Michael Kelley's Blog, page 33

Wednesday Links

Four links to some things you might have missed, or at least ones that caught my attention this past week:

1. Don’t Settle for Cultural Kindness

It’s the difference between tolerance and niceness and being rooted in self-sacrifice.

2. 3 Ways Family Discipleship Changes as Kids Grow

As a dad of growing kids, one of whom will soon be leaving our house, this is helpful. We should always be rethinking how we disciple our kids based on who they are.

3. A Prayer for the Smartphone Hooked Christian

This is so good. So convicting. And so needed. Such grace is available to us if we can put down our phones long enough to repent.

4. The Best Albert Pujols Stories

In case you missed it, Albert recently joined the 700 home run club. Here’s a roundup of the best stories about him.

We Are Still Bad at Taking Up the Towel

It had been quite a week.

A few days earlier, Jesus had entered Jerusalem riding on a donkey to the adulation of the crowds who welcomed him there. The next day, Jesus performed one of His stranger miracles, cursing a fig tree and then driving out the profiteers from the temple grounds.

He came back to those same grounds and engaged the religious leaders head on, and then predicted His own death and resurrection. The city, meanwhile, was swelling with Passover pilgrims and visitors, and those same religious leaders began to put their assassination plot into motion.

And now, in the midst of this whirlwind of activity, controversy, and anxious nerves about what was to come, Jesus came into the Upper Room. Once there, He did something that astounded His friends, though at this point, it might not should have: He washed their feet:

The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him (John 13:2-5).

This was, of course, not a job befitting Jesus. Or at least it wasn’t in the eyes of His disciples. It was a dirty job; it was a role reserved for the servants of the house. But there He was, the One they had followed, doing that which was so clearly beneath Him. 

At least one disciple was indignant about it – Peter objected that Jesus should not be doing such a menial task. There might have been others – nervous looks; coughs; sideways glances – all feeling at least a little uncomfortable at what was unfolding.

But despite the uncomfortable feelings and outright objections, there was yet one, simple thing no one in the room ever thought to do:

Not a single person volunteered to take up the towel himself.

No, they were not comfortable with Jesus serving like this. Yes, they wholeheartedly believed Him to be above such an act. And yet the basin and the towel was there. So were the dirty feet. Someone had to actually do the job, but not one disciple volunteered. Nobody walked to Jesus and took the towel out of His hands; nobody put up their hand and simply stated, “I will do that.” They might have tried to stop Him, but no one took up the towel. They were, you might say, very adept at criticizing or critiquing or strategizing or analyzing – but they were very, very low on initiative.

Perhaps not much has changed.

We are at a point in history when it has never been easier to armchair quarterback just about anything. Church? Politics? Science? Football? It’s all the same – all there to be commented on, analyzed, and judged. We are pretty good at all that – we are pretty bad at actually doing something about it.

What a simple thing it would have been in that room – just to ask Jesus if you could have the towel instead of Him and start doing the thing that no one else wanted to do. This is not just saying that serving is a good idea; it’s actually doing it. 

And perhaps, in the midst of all the potential solutions for all that plagues our culture today, here is one small step we can all take. That is, to not comment on what should be done; to not pontificate on what should be done; to not bemoan what should be done; to cease the analysis, the strategizing, and the second-guessing and to simply do what needs to be done.

Perhaps now is the time when we can cease to be the disciples who stare aghast at what’s happening before them, and to start being the disciples who take small, but significant, actions of service. For while it’s true that talking and planning and strategizing and analyzing has much value, what is also important is for people to just take action. Or at least it’s true when it comes to jobs like foot-washing which offer no notoriety or adulation; jobs that comes with a willing acceptance of dishonor. But jobs that nevertheless need to be done.

This is what taking up the towel – as opposed to talking about taking up the towel – means. Maybe the day has finally come for blue-collar Christians who are willing to do the job.

3 Times When We Look Horizontally When We Should Be Looking Vertically

I’ve had lower back issues from time to time over the last ten years. Every six months or so, I would move wrongly, or bend awkwardly, or jump weirdly – and something would just… tweak. The most vivid example I remember was when I was shoveling mulch in our backyard, and then I wasn’t. I couldn’t straighten up, and had to use the wheelbarrow to brace myself back to the house and lay down on the couch. Painful to the body, sure – but more painful to the ego.

After each incident, I would rest, and ice, and heat, and stretch my back until I could go back to my normal activities. That was the pattern until a couple of years ago when I swallowed my pride and went to see a physical therapist who, much to my surprise, told me that I had zero lower back problems. Apparently I had hamstring problems.

Funny, right? At least a little? It seems that for all those occurrences, I was looking in the wrong place. I was focusing on my lower back when I should have been focusing on my flexibility. And consequently, no measure of stretching of my lower back was really going to fix the issue – it was that entire perspective was wrong. I was looking to one area when I should have been looking to another.

Just as that happens physically, it also happens to us spiritually. It happens any time when we look horizontally when we should be looking vertically. That is, when we look for something in our environment – to our spouse, our career, our friends, our possessions, our kids – when we should be looking to God. And until we look vertically, we will never be able to deal with the real issue. Practically, then, here are three areas in which we tend to focus horizontally when we should be focused vertically:

1. The issue of identity.

When I speak of identity, what I mean is the fundamental definition of who a person is. Down at the core, the issue of identity is the answer to the question, “Who am I?” This is an issue which has always been pivotal in human beings understanding of themselves, but has become popularized more so in the last several years. That’s because in the last several years, we have, as a culture, looked more and more horizontally for the answer to that question.

How do we look horizontally in the issue of our identity? Well, we look to the popular issues of the day to define us. Or we look to our career to define us. Or we look to our position or power or relative importance to define us. We look everywhere around us but seldom do we look vertically, and that refusal to look vertically is the core of our identity issues. That’s because the issue of identity is really an issue of authority.

Do I have the right and authority to define who I am? Does my career or my bank account or my title have that authority? Not really. Not ultimately. I am who God says I am. He alone has the authority over my identity and therefore identity is always going to be a vertical issue.

2. The issue of validation.

Just as we tend to look horizontally to tell us who we are, we also have the tendency to look horizontally to tell us we are worthy. We seek to find validation in the same places we find our identities – careers, kids (and their accomplishments), and positions in the community. We all, whether we admit it or not, are still very much like kids on the first day of school looking for an invitation to the lunch table.

We are crying out to be told we are worthy. Seeking validation. And because we are, we tend to use people for just such purposes. Our insecurity from seeking our validation horizontally renders us incapable of being authentic in relationships – of truly sacrificing, truly giving, truly loving – because we are constantly in need from the people around us. We are constantly in need of their validation, and when that is withheld, we find ourselves crumbling.

Our validation can only truly come vertically. And God has shown us how much we are worth with the death of His Son, Jesus. This is what love is. This is how much He loves us.

3. The issue of worship.

The human heart was made to worship. We are created to praise by our Creator. But terrible things happen when that compulsion to worship is misdirected, and it can become misdirected so easily. This is, in a sense, the source of sin – it is when, as Paul reminds us in Romans 1, when we exchange the truth of God for a lie and fail to give Him the worship and acclaim and glory that is only rightfully His.

We are going to worship something – we are hardwired that way. The question is not whether we will worship; the question is whether our worship will be directed horizontally or vertically. The only pathway to true satisfaction, true joy, and true meaning is through the right placement of this fundamental part of our humanity.

Identity. Validation. Worship. The list could go on. And in looking at that list, it would be an interesting exercise to thread it out further. How many of our current issues of angst, discontentment, worry and so on could be remedied if we changed the direction of our focus? A vertical focus is just that powerful.

3 Reasons Why It’s Actually Good News That Hell is Real

Hell is real. That’s not a popular belief, but the validity of hell’s reality is not dependent on its acceptance. This realm set aside for those who, having not been forgiven of their cosmic rebellion against God and therefore will be eternally separated from Him, is real because the Bible says it is in various places (Matt. 10:28; Matt. 25:41; Jude 1:7; Rev. 21:8). 

Hell is real whether or not we want to admit it is. But frightening as it is, the reality of hell is actually good news. Here are three reasons why:

1. Because it means Jesus is trustworthy.

Though the Bible talks about hell lots of times and in lots of contexts, many of them come from Jesus Himself. In fact, perhaps the most vivid description comes one of Jesus’ parables about a man who lived on the lowest rung of the ladder in life and another who lived in luxury. But when both died, their positions were reversed with one existing in eternity in heaven and the other languishing in hell.

If hell were not real, then Jesus was badly mistaken. And if Jesus were badly mistaken about something as important as this, how can He be trusted when He tells us anything else? That’s the first reason the reality of hell is good news – it’s because it once again reminds us of the trustworthiness of Jesus Christ.

2. Because it means justice is real.

Everyone would say that justice is a good thing. We generally want our laws, our nations, and our judges to be just. People should be treated fairly in our society. Though we agree with this, we would also have to admit that justice is idealistic. We look around all the time and see the wicked seeming to prosper while the righteous continue to suffer. Like Jeremiah the prophet, we look at the world and cry out:

You are always righteous, Lord,
when I bring a case before you.
Yet I would speak with you about your justice:
Why does the way of the wicked prosper?
Why do all the faithless live at ease? (Jer. 12:1).

This is why the reality of hell is good news. It means our current concept and experience of justice is not final. It means that there is more yet to come, and that justice will, eternally be executed.

3. It means God is good.

One of the reasons we don’t like to think too much about hell is because we struggle with a God, who is good, sending people there. But consider for a moment what the “badness” of hell really means.

We often judge an action not based purely on the action, but on the person that action is committed against. For example, I might slap a buddy on the back – hard – and not think twice about it, but if I did that same action to a 5-year-old it is suddenly much worse. 

In a similar way, the badness of hell reflects the goodness of God. Indeed, this is why sin is so heinous – it’s because God is so loving. So kind. So good. 

Let us not be the kind of people who pick and choose the parts of faith that taste the best to us, as if Christianity is like some kind of cafeteria line. Instead, let us believe in what God has told us is real. And may that belief draw us into a greater appreciation of who He is and what He has done on our behalf.

Wednesday Links

Four links to some things you might have missed, or at least ones that caught my attention this past week:

1. Why I’m No Longer Trying to Be Extraordinary

There is dignity and beauty in whatever we do. Indeed, when we give ourselves to faithfulness in the ordinary God does something extraordinary.

2. Do You Submit to the Bible, or Ask It to Submit to You?

This is a fundamental question we should wrestle with on a near daily basis as we read God’s Word.

3. Why Church is Often Boring

It’s because we are viewing it through the wrong lens to begin with.

4. Wagner Baseball Card Goes for $7.25M

Yep. You read that right.

The Danger of Chronological Snobbery to Discipleship

Chronological snobbery was one of the obstacles that CS Lewis had to overcome on his road to believing in Christianity. According to him, chronological snobbery is “the uncritical acceptance of the intellectual climate of our own age and the assumption that whatever has gone out of date is on that count discredited.”

In essence, then, it’s the assumption that a 2,000 year old religion had nothing to say to a 20th century man. That kind of faith was a relic; it’s gone out of style as men have progressed in their thinking, knowledge and attitudes. Underlying chronological snobbery is the idea that old is bad. New is good. Because we are always evolving and discovering and becoming more and more sophisticated. 

I would imagine Lewis would look around in the 21st century and still see the effect of chronological snobbery. It’s underlying our short attention spans. Our fascination with technology. Our apparent inability to step back and ask, “But should we?” when we are presented with a positive answer to the question, “Can we?” We – all of us to one degree or another – worship at the idol of the flashy and new, and as we bow down, we are simultaneously and subconsciously claiming that if something is old, it is not as good as something that is new.

This kind of snobbery is destructive in a host of ways to our faith:

We hold to an old, and unchanging, source of truth.We worship a God that is not evolving but is the same yesterday, today, and forever.Though considered outdated and antiquated by our culture, we believe and practice the same morals and virtues that centuries of believers have before us.

The list could go on. It’s worth considering, as we think about that list, that there is a danger to discipleship that comes with chronological snobbery. In our condescension, we look for some new methodology or quick fix to spiritual growth, but there’s not one. Growth in Christ is slow. Steady. Incremental. It’s not built primarily on flashy experiences, but rather on the more seemingly mundane choices of the day. This is how Paul described growing in Christ – not as something exciting, but as a methodical process akin to that of athletic training:

Don’t you know that the runners in a stadium all race, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way to win the prize. Now everyone who competes exercises self-control in everything. However, they do it to receive a crown that will fade away, but we a crown that will never fade away. Therefore I do not run like one who runs aimlessly or box like one beating the air. Instead, I discipline my body and bring it under strict control, so that after preaching to others, I myself will not be disqualified (1 Corinthians 9:24-27).

Despite what the training montages in the Rocky movies might lead you to believe, being an athlete is hard work. It’s not accomplished in 5 minutes and it’s not usually done to the soundtrack of Survivor. Staying in top shape requires waking up at 4 a.m. every morning and going to bed early every night; having a plan for what you eat and how you spend your time; making sure that all the small choices in life point to the one goal. That’s the metaphor Paul chose for growing in Christ – it’s an athletic contest, not a magic show where doves come flying out of a hat.

As much as we might long for something new and different, something more exciting and fresh, God is still vitally concerned that we make the everyday, run of the mill choices of faithfulness because we desire the same thing that He does – to more and more resemble His Son. Further, these are the same choices, though in a different context, that people have been making (or not making) for thousands of years.

Many of us, in an effort to spice things up a little bit, have abandoned thinking deeply about and struggling with these choices. Similarly, we have abandoned the everyday practices of saints of the past, looking for something a little bit more modern and progressive. So we find ourselves as chronological snobs, bowing down to the idol of excitement all while claiming to be seeking after the living God.

We don’t need something new. We need something old. We need to do the same things that saints of old have been doing in order to deepen our understanding and apprehension of the greatness of God. We need to see that it’s not some kind of secret formula or latest methodology that exposes the myth of the ordinary. Instead it’s through these means of grace that many of us have cast aside as outdated and legalistic that God has chosen to deepen our relationship and experience with Him.

We Have No Secrets… and What To Do with that Terrifying Reality

Where are you?”

The question rang out across the garden. The first humans, who had enjoyed perfect fellowship with their Creator and lived in perfect harmony with the rest of His creation, had walked and talked in naked transparency with God and with each other. But not any more.

Now they were hiding.

Now they were self-conscious.

Now they were filled with the guilt and shame that came from their lack of faith and rebellion.

And God asked them a question. But He wasn’t asking because He didn’t know the answer; He knew very well where they were, just as He knew very well what they had done. The purpose of the question was not informational; it was confessional. The man and woman needed to own what they had done; they needed to acknowledge it to God. They weren’t telling Him anything He didn’t already know – they were owning up to what He already did.

There are no secrets with God. Confession, for us now as it was then, is not informational in nature. That is, for most of us, a terrifying reality because all of us like to think we have secrets. Secret thoughts. Secret desires. Secret hatred. Secret selfish ambition. And yet all of that secrecy is really a matter of self-delusion – God already knows. In fact, He already knows more about the inmost recesses of our hearts than we do.

And yet we talk ourselves into the notion that we actually do have secrets. Or at least we do temporarily, because in time, even the idea of secrets will be obliterated:

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account (Heb. 4:12-13).

That is a terrifying reality. Everything – every harbored thought, every nursed sense of entitlement, every quiet resentment or lust or whatever – will not be private forever. They will all eventually be laid bare before the One who already knows them. And as if that thought isn’t frightening enough, we are reminded that these are not innocuous secrets – we are accountable for them, too.

So what do we do with that reality?

This disturbing future is the context of a set of verses we tend to read in isolation:

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need (Heb. 4:14-16).

When we read these verses, we usually read them apart from being laid bare before the Ruler and Creator of all. We tend to think of them as helpful – comforting even – because Jesus understands all the things that we go through on a daily basis. And that’s true – these verses are comforting. It’s a good and right thing for us to know that Jesus is not isolated from the human experience, but that He understands in a deep, deep way everything we walk through and because He does, is ready to help us in our need.

But what really magnifies the greatness of our High Priest is the terrifying future state that comes before it. Where can we turn when we have no secrets? What do we do when all our deepest and most shameful inner thoughts and feelings are exposed? Where do we find comfort when we are laid naked before the perfect and holy God of the universe?

We go to Jesus. The One who is at the same time both divine and man. When we are laid bare before God, we find our only recourse in God Himself.

And that glorious reality is the only thing that can save us from the terrifying reality. God is our only hope when we stand before God.

Jesus Wept: The Big Hope in the Shortest Verse

Jesus wept (John 11:35).

It’s the shortest verse in the entire Bible. Only two, small words. And yet there is a boatload of hope packed inside of them.

The backstory of those two words is one of pain and tragedy. Jesus was dear friends with a family in Bethany consisting of two sisters and one brother: Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. When Lazarus became gravely ill, the sisters sent word to Jesus. Jesus, however, had a surprising reaction:

Jesus loved Martha, her sister, and Lazarus. So when He heard that he was sick, He stayed two more days in the place where He was (John 11:5-6).

By the time Jesus did arrive in Bethany, Lazarus had been dead for four days, a long enough time to remove any hope from the situation. Lazarus – this friend of Jesus – was gone. In the grave, in fact. But Jesus was undeterred. He was there to perform a miracle – a miracle which would be, in many ways, the final nail in His own coffin, as the plans for His death took on greater urgency afterward. 

Jesus would raise the very dead Lazarus from the grace. But before He did so, He cried. 

Jesus wept.

Can you fathom that? The God of the universe cried. It’s heart-stopping to think of. And it sort of makes you ask what the bigger miracle of this passage is—is it a Jesus who can raise the dead, or a Jesus who weeps alongside His friends even though He knows He’s going to do so?

That’s the kind of Jesus we follow. He is not one who simply barks orders onto the battlefield of life, telling us to go here or there, do this or that. We do not follow an ivory tower Jesus.

The Christ we follow knows the full range of human experience. He is not an isolated God, but one intimately acquainted with the pain of the human condition. He is Immanuel—God with us. We may rest assured that whatever situation we find ourselves in, God is emotionally involved there too. When we weep at the death of a loved one, our Jesus weeps as well. When we rejoice because all is well, His shouts of joy eclipse our own. And when we fall in the dirt before Him—so sure of theological facts, yet emotionally destroyed by the circumstances of this sinful world—He falls down and weeps with us.

This is our God. This is the God who knew the end before the beginning. He is the One who knew the resurrection before the crucifixion. He is the One who knew the glory before the pain. Because He knows those things, He can make grand promises about the eternal glory that awaits all those who are His. Yet His response to us in the pain of the human condition is not, “Just believe! It will all be over soon. This is nothing compared to what awaits you.” Instead, His response is to walk through the pain with us. His response is to offer His abiding presence in the form of the Holy Spirit until the day when God receives the glory He deserves. 

At the end of this life He will still be there with us, but we will be seated together beside the throne of the Father, scarcely able to remember those times when He knelt in the dirt beside us and wept. 

But until that time, maybe sometimes what we need more than just another explanation, another cliché, or another promise of heaven . . . is tears. Tears of the One who understands. Tears of the One who empathizes. Tears of the One who doesn’t just tell us that everything will be OK in the end, but of the One who feels our pain as deeply as we do.

Wednesday Links

Four links to some things you might have missed, or at least ones that caught my attention this past week:

1. Trusting in the Absence of Peace

Trust looks different in different seasons. And sometimes trust looks like wrestling.

2. The Grain of Truth Grows Slowly

We have been shaped, and are being shaped, with great intention. And over time.

3. Age with Joy

Despite what our culture says, we are meant to age. And aging is beautiful.

4. Best Toy Story Easter Eggs

I love this kind of attention to detail.

Christians Aren’t Chameleons… Except When They Should Be

Chameleons are fascinating creatures. There are over 200 types of chameleons, each having a variable ability to change their color to fit into their surroundings. Some are able to shift their brightness or dimness while others can change entire colors. Their eyes are independently mobile, and apparently this trait gives them ability to create two distinct images in their brains as they analyze their environment. They can change colors by changing the wavelength of light reflected off the crystals in their skin so they can blend into whatever is in their background.

Remarkable, right? From their eyes, to the crystals in their skin, to this kind of signaling and protective color change – the chameleon is so interesting that the word itself is often applied to people who are able to fit in almost anywhere. In any environment. In order to protect themselves.

It’s not really a compliment to be called a chameleon. What we usually mean when we say that is that someone does not have a strong sense of self; they don’t possess a driving force of integrity; they instead are marked by compromise. And in that sense, Christians should not – cannot – be chameleons.

We are meant to be people that don’t fit into our environments; we are meant to be those that stand apart from that environment. We are to be the salt in a tasteless society. We are to be the light in a darkened world. We, collectively, are to be the city on a hill that provides the hope of something more and different when everything else in our culture looks the same. From the way we conduct ourselves, to the way we treat each other, to the way we forgive and extend grace, we are made to be different; we are born again as new people and live as ambassadors of a different country.

Christians aren’t chameleons; in fact, if we are, then we really aren’t Christians at all.

No, we aren’t chameleons… except when we should be.

Because there are some environments we step into in which we are meant, like the chameleon, to read the room, and to take it for what it is. Here’s how Paul put it:

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited (Rom. 12:15-16).

Notice that in these instructions, Paul doesn’t pay much heed to how the Christian feels; his main concern is how the other Christian feels. I might not feel particularly joyful, and yet I am to rejoice with those who do. I might not feel particularly sad, but I am to mourn with those who are. Indeed, and overall, I should not be proud or conceited, so focused on my own emotional needs that I lose sight of those around me. I should love others enough to be able to read the room, put aside my own feelings, and respond to the environment.

We should, as Christians, take in the moment at hand and not try to change it. We should not try and talk others out of their mourning but join them in it. And we shouldn’t try and throw cold water on joy but stand next to those who are happy in the moment. And how can we do this? How can we blend into these environments, even when it means actively setting aside our own stuff?

It’s not easy, and it only comes through faith. Faith in the fact that Jesus knows how we really feel. Faith that our own emotions are not forgotten. Faith that God will take care of us. And faith that in our own moment of joy or sadness, that there are Christians around us who will do the same.

When we step into all different kinds of rooms today, friends, let’s read the room. Let’s be present in the moment. And by faith, let’s set aside our own desires in favor of others.