facing Goliath. I imagine he intended each one to deliver a death blow to some nasty giant. Kind of in the same way, I pray that God would use each of my boys to scatter bad guys like doubt, compromise, fear, deception and darkness in people's lives. I told my son how that stone represented God's desire to use him to slay giants.

That evening, off the mountain, we had prime rib in Leadville and celebrated the day. The whole trip was hugely meaningful for both of us. I think it has contributed much to the way we communicate and relate to each other even to this day.

Which brings me to this: Within a few weeks, I will be taking my second oldest son on the same trip. I can't wait!

The longer I live and the more people I observe, the more I am convinced of the absolute importance of fathers to sons. Not just that they have one, but that they have one who pays attention to who they are and how they're growing, what they're good at and how they think, what their strengths are and where they're weak. I'm learning also how much I need these boys. They are teaching me so much, or perhaps God is teaching me through them. Either way, I would hate to go through life without them.

(N.B. - Since this post was written 7/26/08, it's 3 sons down, 2 to go!)

Great Grandpa John ~ A Repost

This is my great-grandpa John. I like this picture of him for a couple of reasons. First, it's kind of fun to imagine him standing there in the grass, waiting for this photo to be taken, little knowing that he'd have a great-grandson one day who would cherish the resulting picture. Second, this shot gives a great view of great-grandpa John's long arms and big hands. And that's cool because I'm built the same way.


I remember as a kid riding around in my grandpa George's (John's son) Chevy truck. Grandpa always drove below the speed limit, so I had plenty of time to observe things, and oddly enough, the thing that sticks in my mind is the way his hands held the steering wheel. This wasn't really a big deal until one day much later in life when I was driving and I happened to cast a glance at my hands on the steering wheel, looking exactly like grandpa George's. John, George and Blaine - the same hands.

So DNA has built into me reflections of my ancestors. I think our spiritual formation happens in much the same way. In fact, it's encouraged:

" Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me - put it into practice." Philippians 4:9and...

"Remember your leaders, who spoke the Word of God to you. Consider the outcome of their way of life and imitate their faith." Hebrews 13:7

I can very easily name for you the people that have passed on to me their "spiritual DNA." The ones I've watched since I was a child; the ones I've imitated and patterned my life after. Some of me came from part of them. These are the people that taught me how to pray, how to be honest, how to love God in every moment, how to be thankful, how to be devoted, how to be joyful, and how to love my wife. Role models are hugely important, but even more important is the responsibility to be one. The duty and obligation is mine to live circumspectly and wisely because I have sons to raise and other young people that are watching me very closely. Someday, they'll be driving along life's road and glance down at themselves and recognize something that they once saw in me. Hopefully, what they see will be a reflection of Christ.

Godly Parenting (Or Not) ~ Repost

I don't know how many times I've found myself praying that God would help me to be the kind of father He is. I mean, if I'm going to be a great dad (and with five sons I need to be), I must exhibit patience, wisdom, compassion, strength and offer protection, discipline, shelter and assurance.

I've read books on parenting, watched the videos, listened to the sermons. Most of it was pretty good stuff, but nothing has taught me more about being "dad" than paying attention to the Heavenly Father. I guess it's the whole "grace" thing. I'm convinced that one of the chief purposes of grace is to keep us appropriately humble. Further, Paul tells Titus that it's grace that teaches us to say "no" to ungodliness. Probably because through grace we realize how totally depraved we are (and therefore undeserving) and how precious it is to be called to salvation. So, it follows that as we say "no" to rotten parenting, grace can also teach us to say "yes" to parenting the way our Father does.

If any Christian would take a minute and observe the actions of the Heavenly Father in their life, it would quickly become apparent that God is GOOD at being a Father: He's always there for me when I need to talk, He's involved in my daily life, He's interested in what I'm doing, I can't hide anything from Him, He doesn't let any rotten behavior slide by without discipline, He's patient when I'm learning, He endures my fits and He is utterly dependable.

As humans, we'll never be perfect parents. As Christians, we have a perfect Parent. There could be no more appropriate prayer than, "God, help me to be a father like you are."

When Fathers Cry

My uncle passed away a little over a week ago.  He was my dad's little brother.  My dad asked me if I would do the memorial service, and I was pleased to do it.  I've actually done quite a few memorial services and funerals for my relatives - it's an amazing opportunity to preach the hope of Jesus to a captive audience of my loved ones!

The thing that was different about this weekend's service, though, was that part way through I lost my composure.  As a pastor/teacher I spend a lot of time in front of people using my finely honed (like a rusty pocketknife) public speaking skills and I've never had a problem "keeping it together."  Oh, sure, I've wept while talking, had to stop and take a breath when emotions were high, but never, never have I been stopped in my tracks by tears. 

The surprise came when I was reading through the things my dad had written for and about his brother.  It was so sweet, and I had almost gotten to the end of it when I glanced out at the faces assembled in the room and I saw my dad crying his eyes out.  And that was that.  I stumbled, teared up, tried to read some more, cracked, stopped, breathed long and low, and finally mustered up enough composure to just simply tell everyone how I didn't realize "how hard this was going to be."

What I saw in my dad in that moment was a tenderness I had rarely seen growing up.  He wasn't a hard man, just distant emotionally (at least from my vantage point).  I think I'm quite a bit like him. He's been an amazing grandpa: the best, really. And as we've both grown older I've learned a lot about my dad.  I've discovered what a huge heart he really has, and a sensitive one at that.  I've learned he's actually a very decent writer (don't tell anyone!).  I've learned that he loves people A LOT.  When I saw him crying strong, manly tears for his brother, I felt his sorrow and it crushed me.  I also learned, in that brief instant, more about being a man than he could ever tell me in words.