Why Lent Is Crazy

Sacrifice doesn't always make sense—but that's sort of the point.

When Ash Wednesday rolls around, some of us get a little twinge—a conviction to give something up for Lent: maybe chocolate, coffee, shopping, meat, Netflix or Facebook. Giving up any of these for 40 days might make you a better person, at least for a while—your waistline slims, you’re less jittery, you loosen the reins of what controls you, maybe you spend a little more time with your family and friends or in prayer. Ultimately you have to ask, though, why do we sacrifice? What does any of this have to do with getting ready for Easter?

A key ingredient of sacrifice is when it becomes so difficult it drives you to faith. 

Living overseas for most of my married life, I often returned to the United States and heard comments like, “That must have a been a real sacrifice.” By “sacrifice,” people meant giving up some high paying career I might have had, taking my kids places without every health care procedure known to man or giving up the familiar for the unknown. All that, sure, is missing out on something, but those weren’t the things I was hardwired to want anyway. The truth is, I enjoyed living overseas. My kids thrived in Africa. I never wanted a boring North American life and I loved the excitement of new places. All that to me wasn’t sacrifice. 

The roots of sacrifice

The idea of sacrifice comes from an Old Testament idea of taking something perfectly good and destroying it before God. It sounds absolutely wasteful and stupid, really. People would bring their first crops, the grain they grew when they had waited all the long months since their last harvest, when their bellies might have been bloated with hunger and they were absolutely drooling over the taste of fresh grain. And instead of eating it all up, they would do one of two things: they would either burn it up to ashes, or give it to priests, foreigners, orphans and widows. In the same way they would take the first calf born of a cow, after they’d raised that cow and fed it and cared for it, and they would take the nice fat calf and slit its throat and watch it bleed out its life blood. That, my friends, makes no sense at all. 

It makes no sense, that is, unless there is something else going on. Unless there is, after all, a God who somehow makes something out of this sacrifice. 

The Israelites who ruined their grain, cows, doves and sheep in sacrifice did so because they believed in the craziest of all hopes—that this destruction of what is good would ultimately bring about something even better. When they sacrificed their animals and foods, it was a way of saying out loud and from the core of their being that they trusted in God, that they themselves were not capable of providing what they needed or what the world needed, but God was. They believed in a God who was so very much in charge of the universe that He would make the world a better place in spite of their loss. Sacrifice was about giving honor, about giving to something bigger than yourself in the trust that blessings come when you don’t put “me” first all the time.

The moment that nailed this whole picture of sacrifice firmly into place was the sacrifice of Jesus, the story we tell at the end of Lent. About 2,000 years ago, along comes this man who can heal people, who says the most wonderful things and draws crowds in the thousands—who turns out to be, miracle of miracles, God Himself in human form. So you would think somebody that special should be treasured, cherished, kept, used, made the most of and honored with a long, long life. He should have been made king, or at the very least grown old to become the wise, old, bearded rabbi in the center of the village with His disciples at His feet. 

Instead, He became a sacrifice. Just like that grain getting burned up to powdered ashes and the cows and lambs and doves being slaughtered with all their blood draining out, He died. His life was wasted—and why? Because God is in the business of making good way better. The very best things come out of sacrifice. That’s how God works.

How sacrifice fits into real life

First of all, let’s mention what sacrifice is not: It isn’t about going on a mission trip because all your friends are going, and you know full well you’ll learn a lot and feel good about yourself and add it to your resume. That’s not sacrifice, that’s calculating. That’s following plain old laws of physics and nature, and keeping your own self interest tucked neatly in mind. Not that you shouldn’t go on mission trips, or that you shouldn’t do some calculating as you make choices. These can be excellent, God-pleasing choices—but it’s not the same as sacrifice.

Sacrifice is hitting a point where you see your own limits, and give beyond that. It’s saying to God, “Fine, let my life make no sense at all, let it be a failure, let it be wasted, but above all, let it be yours.” It’s throwing yourself out across a canyon you could never leap across, trusting somehow there will be a parachute, or a net, or a bridge, or somehow it will be OK—even somehow better—because of your leap. It’s knowing this: God is in charge. Period.

Sacrifice can be as simple as saying: “It makes all the sense in the world to go replace my ratty old couch with a new one—I have the money and the couch is even on sale. But instead I’m going to spend that money for a family I never met half-way around the globe, and I’m going to trust that somehow God will make something good out of that because my needs are not the measure of what’s best.”

A few years ago when we lived in South Africa, I walked up to a school near my home and saw that it was falling apart. It was the most broken-down school I had seen in my life, and I had seen some pretty crummy schools. I wasn’t there in South Africa to help rebuild schools. My kids didn’t have to go to that school; there was a perfectly fine school 15 minutes away from us. And people kept telling me: “That school is so rundown, why bother? Spend your money and time and energy elsewhere. Be efficient.”

There’s a time to be efficient—really, we don’t need to go around doing dumb things just to prove we can be wasteful. But there’s also a time to be crazy wasteful. I looked at that school and couldn’t leave it alone—these kids in the school were kids, real live kids.

Helping rebuild that school took me to the point of sacrifice. I had to walk up and feel awkward when I introduced myself to the principal and asked if there was any way to help. I had to make dozens of phone calls to the department of education. I had to press on even when possible partners dropped out of the project. The school sat unimproved for two whole years of trying, waiting and wasting my time. A friend during this time gave me a keychain engraved with the words, “Expect miracles.” I kept looking at those words, reminding myself this had long since passed the point of expecting my work to accomplish anything. This had become expecting miracles. It had become burning up and bleeding out resources; a sacrifice.

And God came through. The principal called me up one morning and told me the government had finally agreed to rebuild the school. And we wept.

Lent is a sacrifice training ground. It’s a time to exercise your faith muscle, to focus your eyes on Jesus, the sacrifice that all the rest hinge on. Lent is good, but I also want to live the rest of life punctuated by sacrifice. I want to live in a way that my life doesn’t make any sense except for a crazy hope. I want to expect miracles from a God who takes my little sacrifices and turns them into a door for the supernatural to burst into our world.

For ways to put sacrifice into action now, check out Relentless Acts of Sacrifice with World Vision ACT:S. 

Christine Jeske has tried to serve God in South Africa, Nicaragua, China and now plain old North America. She’s the author of Into the Mud, and a forthcoming book with her husband, Adam, This Ordinary Adventure: Settling Down Without Settling.

Lent

Too often our Lenten journeys are ‘try-hard’ failures.   We give up coffee—-for a while.   We pray daily—-until we don’t.  We pull ourselves up with our spiritual bootstraps and suffer, by-golly.

But Lent is not about our supposed sacrifice of some earthly passion.  Lent is a journey with Christ to His passion.

Lent is not a time to focus on ourselves and our own particular abundance or lack of self-discipline.  Lent is a time of self-forgetfulness, where we learn to live more in union with Christ and less from our own capabilities.

Our Lenten discipline does not make us more holy.   We have the very righteousness of Christ and His holiness already.

Our Lenten failures do not make us more wretched but serve to remind us that our wretchedness has cost our Savior His life and that  He has gone to every length to secure our ransom.

We take this journey with Him to learn from Him what it means to be His child.   To remember what it’s like to be loved by Our Father.

To learn to receive from His hand nothing more and nothing less than what He Himself gives.

Lent is about Christ and His pilgrimage to the Cross, where His love is poured out for all humanity.

Spirituality is His work in us as He creates faith and repentance.

What's The Point Of Church Membership?

When I hear the word “membership” I automatically think of sales reps in swanky gyms wearing track suits trying to sell me a gym membership that is more than I can afford and something I will inevitably cease to use. It smacks of insincerity. We all have different associations with the word and the challenge for most of us who are postmodern or “post-postmodern” in our upbringing is caution, if not skepticism, of all labels and camps. Hence when we attach membership to our notion of church it brings up all sorts of red flags. Various academics speculate that it is for this very reason that church membership is declining.

The value of church membership is contested, as well as the theological or scriptural basis for such a notion. There are polarizing positions of rejection or acceptance and, of course, there are others who try to mediate a middle ground.

Those who reject formalized church membership rightly emphasize belonging to the universal body of Christ. They are also right in their concern that some forms of membership can become simply a formality and empty ritual without any true transformation. Indeed the size of a church’s membership says nothing about the spiritual vitality of its members. They could be on the cusp of flatlining.

Those who endorse church membership rightly emphasize that belonging to a localized expression of the body of Christ is a necessity, and that a formalized commitment brings benefit for the individual and the community as a whole. Sociologist Wade Clark Roof suggests that in light of the present decline in church membership and attendance, “churches will need to put new emphasis on touching peoples lives instead of gaining new members. These are two different enterprises.” Roof is right in emphasizing transformation. However, I think the transformative grace of Jesus that touches and changes lives also leads to a deep commitment to His body, the Church. I don’t think these are two different enterprises, instead one leads into the next.

I am about to plant a church with the Mennonite Brethren in Vancouver, B.C. One of the values of the denomination is covenant community. I think that covenant is an apt concept for how transformation leads to church membership.

Covenant as a framework

The drama of Scripture begins with a down-right beautiful, good and immodest creation. Humanity is naked and happy. Our relationship with God is intimate. He walks with us in our nudity. There is skin contact. It is hyper-personal. After our relationship with God was fractured because we decided to trust ourselves rather than God, we covered up. God recognized we had to cover up and He went ahead and made clothes for us. The intimacy of our relationship with God was tarnished.

Yet God did not cease to pursue us. God will not settle for tarnished intimacy and feigned vulnerability. Throughout the rest of Scripture God makes various covenant relationships with us. He intentionally enters into a commitment-based, formalized bond with people: Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, David, not to mention national covenants with Israel and ultimately the New Covenant through Jesus.

You might not like formalized commitment, but the God of Scripture does. Apparently it plays a vital role in the restoration of our intimacy with Him.

Now, I am not going to advocate a specific type of formalized church membership, but some form of membership is healthy and we see this in a covenant God has given us for each other: marriage.

People who want to reject church membership altogether are in my opinion similar to those who don’t get married because its “just a piece of paper.” They say they don’t need to formalize their commitment to one another. But the whole experience of getting married is not just about the event, the open bar and a piece of paper that collects dust in your closet. It's about making a commitment to another human being before God and before your community. A relationship plateaus until a covenant is made.

The marriage covenant illuminates our discussion because no matter where you land on the church membership debate you will agree that the body of Christ is also the bride of Christ (c.f. Rev 19:7; 21:2, 9-10). Jesus loves commitment, and He wants to make His commitment to us known throughout the cosmos. It’s a public display of affection. He doesn’t want to just live with us and never formalize what we have. That’s not enough. He wants us completely.

Not just universal, but local

If the consistent biblical narrative insists that God loves formalized commitment, is it really a stretch to say that formalizing our commitment within a localized expression of the body of Christ is not in line with the heart of God? If we can admit we are a part of the universal body of Christ, then should it not have a localized and geographical expression? It is so important to live out our commitment to Christ every day in our local contexts. To simply say we belong to the universal body is not enough because it inevitably remains an abstract concept. It’s too easy, flimsy and ethereal. It can lead to inaction. It’s in the local church that we’ll actually have to begin the ongoing work of living out our commitment in a real and tangible way.

I think if we are honest with ourselves, it’s not just that we’re against church membership. That’s not the true issue at all. I want to suggest that we’re afraid of commitment and the restriction commitment brings upon our lives.

For example, if I commit to a church does that mean I have to stick it out with that church even when leadership changes? Even if the vision shifts over time? Does that mean I actually have to be accountable to others and let people speak into my life ... even when it's uncomfortable? Does that mean I actually have to consult my community before making major life decisions such as moving to another city or moving in with this person?

Perhaps the actual problem is that we don’t want to commit to a bunch of broken people who will inevitably hurt us and let us down. So we settle for tarnished intimacy and feigned vulnerability. What we’re really saying is we’ll take Jesus’ willingness to love us and meet us in our mess, but we don’t want to extend that in a committed and consistent way to others. Hence, it’s more convenient to belong to the universal body as a concept. I can pray for faceless and nameless Christians around the globe (which of course is a good thing), but it doesn’t inconvenience me like when a single mom in my community calls me because her babysitter bailed at the last minute and she needs my help.

Commitment to a church community is a healthy corrective to our hyper-individualistic (and let's confess, narcissistic) tendencies. Yet the commitment is not only communal. It is also personal. There isn’t true belonging if it is only a dead formality. If we make a commitment to a community of faith it means we are committing to following Jesus together, which also means you are committing to follow Jesus.

When we encounter the transformative grace of Jesus, He changes us. Our intimacy and relational connection is restored with God and with others in the body of Christ. We become reflections of Him as image-bearers. If He’s committed to us and uses the metaphor of marriage to express how deep His unfailing love for us runs, then at the very least we should reflect the same type of commitment to His body, the Church.

Alastair Bryan Sterne has a master's in Biblical Studies from Asbury Theological Seminary. He is the pastor of  St. Peter’s Fireside, a church plant in Vancouver, B.C. He is still waiting to say something original on Twitter.

Valentine's Day - Redeeming Love

On a day that glorifies romance, have we forgotten what love really is?

The first time I saw my wife in person, I was standing across the street from her apartment. The sky was gray and about as dark as it should have been for a March afternoon in the Midwest. She came out to the front porch—and I ran across the street. Cars screeched as I held up my hands in hope it would prevent an impact. I reached her side of the sidewalk as she came down the front steps. We smiled at each other ... I think. I'm a little foggy on the details, but I absolutely remember what happened next: I took her face in my hands and I kissed her. Standing there face-to-face, I kissed her before we ever even had the chance to say hello or exchange a single word to each other. (You're probably thinking this is either the most romantic thing you've ever heard or you're asking your co-worker if leaving, "Get a room!" in the comment section still has the same effect as it would in person.)

However, every time I recall this story, I can't help but wonder if I'm putting romantic love on a pedestal. Does it deserve more attention in our lives than any other form of love?

What of sacrificial love? Unconditional love? Comfortable love? The love Ryan Gosling had for Rachel McAdams in The Notebook? Are they all one and the same? And does love begin and end with romance? I love my sisters and parents, the homeless and the broken, but not nearly in the same way as I love my wife.

On Valentine’s Day—a holiday set aside for a chocolate-fueled celebration of all things romantic—the question resounds deeper than ever: What is love?

What Love Isn’t

Since we have the unfortunate disadvantage of being fallen humans, we are the last ones who should be able to define love. We have broken what love was intended to be.

Humans have made love conditional. It has become an entity that judges and asks too much. Spouses and significant others have made it physically and emotionally abusive, and the entertainment industry has turned love into an emotional fairytale of perfectly unachievable bodies always ending in Happily Ever After.

Which is perhaps why so many confuse love with lust and infatuation. An individual sees an attractive person on the street and declares, "I’m in love," without knowing what love really is. They love him or her for being beautiful, but beauty is only temporary, and makes for an equally fleeting form of love.

And then, of course, people are prone to using the term loosely. We “love” the drama of the Kardashians and the music of Coldplay. We “love” frozen yogurt and we “just love” to gossip.

The root of this perception problem is that everyone just wants to be part of a tangible love that is returned—even if it is sometimes destructive. People "love" alcohol because in return it alters their state of mind and makes everything seemingly easier to tolerate. They "love" pornography because the actors don’t talk back and do whatever the viewer likes. They "love" movies because they offer an escape and help them temporarily forget. They "love" food for its ability to fill stomachs and give energy.

Yes, these things we love offer us something in return. It’s easy to fall for them. The problem is these things keep us coming back for more because they never really satisfy. They promise what they cannot deliver. We love them and they end up owning us—forgetting that real love frees, rather than enslaves.

Redeeming Romantic Love

Romantic love is perhaps most glorified because it feels like the truest form of returned love. A romantic story, a romantic dinner and a romantic first kiss—these things make people fall in love and feel loved.There is the promise of mutuality and commitment—even when we've seen (or experienced) it fail before.

Unfortunately, Hollywood and Hallmark have led consumers to believe this romance is the main event, and if you are alone on Valentine’s Day, you are unloved and unromanced.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to spend Valentine’s Day with someone else. Human beings were built for companionship. After all, life is meant to be done together. The good news is, whether or not you are alone this Feb. 14, each and every one of us is already part of a romantic story—a story we can in turn invite others into. God has been romancing us with every sunset, every blossoming flower, every crashing wave and every star in the sky since the moment we entered this world.

God knows the desires of our hearts better than anyone. Like a lover, He wants us all to Himself. He offered His Son because He loved us, and this sacrificial love made the love we so desire possible. It provided an example and an incentive to love, romance and sacrifice ourselves for others—friends and enemies, spouses and significant others, strangers and family, rich and poor, near and far. We love because He first loved us.

Having romantic love on a pedestal isn't inherently wrong. I love to make my wife swoon. Romance keeps relationships fun and exciting, and should be desired and elevated. But love is more than that.

Perhaps our culture isn't guilty of raising romantic love up. Perhaps it is instead that we are guilty of pulling down and cheapening what love really is—truthful, continuous, unconditional and sacrificial.

Max Dubinsky blogs at MakeItMAD.com and tweets at @MaxDubinsky. He is the author of We Can't Go Home Again.

Reaching the World—From Your Desk

How to make a difference, wherever you are clocked in.
Everyone knows the best place to foster relationships with the poor is on the church’s annual week-long mission trip or within the specified hours we’re doing “volunteer” work in the community. Or, reluctantly, when we can’t quite zip through a red light in time to avoid the sign-holding stranger who wants a bite to eat. Where we don’t always encounter the poor is at work.

Except that we do.

Though our temptation is to designate relating to people who are poor as being something special we do outside of our job, Jesus had a whole other plan.

Who’s to say the Samaritan who aided a bloody mugging victim wasn’t on his way to Starbucks to discuss a possible business merger? And how do we know the one Jesus praises for visiting prisoners wasn’t a manager at the Burger King where the prisoner was employed? There’s simply no good reason to assume we shouldn’t be engaging with the poor—materially and otherwise—where we work. It may take a little creativity, but it’s worth the effort.

Working as a barista, bartender or waiter?

Know the names of the customers you serve. Though you won’t be able to know each one, identify a few regulars and be open to new ways to know and care for them. It might be as simple as remembering what they’ve shared with you and following up the next time you see them. 

Does your coffee shop or restaurant get rid of food at the end of the day? See if you can donate leftovers to a local shelter or a homeless person you pass on your commute. 

Working in health care?

If you work in health care, your work is holy. You, quite literally, are God’s hands and feet in the lives of the ones God loves. As you care for the poor, be open to discover how Jesus wants to use you in their lives—and vice versa. Expect these routine encounters to be the place where Jesus is at work.

Working as a creative (artist, performer, writer, speaker)?

Author Henri Nouwen spent a season of his life among people with disabilities as a member of a L’Arche community. When he traveled to lecture, he’d bring one of these friends along. As you develop friendships with those who are poor, find creative ways for them to share your platform. Rather than telling a story about them, find a unique way for them to tell their own story. You can also donate your time to providing creative assets for organizations or groups that could benefit from this expression. 

Working in IT?

You’ve got mad computer skills, so don’t be afraid to use them. Consider contacting a congregation or nonprofit with whom you have some connection—your housekeeper’s church? local teen outreach?—and offering to share your skills. If they don't have a site online, they need your help! Offer to mentor a teen or adult who can continue to update the site.

Working in social services?

If you work in social services, you’ve hit the jackpot. No doubt a world in need files past your door, rides in your car and calls your phone every day. Counselor Michelle K. tells clients: “You are God’s beloved. You are made in the image of God and God wants good things for you.” The announcement has brought clients to tears. Find creative ways to communicate this truth.

Working a desk job?

Though a desk, an office door or a cubicle might naturally separate you from groups who are demographically different than you, keep your eyes peeled. Who vacuums the office you use? Who cleans the bathrooms? Who fills the vending machines? Seize opportunities to know these forgotten coworkers, as well as ways your business could benefit those beyond your office doors. 

Working as a student?

There are a lot of people who work to make your experience possible, and many you might overlook are worth knowing. Who’s cooking in the cafeteria? Who’s cleaning the classrooms? Use the flexibility your schedule allows to know and learn the stories of these important and often unrecognized people.

Working as a pastor?

Though many of our churches are fairly ethnically and socioeconomically homogenous, partner with a sister congregation across demographic lines of income, race or—truly revolutionary—even denomination. Invite their men to join your congregation’s men’s group, or ask if your women can participate in their annual women’s retreat. The goal? Authentic friendship and, eventually, shared mission.

Working as a youth pastor?

Too often, parents and the church keep young people from encountering a world in need in the name of “protecting” them. Challenge young people to identify and discover one new friend at school whose economic circumstances are less privileged than their own. Better yet, make them curious by modeling it with a friend of your own.

Working at home?

Whether you build websites or build earrings to sell on Etsy, you’ve got a tricky challenge. Basically, you’re going to have to leave your home or invite the outside world in. Is there an elderly person in your neighborhood who’s home during the day? Could you make yourself available to pick up the kid of the single mother from daycare when she’s in a bind? Ask God to show you these opportunities. (Looking for other ways to make an impact in your neighborhood? Here are some tips for making a difference in the suburbs.)

Working in education?

From curriculum to field work, let your students encounter a world that’s bigger than the one they inhabit by exposing them to news, stories, history and encounters with those who are materially poor. Think on ways to challenge your students to know and engage with those who are under-resourced.

Was your unique job not even mentioned? Leave us a comment and tell us how you engage with those who are materially poor in the course of your daily work.

Margot Starbuck is the author of the recently released Small Things With Great Love: Adventures in Loving Your Neighbor (InterVarsity Press). More at MargotStarbuck.com.

Suburban Faith

10 ways to engage the world, wherever you are.

Because I watch CNN, I already know that people who are poor are out there. They stand on wet roofs in New Orleans, they dodge bullets in the Middle East and they pose for mug shots in Detroit. They might not live in my condo complex, but I know they’re out there. Somewhere.
For years I had understood Jesus’ words, “The poor you will always have with you,” to mean, “No use bothering with them because they’re like bedbugs: no matter what you do, you just can’t get rid of those pests.” Though it resonates with none of Jesus’ other teachings, it was a very soothing and self-serving interpretation.

In fact, though, Jesus was answering Judas’ outrage about the extravagant gift of a sinful woman’s fragrant oil being dumped on Him. I suspect Jesus’ tone might have sounded like: “Judas, you nutball, if you want to know the poor, and love the poor and feed the poor, knock yourself out, buddy! They’re right here. I’m the one who won’t be around long.”

The rub for Judas and for us is that those of us who can separate ourselves from a world in need—by virtue of choosing where we live, work, worship, shop and play—often do. And Jesus’ invitation to many of us is to allow our lives to intersect with those who are poor for His sake. You don't have to go far to make this a reality. Here are a few practical ways to turn your neighborhood, your morning commute or even your grocery run into an opportunity for life-giving relationships: 
 
Know the name of the person who touches your goods.

When you shop for your stuff—groceries, gas, guacamole—in the usual local places, purpose to know something about the one who serves you as a bag boy, attendant or waitress. What’s her name? Does he live alone? What happens when her bus doesn’t show up? Honor this one by looking him in the eye, calling him by name and taking a genuine interest in his life. Baby steps.


Exercise in a place where you’ll encounter someone new.

Recent studies show that you won’t be encountering persons from marginalized populations on the Stairmaster at your pricey gym or club.

For your next workout, choose a physical space where you might naturally encounter someone with fewer resources. Jog past your city’s social service providers or do your weird race-walk through a low-income neighborhood. And because it’s not a poverty tour, be sure to speak to some of the real live people who also think your race-walk looks ridiculous.

Get to really know those who you encounter in the course of your daily work.

Whether the bulk of your week is spent on a campus or in an office, in a bar or as a barista, get to know the faces and names and stories of those who too often go unnoticed. Who is it that cleans the bathrooms you use most frequently? When you don’t make your own lunch, who is it that serves you the one you buy? What’s the story of the guy who waits outside the coffee shop asking for spare change?  

Invest in the life of a young person living on the world’s margins.

If you have a heart for teens, consider mentoring a young person who lives on the edge. You might meet a young person in need through Big Brothers and Big Sisters, or by volunteering to coach an urban sports league or by tutoring at a local school. A mentoring relationship also creates opportunities for relationship-building with a whole family.

Share the lives of those who give and receive care.

On your block and in your church and at your workplace, enter into the lives of those who are giving and receiving care. Is a coworker caring for an aging parent or grandparent? Is a neighbor caring for a sibling with a brain injury or physical disability? You bless others, and are blessed, as you bring a meal to share, providing respite care or simply visiting on the front porch.

Build relationships with the elderly who have been forgotten.

Some nursing homes can be those places that no one—neither residents, nor staff, nor visitors—really wants to go to. Whether you have the natural entrée of an older neighbor rehabilitating after a fall, or whether you contact the recreation coordinator to be scheduled as a bingo caller, the poor, the weak and the forgotten are waiting for company in nursing homes in every community.

Volunteer to coach.

During his four years of college, my friend Matt volunteered as a coach for a Special Olympics basketball team among friends who had intellectual disabilities. The Sunday afternoons he spent shooting hoops with these friends at a local rec center are some of his fondest memories of school. Partnering with Special Olympics gave Matt a natural opportunity to know and enjoy and share life with those who are too often excluded.

Engage in ministry with a partner from a sister congregation.

Does your congregation have a relationship with a sister church that’s socially or economically different from yours? Support the ministry they’re already doing. If it’s tutoring students, show up Fridays after work. If it’s Vacation Bible School, learn how you can serve. If it’s cleaning up the neighborhood, don your work gloves on a Saturday morning and make a new friend.

Open your home to children in the state foster care system.

Have a heart for young kids? Before you ever raise your own, consider opening your home to children in your state’s foster care system. When local kids are suddenly displaced from the home they share with their natural parents, they often need a place to stay for a night or two. This moment of loving stability can bless a child more than you know.

Invest in people living in a place where personhood can be easily overlooked.

Tuesday night your church is providing supper for people being sheltered through Interfaith Hospitality Network. Though it’s bad news for the poor when people of privilege dip into their lives only long enough to throw a casserole out their Prius window, your church’s support of local mercy ministry might be the vehicle by which you are able to develop a real friendship. Play board games. Practice finger-knitting. Bake cookies.

Jesus’ insistence that the poor will always be with us was never meant to be bad news. Rather, when we open our eyes, we have the opportunity to encounter the ones Jesus loves, positioning ourselves to receive and bear good news.

What are some other ways you have reached out or could reach out in the daily routine of your community?

Margot Starbuck is the author of the recently released Small Things With Great Love: Adventures in Loving Your Neighbor (InterVarsity Press). More at www.MargotStarbuck.com.

Why Young Adults are Leaving the Church

What does it say about our generation that 40 to 50 percent of young Christians fail to stick with their faith or connect with a church after high school? Most likely, you’ve experienced or been witness to this exodus of twentysomethings from the faith community. At this point, it’s not even surprising to watch young adults become disillusioned with church as they go to college, build a career, start a family or begin their “real life”. But can it be stopped?

We recently spoke to Kara Powell, executive director of Fuller Youth Institute and co-author of Sticky Faith, to answer just that. Drawing from her extensive research with Fuller Youth Institute, she gave us a little more insight into what it takes to find a faith that sticks.

Do you think young people are just leaving the church, or leaving faith? Or is it both?

Probably my best answer to that is to describe what Tim Clydesdale—who is a sociologist in New Jersey—refers to as “the identity lock-box.” What students tend to do after they’ve graduated from high school is place important parts of themselves in an identity lock-box, and their faith is often part of that. The good news is that you put something in a lock-box when it’s important to you. So there is some sense that students still value their faith at one level. But the problem is when your faith is in a lock-box, especially as a college student or emerging adult, you’re making so many important decisions about worldview, and marriage, how you engage in risk behaviors, and vocation, and calling, and all those considerations are made while your faith is locked up in that lock-box. So there is some sort of residual sense that students value the faith, but it’s not influencing their day-to-day, or even major decisions. Given the long-term impact of those decisions throughout their adulthood, it’s pretty disconcerting. 

Do you think there are any misunderstandings or misconceptions that contribute to young adults leaving the church?

The students involved in our research definitely tended to view the Gospel as a list of dos and do-nots, a list of behaviors. We asked our students when they were college juniors, “How would you define what it really means to be a Christian?” and one out of three—and these were all youth group students—didn’t mention Jesus Christ in their answer; they mentioned behaviors. So it seems like [young adults] have really picked up a behavioralist view of the Gospel. That’s problematic for a lot of reasons, but one of which is that when students fail to live up to those behaviors, then they end up running from God and the Church when they need both the most. 

Are these mindsets limited only to young adults, or does it affect all ages?

Oh, yes, absolutely, [they] aren’t making this up on their own. They’re getting this from adults. Another issue that is particularly relevant to church leaders across the board is the importance of intergenerational relationships. We looked at 13 different youth group participation variables in our study, things they did in the context of youth group, to try and see what would be the biggest levers for sticky faith. To our surprise, the participation variable most highly related to mature faith both in high school and college was intergenerational worship; helping them connect with adults of all ages is a vital part of building adult faith. What we’re seeing is that not only are [intergenerational relationships] transformative in the lives of the teenagers, but they make a difference in the overall church. Imagine what a church would be like, what the adults in church would be like, if they were infused with the vitality that comes with teenagers? At the very least, if they were getting to know a few teenagers by name so they could pray for them, how life-giving would that be for the adults in a church?

What is an ideal model for the relationship between different generations in the faith community?

The original churches in the first century were multi-generational, were multi-ethnic. Especially as youth ministries become more professionalized in the last 50 years, [we’ve] ended up segregating kids from the rest of the church. Having said that, there’s definitely a time for 6-year-olds, and 16-year-olds and 86-year-olds to be together on their own. We need to provide space for folks in similar life spaces to chat and share community, but balance is something we swing through on our way to the other extreme.

It’s a common story: Young adults stop going to church, then once they have kids they return. It’s not like that’s a new phenomenon. Do you think this generation is different—or will they return to church again in a few years when they start having kids?

About 50 percent of those who drift from church seem to return, and it’s often because when they get older they get married and have kids. We at the Fuller Youth Institute are still grieving over the 50 percent who don’t return, and even in the 50 percent who do return—you make those important life decisions as college students, and then there are consequences you live with even after you’ve returned to the faith. It seems like students are drifting at a slightly higher percentage than in the past, and as adolescence is lengthening, they’re staying away from the church longer. As age of marriage is being delayed, having children is being delayed, so it’s just more years under the belt apart from God and full of the heartbreak and disappointment that comes from living your life apart from God.

How have your views of Church changed as you've become an adult? What makes you want to pull away? What makes you want to stay?

The Tension of Christmas

How do you embrace holiday fun without forgetting sacred tradition?

A couple of years ago, a guy in California made headlines for his Christmas display. It depicted Jesus. Holding a shotgun. And Santa on the ground, presumably killed by the shotgun-toting Jesus. The man, Ron Lake, called it “art” and said it was about Jesus defeating commercialism. Naturally, the man’s neighbors were up in arms about the display, saying it wasn’t appropriate, especially given the display’s proximity to a school bus stop. It became a freedom of speech versus protection of children issue. It also tapped into a deeper conundrum felt by plenty of people—especially Christians—every Christmas. 

Each year, starting right after Halloween (or, if you’re a good person, after Thanksgiving), decorations, displays and church services start asking the question—who do you think Christmas is about? Jesus ... or Santa? 

It’s a question I’ve always wrestled with. The church tradition I belong to observes Advent and the church calendar, which means we don’t even sing Christmas carols until Dec. 24. The four weeks leading up to Christmas are supposed to be about waiting on God, remembering that He came once as a child and will return again in glory. It’s an amazing time of year—each Advent season, I find my faith strengthened and my heart quickened with the formal reminder of Christ’s promised coming.
But I also have a particular fondness for the other Christmas. The one with Santa. The one with reindeer, egg nog and giant lights that double as fire hazards. The one with the Rat Pack, horrifically awesome ornaments and Home Alone. In short, the Christmas Jesus apparently wants to kill with a shotgun. 

I know I’m not the only one—most everyone I know is both obsessed with the more kitschy side of Christmas while freely embracing the sacred side. So ... have we gotten it wrong? Is Christmas supposed to be about Jesus or Santa?

That’s Santa, Not St. Nick

This is usually the part of an article where the writer goes into an explanation of St. Nicholas—and I don’t want to belittle that. He’s a wonderful example and someone I will likely tell my future children about as the inspiration for the Santa they’ll see on TV (for a great thought on this, check out this article).

But I don’t love a bearded guy from the fourth century who dropped coins in socks. I’m inspired by him, but I don’t love him—at least, not in the same way I love a happily corpulent man with rosy cheeks who is the very embodiment of Christmas. 

I never believed in Santa Claus, at least in the sense most kids do. I never thought he brought presents or drove a sleigh or any of that stuff—I was, and remain, skeptical to a fault. But somewhere along the line, I became convinced the myth of Santa is more powerful than “real” and “unreal” would suggest. In a sense, I came to my belief in Santa as an adult.

Santa Claus, like all good myths, personifies much more than he seems to at first. Yes, he’s a jolly fat man who has questionable labor practices and skulks around in other peoples’ homes. But more importantly, he embodies all of the things we want to feel at Christmas. He represents that feeling we remember from childhood—maybe that feeling never even existed, but that doesn’t really matter. It’s the idea that there’s Christmas magic in the air, the idea of a hush falling over a sleepy household while sugarplums dance, the idea that there’s a deeper story at work. Santa Claus represents a nostalgia for something that likely never was, but that somehow taps into a deep longing within us.

Everything that stems from that part of Christmas is an effort to claim it. There’s an echo of longing in Sinatra’s “Christmas Waltz,” just as there’s a particular childlike wonder in a well-decorated Christmas tree. There’s no cynicism, sarcasm or irony in the wonder of Christmas—it’s a longing for simplicity, for the security and unsullied awe of a childhood Christmas. Santa and all he represents suggests we’re all searching for something, and perhaps the trappings of a “secular” Christmas are hints of that something.

Jesus Without a Shotgun

But what about the real reason for the season? Yes, I’m talking about Jesus (but not the shotgun-toting version). 

The weeks leading up to Christmas are supposed to make us empathize with the anticipation that the people of Israel felt as they awaited the Messiah—and these weeks are designed to make Christians anticipate the second coming of the Messiah. This time reminds followers of Christ that we can catch glimpses—small reminders—of the Kingdom of God. It reminds us that we’re living in a world that God has broken into. And it reminds us of the promises that He will one day set everything to rights.
If viewed in the right way, the myth of Santa can also serve as a sort of Advent reminder. The myth and magic of Santa's Christmas—and all the emotions of longing, joy and hope that surround that myth—offer hints of something deeper. Namely, what Santa embodies foreshadows the greatest Christmas Myth, the true Myth that fulfills all our Christmas wishes—the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

Jesus came with a love, a joy, a peace and a hope that’s only suggested at in our annual efforts to find security, innocence and wonder in the season. Our idea of Santa Claus stands in as a beacon for what we’re all looking for, deep in our bones—a search that culminates in the person of Christ. When viewed in that light, the myth of Santa stops being something Christians should be afraid of and becomes a true hint of where real hope lies. 

By Ryan Hamm 

Is There a Limit to Your Love?

When setting boundaries goes from healthy to harmful.

Great relationships are fulfilling.

Great relationships involve risk.

You can't have the first without the second.

Great relationships require that you be open to taking risks—risks of being misunderstood, of alienation, of someone being hurt by you as well. It doesn't mean relationships aren't worth the risks, for the good ones are. It is simply the price of the course. No pain, no gain.

The challenge is that people who have been burnt in a relationship often have trouble with risk. They get out of balance. Sometimes they insist on no risk and try to control the course of the relationship. This can actually be boring and unfulfilling. And sometimes they allow behavior that is unacceptable in the name of taking risks. In other words, they don't quite know the difference between risks that are worth taking and risks that are not worth taking. In order to move beyond boundaries and prepare yourself for openness and vulnerability, you have to clarify which risks are—and are not—worth taking.

Hurt and Harm

Can you tell the difference between when you are hurt and when you are harmed in a relationship? There is a gap between discomfort and actual damage to your emotional well-being. Discomfort may be acceptable but damage never is. The experience of pain may be the same, so it's sometimes hard to tell from that perspective. In fact, there may be less pain in a bad, harmful risk than there is in an acceptable risk. You have to look at different factors.

Here's the distinction: While hurt is the experience of something painful, it may not be damaging. But harm is different. Harm creates significant problems in the three primary areas of life. Let’s see how this plays out:

Withdrawal from other relationships. If your experience in the relationship affects how you relate to other people in a significantly negative way, this is a sign of harm. For example, suppose you fall in love. You were vulnerable with that person and took risks in the attachment. You let yourself depend on her and let her know you at a deeper level. Then you experienced a conflict, and it became unsafe to continue being emotionally open with her. If you are sad and discouraged about that, you have experienced hurt. Though not enjoyable, that is normal in a relationship. However, if you are now unable to reach out and let others in, isolate yourself from people and withdraw from support, that is harm. The difficult relationship caused damage that impacts your other relationships, and you need time and attention to heal.

Personal decline. Your personal life encompasses everything that happens inside your skin: your behaviors, how you feel about yourself, your emotional well-being and your habits. Taking the same example of falling in love, if the relational conflict results in any kind of sustained personal decline—for example, depression, significant weight change or incapacitating self-doubt—that is harm.

Diminished performance. Performance has to do with the doing aspects of life, the tasks and activities. Your job, career, financial life, home organization and time management are parts of the performance piece. Harm happens when you can no longer function at the same levels you did or find that you can start projects and tasks but can't finish them. Often, a person will experience problems in energy, focus, creativity or enjoyment of work.

Are you starting to see the difference between hurt and harm more clearly? Does it give you a better idea of the kinds of risks that come with connection and the kinds of risks that should never be taken? Here are some additional  examples to help make the difference crystal clear:

It is acceptable to have an argument, but not to be yelled at and with contempt.
It is acceptable to pick the wrong person, but not to let that person take over your life, thoughts and values.
lt is acceptable to open up to a person and feel bad if they become critical of you, but not to allow it to happen repeatedly.
It is acceptable to give up controlling the outcome of the relationship and where it will end up, but not to let the other person's choices be the only choices.

When problems happen a relationship, keep pushing through hurt, as long as you are committed to the relationship. But pay attention to when things cross the line into harm.

Assess the Return on Your Relational Investment

Aside from looking at hurt and harm, ask yourself, "Is the relationship worth the time and energy I put into it?" Some relationships are, and some are not. You only have so much time and energy. You need to steward your time well just as you need to steward your finances well. When you buy stocks or invest in a business, you expect a return on your investment. The same is true in relationships; something good should happen—increased love, connection, intimacy, building a life together.

The clearer you are about what you want in a relationship, what you are willing to invest and how much may be too  much, the better off you’ll be. The line that you draw is the line between acceptable and unacceptable risk.

Move Past Generalization

"You just can't trust them" comes from a psychological concept called generalization. Generalization is the act of deriving principles from isolated experiences. The individual takes a few experiences of someone from one group and assumes that every person in that group is the same way:

"Men are unable to make an emotional attachment."
"Women are manipulative."
"Single men are self-absorbed."
"Divorced women are desperate."
"Sooner or later, people will let you down."

The reality, however, is that while there will always be some toxic people around, no group is 100 percent populated with untrustworthy individuals.

Consider generalization as a temporary boundary. It keeps you from harm and risk. It guards your heart. But it is ultimately not going to serve you well. So the best answer is to keep developing your own boundaries, your ability to say yes and no in love, and to be truthful. Then you will be confident in your abilities to take care of yourself in relationships, and you will enjoy getting to know those people you might otherwise have passed over.

Risk is unavoidable, but you can begin to distinguish between risks that hurt and risks that harm. And even if your experience has been harmful, do what you need to do to get past generalizations. There are a lot of good people in the world to connect with as you move beyond boundaries.

Taken from Beyond Boundaries by Dr John Townsend. Copyright 2011 by Dr. John Townsend. Used by permission of Zondervan. WWW.ZONDERVAN.COM. 

The War Over How The World Began

Exploring Christian perspectives on creation.  

Most people, Christians or atheists, are not content to hold competing and contradicting beliefs in separate compartments. We don’t want to have one set of beliefs when we study the natural world, another set when we decide how to vote, a third set when we decide how to spend our money and a fourth set for church. We want all the parts of our lives to flow from a unified, consistent set of beliefs.

Most importantly, Christians cannot simply separate science from religion because the Bible proclaims that God is sovereign over every part of life. The God who created the planets and the stars is also the God who inspired the Bible and who is personally revealed in human history. The God who made the sky and the ocean is also the God who commands us to act out of love rather than selfishness. The God who made the plants and animals is also the God who redeems us after we disobey His commands. The God who gave us the ability to study the world scientifically is also the God who guides us with the Holy Spirit as we seek to understand His written revelation. We cannot separate our study of God’s Word from our study of God’s world because both come from and point us toward the same God.

Where Christians Agree

When Christians discuss creation, evolution and design, it is easy to focus immediately on areas of controversy and disagreement. We think it is important to start by pointing out certain areas in which nearly all Christians agree. Christians generally agree about the fundamentals of God, God’s Word and God’s world in the five areas described below:

God created, sustains and governs this universe.

This truth is confirmed in the first line of the Apostles’ Creed, one of the ecumenical creeds of the Church that many Christians recite every week: “I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.” Christians believe that God created all things from nothing, bringing them into being through His Word, His Son (John 1:1-3). God continually sustains the whole universe, governing all creatures according to His providential care. 

The God who created this world also reveals Himself to humanity.

God has revealed Himself at various times and in multiple ways throughout history, including the written Scriptures and the Incarnation. As it says in the first verses of the book of Hebrews:

"In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days He has spoken to us by His Son, whom He appointed heir of all things, and through whom also He made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His being, sustaining all things by His powerful word. After He had provided purification for sins, He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty in heaven" (Hebrews 1:1-3 NIV).

The God who created this world is also our Redeemer.

We belong to God because He created us, but when humanity turned from God He bought us back. He redeemed us through the incarnation, life, suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. 

The Bible is authoritative and sufficient for salvation.

God inspired its human authors and ensured that the Bible truthfully teaches what He intends. The Holy Spirit testifies in our hearts that the Bible’s message is from God, not merely human writing. Christians accept the sufficiency of the Bible for establishing our core beliefs and practices; all that we need to know for salvation is taught there. God certainly can use various means—including the natural world—to teach us new things. But these new things should be compatible with, not contradictory to, what God teaches in Scripture.

God is sovereign over all realms of human endeavor and has given human beings special abilities and responsibilities. 

Theologian Cornelius Plantinga puts it this way:

"God’s creation extends beyond the biophysical sphere to include the vast array of cultural possibilities that God folded into human nature. ... God’s good creation includes not only earth and its creatures, but also an array of cultural gifts, such as marriage, family, art, language, commerce and (even in an ideal world) government. The fall into sin has corrupted these gifts but hasn’t unlicensed them. The same goes for the cultural initiatives we discover in Genesis 4, that is, urban development, tent-making, musicianship and metal-working. All of these unfold the built-in potential of God’s creation. All reflect the ingenuity of God’s human creatures—itself a superb example of likeness to God."
—Cornelius Plantinga, Engaging God’s World, 2002.

Applying this idea to the natural sciences, we conclude that God has graciously given humans the ability and responsibility to study the natural world systematically. As with all human endeavors, we do it imperfectly. We must seek to do it as God’s imagebearers, in gratitude for God’s gifts.

Where Christians Disagree

Christians have always agreed about who created everything, but in the last few decades they have often disagreed about how God created everything. These disagreements are over two basic questions:

1. As we study God’s Word, what is the best way to understand passages that talk about God’s acts of creation?

2. As we study God’s world, what can we reliably conclude that it tells us about its history?

Some Christians describe themselves as young-earth creationists. They believe that the best interpretation of the book of Genesis is that the earth is only a few thousand years old and was shaped by a global flood. Young-earth creationists hold a range of views about how to interpret Scripture, the extent to which scientific data indicates a young universe and the extent to which it indicates at least an appearance of long history.

Other Christians describe themselves as old-earth creationists. Some believe that in the best interpretation of Genesis 1, the events on each day actually describe several long epochs of scientific history. 

Others believe that the best interpretation of the book of Genesis does not imply anything about the age of the earth one way or the other and that drawing conclusions about the age of the earth from Scripture is reading into it something it was never intended to teach.

Some old-earth creationists describe themselves as evolutionary creationists. They believe that the best understanding of the scientific data—in conjunction with the best interpretation of Scripture—implies that God governed and used evolutionary processes in the unfolding of creation. 

Other old-earth creationists describe themselves as progressive creationists. They believe that science and Scripture both indicate that God used not only natural processes but also some miracles along the way, particularly in the history of life. Arguments for Intelligent Design are usually, though not always, used to support versions of progressive creation.

Because of these disagreements among Christians, a number of churches, denominations and organizations have affirmed that Christians can and do hold a variety of views on origins—each motivated by a sincere desire to be faithful to God and to Scripture—and that a range of views falls within the bounds of Christian belief. 

Rather than placing theology over science or science over theology, remember that God is sovereign over both. The Holy Spirit can guide us to new wisdom and understanding of both. If God uses Scripture to teach something about the natural world, then Christians must listen. If God uses our experiences, including facts learned from science, to improve our understanding of Scripture, then Christians must listen. Science should not cause us to throw out part of the Bible or to interpret it in a way that conflicts with the rest of Scripture. On the other hand, if a passage can be interpreted in several ways, all of which are consistent with the rest of the Bible, then God might use science to help us reach a better understanding of that passage. God created the world, and God inspired Scripture. Our goal should be to listen to what God is telling us from both sources.

Reprinted with permission from Origins (c) Faith Alive Christian Resources, November 2011. To order a copy of this resource please call 1-800-333-8300 or visit our website www.faithaliveresources.org.

What about you—what do you believe about creation? How have both faith and science contributed to this conclusion?