Archive | October 2012

Let’s Be Real, Church

Superheroes.  They’re everywhere.  The two biggest movies from this past summer were based on comic books (The Avengers and The Dark Knight Rises).  People are fascinated with them for a variety of reasons.

My kids fell in love with Spider-Man long before any of them ever saw a movie, cartoon or anything featuring the famed wall-crawler.  Maybe it is just the flashy colors, or the way he swings on a web, but they would dress up in a Spider-Man costume and have me lift them into the air and help them pretend they are leaping from building to building (in actuality, it was door frame to door frame in our kitchen and dining room).  The only villain that opposed them was my aching back and arms when I couldn’t carry them any longer, their super-powers deflated.

Now, I used to think that the reason Batman wore a mask was because he was trying to hide his identity.  And I think that is partially true.  But Bruce Wayne had an ulterior motive as well.  I think he was trying to create a persona that would strike fear in the hearts of his enemies.  Imagine Batman without the mask for a moment.  He would be just a handsome, billionaire wearing a cape and some armor.  Not all that terrifying.  Maybe a little loopy and eccentric, but not very intimidating.  But when he puts on the mask, he not only hides the fact that he is Bruce Wayne, he becomes someone else entirely.  He becomes THE Batman.  Mysterious and elegant.  Almost supernatural.

So, this of course begs the question:  What kind of mask do you put on every day?  What is the “you” that you want the world (or…gasp…the church) to see?  We all wear disguises to some degree or another, so I am preaching to myself here as well.  And that leads us to a bigger question.  What kind of church are we that we can’t feel comfortable being ourselves?  Whether you lead worship on a stage with a guitar, or you are sitting in a pew welcoming a stranger, or feeding the poor at a homeless shelter, we are all called to love one another.  According to Jesus, it’s the second greatest commandment!  But how difficult is it to love someone you don’t really know?  Remember how it felt when you found out that someone deceived you or was not who you thought they were?

People can smell a rat.  When someone comes into a church for the first time, their antennas are up.  Many of them are looking for the fakers, the hypocrites and the prideful.  They’re often looking for an excuse to throw the church out with the bathwater.  But what would happen if the only people they met were real and genuine?  Warts and all.

We need to put on our Superman outfits.

What in the world does that mean?  Do you need to buy a red cape and blue leotards?

You see, Superman, is totally different from almost every other superhero.  His mild-mannered alter-ego, Clark Kent, who works as a reporter at the Daily Planet, doesn’t seem terribly worried about the perception skills of his friends and co-workers.  When he changes into his Superman costume he doesn’t put a mask on.  No need.  Why?  Because when he is Clark Kent he wears glasses.  But, ah, when he’s Superman he…wait for it…he takes off the glasses!  Bam!  Completely unrecognizable!  Sorry, that isn’t completely true.  He does let a little curly-q section of hair fall over his forehead as well.

The point is that it’s his alter ego that actually wears the mask.  It’s when he is in superhero mode that he is himself.  And people don’t see Clark Kent anymore.  They see the big red “S” on his chest and everything it stands for.

So what do people see when they see you?  Do they see Jesus shining from within you, or do they see your mask?  Are they blinded by the big red “S” on your chest that stands for “Savior” or are they trying to figure out if you’re someone else?

“We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.” ― Andre Berthiaume

The longer we wear a mask, the more we actually become like the person we are impersonating.  Not only is this disingenuous and unhealthy, but dangerous on a number of levels.

I recently read the book Why Jesus?  by Ravi Zacharias, one of my favorite Christian apologists, and he actually used another analogy from one of the recent Batman movies to explain this point even further.  He explained how, in the second Batman movie called The Dark Knight, Heath Ledger seemingly lost connection with his true self during the filming.  Heath played the role of the Joker– a twisted, almost demonic-like villain­– who was a self-proclaimed “agent of chaos.”  Ledger spent months preparing for the role in isolation in his quest to become the Joker, and he even kept a journal, writing down the thoughts of the Joker.  Months after filming ended, some of Ledger’s friends noted that the Joker was still inside him somehow and hadn’t let go.  This was real-life stuff.  Makes you wonder if he was acting in the movie at all.  Maybe he didn’t really deserve the Academy award for best supporting actor.  Maybe he was just being himself.  His mask had overtaken him.

The following is a quote from Heath not long before his untimely death.  He said, “There’s something about the metaphor to work behind a mask and from within a mask always gives you the license to do whatever you want or the freedom, free of feeling like you’re being judged or viewed and so I’m literally wearing a mask now which empowers me twice as much to kind of feel free and feel unrestrained here and it’s pretty exciting.”

Sources on the set of the film, including co-actor Michael Caine, expressed a sort of morbid fascination with how Heath could no longer separate himself from the Clown Prince of Crime.  In fact, it was apparent that the mask never came off during filming.  This is not unusual for actors.  Daniel Day Lewis, in preparation for the film Last of the Mohicans, lived off the land for six months, learned to hunt and fish, and even carved his own canoe.

No one knows for sure if the Joker killed Heath Ledger, but it is known that the line between Heath and the Joker became blurred.  Where the one began and the other ended was anyone’s guess.

Are you wearing a mask?  Have your lines become blurred?  Is your mask seemingly impossible to remove?

Life can be both beautifully wondrous and horrifically terrible in the span of a breath.  That’s the world we live in.  One moment we’re standing on the precipice of elation, the sun is on our face and the air smells clean and brisk.  The next second we’ve fall off the same cliff and broken a few bones and we can’t move.  Still, we get up, we move on, brush the dust off, and even when the world falls around us we put on our masks, we smile, drink our 5-hour energy drinks, and we’re off and running again.

But I don’t want to wear a mask, and when I’m ministering to others dealing with pain and heartache, the last thing I want to do is help the hurting person put on their own mask.

How do we do that?  Well, we do that when give cliché answers to their hurt.  Or we try to over-explain God’s reasoning for their suffering.  We talk and don’t listen.  We tell them that we know exactly how they are feeling.

No we don’t.  Even if you went through something similar in your life, you don’t REALLY know how they’re feeling.  Every person on this earth has lived a uniquely different life.  And sin, death and pain has affected each of us differently.

We are all walking in various stages of life.  Some of you are tired and weary, and all you want to do is escape and watch TV, but you can’t even find the energy to change the batteries in your TV remote.  Some of you are pumped with joy and zeal that seems unstoppable, and only a hurricane could stop you.

If you minister on a stage, don’t be afraid to cry, or to kneel, or to laugh.  Just be yourself.  Let the world see your genuine worship.

When I am picking out songs for a Sunday morning worship set I don’t want to pick songs that will force people to feel a certain way.  Even if they’re good feelings.  I don’t want someone to say, “I feel happy,” when they just lost their job last week.  However, they can sing, “O, Happy day, You washed my sins away,” since our salvation is something we can always find joy in, no matter the season.

And I never want to be afraid of singing honest songs of questions and laments to God.  The following hymn was written by  a woman named Anne Steele.  I was not familiar with it until a few weeks ago, but the lyrics so moved me.  Take a few minutes and listen to the song, then read her story below the video as I bring this blog to a close for today.

Beautiful song, isn’t it?  Now to Anne’s story.  She was born in 1717, the daughter of a pastor in Broughton, Hampshire.  When she was 3 years old, her mother died.  At age 19, she became disabled after suffering from a hip injury.  When she was 21 years old, she was engaged to be married.  However on the day of her wedding, her fiancé drowned only hours before the ceremony.  She remained single for the rest of her days, but went on to write over 140 hymns, many of which had to do with suffering and loss.

We as the church should never sweep our pain under the carpet.  The book of Psalms is full of honest heart-cries to God.  Sometimes the Psalmist even seems mad at God.  Or he questions God’s faithfulness.

Consider Psalm 42.  It is full of honest questions to God.  But it isn’t all despair.  It offers hope as well.  But it’s honest.  I sometimes wish we’d sing more songs like this in church.

Psalm 42

As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.  When can I go and meet with God?
My tears have been my food day and night,
while men say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”
These things I remember as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go with the multitude, leading the procession to the house of God,
with shouts of joy and thanksgiving among the festive throng.

Why are you downcast, O my soul?  Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.

My soul is downcast within me;  therefore I will remember you
from the land of the Jordan, the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.
Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.

By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me—a prayer to the God of my life.

I say to God my Rock, “Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning, oppressed by the enemy?”
10 My bones suffer mortal agony as my foes taunt me,saying to me all day long, “Where is your God?”

11 Why are you downcast, O my soul?  Why so disturbed within me?  Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.

God has never rejected an honest heart.  Let the church rise up and be real.  Let us remove our masks and be who we are.  Only then will the world see how we are ALL desperately in need of  a Savior.  And that’s when they’ll see Christ shining from within us.

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Let Me “Paintball” You a Picture

I often jokingly proclaim, “I’m the most humble person in the world!”  Of course, the irony of that statement is thick and instantly makes it a lie.

Maintaining a humble attitude is a fickle thing.  One day you find yourself cruising down the road of life in your 1971 rusted  and clunky Ford Pinto and you know that you are where God wants you.  And as you realize just how amazingly humble you are, Self-Righteousness pulls up alongside you in a shiny new, sparkling Porche and he invites you to jump in his car.  Of course, Self-Righteousness’ cousin is Pride.  And even though your car is shiny and has that new-car smell, no one will want to ride with you.  No one is truly attracted to ego unless they themselves are trying to stroke their own.  Maybe you feel like your “car” smells like a milkshake spilled in the backseat a week ago and you left the windows up while it sat it the sun kind of smell.  But which car would Jesus rather ride in?

One day my wife and I were given a nice sum of money from someone at our church, but there was no card or name attached to the gift.  We had no idea who gave us the blessing.  And trust me, it was a huge blessing.  Then it struck me.  Could I do that?  Could I give to God in a way that wasn’t somehow acknowledged at least a little bit by someone I know on earth?

It is incredibly difficult to do anything that is truly humble and selfless.  If I am on a stage leading worship songs in front of thousands of people, then how easy would it be for me to slip into the trap of performance and wanting people to like me or the songs I’ve written?  That’s the opposite of leading worship.  I don’t want to draw any attention to me unless it first and foremost draws attention to the Father through me.  Or what if I help someone pack their boxes and move to another house?  Am I doing it solely because I just want to help them and I’m full of love for them?  Or is there a small part of me that wants them to like me more because, well, I’m such a great servant?

How much do any of us do that isn’t somehow tainted, however slightly, with self-interest?

I recently attended a 30th birthday party at a paintball course.  If you don’t know what paintball is, it is basically an opportunity for grown men to act like kids who think they’re acting like tough, grown men with guns.  You play capture the flag and shoot little balls of paint at your opponents to “tag” them out of the game.  Now, I’ve been jogging off and on since the spring and through the summer, so on this fall day, I was fairly confident in my conditioning and prowess with a gun that fires a ball about 200 mph.  Don’t worry, there’s a spiritual connection coming.

During one particular game of capture the flag, we were placed in the woods by the referee.  I partnered with a friend as we worked our way along the right side perimeter of the course and headed toward the flag.  I had seen enough action movies to understand how it worked.  One guy shoots (causing the enemy to duck behind their defenses) while the other guy runs and slides behind a barrel or a tree stump.  Players from both sides were slowly eliminated with blasts of paint that stung worse than a non-insured prescription medicine bill.

We drew in closer and closer, but then my partner got tagged with paint and was eliminated and joined the rest of the guys who were knocked out of the arena.  They were lined up along the far, north side of the woods just outside the perimeter.  I could see a few of my teammates still working their way across near and in front of them, while I appeared to be alone down on the south side, near the flag.  I took out the last defender between me and the flag with a precision shot that would make Legolas jealous.  The ref announced that there was only two minutes left.  I decided to go for it.  I burst from behind my cover, ran towards the flag, grabbed it, and started my mad dash back to our own flag.  And when I say dash, I meant mini-marathon.  I hadn’t realized how far I had come to get the flag.  So as I sprinted through the woods, I could could still hear gunfire.  I imagined paint bullets whizzing past my ear.  I heroically drew closer to our home base, where the enemy flag needed to be returned.  By this point, I realized I was not in as good of shape as I thought, but my fallen comrades deserved my best.  The massive, red welts on their stomachs, necks and legs would not be in vain!  Finally, with my heart about to explode out of my chest, I made it back and returned the flag.  The ref yelled out that the game was over.  We had won!

As I worked my way back up the hill, I was slightly bent over from absolute exhaustion.  I could hear my breathing in my mask and I sounded like Darth Vader encouraging his pregnant wife to practice her Lamaze training.  As I rejoined my friends at the top of the hill, I expected to hear some sort of, “Way to go, Gary,” or a “Thanks for saving the day.”  But I got nothing.  No one said anything to me.  We started to work our way back toward the camp where we would gather between matches to eat and refuel on paint bullets and such.

My ego was struggling.  I almost died for these guys and they weren’t patting my back.  Then I overheard someone say, “Too bad that last game ended in a draw because the time expired.”  I was shocked.  “Uh, no it didn’t,”  I said, because I was able to talk now.  “I got the flag back to base.  That’s how we won and the game ended.”  Everyone who overheard us seemed shocked, and that’s when it dawned on me.  No one had seen me get the flag and make it back to our base.  We still won, but no one had seen it.

I really believe that our Christian walk, in many ways, should largely reflect this metaphorical analogy.  How much of the race of life are we doing so we can be seen doing it?  But really, which do you think brings a larger smile to God’s face- the good deed that everyone sees, or the good deed that only God has witnessed?

This is a challenge to me as much as it is to you.  I want to be the silent, behind-the-scenes worker for Christ more than I am up on a stage or out in the world.  I want to do things for others that NO one knows about except for God.

Let me be clear, there is nothing wrong with doing things for others that people see.  Sometimes we have to serve in that way.  But a little self-evaluation regarding our motives never hurts.

I often wonder how many things Jesus did for others that weren’t recorded in scripture.  Hundreds, maybe thousands of acts of ministry that weren’t recorded.  But the very nature of Jesus was a model for humility.  And I desperately want to be more like Him.

Philippians 2:3-4

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.