Speculating on Jesus: Why Should I Care?

In yesterday's post, I referenced a recent survey that indicated that while the vast majority of people in America believe that Jesus was a historical figure, we have vastly different opinions on what he was actually like. The good news is that, even in a post-Christian America, very few people are questioning the historicity of Jesus insofar as he was an actual person who walked the earth. This means that the challenge for the Christian has much more to do with who he was, than that he was, since the second piece is taken as a given for the vast majority of people we will come into contact with. This challenge, though, has at least three parts. The first one is why anyone should even care. Jesus being a historical figure is one thing; that he has any relevance to my life or that I should have any concern over who he was, taught, or did, is a different thing altogether.

I mentioned that, as simply a historical figure, most people have as much knowledge about–and interest in–Jesus as we do any other historical character we might name. Our functional knowledge of Jesus is about the same as our knowledge of Alexander the Great or Napoleon Bonaparte. We know their ethnicity, a rough sketch of what they did, and that's about it. As far as learning more about them, well, that's for the historians. Why should we feel any differently about Jesus?

The main reason I think we should care is because the chief difference between Jesus and most other historical figure is that Jesus is one of a handful of people in history who made universal claims. What Jesus claimed to be true wasn't just true for people in his day, but was presented as true for everyone, in all times, in all places. This is typical for other religious teachers, as well: Muhammad, Gautama Buddha, etc. Their claims transcend their historic footprint. Even here, though, Jesus is different.

The claims that Jesus makes are more than just universal truth statements; they are universal truth statements about himself. Jesus didn't just claim to have a message from God, he claimed to be God. Jesus didn't just claim to have the secret to transcending the natural order of life and death, he claimed to be the secret to transcending the natural order of life and death. Jesus didn't just claim that there was a message of "getting right with God", he claimed that he was the message of getting right with God. Jesus didn't just preach; he practiced what he preached by prophetically claiming that he was going to die and rise again, and then dying and rising again. This is why Jesus stands out. He didn't just claim that he had a new way of religious living figured out; he claimed that the was the new way of religious living, and called people to put their confidence in him rather than in their own efforts. In other words, Jesus stands out from all other historical figures because he was one of the small group of people making universal truth claims; he stands out even further from that group, because the claims he was making were about himself. His teaching was so radically different from even the teachers in the same historical category, that it should cause us to go deeper than his historical existence.

The second reason, however, has to do with the people around us everyday who have been impacted by this message. Even if all we think about Jesus is that he was a historical religious figure who taught people how to live "right", it would be difficult to deny the power of his teachings. Tens of billions of people in the last two thousand years have made it a point to attempt to live according to his teachings. Countries were built on these principles, or in defiance of these principles. The message–even if it is only a self help message–continues to inspire people to live selfless lives. I would argue that Jesus teaching were significantly more than just a self-help message, but even if they aren't, the very fact that so many people throughout history have said that his claims are the basis for their worldview ought to be enough to get us to inquire what it was that he actually said. That should be enough, I think, to at least take a cursory glance at his life and teachings and see if they have any relevance to our life today.

One final thing that may help with this first challenge, specifically for those who claim to already believe in Jesus. Do you have any desire to inquire further into his life and teachings? There are a lot of people who claim to believe in Jesus who have little to no idea what he actually said, taught, or did. They have accepted Jesus based on the historical claim that he existed, but have not actually considered what it is that they actually believe about him (or what he believed about himself.) If that's the climate of the church–where we, functionally, believe that Jesus existed but have little interest in finding out more about him–we should not be surprised when that is the climate of culture as well. Perhaps if you want the people around you to be interested in who Jesus is or what he said, the place to begin is taking a serious interest yourself!

Speculating on Who Jesus Actually Is

Jesus Christ has made a cameo in hundreds of pop culture places, from The Da Vinci Code to South Park. But, although the character of Jesus has certainly been fictionalized, satirized and mythologized over the centuries, the vast majority of Americans still maintain that he was a historical figure. More than nine out of 10 adults say Jesus Christ was a real person who actually lived (92%).

Barna Research Group, April 1, 2015. https://www.barna.org/barna-update/culture/714-what-do-americans-believe-about-jesus-5-popular-beliefs#.VSQ4Bc7maow

That Jesus was a historical figure who actually existed is a difficult fact to deny. My guess is that the reason a very small percentage claimed that he didn't exist is either because of apathy or ignorance; either they don't really care one way or the other, or they simply don't know and have just assumed that he was made up. In any case, Barna's recent survey results reveal that Jesus' existence will probably not need to be argued when you talk to your skeptic friends about Jesus.

That said, Barna's survey also revealed that people have very different ideas about what Jesus was like. Differing opinions on topics ranging from Jesus divinity to whether or not he ever "sinned" (insert your own definition of sin here) mean that even though we mostly agree that Jesus existed, we don't all agree on what he was actually like. This is fertile ground for the Christian to do some thinking: how do we know what Jesus is like? How can I be sure that what I think I know about Jesus can actually be trusted? If Jesus really existed, what type of a person was he?

The first challenge the Christian will face is moving people from the point of acknowledging Jesus existence to actually inquiry of what he was about. This is a bigger challenge than it seems. You might wonder to yourself why in the world someone wouldn't care what Jesus was really like, but insert any other historical figure into the discussion and ask yourself...do you care? How many history books have you read recently? How many historical figures have you inquired about? The truth is that most people in America know approximately the same number of facts about Jesus as they do about Napoleon or Alexander the Great. We know their nationality, a little bit about their story and what they did, and that's it. Not only do we have a very limited knowledge of who they actually are, but most of us feel no pressing need to dig any further. Why should we feel any differently about Jesus?

A second challenge the Christian will face is how we actually go about finding out more about Jesus. The easy answer is "the Bible", and more specifically, the four accounts of Jesus life, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Simple enough on the surface, but it raises a third challenge: how do we know that those accounts can be trusted? After all, we know going in that the Gospel writers were clearly biased. The writers were either one of Jesus twelve disciples themselves (Matthew, John), a close follower of Jesus and probably very close acquaintance of a disciple of Jesus (Mark with Peter), or a very close acquaintance to the famous Apostle Paul (Luke).

These three challenges become the central challenges for the Christian looking to engage the world with what they actually believe, and I think ought to be of primary importance to anyone who claims that Jesus actually exists. First, why should I care about Jesus? Second, where do I find out more about him? Third, how do I know that those accounts can be trusted?

Unless we have an answer to those questions, I think that whatever we believe about Jesus will be little more than speculation.

Why the Resurrection Matters

Another Easter Sunday has come and gone and with it, the temptation to let the "Resurrection" fade into the background much the same as Christmas fades into the past and we are left paying off our credit cards from over-celebration. We don't celebrate in the same fashion for Easter. Despite the attempts to commercialize it with the Easter Bunny, new outfits, and candy, it still remains primarily a religious holiday that isn't recognized by people other than those who identify with Christianity. Yet the temptation to move on with our lives and compartmentalize the truths of the resurrection is just as much of a temptation as it is to throw out the wrapping paper and mentally move on to the next big event.

Easter is fundamentally different than Christmas, however. While the events of Christmas are incredibly important and contain a great deal of doctrinal truth, they don't stand on the same level as the events of Easter. In fact, the events of Christmas have no value whatsoever apart from Easter, since the death and resurrection of Jesus are the culmination of everything that he came to accomplish. If they never occurred, then his birth, life, and whatever else occurred would still have been interesting, miraculous, potentially life-altering even if we chose to use Christ's life as an example, but not near as important as they are because of the events of Easter weekend. I'm not sure if the importance of the resurrection can be overstated: if it doesn't happen, there is no hope, there is no ultimate salvation, and practically there is no foundation for the church. The first two points are theological in nature and I won't address them here. It is that last point–the practical necessity of the resurrection for the church–that I want to address.

As we examine the broader culture (at least of America) it's easy to notice that there are some very sharp disagreements regarding how we view various cultural issues. Pick any issue you'd like, and chances are you can find not just diverse views on the subject, but polarizing views. Our tendency is to believe that these disagreements are themselves the problem, but they aren't. They are a symptom of the problem. The real problem, as it turns out, is that we are standing on fundamentally different foundations.

Imagine that the two of us were standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, and we began to describe to one another what we see. To a certain extent, our descriptions may seem similar. We might describe a deep gorge, the relative color of the dirt and clay, the vastness of what we are viewing. As we go further in our descriptions, however, they inevitably begin to diverge. One of us argues that the canyon is a thousand feet deep, the other says it is only a couple of hundred feet. Perhaps we argue about the vegetation, or what it is that makes it so beautiful, or how the sun sets–or rises–on the opposite end of the canyon. Soon we would find that our disagreement is so sharp, that it is impossible for us to figure one another out. We end up completely polarized, convinced that the other person is a lunatic.

Of course you may have already figured out the problem. We are viewing the same canyon, but from two different vantage points. Where we are standing makes all the difference in recognizing why it is that we disagree on our perspective. Once we understand that we are not even fundamentally seeing the same things, we can come to terms with the fact that we disagree.

This is why the real issues of culture have nothing to do with our perspectives on the issues, and have everything to do with the foundation on which we are standing. Christians in particular have taken for granted that for the vast majority of the history of the United States, most of the population stood on a similar foundation. Call it "Judeo-Christian values" or whatever you wish, but really it was just the foundation that there was a God and that we could find out more about him in the Bible. I don't assume that the entirety of the country was Christian, let alone religious, but at very least the foundation was roughly similar. Thus, if there were disagreements on certain subjects, they weren't extreme. We might be arguing about the color of the clay in the canyon, but at least we are looking at the same clay.

Unfortunately that foundation has shifted and the vast majority of culture is no longer standing on the same foundation. This is the effect of post-modernity that claims that there are no universal truths. One of the impacts of this was the supposed destruction of the meta-narrative, which is by it's nature a comprehensive truth claim. Of course the theory falls on it's head. Even saying that there is no universal truth is a comprehensive truth claim about how the world works, it simply shifts the responsibility for decision making to the individual, rather than the universal. Again, claiming that every decision is up to the individual is a universal claim. Thus the meta-narrative was not done away with, but simply changed, and as a result, we find that when we are describing what appear to be similar issues, they are not the same at all. Those of us who are Christians are standing on an entirely different foundation than those who are not-Christians, and vice versa.

This in itself is not a bad thing, it is just something that simply "is". If anything, it provides an opportunity for Christians to have more clarity about what it is that they actually believe. I also think that it should provide Christians more opportunity to have grace with skeptics, since we ought to understand that the issues is not a disagreement, per se, it is a foundational issue. We are not standing on the same footing. We aren't looking at the canyon from the same angle. I can't expect my skeptic friend to see the world from the same perspective that I do, unless we first understand where it is that we are standing.

All of this brings me back to the church, and my original point about the practical need to remember the resurrection. Over the past decade, at least, and perhaps longer than that, post-modernity has come into the church in a variety of ways. The easiest entry way has been to offer differing perspectives on traditional Christian perspectives. Some of those perspectives have been healthy and offered appropriate correctives in the church. Like all institutions (and individuals, I might add), when you have held onto a particular belief long enough, you typically end up abusing it in it's application. For example, the longer you believe you are a safe driver, the less likely you are to use your seat belt. The better you are at a particular activity–skiing, for example–the more likely you are to push the limits verging into the unsafe, even for an expert. The same goes for churches. What might begin as a helpful doctrine or tradition can end up being abused in the long run, in desperate need of correction and a reminder of where the application should begin and end. Other perspectives, however, have not been corrective in nature, but downright incorrect. As a seminary professor said, "the only corrective to bad theology is better theology." Unfortunately many of the critiques in the last decade have not been better theology, but just more bad theology from a different perspective. The pendulum might swing to embrace it, but it doesn't mean that we are any better off. Change for changes sake is not necessarily a good thing. So how do we combat these perspectives? The answer is the resurrection.

The resurrection provides Christians with the foundation on which unity can be built as a church, for at least two reasons. The first reason encompasses both Jesus death, and resurrection, which puts all Christians on the same plane. If Jesus death and resurrection are real, historical events that happened and on which Christianity is based, so that faith and confidence in those events is essential to being a Christian, then the very nature of them mean that all of us arrive into this new kingdom of God on the same train. No one gets in on their own power. No one is more righteous than another. In fact, we all have the same righteousness from the same savior and get in on the same ticket.

The second reason that the resurrection is necessary is that it proves that Jesus is the king of this new kingdom, and thus, he gets to set the expectations. I believe that one of the chief reasons that some of the sharp disagreements that the church has experienced with the culture have become sharp disagreements within the church itself is that many within the church have unwittingly shifted their foundation. This was more evident than ever in the week leading up to Easter when a variety of articles were published claiming to come from Christian sources, but as I examined them, I noticed that they weren't Christian at all. They claimed to have a similar value structure, but they so minimized the death and resurrection of Jesus that those two events were no longer the foundation on which they based the rest of their so-called "truth". Realizing that meant that I could accept their conclusions at face value–as the author's opinion–but also realize that they weren't Christian perspectives, even though they claimed to be. It has become increasingly easy for people in the 21st century church to disagree with Jesus, or try to change his words to fit our meaning, and the reason that we can do it is because we, essentially, deny the power of the resurrection or take it to mean something it doesn't mean. The resurrection is not hope just for hope's sake; it is hope because it revealed that Jesus really was who he said he was. Jesus really was God incarnate who had the ability to defeat death on our behalf. The power of the resurrection wasn't limited just to him; it's a power that all who put their faith in Christ have access to. Far from being just some nebulous, ill-defined hope, it is a hope that very clearly identifies Jesus as God of very God, and King of every King. In other words, if we believe the resurrection is true, we don't get to disagree with Jesus.

As believers, then, the starting point for our unity must be the resurrection of Jesus. This is what gives him His claim to authority, as well as clarifying for us why we don't get to be authoritative in our own right. The Resurrection is the foundation on which the Christian views the rest of the world. When we stand on the power of the Resurrection, then we may still discuss and dialogue about what, exactly, Christ believed, but we don't get to disagree with Jesus or the rest of the Bible, or interpret it to fit our cultural milieu or cultural understanding at the time. Rather we stand on the authority of Christ himself.

If there are sharp disagreements in the church, I am much less interested in knowing what you think about the disagreement, and much more interested in knowing what you think about Jesus. Is he the risen Lord, or not? If he is, then you and I can both submit our opinions to his. If he isn't, then we're not on the same foundation to begin with, and I don't care much that you disagree with me. We'll never agree on what the canyon looks like so long as we are standing on different lookouts.

This is why we can't put Easter in the past. Easter Sunday, and what it represents, are not just a day in the life of the church calendar, but the foundation on which every day must be built. To the extent that we remember that, we'll have a united church. To the extend that we forget it, we'll be divided. It might really be as simple as that.

Entering the Fray

We are more informed than ever. We are more confused than ever. Let's call that "the fray".

My wife and I had an interesting conversation a couple of days back where she recounted what a 50-something grandmother told her about being a parent. It was one of those "back in my day" comments, but it offered a lot of insight. It had something to do with the amount of stress modern parents tend to be under while they are raising kids. It was something she hadn't experienced when she raised her own children.

It's not hard to figure out why that's the case. In days gone by, there were only a few sources of input; a few "experts" you would turn to for your parenting: Your mom. Your aunt. Your grandma. Your older sister. If you were an over-achiever you'd read a book or two. And that was it. Today, everybody and their mother thinks they are an expert on parenting, and there is no shortage of ways to be exposed to their opinion. At any given moment you have too many kids and too few, keeping them alive and killing them by the food you feed them, fostering attachment issues or loving them unconditionally, and protecting them or sheltering them. Of course it's not just parenting.

Today I spent an hour reading articles related to the recent bill passed in Indiana related to religious freedom. I expected partisan commentary as it relates to the content of the law, which may not make it any easier to figure out what to think about it, but at least I knew it was coming. What I didn't expect as much, and what was much more frustrating, was the mixed bag of supposed "experts" commenting on what Christians believe about politics and gay marriage in particular. Most of the articles–the mainstream ones, at least–were incendiary at best and downright incorrect at worst. They painted some negative portrait of the Christian perspective, only so that they could then articulate their view, the truly Christian one, the one that Jesus himself would surely have. It's no wonder we're confused. Everyone's an expert.

But then who am I? And why would I want to enter into that fray, as one more voice? Who cares anyway? And won't the only people who appreciate my input be the ones who already agree with me?

Of course, that's the nature of the "everyone's an expert" approach. Once everyone is an expert, no one is (you can say the same thing about superheros according to Syndrome from The Incredibles.) And if no one is an expert, if no one has some objective credibility or expertise on an issue other than the fact that they posted something on the internet, then in the end I'll just go with whatever opinion feels right. Most of the time, the one that tugs at my emotions the most. It's no wonder we're not willing to live in the "truth and love" tension that is Christianity. Living in that tension hurts. Period. And we don't like to hurt.

The reason I write, personally, is because I hope that there will be a renaissance of Christian thinkers who are willing to live in that tension of love and truth. Let's not treat Christian truths like we can just widdle off what we don't like; let's not also assume that we can simplify them into pre-packed tweets that can be blasted out to our followers. Let's not assume that theology doesn't impact real life and real people. Let's not assume that if truth is hard, it must not be truth at all, or must be something that's secondary to "love". Let's not assume that truth is contradictory: that if you believe marriage is between a man and a woman you must not know any gay people, or at very least you hate them if you do. Let's not assume that getting to know what God really thinks is easy, or that we can reduce it to simply how we feel at any given moment.

So I occasionally enter the fray and attempt to offer something worth thinking about. I try to treat issues like they aren't one-sided. As if there are people on the other end of the truth. And of course, as if the truth can be known.

Life is not always Black & White

Over the past week or so a couple of articles have cruised past the ol' browser window having to do with the topic of "Death with Dignity" or "Doctor Assisted Suicide", depending on your extremist position. Much of it has to do with laws that are coming to the fore attempting to regulate if and when it is possible for a patient to choose to die on their own terms, as well as the recent national story of Brittany Maynard, who became the poster child for this issue when she decided to end her life before succumbing to terminal cancer. I wrote about this around the time that she made her choice and while I was admittedly thinking things through and not necessarily taking a definitive stance on the issue, I think that most of what I wrote still stands.

The thing that bugs me about debates like this is that choices in life are rarely black and white. There is rarely an exact right and wrong, specifically in matters that are beyond the scope of what is addressed in Scripture, if by exact we mean universally right and wrong. Choices like this require us to think through not just the choice itself but the implications of attempting to draw any universal conclusions.

The opponent of Death with Dignity (DWD from here on out, which I use not because I'm attempting to take a position, but because I think it's less inflammatory than Doctor Assisted Suicide) will argue that life, by it's very essence, is black and white. With that I agree. You cannot be both dead and alive at the same time; it is, by it's very definition, a black or white issue. But the question is not really as simple as life or death, no matter how much we'd like to be able to simplify it. If that were the case, and we could reduce any difficult decision to life or death, we'd find that most of the time we would be remarkably inconsistent. Reduce war to life or death. Reduce medical intervention to life or death. Reduce criminal punishment to life or death. Reduce birth to life or death. Even if we were to answer consistently on the side of life–not to lean that direction, mind you, but unequivocally, without fail, in a black or white manner to choose life over death–we would inevitably find some examples that do not fit so neatly into our categories. What if childbirth will lead to the death of the mother, for example? What if refusing to go to war means that some other innocents will die at the hand that we could have stopped? What if our aging parent received a fatal diagnosis, and they could either live for two months pain free and then die in their sleep, or extend their life for two years, albeit in substantial discomfort?

I'm not suggesting that there is a right and a wrong answer to any of those questions, but that is precisely the point. What I am suggesting is that if you choose one over the other without at least wrestling with the question, I do not think you are giving the question it's just due. You do not feel the weight of the decision. And if you do wrestle with them, as you should, then you must at least admit that the choice is not purely a "life or death" decision. One answer may not be the correct answer in every single case. It's easy to say that you would never go to war under any circumstances, until your family lives in the country being attacked.

Such is the case with DWD. There are implications to our choices that go beyond whatever our extreme position is. For example, should hospital resources, already in somewhat tight supply, not ever be taken into consideration? What is the difference between "pulling the plug" on a family member who may be breathing on their own, but unable to feed themselves, and giving a bit of medication to speed up the process? Aren't we choosing death in both cases? And of course many difficulties exists on the side of the pro-DWD crowd: at what point does DWD just becomes suicide, as the opponents rightly question? Surely there is a line. Surely there will be people who want to take the pill and end it all as soon as they are given a terminal diagnosis, even if they appear to be in full health. Is that justifiable?

Inasmuch as I think that the question must be wrestled with and the decision given it's just weight, I do think it's possible is that you may come to a conclusion that is always right for you. You may decide that you will never, under any circumstances, have a doctor give you medication that will end your life short of how it may have ended. I think that you can come to that decision personally, without having to say that it's true for every person in every circumstance. In fact, to have wrestled with the decision personally and come to a conclusion is commendable; I'd argue that if you have done that, you would be unlikely to mandate that same conclusion for everyone else.

This is ultimately to say nothing about whether a law that regulates the practice is good or right, nor, perhaps more importantly, what should go into any such law that was passed. What seems reasonable is that if DWD becomes a legal practice, it ought to be regulated, and probably very tightly.

To say at the end of the day, however, that one decision is right over the other in all cases is to assume a level of knowledge that you do not and will not ever have. That doesn't mean that laws shouldn't still be passed or rejected–one way or the other, we are always responsible for our decisions–but it does mean that in considering the law, we ought to avoid platitudes that alienate more than clarify. Maybe let's commend those who are willing to be in the gray area with us; after all, that's where we all live.

Unique & Useful

Several weeks (months?) ago I was asked to speak to a group of churches about what makes them unique. I had been assigned to study the question with a group of colleagues and after various conversations we had what I thought was a decent set of things that made this particular church group unique. As I prepared the presentation, this was the opening slide that I used.

The thing is, these churches were unique in certain ways that I considered to be very important. It was what they believed that made them stand out amongst the larger community of protestant Christian churches. Without going into much depth, one of their fundamental beliefs is similar to what this blog is about: the sovereignty of a good and creative God over all aspects of life. This particular group of churches had a rich history of encouraging families, building schools, health care facilities, and elderly residences, taking care of people from birth through death. The view was that the Christian life didn't just encompass a particular "doctrine", but that whatever that doctrine was had to actually work when it came into contact with real life. The challenge, however, wasn't their uniqueness, it was their usefulness.

One of the reasons that many of these churches were no longer particularly useful is because they had strayed away from their fundamental beliefs. There's an old turn of phrase, "methods are many, principles are few; the methods always change, the principles never do." The fact is that many of these churches had attempted to change the principles and keep the method. In cases where they did hang on to their principles, the method was outdated and irrelevant. In both cases, they were no longer useful.

It's possible to o good things but have a poor method that leads to a lack of usefulness. One of the big problems with a lot of well-meaning non-profit organizations is that while their work appears to solve a particular problem (let's say hunger), it actually fosters a greater dependency so that the person receiving the food never learns where to get it for themselves.

The reverse is also true: we can say and do the right things but if our hearts aren't in it, the whole thing crumbles. The sports news cycle has been filled for a couple days with the story of an excellent linebacker who decided that the reasons he was playing weren't worth the risk, so he retired after one year in the NFL. He was still excellent at the sport. His methods were good. But his principles (or reasons for being in) no longer made the sport useful for him. So he walked away.

There is a sweet spot in everything that we do where the reason or purpose behind what we do is in harmony with what we are actually doing. That's the position of being useful. Not only is our method or our work relevant and impactful, but it's actually making a meaningful difference at the same time.

Unique is not all it's cracked up to be. Usefulness is where it's at.

Should Non-Profits pay Property Taxes?

Mr. LePage, a Republican, has called nonprofits “takers, not givers,” and argues that they need to contribute for services like the police, firefighters and snow removal. His proposal, which is part of his $6.3 billion budget plan, would require organizations to pay taxes to municipalities if their properties were worth more than $500,000. They would pay taxes only on the property value over that threshold and get a 50 percent discount on the rate.

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/08/us/nonprofits-protest-a-tax-on-property.html?_r=0

When I came across this article last week, I had a mixed reaction. Non-profits in the United States have historically been excluded from the tax rolls, for a variety of reasons. Chief among them, I think, was the belief that an organization doing non-profit work was fundamentally for the public good, and therefore, they paid their "community dues" as it were with their work, rather than their taxes. In the past several years, that mindset has shifted (or begun to shift) dramatically. Instead of viewing non-profits as inherently good for the community, the tendency is to see them as "takers, not givers". Inasmuch as I'd generally disagree with that assessment, I'd also suggest that there are plenty of good reasons to assume that some non-profits are in the business of being out for their own good rather than the good of the public at large. Extremely high salaries for executives (or in some cases, Pastors), a wide range of what constitutes a "non-profit", and so on. Inevitably this has led to calls for change in terms of how non-profits are handled in terms of their taxes.

This is not a new issue, either. I've come across it in a variety of ways in the past ten years, starting when I was in Seminary. At the time, the town in which the Seminary I attended was located held hearings or a public forum regarding the Seminary's contribution to the public services like education, police, and fire safety. The particular issue in that case (if memory serves me correctly) was that there were dormitories on the campus that were often filled with families, and those families sent their kids through the public school system, but neither the Seminary nor the parents of the families paid anything in property taxes to support their use of the services. The Seminary wrote an open letter to the community describing several different ways in which they voluntarily contributed to the public fund as well as the general community through voluntary payments towards the police and fire department, as well as encouraging a significant number of teachers aids and volunteerism in the school. The argument that the Seminary was trying to make was that they contributed in other ways to the community, so that overall, in their view, they were pulling more than their weight.

Another way this has come up is in relation to how the tax code treats clergy-owned or church-owned housing units. Without going into much detail, a clergy person essentially receives a double benefit when they own a home. Any money that a clergy person receives that goes to their housing is not taxable for Federal Income purposes. (A common misconception is that this is therefore totally untaxed, which is untrue. This "housing allowance" is still subject to the Self-Employment tax of 15%, which includes social security and medicaid. Although there is a tax loophole that allows clergy to opt out of Social Security, in my experience, most do not take that option.) Nevertheless, the "housing allowance" is not subject to FICA, which is the first benefit. The second benefit is that, just like every other tax-payer, the clergy person can deduct the tax and interest that they paid on their mortgage. Again, historically clergy-persons were considered "good for the community" but as time has progressed, that view has changed. (I'd also suggest that the church has probably too quickly expanded the definition of "clergy", which has led to more regular church employees receiving those tax breaks.)

The third way I'll mention that this property-tax conversation comes up is in relation to church-owned buildings. Our church is currently in the process of moving into a leased commercial space, and as we were planning I had an off-the-record conversation with a town official in which he told me that, as long as we were leasing it, we wouldn't have a problem. If we were to purchase it, however, the process might be dragged out. The reason? If we purchased it as a non-profit, it would be taken off the tax rolls, and the town wasn't willing to give up that extra income. Our story isn't unique, either. I've probably heard from at least ten different churches who all expressed a similar story: they wanted to purchase something, but the town wouldn't allow them to, because it would mean a loss in tax revenue.

My mixed feelings on this particular article come down to several factors.

First, I really have no idea how much revenue would be raised by this proposal. At what point does the revenue earned offset what will certainly be a net-loss for the non-profit community? The proposal in Maine doesn't tax all non-profits, just those who own property valued at over 500,000, and then only half of the normal rate at any valuation over that half-a-million mark. How many non-profits will be included in that? And what kind of non-profits? My guess is that most or at least many churches have a property value of 500,000 and higher. Educational institutions certainly would be included. There was a food pantry mentioned in the article, although I'd imagine that must be an outlier. So then I wonder, is it really just that we want to tax churches and educational institutions?

Second, as I mentioned, there is a part of me that understands the perception that the non-profit or church world is all about their own gain. Unfortunately, the non-profit/church world includes people who are going to abuse the system. My hope and experience is that those who would do that are a very small minority, but they do exist, and in the socially connected world, those minorities often end up being the loudest. The fringe ends up defining the rest of us. While I understand that dynamic, I don't think it defines the community as a whole and so I don't think that non-profits being "takers, not givers" is ultimately true, and therefore is not a good reason to justify a property tax. There might be a reason. It's just not that.

Third, there is also a part of me that feels like there are certain cases where the church would have more credibility in the public square if they were financially invested into it. One of the reasons that I prefer to purchase my own home, rather than live in a church-owned parsonage, is because then I pay property taxes just like my neighbor. That gives me a voice in the community that would otherwise be disingenuous, like when I'm at a barbecue with my neighbor and we're all complaining about how high our taxes are. I can only commiserate in theory, unless I'm on the hook for the same bill he is.

The bottom line is that this isn't a cut and dried issue, as most people probably assume. We need to think through the issues. Are non-profits good for the community? If so, does that mean they should be exempt from property taxes? I don't know if I agree with the Maine proposal, but I'm certainly not afraid of the discussion.

Vision, Leadership, & Teamwork

I don't like meetings.

Actually, let me rephrase that.

I actually enjoy meetings. I just don't like what they do to people.

Meetings give the impression of valuable work, when nothing is actually getting done. They give the attendees the nspiration, but often that inspiration never generates into the perspiration required to actually accomplish the mission. 

Early on in our church planting adventure, there was a weekly (weekly!) meeting of leadership to discuss what was happening in the church and strategize for the future. Those meetings were never dull; it's one of the benefits of enjoying the company of the people you work with. Unfortunately it also gave the impression that a lot was getting done when in reality, almost everything we wanted to do was stuck in committee. A lot of good ideas were getting thrown out, but nothing was actually being done when the meeting was over.

That culture tends to attract the type of people who want to be in "leadership", but weren't leading anything, and in many cases, didn't want to lead anything. They just wanted to be at the meeting, because the perception was that this was where the "power" was generated. If they were at the meeting, they'd have input, and input equalled influence.

Someone said once that "culture eats strategy for lunch". That is, you can have the best strategy in the world, but your culture is going to be the dominant force that will ultimately dictate what you can get done. Anyone leading an organization knows how difficult it is to change the culture of the organization. Yet that's what we needed to do right from the get go. Meetings couldn't be the pinnacle or the destination of our work; they were more like the rest stop on the side of the highway.

Imagine your leadership team as a caravan of vehicles all headed towards a destination down the highway. A meeting is like the rest stop. They are necessary. Sometimes you need to make sure that the caravan of vehicles is all relatively close together so you didn't lose one another. It is good to catch up and make sure no one accidentally took an exit ramp since the last meeting, and make sure that no one is so far ahead that they aren't really a part of the caravan anymore.

Meeting based cultures are like the caravan that gets stuck at the rest-stop and keeps going inside to check the map. They may have the map memorized. They know where they've been, they know where they are, they know where they are going. But they never move.

We needed a leadership based culture. A leadership based culture is the caravan on the highway that only stops at rest-stops to make sure that the group was all still together, that they were all still headed in the same direction, and that no one was too far ahead or too far behind. In other words, the eal work gets done outside of the meeting. That was the cultural change. Unless you were doing work outside the meeting, you really didn't need to be at the meeting. If you weren't a part of the caravan, there was no need for you to stop and interface with us about the direction we were headed.

In any event, that change took some time, but now we have a leadership team that understands that the real work of ministry doesn't happen in the meeting. It happens in the nitty-gritty of daily relationships; the stuff that happens between the meetings. As our church has grown, that change in thinking becomes essential. Firstly, there is simply more ministry to be done. More people means more needs. The only way that those needs can be met is if you have leaders capable and passionate about their area of ministry. And secondly, the bigger the church and the more needs, the less time that I as the pastor have to dedicate to any one area. There is a divergence between my time and ability and the needs of the church. Other leaders need to step up.

Last night, we had our monthly ministry-leadership meeting, and I reminded them of three things that make the system work. Vision, Leadership, and Teamwork.

Vision means that we are all seeing the same thing. As the lead pastor, that falls on me to make sure that what I see is what we all see. In our case as a church, that means a radical and intense focus on visitors and new families who have been attending. This is necessary for us as more and more people join our church, but also necessary if we expect more and more people to join. We constantly need to be asking, "how does a new person view this thing?" "How does a new person feel about this?" "Does a visitor at Restore feel comfortable?" Each of us play a role in making sure that happens so that when a new person comes into Restore, they see the same thing wherever they turn or whatever leader they turn to. "This is a church who loves Jesus. This is a church who loves me."

Leadership means that we steward our position well. It means moving the ball forward. It means taking ownership. It means taking responsibility and having authority. it means stewarding our position well, so that if we ever have to turn it over to the next guy or gal, they can pick up where we left off. It means that we aren't just concerned with getting the job done now, but ensuring that we can get the job done months or years down the road when instead of 200 people we are dealing with 300 or 400. Have we been stewarding our influence and position in such a way that ministry can continue, even if we cannot?

Teamwork means understanding our position as part of a team. We are not lone rangers. We are not silos of ministry. Everything that we do impacts and affects someone else on the team or someone else in the church. If the team decides that we are going to use a particular church software to streamline our ministries and make them more efficient, it requires that everyone play their part in making that happen. For one person to be apathetic about it means that someone else will have to pick up the slack. We simply can't do our jobs alone; we need one another if we are going to have the healthiest church or organization possible.

I think one of the reasons that more churches don't move to a leadership-based culture and instead are comfortable with a meeting or committee-based culture is because a leadership-based culture requires trust in your ministry leaders. It requires you to give away authority and give them the authority that is commensurate with their responsibility. It requires you to let go of some stuff. It requires that you let people take risks and sometimes fail. It means not knowing what is going on at all times.

It's also freeing and it means that stuff gets done and the caravan keeps moving forward towards the same destination.

And every now and again, we get to stop at the rest area and stretch our legs, laugh, and have a quick meal before we head out again on the journey.

Loving Others

A notification flashed across my iPhone this morning from a pastor's group I am a part of. The question that had been posed and was now sitting on my screen was how to address a "seeking" couple that was visiting the church but had questions about a particularly difficult cultural situation. In this case, the situation was "homosexuality", but it could have been anything. The pastor wanted to know what he should say and how he should address it.

A few thoughts went through my head as I considered what I would say to him if I responded. The first was, "what do you actually believe about the subject?" My guess is that my pastor friend already knew what he believed, or at least thought he knew what he believed, but when the question is actually posed by a real actual human rather than as a theoretical concept, stuff gets real.

I want to interject and interrupt myself for a moment, because I want to say that I did not read any further than the question, and I did not get an explanation or backstory or any details about what this particular pastor knew or didn't know or thought or didn't think. That said, there was something about the wording that made me think that this person perhaps hadn't through through what he actually believed when the rubber actually met the road; when his theology met his humanity. The word that struck me was the description of the inquisitors as "seekers".

I knew what he meant. "Seeker" is church lingo for someone who is seeking God in some fashion. They are typically "spiritual" but not "religious". They may have been raised in the church, see value in Christianity, but aren't entirely sure how to mesh what they think they believe with what they think the church believes. Often times a seeker has a particular question in mind; something that is their litmus test. For one man who visited our church, his question was predestination. He wanted to believe in God, but couldn't believe in a God who predestined people to Hell. He asked me what I thought on the way out of church, and I had to answer an incredibly complex question in just a couple of minutes with very little understanding of what was behind the question or where he was coming from. When you are talking to a "seeker", the tendency is to frame your response in a way that softens or mutes the difficult edges of your answer. We convince ourselves that the person isn't ready to hear the truth, or that the truth might offend them, and we wouldn't want that! We don't want to be the person who shoves them from "seeker" status back into "lost" territory. We better make sure that our answer is true, but not so true that it is offensive.

Oftentimes our responses in those scenarios end up being so ambiguous that they leave the person on the other end feeling like they got an answer, but not being totally sure what it was. I was watching an episode of Parks & Recreation the other day where the always-positive Chris played by Rob Lowe had recently broken up with Anne, one of the main characters. The problem was that the break-up was spun in such a positive way that Anne didn't realize that he had dumped her. I wonder how often my answers to these difficult questions so ambiguous or spun so positively that the person on the other end walks away thinking that I may have said something entirely different than what I intended.

What my pastor friend was really asking was, "How do I tell these people what God really believes about homosexuality without offending them and turning them away?" I think that's a legitimate question, but I don't think it matters whether or not the people are seekers, or whether they have been followers of Jesus their entire lives and are only just now having to figure out what God really thinks about this as it becomes a more common cultural question. Instead, I think that the real question that we have to ask ourselves is this: do you really love these people?

It strikes me that Jesus doesn't turn away from difficult questions, and he doesn't soften the blow of the truth that is in his response. Sometimes, people turned away because of it. Other times, they stuck with him. Here is the key: it was never their status (lost, seeker, found, whatever), and it was never their response (turning away or sticking) that guided his answer. It was always truth embedded and presented in love. When Jesus answered a question truthfully, he knew full well that he loved the person he was talking to. That's why he answered with such poignant truth. It was because he loved them.

I had to have a difficult conversation with someone once related to this topic. The first thing I did was ask the question: what does the Bible actually say? What do I actually believe? What does God actually think? This is what it means to love God, at least in part. It means that I actually care about what He thinks, and not just what I feel. But then, ultimately, the rubber meets the road and the theology of what God says meets the humanity and the emotion and the spirit of the person sitting right in front of you who has asked, "what does God think about this?" My pastor friend knew the right answer, but he wasn't sure that he knew the right response. My question would be, "do you really love them?"

When we really love the person we are responding to, to whatever degree our love can be totally genuine, that love will shine through in our response. I'm not telling you what God thinks about an issue to prove that I'm smart, or to prove that I can one-up you, or to belittle you or make you feel bad about yourself. I'm telling you what God thinks because I love you and He loves you and because He loves you and I love you I believe that there will be more joy in the truth of what God says than there will be if I just tell you what you want to hear, or if I couch my answer in such fluff that you leave without being entirely sure what God actually thinks. Love doesn't mean we always agree. Love doesn't mean that we always give the easy answer. Love means that we can give the honest answer, even when it hurts.

I said this to the Elders of our church a while back when we had one of these difficult questions come up and we had to respond, even though we knew that the reason the person was asking is because they were putting out their little litmus test to see if we believed in a God that they could believe in. I said, "if it is not difficult for us to respond, then we are not being Elders." Responses to difficult questions are not filled with pride; they are filled with love. It ought to matter to us when we give an answer to someone that we know might cause them to leave the church or leave the fold of God. Yet we know that it would hurt more, and be more harmful, to neglect what God said, or to answer ambiguously, just for the sake of harmony; just so that we don't rock the boat.

So yes, the question is, "what do you actually believe about the subject?" But then, before we respond, we need to ask ourselves, "do I really love this person like Jesus loves them?" If so, then we respond in truth, embedded and presented in love, not ambiguity.

Feel Good Faith and Thin Christianity

Most of life happens on a pendulum. I don't mean life as in the living and breathing essence of who we are, but I mean life, generally. Our worldview, our culture, and societies values.

A couple of things came up yesterday that started me thinking about this. The first was that a basketball player at a Division 1 college quit the school and will be transferring next year or as soon as possible. He was a starting player, and he quit mid-way through the season. His rationale? From what I understand (this was second hand delivered to me), the locker room was a disaster. Racism, drugs, alcohol abuse, sexuality, and on and on. Not that this kid was a prude. But at a certain point, it becomes too much.

I commented to the person telling me that this is what we can expect if we decide as a culture that value judgments can be made by the individual. What boundaries are we willing to set? Where are the lines that we draw? And then, on whose authority do we set them or draw them? It might be the institution itself (in this case, a University), it might be the government, or it might be something else, but at the end of the day someone has the authority to set the boundary points and effectively declare that this is as far as they are willing to go. As long as it is the individual, then functionally, we have declared that "no boundary marker" is the real boundary marker.

Setting it based on the authority of a human institution typically doesn't fare much better. This is precisely what causes the pendulum shifts in our culture. Most human institutions can be changed either by popular opinion, by uprising, by votes, or in many modern cases simply by the subjective opinion of appointed judges. If we don't like the boundary marker that a particular institution has set, there is typically some way to change it. And since most of us are not overly prone to moderation, our views tend to go from one extreme to the other. We go from prohibition to license in a few generations; give it a generation or two more, and we might see the pendulum swing back.

The other conversation I had related to Christianity in the first century. A friend is preaching on the book of Revelation; I am preaching on the book of Acts. A commentary on Acts that I was reading pointed out that the way to really understand Acts, or to really understand Revelation, was to read them together and see that they are talking about the same thing from different perspectives. Acts is the historical narrative; Revelation is the spiritual one. One of the descriptions is on this side of the curtain; the other describes what we cannot see, unless it's "revealed".

I shared it with my friend and he mentioned some of what he was reading in terms of the persecution of the early church and the heinous measures that the Romans would be willing to go to either in the name of sport or simply torture. It raised an important question for us to consider: how many people would still be in our churches if they knew that simply being there could get them killed? It was sobering to think about, not just for the people in the pews, but for ourselves. Would we be willing to endure brutal torture for the sake of Christ? We both believed we would, but mostly just hoped we'd never have to truly find out.

It strikes me that the Christian faith is almost always counter-cultural, and when it isn't, it suffers. I don't mean this in the way that it's typically presented, however. For example, it's easy to say that Christianity is counter-cultural when sexual promiscuity, for example, is celebrated. This is the way that we typically mean that Christianity should be counter-cultural. I'm suggesting that it should also be counter-cultural even when the values of culture appear to be in line with the values of Christianity. That is, Christianity is ultimately just as counter-cultural when it is sexual suppression that appears to be valued, as could be argued was the case in the mid-20th century, and two married people having the same bedroom was considered too risqué for TV. For one thing, sex is a gift that Christianity and the Bible celebrate. It's not embarrassing, it's good. That alone ought to have been a counter-cultural message during that time.

The real reason that the church is counter-cultural, though, is not because we agree or disagree with the values of the culture. Again, that's what we typically mean when we say we are counter-cultural, but that should be a secondary focus. Even if the values of culture appear to be in line with the values of Christianity, what remains counter-cultural is the authority by which we set our boundary markers. This is what keeps Christianity from functioning on the same pendulum cycle as the rest of culture. Our authority is unchanging; it doesn't change based on our feelings or what we think about it. Culture can appreciate our values or think that they are old-fashioned and silly, but what makes us counter-cultural is that we define our values based on God's ideals and not based on human institution or our own perceived moral compass.

It strikes me that when culture appears to agree with the church, the church is less interested in being counter-cultural, and more interested in figuring out how we can be "mainstream" with what we believe. We try to squeeze Jesus into our already relatively moral existence. Our churches begin to look like malls, our worship events look like concerts, we give away material goods to get people to enter, we give slick, well-presented "message" that showcase our public speaking ability rather than the Word of God, and we convince people that Jesus can take their mostly-good life and turn it into a really-good life. I don't want to impugn a whole generation of churches, and I am being intentionally cynical for a reason. It appears to me that the fruit that we're seeing in the Christian church in America at large begs the question: what authority does a Christian actually follow? And if that authority is an unchanging, sovereign God, then why does it appear that his opinion changes as frequently as ours?

Again, there is much good that has been done through churches that might consider themselves "seeker-sensitive" or whatever other Christian nomenclature you might want to use. I can't help but wonder, though, whether one significant downside is that as long as our worship services look like something that we produced, or come from our own minds, whether we're not just feeding into the same old story that authority is found in human institutions. And if it's found in human institutions, if the church's authority comes from the mind of the pastor or the Elders who happen to be in charge at the time, then it's no wonder that many churches will change as quick and as soon as culture. It's also no wonder that many Christians can't fathom that being a Christian might mean that you disagree with some of what culture values; they've never been taught that what makes us counter-cultural is not necessary what we do, it's who we follow.

Imagine if the church took seriously who God was, and then took seriously who we are called to be not based on our opinion or culture's opinion of us, but simply based on God's love for us. What would that look like? 

It would be a counter-cultural church that based it's authority on God, and didn't make their decisions based on what man thinks about them, but based on who God is and what he has done. That would be a revolutionary church indeed.

Personal Conduct, The NFL, and Why We Need the Law

I don't know why I find the NFL's personal conduct policy–and lack of outstanding personal conduct–so fascinating. Maybe I view it as a problem that needs to be solved. Maybe it just happens to be what the sports guys are talking about on ESPN Radio. Whatever the reason, I've spent more than a little time pondering how they can fix the problem that they've made for themselves.

One of the challenges they are facing currently is that it appears they have no clearly spelled out guidelines for dealing with players who have been charged with a crime. Drug policy? Fine. But criminal policy? It doesn't look like it. Consequently, they are all over the map when it comes to handing out punishments. Some players can play through the trial until they are convicted. Others, like Adrian Peterson, has to sit down while the trial pans out. And then, even when an official punishment is given from the NFL, they have been wildly inconsistent.

So let me make a few points to help out the NFL, even though no one is asking.

First, focus on crime, not specific crime. Domestic abuse is wrong, and while it's terrible that the NFL had to deal with a couple of players who got caught, it's great that they've funded the PR campaign to end it. It would have been much more effective and genuine had they done it before their players got caught, but hey, you take what you can get. 

Here's a better option, though. It's not just domestic abuse. It's all crime. Let's stop picking and choosing which crimes are bad enough to get suspended for and maybe just put a general, "here's what happens if you break the law" clause in their contracts or in the NFL, generally. Let's not wait until there is a public outcry before we do anything about it. Decide that you aren't going to employ criminals, and start from there.

I understand that not all crimes are equal. Take that into consideration. But be clear about what you are really looking for: players who model good citizenship by following the law.

Second, clearly draw the boundaries. Who gets suspended, and when? Is it when they are accused of a crime? Or when they are indicted for a crime? When they are formally convicted? When does the NFL suspension and personal conduct policy kick in?

It certainly needs to be more formal than a simple accusation. Otherwise, you'd have people start making accusations just because they held a grudge. How about a formal, legal indictment? Now maybe we're on to something.

I think the conduct policy should kick in the moment they are formally charged with a crime. We need to respect the legal process and surely we don't want to go beyond it by assuming guilt when there may not be any. On the other hand, I'm perfectly comfortable telling a football player that if they are charged with a crime, they can't come in to work. The commissioners list seems like a reasonable option. The player gets paid, but they are not allowed to play. It is paid leave. The company is asking you not to show up for work while the criminal charges get worked out.

Third, put more pressure on the teams. Make the crime policy so stringent that teams will second guess drafting or signing a player who might potentially break the law. Obviously, you can't always predict when someone will break the law, but knowing that the policy is tight and strict means that, if I know that one of my guys could be ineligible to play football because of his off-the-field activities, I'm either not going to sign that guy, or I'm going to provide him with some life-training while he's a part of my organization so that he doesn't ever get taken off the field because of a stupid decision. 

Yes, players need to take responsibility for their own actions and choices, and it's not fair to blame someone else for decisions that they made. But as long as they think that they can get away with it, or that teams will help them cover it up rather than deal with the root of the problem, they are going to keep misbehaving. If you make it so that a football player can't get a deal with a team unless he's living by the rules, you might find that the player in question starts to shape up.

Fourth, be consistent. When you don't have a policy clearly spelled out, you're liable to operate out of fear or popular opinion. Roger Goodell seems to be doing both. After screwing up the Ray Rice punishment by giving him only a two game suspension, he evoked such outrage among the general populous that he went in the extreme opposite direction in the suspension that followed, and then did the same with the suspension of Adrian Peterson. In the case of the latter, he had theoretically already put in place the personal conduct policy which said that the first offense of domestic violence was a six week suspension. Apparently there was some wiggle room in there, but in general, six weeks was what was articulated. Peterson has already functionally served an 8 or 9 week suspension (with pay), and yet, he was further suspended for the rest of the season. (For the record, even if he got "time served" for those 8 or 9 weeks on the commissioners list, he still should have had to pay back a majority of the money that he earned during that time, since he would not have gotten paid the full amount had it been an official suspension.) My issue isn't that the suspensions are or aren't justified, good, bad, or whatever. It's just that they are inconsistent. If a first offense is six weeks, then make it six weeks every time. And if six weeks isn't enough, then change the policy. But don't arbitrarily hand out punishments without the ability to be consistent across the board.

The last thing I'll say is that playing football is a job for these players. As such, they should have very similar workplace employment policies that every other company does. But it's also more than a job. It's a privilege. These guys get to play the game that they love, and get paid a ton of money to do it. Good for them. For me, that sets the bar higher. If you really love this game, and you want the privilege to get paid to do it, that ought to be motivation enough to act like a normal person and not break the law.