Joe Fontenot's Blog, page 13

Profits

In business, revenue is the gross. But in the end, it’s not a very interesting figure.

For instance, it’s possible for a $1 trillion revenue company to have $1.1 trillion in expenses, effectively putting them a billion in the red.

Profit, on the other hand, is much more interesting. This is the difference between what you bring in and what you keep.

A small $1 million dollar (revenue) business with a relatively huge $0.9 million in profits is much more interesting than a business a thousand times bigger with razor-thin margins.

Why?

Because they are essentially the opposite. The first is not sustainable, while the second is a wellspring of opportunity.

The trick, though, is that the bigger company always seems more impressive from the street view. Even when it’s not.

Writing to a church divided by competing interests, Paul discusses a similar issue. Only on spiritual terms.

His advice to them is to keep focusing on the profit. The good work. The value that will last.

“There is going to come a time of testing [and] everyone’s work will be put through the fire so that all can see whether or not it keeps its value, and what was really accomplished” (1 Corinthians 3: 13).

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The irony of Relativism (and Christianity)

Relativism is when a person sets their own moral code.

What’s right for you is right. It’s wrong for me to judge.

The result of this, though, is there is no right or wrong outside of one’s self. And so any statement of truth, “you shouldn’t do that,” or “that’s wrong” is, well, wrong.

The irony then, is that these statements move a relative truth to an absolute one.

But absolute, as it turns out, is also tricky.

Because as soon a truth claims to apply to two or more people, the next question becomes: says who? If I tell you something is wrong, the challenge is, wrong according to what? Or to whom?

And now the conversation shifts one more time. Instead of questioning what is truth, we are instead debating the source of the truth.

At this point, we are left with a three-way fork in the road:

1. I reject this line of reasoning, because I don’t like where it’s going (my kids do this a lot).

2. I’m going with an imperfect option. It doesn’t always make sense, but it allows me to still make the choices I want to make.

3. Or, I’m going with the cohesive option, even though it requires me to change my position. And, maybe lose everything I’ve done so far.

The logic of Christianity is easy. It’s the better option.

But in the end, Christianity isn’t about logic.

Instead, it’s about being willing to lose.

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The rule of expectation

The rule of expectation: We find what we look for. In social psychology this is called a confirmation bias.

John—the man who baptized Jesus, who boldly called out: “there goes the Lamb of God,” and called the authorities “a brood of vipers”—now sat in jail, waiting to die.

He sent some of his followers to ask Jesus: is this all for real?

Jesus didn’t say “yes.” That kind of answer would just come under assault again.

Instead, he points him to the facts: What have you seen? he asks (Matthew 11:1-6).

John, like others, was expecting a ruler to slay the dragons. And Jesus, he correctly proclaimed, was that ruler.

Only Jesus didn’t slay the dragons. Or, rather, he didn’t slay the dragons John and the others had in mind.

But in the process, he slew bigger, deeper dragons. Ones that have a reach much farther than their now dissipated first-century oppressors.

Jesus’ reply pointed John toward that. Toward reality.

Questions and doubts are part of life. That’s our confirmation bias (the should) rubbing against our reality (the is).

The fix, Jesus says, is to look at what God is doing. The reality.

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Oursourcing credits

When you work for credit, you have three jobs:

1. doing good work


2. getting credit for it


3. and then guarding your credit (because these things are always under attack)

But when you work to make a difference, you only have one job:

1. work to make a difference

The first scenario (credit) is legitimate. It’s resume-building. It supplies your next landing pad. And, in a lot of ways, it’s the responsible thing to do.

But it can also be the fastest way to burn out.

Add to that, the importance of your work. When you’re doing work that really makes a difference, not giving it your all can be difficult.

Jesus understood this pull.

“Instead,” he said, “be concerned above everything else with the Kingdom of God and with what he requires of you, and [the father] will provide you with all these other things” (Matthew 6:33).

In other words, when you’re pulled, tithing your attention and priorities to him lets God takes care of the rest.

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All of life is slanted

“Random acts of kindness.”

I believe there are no such thing.

Based on logic, I mean.

For instance, if it’s random, then there’s no way for it to be kind.

Kindness is a about seeing a need and then doing something to fix it. Using your resources to help someone else with theirs. The idea here is that there’s no direct payback. It’s a gift, not a contract. Random, on the other hand, has no intent. It’s random.

Humanist versions of sociology tell us we’re programmed to support our tribe because that’s how we evolved and survived in the past.

But, what if our programming wasn’t a result of our evolving or self-interest, but instead was because that’s how we were created to be?

When we begin to look for it, it seems that all of life is slanted toward this. Toward a loving and active creator who cares for his creation. Doesn’t it make more sense that he he’d make a creation in line with his values?

I think so.

I think knowing this also makes conversations with the rest of his creation, well, a bit easier.

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Whoever

“Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives him who sent me.”


– Jesus (Matthew 10:40)

In our world, there is a lot of bad.

For about a decade, I worked with NGOs, helping to move humanitarian aid cargo all over the world. Do you know the number one problem in getting food or clothes or medicine to its destination?

It wasn’t infrastructure. And it wasn’t cost or logistics.

It was people.

Things have gone wrong…and, unfortunately, we were the ones who did it.

And so this invitation of Jesus becomes all the more powerful: “Whoever receives…”

That whoever includes murderers, rapists, and all sorts of bad people. If they choose to submit to Jesus’ way, they are the whoever.

But the whoever also includes us–who are, after all, not that different.

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We are our stories

Narratives are our lines, boundaries, and definitions.

They are how we learn. They are how we teach others. And, ultimately, they are how we understand the world.

In short, our narratives are important.

Me and my friend Gary started a new podcast. And in it, we talk to people who answering God’s call in interesting ways.

Give it a listen. I hope you like it.

Find it out here.

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Readjusting Jesus

America is a great country.

Really, I’m an American. And I love it.

But it’s not the kind of place for sacrifice.

America is more of a have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too kind of place.

And that creates a special kind of abundance. An abundance the rest of the world values. And wants.

But I think, if we’re not careful, we can let that view define how we understand Jesus’ call.

At one point he tells his followers, “whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10:38).

Here, “cross” means “everything else we value.”

In America, that stands for some pretty valuable things.

Freedom to speak


Freedom to choose


Freedom to build


Freedom to vote


Freedom to not


Freedom to succeed


Freedom to be famous (or private)

Are these things bad?

Definitely not.

Well…not unless they’re too important to give up.

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Contenders

Jude, excited and bubbling over at life following Jesus, decides to write to others he’s mentored and known.

Except, things have gone sideways.

They—the ones he’s writing to—are not experiencing the joy he is. They’re experiencing something much different. And in the process, they’re becoming slaves again to sin and Satan.

Jude gives them four simple steps to fix this:

1. Build up your faith.


2. Pray.


3. Keep yourselves focused on God’s love.


4. Wait for Jesus.

What’s the common thread here?

Discipline.

All four are actions that take both effort and intentionality.

What’s interesting to me is that Jude doesn’t spiritualized the problem. Instead, he gets practical. He says, life is hard, so buckle down and do the work.

There are plenty of things out of our control. But some of our problems are sitting right in our own laps.

That, to me, is good news.

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“Have no hedge”

While training his disciples, Jesus tells them to “have no fear” (Matthew 10:26).

The fear he’s referring to is of persecution and loss. And, in some cases, death. In other words, heavy things.

But how does that work? How does one ‘have no fear’?

Fear isn’t a switch to be flipped on and off. If, for instance, Jesus told you, “have no fear,” how exactly would you go about that?

The answer, Jesus says, comes from our perspective.

“Do not fear those who can kill [just] the body,” but instead, fear those who can kill the body and the soul (10:28).

In other words, don’t hedge. Don’t keep one foot grounded with God while the other’s still concerned about the world.

Because our fear is directly related to our anchor.

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