Do you think your story is worth telling?

I believe the answer is emphatically “Yes!”

God tells us about Himself through stories. Most of the Bible is stories about real people in real circumstances who struggled and failed and got it wrong more than they got it right. God’s own story comes to us through tales of people and their relationships. (How Important Is Right Theology?)

I’m thinking there’s a message there, that God’s choice to reveal Himself through human stories might be telling us about the best way to tell others about Him. Maybe people learn best about God through the stories of His people.

I operate from the premise that a story is worth telling if it brings people closer to Jesus. In a non-church setting it’s worthwhile if it helps listeners embrace His principles even if no religious terminology is involved. I can talk about love, respect, and forgiveness in any context.

If I’ve learned anything through talking to people about the story of Relentless Grace, it’s that “everyone has a story.” And I believe those stories are worth telling, if …

I’d like to spend a few posts talking about the “if,” because I think we can tell our stories in ways that are more or less helpful to others.

Today’s focus:

TELL THE TRUTH

A story that’s a lie won’t be helpful to anyone. That might seem sort of obvious, but apparently it’s not. I’ve heard, and told, stories that include intentional and accidental untruths.

Many Christians seem to believe that they can only talk about the victories, the good stuff, and the instances in which things turned out just right. They fail to acknowledge the struggles, failures, and weaknesses. These folks seem intent on portraying life as an endless progression of roses and sunshine.

Even tragedies are quickly transformed into celebrations. These stories are Hollywood movies—in one scene a horrific loss occurs, and in the next scene everyone’s happy. Injuries and illness miraculously disappear, grief and pain are compressed into a few seconds, and then the violins reach a happily-ever-after crescendo.

No one benefits from stories that relate this sort of impossibly false perfection. Reality includes conflict, pain, and doubt. Look at the heroes of the Bible—God didn’t tell us only their triumphs. In fact, we often learn more from the struggles of people like King David.

I’m not suggesting that we ought to manufacture problems, because the real ones are all to plentiful. But you do no one, including yourself, any favors by hiding behind a freshly scrubbed, Sunday morning façade.

A more subtle deception happens through an unintended choice of words. An example: “I’m thankful for the experience of cancer and chemotherapy.”

I don’t believe that. I’ve watched both of my parents and my best friend struggle through horrible deaths from cancer. I don’t believe anyone is thankful for that kind of pain. I’m certainly not grateful for the “opportunity” to watch their suffering, just as I’m not thankful for the pain and loss associated with my injury.

I am, however, abundantly grateful for the many things God has taught me through those experiences. I do not believe my injury was necessary for me to learn, but I believe God works for good even within tragedy (Romans 8:28)

My principle for story-telling is Grace And Truth (John 1:14). If you tell the truth with grace and love, then I believe you take a step toward a story worth telling.

What’s your take? Have you found that telling your true story helps others?

• Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment.
• Please use the icons below to share this article.
• Want to receive free updates? You can follow by RSS, or email updates.

Related articles:

How Important Is Right Theology?

Grace And Truth

A Million Miles

One Problem With A Weekend Retreat

The Perfect Slogan

Does theology matter?

Short answer—yes, of course theology matters.

Do I believe that some elements of Christian theology are black-and-white, right-or-wrong? Yes, I do, though I imagine we might disagree on some of them. (What’s Your Theology?)

That said, I’m wondering how many folks encounter Jesus by reading a theology book. My guess would be “not many.”

I’ve been mentally de-briefing my retreat experience, considering the experiences that made what feels like a lasting impact. None of them involved debates about the fine points of theology.

I felt impacted by two elements: stories and relationships. Interesting that God chose to reveal Himself through those same elements, since the Bible is primarily a collection of stories about real people and real relationships. Maybe that’s how He wants us to talk to others about Him.

A few guys at the retreat weren’t sure about the whole “God thing.” They had a lot of questions, and I sat on the outskirts of a few of those conversations. Very little discussion centered on theology—it was mostly about stories and relationships.

What about end times and Satan and hell? Where was the discussion of Calvinist versus Arminian views on predestination? Shouldn’t they have at least enumerated the Ten Commandments to ensure that there was a clear understanding of sin and its horrible consequences?

None of that happened. Instead, men shared transparently about failures and struggles and their simple, life-changing relationships with Jesus and His followers. There were tears and prayers and sometimes just the silence of mountain nights.

I looked in my Bible for the place where Jesus says, “Therefore go and teach the details of your theology, debating into submission those who disagree with you.”

But, alas, I could find no such instruction. Instead, I encountered Jesus’ last words to His friends:

Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” [Matthew 28:18-20]

I’m pretty sure we won’t make many disciples through theological debate. Whenever people find Jesus, I suspect we’ll find stories and relationships and tears and prayers and maybe silence.

# # # # #

This is kind of a cynical throw-in, but I thought it was funny. I received an email advertisement the other day—I’m sure they meant well, but am I the only one who finds this headline a little odd?

Get Your Questions About the Afterlife Answered – At 30% OFF!

Personally, I have many questions about the afterlife, as well as a lot of other thorny issues. I’d happily pay full price for definitive answers.

Or maybe I’ll trust that God will provide the real answers—for free.

• Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment.
• Please use the icons below to share this article.
• Want to receive free updates? You can follow by RSS, or email updates.

Related articles:

Theology Or Story?

What’s Your Theology?

Does It Really Matter?

One problem with a weekend retreat in the mountains is … it ends.

At some point you have to pack up your stuff, climb into the car, and head back to the real world. The challenge is to bring something back, to make sure the sense of renewal doesn’t fade before the garage door opens at home.

One image I brought home from my weekend is a memory of a man I didn’t know very well. His name was Doug—he was instrumental in building the men’s ministry at my church, sowing the seeds that sprouted into an amazing weekend. Doug would have been there, but he was killed in a motorcycle accident a few months ago.

Several guys talked about Doug—his booming laugh, long hair, and huge heart for kids and other men. They shared stories of how he always showed up when someone was feeling lost or alone, how he knew when to quote a scripture, when to cry, and when to laugh and reassure.

One of Doug’s friends wore a t-shirt created for the memorial service. It sported his treasured Harley logo on the front, and the back proclaimed:

EVERYONE DIES. NOT EVERYONE TRULY LIVES.

Therefore Jesus said again, “I tell you the truth, I am the gate for the sheep. All who ever came before me were thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. He will come in and go out, and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. [John 10:7-10]

Doug lived the full, abundant life for which Jesus lived, died, and lived again. He loved, he laughed, he served, and he didn’t waste the time God gave him.

His spirit was with us throughout the weekend. Even though I barely knew him, his presence brought a sense of peace and comfort.

I like the idea of a t-shirt for my own memorial. I wonder what it would say.

What would you like your t-shirt to say?

• Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment.
• Please use the icons below to share this article.
• Want to receive free updates? You can follow by RSS, or email updates.

Related articles:

The Perfect Slogan

Evidence

Tend The Flame

Happy Monday! This edition of word-of-the-week takes us on a…

RETREAT

Retreat is often a bad thing. The battle’s not going well, and the commander decides it’s time to back off. RETREAT means you’re admitting defeat, running away.

I’m writing this morning from the retreat center at YMCA Of The Rockies in the mountains above Estes Park, Colorado. We’re on the edge of Rocky Mountain National Park—right now I’m watching some elk in a meadow, maybe a hundred yards from this porch. Less than fifty miles from home, it feels like I’ve stumbled into another world.

In this beautiful place, surrounded by the beauty and stillness of God’s creation, “retreat” assumes a decidedly positive meaning. If life sometimes seems like a battle, perhaps a strategic retreat is a sensible tactic.

Maybe retreat isn’t running away so much as backing away for a better view.

Maybe constantly charging full-speed ahead isn’t the most effective approach. Maybe re-grouping, re-charging, re-supplying isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe there’s a different approach, a better plan of attack, and the only way to discern a more useful method involves shifting my perspective.

What a blessing to turn off the cell phone and engage in deep conversations without needing to interrupt for the next deadline. If this is running away, then perhaps I should make running away a habit.

By the time this article posts I’ll be back home, grateful for familiar surroundings, renewed energy, and fresh understanding. This morning I’m just being right here, believing that God has something to tell me in this magical place.

So for a few more moments I’m just going to watching the elk graze in the shadow of towering mountains, ponder the amazing fact that the water in the stream was snow just a few hours ago, and listen for God’s voice in the breeze.

Do we all need to retreat a little more often?

Happy Saturday. I hope you enjoy this poem.

*****

‘Twas a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed,
Though to walk near its crest was so pleasant;
But over its terrible edge there had slipped
A duke and a full many a peasant.
So the people said something would have to be done,
But their projects did not at all tally;
Some said, “Put a fence around the edge of the cliff,”
Some, “An ambulance down in the valley.”

But the cry for the ambulance carried the day,
For it spread through the neighboring city;
A fence may be useful or not, it is true,
But each heart became brimful of pity
For those who slipped over that dangerous cliff;
And the dwellers in highway and alley
Gave pounds or gave pence, not to put up a fence,
But an ambulance down in the valley.

“For the cliff is all right, if you’re careful,” they said,
“And, if folks even slip and are dropping,
It isn’t the slipping that hurts them so much,
As the shock down below when they’re stopping.”
So day after day, as these mishaps occurred,
Quick forth would those rescuers sally
To pick up the victims who fell off the cliff,
With their ambulance down in the valley.

Then an old sage remarked: “It’s a marvel to me
That people give far more attention
To repairing results than to stopping the cause,
When they’d much better aim at prevention.
Let us stop at its source all this mischief,” cried he,
“Come, neighbors and friends, let us rally;
If the cliff we will fence we might almost dispense
With the ambulance down in the valley…”

Better guide well the young than reclaim them when old,
For the voice of true wisdom is calling,
“To rescue the fallen is good, but ’tis best
To prevent other people from falling.”
Better close up the source of temptation and crime
Than deliver from dungeon or galley;
Better put a strong fence ’round the top of the cliff
Than an ambulance down in the valley.

By Joseph Malins

Are we fence-builders or ambulance-providers?

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. [Hebrews 4:14-16]

What’s the best way to convince someone to listen to you?

One great strategy is to arouse enough curiosity to elicit a question. By answering a question, you’re helping, offering desired information. Skilled communicators know how to create a sense of shared problem-solving that puts everyone on the same side of the issue.

Yesterday I wrote about this great t-shirt. (The Perfect Slogan)

Bob, who told me about ME TOO, said it’s a great conversation starter. People look confused and ask, “ME TOO … what?” He answers with a ten-second statement about his faith in Jesus.

I’ve been thinking about Jesus and ME TOO. It’s almost like He understood the power of such a simple notion.

I have a hard time imagining that God truly identifies with me, because I surely can’t identify with Him. There’s quite a gap between little old me and the Creator of the universe. I know He loves me, but the relationship is impossibly one sided. He brings everything to the table—I Got Nothing. The gap could never be bridged, at least by any human act.

So God reached across the gap. Jesus, fully God, left the glory of heaven and crossed an un-crossable divide. And because of His sacrifice, it’s like He put on this silly t-shirt.

“Jesus, sometimes I wonder why I feel so far from God.”

“ME TOO.”

“And sometimes I’m afraid of what’s in front of me.”

“ME TOO.”

“I get tempted to take shortcuts.”

“ME TOO.”

“And I feel lonely when my friends don’t show up.”

“ME TOO.”

“And when things get really bad, I just want God to make it all better.”

“ME TOO.”

God found the most improbable way of letting me know He understands. He sacrificed His Son, sent Him to walk in my shoes, so I could know we’re on the same side.

Whenever I imagine a distant, infinite God who cannot possibly know what it’s like to be me, I think about what one of my friends calls “Jesus in a t-shirt and tennis shoes.”

Now I have an even better picture. His t-shirt says ME TOO.

• Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment.
• Please use the icons below to share this article.
• Want to receive free updates? You can follow by RSS, or email updates.

Related articles:

The Perfect Slogan

I Got Nothing

How To Discover Gratitude

Labels And Super Glue

Don’t you love it when a really cool idea just drops into your lap?

This morning I met with eight people who are part of the year-long workshop I mentioned last time (How To Know What’s Right). We enjoyed a great conversation about courage, communication, and character.

One of my companions told us about a slogan his church adopted: ME TOO. They printed it on t-shirts and hats and made it the focus of Sunday school classes. The pastor preached a sermon series titled ME TOO.

It took a few moments for the significance of these simple words to penetrate my thick skull, but gradually the lights came on. Do you get it?

“I’ve really messed up my life.”

“ME TOO.”

“I feel like I don’t deserve God’s love.”

“ME TOO.”

“I need to learn how to pray.”

“ME TOO.”

It’s not just about church. Think about some of the other places this motto could apply.

“Daddy, I get scared sometimes.”

“ME TOO.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I need to listen better.”

“ME TOO.”

The list is endless. I think I need a bunch of these shirts.

Don’t you wish you’d thought of this?

ME TOO.

• Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment.
• Please use the icons below to share this article.
• Want to receive free updates? You can follow by RSS, or email updates.

Related articles:

How To Know What’s Right

Hills Worth Fighting For

Go And Do Likewise

Do you ever have trouble knowing the right thing to do?

I’ve recently listened to a number of presentations by a very smart man about “discernment.” I won’t name the speaker because I’m not certain I understood exactly what he said and I don’t want to misrepresent his position.

Basically, here’s what I heard:

1. There’s always a highest, best right in every situation.
2. Everyone can learn to discern that highest, best right.
3. If discernment is thorough and honest, there will be no disagreement about the highest, best action. As I understood the notion, if my version of right differs from yours, one of us must be “more right.”

I wasn’t sure if I agreed, or even understood, so I spent some time researching discernment. As usual, I discovered that I’ve been guilty of some pretty fuzzy thinking.

In general usage, we tend to use the terms discernment and wisdom interchangeably. In fact, some sources list them as synonyms. While there’s certainly some overlap, I think there are subtle-but-important distinctions. They’re even listed as distinct spiritual gifts in 1 Corinthians 12.

The discussions in which I encountered these notions were not overtly faith-based, but I happen to know that the presenter is a committed follower of Jesus. So I decided to seek an understanding of discernment from a biblical perspective.

I checked several sources, including major denominational web sites, for definitions. Not surprisingly, they didn’t all agree. (Interesting aside—a search of one very large denomination’s site returned no specific information concerning spiritual gifts. They did, however, provide ample discussion on the “spiritual” blessings of “giving,” including estate planning advice and a ranked list of regional contributions.)

Sorting through the semantics, here’s what emerged as my understanding:

Discernment is more accurately labeled as “discernment of spirits.” It’s the gift of determining whether a particular teaching or behavior is from God, Satan, or human. Discernment is a matter of intuition and insight, and may be based on a sense of being in touch with the Spirit on a heart level. As one source described it, discernment is a type of knowing at a visceral level that transcends empirical knowledge.

Wisdom is the gift of applying knowledge and spiritual truths in practical, everyday situations. Wisdom allows one to make connections, understand root causes, and see the deeper implications of beliefs and actions. Wisdom leads to the best individual and group decisions.

OBSERVATIONS

Based on my understanding, here’s what I think I know about discernment.

1.    There’s always a highest, best right in every situation.

From my perspective, this is obviously true. God’s will is always the highest, best course of action. Basically, the answer to “What Would Jesus Do?” would represent the highest, best right.

2.    Everyone can learn to discern that highest, best right.

I’m not sure about this one. Theologically, discernment is a gift of the Spirit. As I understand it, some people will be better “discerners” than others because that’s their gift. So while everyone can and should practice discernment, some folks are given the ability to discern at deeper, more accurate levels.

Practically, even the most gifted human cannot completely know God’s thoughts. We can pray and seek guidance, but I’m not sure anyone can always know God’s will with absolute certainty.

3.    If discernment is thorough and honest, there will be no disagreement about the highest, best action. As I understood the notion, if my version of right differs from yours, one of us must be “more right.”

Theoretically, this conclusion follows from #1. Any behavior or thought must either be “right” or “not right.” God’s will is a very small target—you either hit it or you don’t.

On a practical level, I can’t envision a situation in which individuals can ignore deeply-held personal biases and beliefs. We may agree on the existence of ultimate truth in all circumstances, but I doubt our ability to agree on the precise nature of that truth.

So … ?

I began with a question: Do you ever have trouble knowing the right thing to do?

Of course the question is rhetorical. I’m sure we all agree that knowing what’s right is a struggle. But I think there’s an even tougher, more convicting question: When you know what’s right, do you do it?

I’m thinking that this whole debate about absolute truth and not knowing God’s perfect will for every situation might be a smokescreen.

As long as I operate with a limited human brain I’ll encounter circumstances in which I’m uncertain about what’s right. No amount of prayer, discipline, or searching will alter that fact of human nature. As Paul writes [1 Corinthians 13:12], “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

God’s thoughts will always retain an element of mystery—at least on this side of eternity. But mystery doesn’t mean I know nothing, it simply means I don’t know everything.

Someday I’ll know for sure. In the meantime, I believe that I need to focus on the truth I know. If I do that, I believe God will show me the truth I need to know.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. [1 Corinthians 13:13]

• Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment or send me an email.
• Please use the icons below to share this article.
• Want to receive free updates? You can follow by RSS, or email updates.

Related articles:

Evidence

How To Change Without Changing

Tend The Flame

Welcome to the beginning of a new week and another word-of-the-week. This week I’m thinking about …

UNCONDITIONAL

It seems that we attach unconditional a little too easily. It’s one of those words that sounds good, as long as you don’t take it seriously.

Lately I’ve been participating in a year-long conference in which a basic principle is Unconditional Positive Respect (UPR). The idea is that every individual merits UPR, regardless of behavior, beliefs, or even whether that person returns the respect. I observe that even among participants who claim to embrace the notion, we’re much better at describing UPR than demonstrating it.

In Christian circles we talk about unconditional love. We proclaim that those who follow Jesus receive unconditional grace and forgiveness. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m not always good at receiving or reflecting either.

I’m afraid I tend to unintentionally attach conditions to those concepts I believe to be unconditional. Even worse, I’m tempted to think that unconditional violates some universal sense of justice. I get it for most folks, but does that guy really deserve forgiveness, respect, or love?

And of course I’m right—that guy doesn’t deserve any of them.

And neither do I.

Happy Saturday.

You may cry or laugh, but I’ll bet you smile as you watch this video.

If you can’t view the video, click here to watch it on the web site.