Behold, The Fear of Knowledge is the Root of All Sorts of Problems

I was once told that my relationship with God cannot be based on simply knowing about him, but must also be based on experiencing him. I was in high school, and while I felt like I had a pretty solid relationship with God, this youth leader proceeded to point out that I was not very emotional or expressive about my faith. What I was passionate about (that he didn’t seem to notice) was learning about God. I spent several years after that discussion wondering what was wrong with me. I could look around and see people having these wonderfully expressive and emotional spiritual experiences, but I could never really get all hyped up like they could.  

If you know me, you know that I am not an emotional person. I once teared up at my grandfather’s funeral, but that’s only the second time in my adult life I remember almost crying. It’s not that I think emotions are bad, I just tend toward analytical processing over emotional. This has given me a unique perspective in my spiritual journey, one that that youth pastor couldn’t relate to.  

It also allows me to offer this “mirror” warning: Your relationship with God should not be based solely on experiencing him, but also on knowledge of him. And I honestly believe this is a problem in the American church. We have made Christianity all about the experience, at the expense of pursuing knowledge. We are afraid, perhaps, that too much information will spoil our buzz.

Ask the average American Christian about their faith, and they will almost certainly tell you about God’s love for them, their love for God, how their faith makes them feel hopeful, secure, joyous. Ask them about Calvinism (for example), and you’ll be met with blank stares. I’m not suggesting the first answers are bad, nor that everyone should have a deep understanding of Calvinism, but when a huge percentage of a population has knowledge as deep as a frisbee, we are bound to have problems.

I know that Joel Osteen is an easy target, but he’s familiar, so I’ll go with it. The reason he has such mass appeal, and the reason he makes some people’s ears melt (including mine), are the same. He preaches (if you can call it that) a Prosperity Gospel that is all about how you feel, and is utterly devoid of substance. Even late night comedian Stephan Colbert, when asking him about his book, The Power of I Am, expected it to be a reference to God as the “I Am”. He was quickly corrected by Osteen, who went on to tell him about how powerful positive thinking could be in your life, no need for theology.

I believe that this over reliance on emotion and skepticism of knowledge has even deeper ramifications. It relieves Christians of the need to think for themselves, and replaces it with a herd mentality that we can just do what all the other Christians are doing. I can go with the flow as long as I get to hear some encouraging words on Sunday. Not so sure you agree with what that pastor, politician, or Christian TV personality said? Oh well, don’t worry about it. He listens to worship music too, and it’s not like we have anything objective to judge it against, right?

Thankfully, there are opportunities to build your knowledge. At LFA, we have Truth for Living classes, Alpha, and events like the Parent Summit where we can gain useful knowledge and begin to think critically about what we’ve been told. Information and understanding are not to be feared, nor is it a waste of time to study theology, science, global politics, etc. We need to stop “dumbing down” Christianity in the American church. Faith can begin and be expressed through emotional experience, but it is grown and strengthened through knowledge of God’s word and his plan for humanity.  Emotions come and go, but knowledge tends to stick around.

--Jeff Hyson

What is Worship About?

I had a conversation recently with someone about worship music.  They were talking about how worship music, whether in church or on the radio, makes them feel good and lifts their spirits on a bad day.  Since the early 90’s, worship music has been big.  Big in evangelical churches, big for Christian artists, big on Christian radio, and big for Christian music labels.  The lines have blurred where concerts have become worship events, and church services have become impressive performances.  I know I’m not the only one thinking it, but I’ll say it.  I don’t quite get it.

Maybe it’s my analytical nature, or my often-skeptical way of looking at things, but does anyone else feel a little uneasy about paying $25 for a ticket to see a famous performer in an arena worship Jesus?  Perhaps all that money is going to charity and not into making the performer rich, I get that.  And this is not so much a critique of the industry or the big names, but the fact that it even is an industry gives me pause.  Industries arise to fill needs.  Whose needs?  I don’t think it’s God’s needs, so it must be our needs.

And I know it makes you feel good, I’m not disputing that.  I often enjoy Sunday worship with its collective appeals to the truth of the gospel or its call of yearning for the presence of God.  But I have been in situations where I feel like a spectator, where the singer, between songs, will say random breathy god-isms with no context or meaning, or an emotive change of key seems to magically usher in the Spirit, and I can’t help but thinking… is this all about me?  Am I supposed to be the center of my worship experience?  Do we consume worship music simply because it makes us feel good? 

If I sound a little harsh, I apologize.  This is not intended to be a treatise on the evils of worship; far from it.  What I am attempting to do, ahead of this season of Advent, is to unmarry our tendencies toward consumerism with our experience of worship.  Worship is about one thing, be it through study, song, or prayer, and that one thing isn’t me.  My experience does not determine the quality of the event.

Throughout this holiday season, I will try to bear in mind that it is not primarily about me.  If I worship through giving, it’s not so I feel good.  If I worship through singing, it’s not for the emotional high.  Those things can be secondary effects, but making God the center of worship is what worship is about. 

--Jeff Hyson

Asking the Hard Questions

There is an odd dynamic familiar to those who have grown up in the evangelical church.  It begins to show up our early teens, and sometimes sticks around indefinitely.  From the time we are old enough to listen, children are told the truths and facts about God.  We learn them from our parents, pastors, Sunday school teachers, and any other church leader given a chance to impart this knowledge.  We might be led in the sinner's prayer to accept Jesus into our hearts, because if we don't, well, you know.  We are told of Jesus' love for us, so much so that he dies for our mistakes.  Just like math and reading, we are taught what to believe from people we have no reason to distrust.  Things are progressing smoothly.

And then, sometime around middle school, we are hit with this:

                Your faith needs to be your own.

Wait, what? I thought everything you told me was true.  Can't I just base my faith on that?  Why have I gone through all this training, only to find out that I now need to rediscover and reaffirm all of it myself? 

Some take it and run with it.  They embrace the brief journey, never missing a beat.  They have the strong and unquestioned foundation on which to build their own spiritual identity, nearly indistinguishable from the starter pack they received.  Honestly, this is what a lot of parents wish for their children.  I've had several friends take this path.

Some take it and just run.  They have been given a free pass to decide for themselves which path to choose, and they want nothing to do with the religion of their parents.  They discover some inconsistencies in the narrative, and toss the whole thing aside.  I've had a few friends take this path as well.

Some take it and wrestle with it.  They know what they've been taught, and they take the task of making their faith "their own" seriously.  These are the people who ask the hard questions.  This is the path that I want my children to choose.

Sometimes this process is called "deconstruction".  It is taking what I've been told, breaking it down to its fundamental parts, examining the pieces.  If this concept seems scary of foreign, think about the alternative: belief in what someone once told you without giving it any critical thought.  I mean, maybe they were right, but maybe not.  If they were right, then deconstructing will reveal their teaching to be true, with the added bonus of giving you the basis for believing it.  If they were wrong, you can now critically assess what the truth is.

We tend to think that asking tough questions shows a lack of faith, when in reality, asking tough questions is the only way to strengthen our faith in what is true.  At LFA, we are beginning a series on "Knowing God: Current Questions, Timeless Doctrines," and I am excited to be able to explore some hard questions. 

I don't think God calls us to blind faith.  I believe that he wants us to find our faith through searching, wrestling, and asking hard questions. Then we come out on the other side with an authentic faith, and one that is our own.

--Jeff Hyson

Risk Wrapped in Bacon

In 2015, the World Health Organization designated bacon as a Class 1 carcinogen, meaning it is in the same class as smoking tobacco when it comes to causing cancer.  But it isn’t just bacon, it’s any processed meat, such as ham, pepperoni, corned beef, pastrami, etc.  It was big news, and it made people think twice before consuming bacon.

Apparently thinking twice about bacon just makes you hungry for more bacon.  I recently spotted an article about America’s bacon shortage, citing “higher than ever” demand for the delicious meat.  In fact, the article went on to say, pig farms now have record high “hog herd” numbers, and it still is not enough meat to meet the demand.

How do we reconcile these two facts?  Bacon probably causes cancer, and Americans can’t get enough bacon.  Do we just love to live dangerously?  If everyone knows it’s risky, why do we still eat it?

We continue to eat bacon because the perceived benefit (deliciousness) is greater than the perceived risk (might get cancer some day).  And while bacon is an easy target, the truth is, we do this sort of risk analysis all the time.  Often, declaring one’s faith feels very risky (and in some cultures, it is), yet people do it.  Sometimes, challenging a long-held belief can be risky, because we don’t know where it will take us.  Examining what is wrong in our lives is risky because who wants to do that?  But we accept the risk when we decide the benefit will be greater.  

For those of us who grew up in the church, maintaining our belief system is safe.  It is easy to ignore anything that challenges our comfort, our moral or theological constructs, or our way of seeing the world.  But growth doesn’t happen in this comfort zone.  Growth happens when we take risks.

In my own life, challenging lifelong ideas and assumptions that were starting to unravel felt risky.  If I wanted a deeper faith, I needed to “deconstruct” what I thought I knew about God.  I knew the possible risks included alienating my devout family and friends, and possibly being left with no faith or God at all.  But I knew that not asking the tough questions would lead to a faith that was stagnant and shallow. 

Choosing to accept this risk has had some profound implications and effects on my life.  Not being scared to take risks leads to a “growth” mentality, as opposed to a “maintenance” mentality.  Instead of trying to maintain the status quo, we can step out into uncertain territory, knowing that we will grow from the experience.  Otherwise we run the risk of a boring and stagnant faith that does not reflect the vibrant, passionate, risk-taking Jesus that we profess to follow. 

As I’ve tried to live this out, I often recognize ways that people around me are accepting the risks as well.  For my kids this summer, helping with Camp Grace was a risk.  Going into neighborhoods to build relationships with kids they don’t know was a challenge, much more so than sitting at home playing video games.  And I can see that they’ve grown and benefitted from it.  Because growth doesn’t happen in our comfort zone.  Growth happens when we take risks.

By the way, Jesus didn’t eat bacon, and neither should you.  That stuff is terrible for you.  Well, it’s bacon… maybe it’s worth the risk.

-- Jeff Hyson

Strange Inspiration

I recently came across an article titled “Bible Verses that Atheists Love.”  I cringed a little bit, because I’ve seen these sort of lists before, full of verses that condone harsh treatment of slaves (Exodus 21:20-21), or that promote inequality (Deuteronomy 22:20-21), or show an unreasonable side of God (Deuteronomy 25:11-12), so I figured this would be much of the same.  Not one to shy away from an honest critique, I usually read them and think about the challenges they pose.  But I could tell by the subtitle that this article was different.  “Bible Verses that Atheists Love: We asked prominent atheists what parts of the Bible they find inspiring and beautiful.”

Instead of a list of that instantly makes Christians rationalize (with varying degrees of success) or run and hide, this list is really quite intriguing.  Here are a few examples:

Jeremiah 22:3 - This is what the Lord says: Do what is just and right. Rescue from the hand of the oppressor the one who has been robbed. Do no wrong or violence to the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow, and do not shed innocent blood in this place.

Proverbs 29:7 - The righteous care about justice for the poor, but the wicked have no such concern.

1 Corinthians 13:11 - When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.

Exodus 23:10-11 - For six years you are to sow your fields and harvest the crops, but during the seventh year let the land lie unplowed and unused. Then the poor among your people may get food from it, and the wild animals may eat what is left. Do the same with your vineyard and your olive grove.

Proverbs 10:14 - The wise store up knowledge, but the mouth of a fool invites ruin.

Philippians 4:8 - Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

As you can see, there are clear themes that run through many of the passages chosen.  The themes of justice, caring for the poor, as well as knowledge and wisdom.  I’ve seen lists of favorite Bible verses of believers, and I don’t remember such themes.  Generally, when we think of our favorite verses, we tend toward promises of God, or other spiritual truths or comforts, which are all great, if not somewhat inward facing.  Is it possible that, when we think of the core of our faith, we focus so heavily on the inward, personal relationship aspects, that we overlook the outward expression of our faith - things like seeking justice for the poor, or standing up for the foreigner or the outcast?

We are at a time in history where people, particularly young people, are walking away form the Church in record numbers.  At the same time, young people, along with the atheists that this article spoke to, are more and more concerned with social issues.  Dozens of articles have been written about why young people are leaving, but it usually boils down to the idea that the Church has become irrelevant.  

Justice and truth have been a huge part of my faith for a long time now.  I’ve argued with other Christians when I can clearly see that they are forgetting that justice in society is a key component of the message of Jesus.  It’s not just me and God in this thing together, it’s me and God and everyone around me that I have the power to affect.  And this movement is growing within the body of Christ.  As Christian young people grow up in a society that values justice, they will become leaders that value justice.  They will be able to show the love of Jesus to a society that is, judging by the verses chosen above, looking for Christians to put into practice what our Bible says we believe.

Perhaps atheists are a strange place for us to find inspiration, but if they can find it in a God-inspired book, we might want to take note and get inspired right along with them.

--Jeff Hyson

Finding Common Ground

It’s amazing to me how much we all agree on.  By “we”, I mean Protestants, Catholics, Eastern Orthodox.  We agree on salvation through Jesus’ death and resurrection.  We actually agree, officially, on many doctrines and a huge chunk of theology.  We have different traditions, and a history of conflict, but today, the word “Christian” is more encompassing (globally speaking) that ever before.  That’s the macro view.  

At the same time, I’m amazed at how fractured we are.  Within my own social circle, I know that there are hard-line disagreements about a wide variety of subjects and theologies.  While our oneness is on display on Sunday morning, it doesn’t take much to shine a light on what divides us.  Here’s a simple experiment: state your opinion about our President to a group of Christians.  I guarantee someone will disagree with you, and might just get mad that you feel the way you do.  How about creationism or evolution?  How about small church or mega-church?  And we judge each other accordingly.  That’s the micro view.

What is it that we get so right on a global scale that we miss on a micro scale?  If I meet a fellow believer in a foreign country, we might celebrate our common faith, our common love for Jesus.  We probably won’t get into doctrinal disputes or political arguments.  We are comfortable being brothers and sisters.  Ironically, the closer we get to our own sub-group, or sub-sub-group, of believers, the easier we find it to dismiss each other for our differing beliefs.  How can they be a Christian if they believe… that?

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not saying discussions and disagreements are a bad thing.  In fact, I love debate and discussion among friends.  The problem is when we elevate important, but secondary, issues to the level of primary issues.  When the things that are not at the core of our faith become the things that we judge each other on.  Instead, when we focus on the primary issues, the fractures fade.

Here’s the problem - we love our secondary issues.  Sometimes we love them more than the primary ones.  We are quick to judge the authenticity or validity of someone’s faith by their position on any number of issues.  The Easter season helps to reorient us to the primary reasons we believe what we do.  It’s not about evolution, Calvinism, doctrines of this or that, it’s about the death and resurrection of our Savior.  It’s the grounding that we often need in our lives full of religion and politics, theology and party lines.  We all have secondary issues that we feel strongly about, but these tend to serve as distractions. Easter is a something we all agree on, something that can unite us, and it also happens to be at the center of our faith.  

Some Light Reading

These are some divided times.  If the aftermath of the recent election is any indication, tensions are not looking to ease any time soon. Racial tension, religious strife around the world, fake news, and angry mobs seem to dominate the headlines.  Then there are the heart-breaking images out of Aleppo, the assassination of a Russian ambassador, and a terror attack in Berlin.  

Just about the time when no one could blame you for losing hope, enter Christmas - a beautiful time of peace and celebration among the chaos and darkness of the world in which we live.  And it’s not only a time of joy for Christians.  It seems the rest of the world is ready for some light as well.  Did you happen to catch the worship song that was performed on network television’s Saturday Night Live this week? It wasn’t a joke or the mockery you’d expect from SNL; it was a prayerful, worshipful and powerful performance by the very well-respected musician, Chance the Rapper. It celebrated Jesus and Christmas, and the audience couldn’t get enough.  Or did you happen to see the news article about the Muslim businessman in Iran who erected the largest Christmas tree in Baghdad, to show solidarity with persecuted Christians?  It is easy for us to forget that a light in the darkness is visible to everyone, not just the ones who acknowledge its source.  

Let me say it again.  Christmas is a moment of beauty in a world of chaos.  I’m not necessarily talking about our own personal chaos, like busy schedules around the holidays, but real chaos, like the things I mentioned earlier.  This is a call to look beyond ourselves, our own agendas, our own messes, like looking above the immediate haze and seeing the bigger picture.  The world is ready for light and beauty and peace and rest.  The problem is that it is just as easy for us to bring more darkness, more division, more unrest.  As Christians, we often feel like we are on the defensive, like our liberties are being attacked and we need to fight for every inch.  Here’s the thing - Jesus was born into some pretty hostile territory, with a ruler that wanted him dead and a population that didn’t think it needed him.  But his message was to love your enemies.  The light that we can bring is love.  We can love the homeless, the drug addicts, the morally corrupt, the weak, the vulnerable, people who believe differently than we do, the poor in spirit, the poor in wallet, the broken, the oppressed.  The world is looking for light this Christmas, and they should see it reflecting off of us.

What better way to spend the holiday than truly loving the people around you.  Christmas is a time of beauty in an otherwise dark world, and we should be intentional in celebrating it well.  

Nerd Gospel: You are the CSS to my HTML

In computer programming, there is a language called HTML.  You've probably heard of it.  It's the language that nearly every website is built on.  In fact, if you right-click on this page, and go to "view source," much of what you'll see is HTML.  Since the very early days of the internet, HTML has been a staple.  Through most of the 90's, the adolescent years of the internet, those blocky GeoCities sites, Myspace, and AltaVista were all coded in pure HTML. Then something almost magical happened.  The advent of CSS.  It's been called the "Holy Grail" of website programming.  It ushered in the modern era of the internet.  Sites looked astonishingly better, were much easier to navigate, and gained a level of visual engagement that had never been accomplished before.

At the risk of putting half of you to sleep, I tell this anecdote because it parallels my spiritual journey.  CSS does not replace HTML, it breathes life into it.  There was once a language that was adequate, that no one really minded, that was serviceable, but looking back, was just a shell of what it someday would be.  It took something outside of itself to radically alter the landscape and forever change the experience. 

For a long time, I lived with an HTML spiritual reality, where vanilla was the flavor of the month, every month, and the people around me looked like me and functioned like me, and it was nice.  It was serviceable.  But there were holes in the tapestry (sorry to mix metaphors), there were bugs in the code.  I knew that there were unanswered questions that my spiritual life to that point couldn't address.  If God is a God of wonder and might and amazing revelation, why wasn't I experiencing any of that?  

My code had been written, from the moment of my birth, to experience God.  But over time, that experience became more and more limiting.  The politics of faith, the pretense of every question already asked and answered, the scaffold of a culture built to reinforce the spiritual status quo.  All of this left me with a benign faith.  Then, maybe ten years ago, I got my first glimpse of someone doing faith differently.  It was my CSS moment.  It was the first time I realized that God was not limited by the constraints that we put around him, that my boring faith wasn't a result of a boring Jesus, but that truly seeking him could breathe life, CSS-style, into my HTML existence.  I felt free to ask the questions, seek the truth, and shed the falsehoods I'd long been believing.  

I am still the same person I have always been, just like eBay has always been eBay.  But looking at eBay form 1996, it is more than evident that something is different.  CSS changed everything.  In my life, discovering the Jesus I'd never known, has been the CSS to my HTML.

Caution: Politics Ahead

Caution: Politics Ahead

There's something happening here.  What it is ain't exactly clear.

A fundamental shift is happing in Christendom, or at least in the North American church.  What is it?  Well, as Buffalo Springfield summed it up, it ain't exactly clear.  Ask different members of the faith, and you will likely get different answers.  The old guard, meaning the conservative Christian or "Religious Right", who has been virtually the only voice speaking for all of us, might tell you it's some young liberal progressives with a broken moral compass.  Christian millennials might tell you it's a rejection of the politicization of religion.  Still others might tell you that religion has become too commercial, or the church too corrupt, or the faithful too hypocritical.  And while statistics show that many young people are leaving the church, many others are choosing the path that was not necessarily available ten or twenty years ago.  They are choosing to remain faithful and use their influence to change church culture, and not everyone is happy about it.

In the 90's, there was not much diversity, politically speaking, in the evangelical church.  Nearly every man, woman, and teenager was a cut-and-dry conservative.  In fact, it was basically a foregone conclusion that the born-again flock would vote in lock-step with Jerry Falwell and James Dobson.  Opposing abortion and gay rights were the only political issues that mattered, and Ronald Reagan was the patron saint of the movement.  I remember having a debate with my high school best friend over who was more conservative.  I wore it like a badge of honor.

Many of my friends, family, and church family are still very conservative on most issues.  In fact, if I divide my friends based on age, nearly all who are older than me are more conservative than I am, while most younger than me are less.  My generation is a pretty even split.  I find myself holding on less and less to the ideas that I once held dear.  You could say I’m becoming more liberal, that’s fair, but please reserve judgment as to what exactly that means.

I have gone into detail at other times, in other posts, about my journey, but that is not my point today.  I believe what might be happening in the church is a shifting focus toward love.  Don’t get me wrong – I am not suggesting that this shifting focus toward love and the shift from more conservative to more liberal values are one and the same.  The fact that my more conservative friends are accepting of a variety of viewpoints within the church illustrates the shift toward love.  We are all trying to be more like Christ.  His message was one of inclusive love.  He loved, befriended, socialized with sinners and outcasts.  In his perfection, he loved the unlovable. 

The “Religious Right” of the 80’s and 90’s tended to focus on bringing people into alignment with Christian values through the political process.  While that sounds like a worthwhile pursuit, it was also alienating.  The movement lives on, for better or worse, in today’s politics.  But the church is changing.  Even as US politics become more left-right divisive, the church becomes more and more diverse and accepting of people and viewpoints once considered outsiders.  I can speak openly about topics ranging from social justice to evolution, and expect a spirited debate with no fear that my faith will be questioned.

We might disagree on a lot of topics, but we can agree that more love is always better and that following the example of Jesus is a good place to be.  Even if, for my conservative friends, accepting a “liberal” like me is as far as they are willing to go, I’ll take it.  We are becoming a church that is more accepting of differences, not because we no longer care about sin, but because we are learning to love well.  If that sounds a little murky, that’s OK.  Just keep in mind that old hymn by Buffalo Springfield.

Jeff Hyson

C.S. Who?

It seems that part of being a modern Christian is loving C.S.Lewis.  I mean, who doesn’t?  A prolific writer, teacher, and scholar, not to mention brilliant thinker, C.S. Lewis shows that believers can roll with the intellectual best-of-them.  Most of his casual admirers, however, have no idea that at one point in his life, C.S. Lewis was a staunch atheist.  And not just an atheist because he hadn’t heard the gospel, but an adult who, having been raised in a religious home, grew to reject the faith of his upbringing.

As a father of three, I worry about my children rejecting the faith of their upbringing.  I have seen the statistics.  Just about half of millennials identify as Christian, even though 80% were raised in Christian homes.  There are lots of theories as to why they are leaving, but that just makes the prospect of my “prevent defense” that much more difficult.  I see and hear the same worry from other parents in a similar position.

Then I look at C.S. Lewis.  It was his skepticism that drew him away from the church as a young adult.  He rejected what he saw as faith without logic.  But it was his skepticism and intellect that ultimately brought him back.  In fact, he credited G.K. Chesterton’s book The Everlasting Man, which was a logical rebuttal to an H.G. Wells book (did nobody have first names back then?) with turing him from an atheist back to a theist.

G.K. Chesterton once said, “There are two ways of getting home; and one of them is to stay there. The other is to walk around the whole world till we come back to the same place.”

I don’t want my children to doubt what I have taught them, but I do I want them to be skeptical, to question what they are told by authority figures.  I want them to think for themselves, be creative, and consider alternative points of view.  I know that I cannot ultimately decide for them what path they will follow, but I can rest in the truth of what I have learned through my own doubt, skepticism, and discovery.

I can also look at the life of C.S. Lewis, who took the long road, around the world, and came back to where he started.  Keeping this in mind makes parenting a little less scary, and reminds me that God is in control of all paths, not just the one I’d choose.  And perhaps it also makes me want to call my children by their first initials.  

Jeff Hyson

Our Balsa Wood Crosses

How expensive has your faith been to you?  We regularly speak of following Christ as a costly endeavor, in terms of time, choices, finances, or relationships.  But how many of us have made any real sacrifices to follow Jesus?  We can say we've "taken up our crosses," but often those crosses are made of balsa wood, having the appearance of heft, but, in reality, having not much to them.

Certainly there are those who give, and give greatly, for their faith.  They are the ones who give up comfort, safety, and financial stability to love other people sacrificially.  But I'm pretty sure they are the exception rather than the rule.  The American church is not too much into sacrifice.

One of the fears I've heard repeated time and time again throughout my life, is the idea of the wasted sacrifice.  As a child, I'd be warned about giving homeless people money - because they'd spend it on booze or drugs.  You should buy them a sandwich instead, which no one ever did.  So there was no need to give, if you suspected the gift would be wasted.

Is this how Jesus looked at sacrifice (putting aside the question of whether a few dollars out of my pocket counts as a "sacrifice")?  He knew when he gave his life for humanity, that most of humanity would waste his gift.  He knew that he would be rejected by the ones he was giving his life for, but he didn't decide just to buy them a never-appearing sandwich.  He offered the sacrifice, and let them decide what to do with it.

Jesus doesn't call me to give to the needy if I'm reasonably sure they'll use my gift how I want them to.  He calls me to love them and sacrifice for them as he did for me.  It's not my responsibility what they do with my gift.  If my gift is a sandwhich, I need to make sure I give it.  Fear of misuse is not a valid reason to reject the command to give.  We should give wisely*, but we should give well.  

American Christians are sitting on immense resources (ask Joel Osteen about it), but we like comfort, and we're pretty bad at sacrifice.  As we go into Easter, let's keep in mind that Jesus wasn't afraid of sacrifice, and for that I am eternally grateful.

*Giving wisely means giving in ways that will help, not hurt.  I would not give an addict a bunch of money, but maybe a place to live or some time in rehab.  The sacrifice, on my end might be the same, but it has to be given wisely.  There is nothing wrong with buying a guy a meal instead of giving him money, but if your inner struggle is between giving him a few dollars, and giving nothing for fear that he'll waste it, I think the Bible is pretty clear that we are to give.

Jeff Hyson

Where do you keep your ketchup?

            Jeff Hyson

I recently moved into a new office, complete with tiled floor, bare windows, bare walls, and hard furnishings.  Until I get a chance to "soften it up" with window shades and maybe an area rug, along with all of the equipment to do my job, the room is pretty stark.  The most annoying feature of the room is the crisp echo of any sounds, especially the sound of my fingers typing away on my keyboard.  It is very much an echo chamber.  Sounds stay inside and bounce around, while outside noises stay dull and muffled.  For my sanity, sometimes I need to get out of the echo chamber.

In our lives, we are often stuck in the echo chamber.  We have an opinion, a viewpoint, a way of doing things that we hold tightly to, and the people around us, the content we follow on Facebook, the information we surround ourselves with, echoes what we already think.  This constant reinforcement, or echo, of our already held opinions serves to strengthen them, while diminishing opposing voices.  While it might keep us comfortable, there are some major concerns with staying within our own echo chamber.

First, your echo chamber reinforces the belief that everyone feels the same way about an issue that you do.  I happen to not like a certain politician/billionaire/businessman/reality TV star very much, and everyone I tend to surround myself with, both on social media and in real life, feels the same.  The news articles that show up on my Twitter and Facebook feeds are decidedly anti-this-guy.  But as his popularity skyrockets, I've been left wondering how he can be so popular if nobody likes him?!?  Obviously, my echo chamber had reinforced my own opinions, with little ability to see beyond its barriers.  I'm not saying alternative voices would change my opinion, but they might help be see the political landscape more accurately.

Here's another example.  Where do you keep your ketchup?  If you are like most Americans, you keep it in the refrigerator.  That's the "correct" place to keep it.  However, if you are from the South, or most of Europe, you keep it in the cupboard or pantry.  Restaurants don't keep it in the refrigerator either.  Why does it matter?  Our placement of ketchup actually determines how we think about ketchup.  For fridge people, when you run out of ketchup, what do think of as a substitute?  Mayo or mustard might come to mind.  For pantry people, malt vinegar or spices might be the go-to.  Being stuck in one constantly-reinforced mindset limits our ability to see other points of view.  When we believe our opinions are the only valid opinions, we fail to see value in other perspectives.

I have been making an effort to escape my echo chamber, and I don't mean my new office.  If I want to be able to see and think about things from different angles, I cannot simply live in a world where every opinion I encounter reinforces my own.  Jesus wasn't a middle-class white American living in New Jersey.  He was a Jewish carpenter's son living in the Middle-East.  I would be willing to bet that he didn't keep his ketchup in the fridge. 

Jeff Hyson

Why My Christian Family Celebrates Hanukkah

Last year my wife, my sons, and I began celebrating Hanukkah.  On Sunday, we will once again begin eight days of observing this Jewish holiday, starting at sundown, with the lighting on the menorah, the eating of oily kosher foods, and the reading of the traditional blessing, in both English, and my best attempt at Hebrew.  We will play competitive games of dreidel, and give traditional gifts (small chocolate coins) to the kids.  We will talk about the victory of the Maccabees, the miraculous way that one day of oil lasted for eight days, and God’s provision for his people.  If I sound old-hat at this, remember, we just started celebrating this holiday last year. 

Here’s why we did:

Embracing Our Spiritual Heritage

We wanted to embrace the past and pay honor to our spiritual forefathers.  As Christians, many of us feel a strong connection to Judaism.  A large portion of our scripture is also the Jewish Torah. Our spiritual history includes Jewish history, Jewish law, and Jewish tradition.  If we read the Bible, we can not deny our Jewish foundation.  And generally, we embrace it.  This has not always been the case.  Throughout much of Christian history, we have shamefully persecuted Jews (and Muslims) in the name of Christ.   

Today, as we rocket toward the future, it can be difficult to connect with the past.  For my family, the reading of the Hanukkah blessings in Hebrew is a special and specific way that we slow down and feel a deep sense of kinship with our spiritual predecessors. 

Embracing Our Family Heritage

A few years ago, my sister and I were researching the genealogy of our family and discovered that our great-great-great-great-great-grandfather came from Germany in the early 1800’s.  Our ancestors, with names like Benjamin, Eli, Jacob, Samuel, and Ebenezer, gave us some clues as to their culture, and we were able to trace the family line directly to a Jewish village in northern Germany.  Interestingly, when visiting the National Holocaust Museum in Washington DC, I was able to see the actual Synagog door from the village of my family.

So, while we are not Jewish, my family is of Jewish ancestry, and we want to celebrate that.  We are undeniably American and Christian, but there is something to be said for focusing on something beyond ourselves and our own lives.  We chose, if only for eight days out of the year, to focus on our heritage.

Embracing a Less Commercial Holiday

First, let me make it clear that my family LOVES (and certainly celebrates) Christmas.  We love the spiritual aspects of Christmas, celebrating the birth of Jesus, the spirit of giving, and spending time with family.  But we also like looking at Christmas lights, giving and receiving gifts, watching Christmas movies, decorating the tree, and eating a lot.  Despite our best efforts to focus on the non-commercial, Christmas is both a religious and secular holiday.  In popular culture, it’s almost entirely secular.  For my family, there is nothing commercial about Hanukkah.  

I understand that for Jewish families that don’t celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah is becoming much more commercial.  But for us, Hanukkah is still purely about celebrating God, his provision for his people, and our spiritual history.  There is no expectation of gifts, no focus on decorations, no hustle-and-bustle.

So will we stop celebrating Christmas in favor of Hanukkah?  No.  But in celebrating Hanukkah, I hope that my sons learn something about the joy of celebrating a holiday that embraces the spiritual, the past, and family, without the trappings of our culture that is all-too-willing to commercialize it.  Perhaps celebrating Hanukkah will change the way we celebrate Christmas, giving us a better understanding of how we can interact with a holiday that celebrates the divine, when that divine meaning is often lost in the shuffle.

In Other News...

News tends to fade quickly in our society.  A story might dominate the headlines for a few days, or a week, or if it’s a big or developing story, it might stick around for a few weeks.  But inevitably, we lose interest.  Even an ongoing crisis tends to fade from the spotlight as we, the news consumers, get fatigued.  We like our news in soundbites, in small neatly packaged three minute segments, or in less than three swipes on our iPad.  Maybe it speaks to our fickle consumerism or our fast-paced lifestyle, but most of the time when the camera crews leave, the crisis doesn’t pack up with it.

Have you given much thought to Syria lately?  Last week, the EU saw its highest number of incoming refugees yet.  While America is losing interest, the people fleeing for their lives are still fleeing for their lives, in no less dramatic a fashion as they were three weeks ago when we were paying attention.  Every day, children and their parents pack onto overcrowded small boats to cross choppy water, many of them never making it to dry land. 

Granted, this is one of many crises happening around the world.  We have millions of children living in poverty in our own country (16 million to be exact), and millions more around the world.  There is also ISIS that is oppressing entire cities and overtaking countries. Not to mention drought and famine in Africa, earthquakes in Asia, oppression of the people of North Korea, and on and on.

In the face of such great challenges across the globe and here at home, how are we to respond?  The people of God are called to love our neighbors as ourselves.  We are called to pray for suffering people, even after the news coverage ends, even when they are not the flavor of the month.  We are also called to give.  The Christian organization World Vision, who has been on the front lines caring for the refugees, recently announced a “massive funding shortfall,” which they say impacts children especially hard.  Statistically, Christians are better than others at doing charity work, but not so great at non-tithe charitable giving.  We should be leading the pack.  

Christian financial guru Dave Ramsey, of “Financial Peace University” fame, encourages families work out their finances, get out of debt, and build wealth.  He also emphasizes giving.  He says that Christians should be able to give like no one else.  Why aren’t we?  Could it be that we’ve fallen into the trap of not noticing the people in need around us, not seeing them as real people during the three minute news segment?  We get so wrapped up in our own lives that Syria becomes something we heard about a few days ago and poverty becomes something for politicians to worry about.

We have been called by God to love.  Love through praying and love through giving.  If millions of Christians began to take giving seriously, all of these crises might not seem so daunting. 

The Secret of Contentment

"I have found the secret of contentment." If someone held a press conference today and made that statement, they would be mocked and ridiculed to no end. Contentment isn't something we actually believe in in 2015. We might believe in what makes us content right now, but those things are always subject to change. It doesn't really matter if we're talking about material possessions or marriage from a cultural standpoint. The fact remains that contentment is always a moving target, which means we are forever doomed to rest dissatisfied.

Or are we? Paul doesn't seem to think so in Philippians 4. At first glance his answer to the "secret" seems awfully churchy and impractical. But blink and you'll miss a truth that took Paul years to earn. (Take a look at 2 Corinthians 11:22-33 sometime to see what I mean by "earn.")

Simply put, Paul says he has learned how to manage any kind of circumstance by relying on Jesus. See what I mean by seeming too churchy? "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" is the type of verse-phrase you see crocheted into kitschy wall decorations at your local Christian bookstore. It is so often quoted as to be rendered impotent upon impact. And when you really think about it, the claim itself seems almost stupid in practice. What is so special about simply "knowing Jesus" that makes everything else tolerable no matter the circumstance? It's not like there's a human comparison that I can make that's similar to this. I can't say that about my wife, or my mom, or my pastor, though I love them all dearly. Is Paul simply being idealistic here? How can this actually be true in practice?

And this is precisely the point worth making here. We can't come up with a good human comparison because there isn't one. This is something else, something we would never have come up with, something we could have never expected. In spite of all the movies we've seen, relationships we've created and products we've purchased in the hopes of finally being content, only to be let down once again when they fail to secure it for us...Jesus actually satisfies! He actually does what so many other things have promised to do for us. And he accomplishes it in a way that once more seems painfully obvious, but at the same time totally unexpected.

Jesus promises to make us new. Not in heaven, but today. He promises that when we place faith in him as Redeemer, he will actually replace our desires with his own. Over time, we will stop wanting the things we want so badly. Read that sentence again. It's hard to believe, mostly because our desires are so strong. But that's what he promises to do for us. This is what it means when the Bible talks about God giving us a "new heart." We start to want the things the Master wants. Other things lose their luster because we have seen something brighter, higher, and more worthy than what we thought of on our own. And when we have come to see this, the changing of our circumstances becomes increasingly less important. And there we come to it: the secret of contentment. 

I would not call myself a content person. I am easily swayed by many of the things I've mentioned above. I get caught up in my own story, simply because I'm a sinful person and that's what sinful people do. But the Master is beckoning us with an offer that has the potential to rearrange our lives for the better, and in this case, the promise is not too good to be true. We can be new. As Augustine so eloquently said, we were made for God alone, and our hearts are restless until they rest in Him.

Faith and Politics

It’s politics season, my favorite time of year!  Although it only comes around every four years, the Presidential elections, and more importantly, the build-up to them, are like Christmas to me.  It’s a magical season full of debates, issues, personalities, TV ads (the fruitcake of this analogy), and memes all over social media.  In fact, I’ve been drawn back into using Facebook, after about 8 months away from it, just for the opportunity to comment on people’s political posts.  Did I mention that I love politics?

My first exposure to politics was as a child, growing up in a conservative “walled garden” of home, church, and school, where Reagan and Bush had a monopoly and Jerry Falwell was the spokesperson.  Faith and politics were indistinguishable.  I assumed that if you were a Christian, you were a conservative, and if you were a Satanist, you were a liberal.  There was not middle ground, no overlap, no Venn diagram scenario where one could occupy both roles.  Then I went to college.

This isn’t your typical “I grew up churchy, and a secular University turned be liberal” story.  In fact, I graduated college (a good Christian college) as conservative as ever.  But a love for politics was planted, with the Bush v. Gore election, and subsequent legal battle.  By this time, I was an uber-conservative registered Libertarian, and I had started to see my faith and my politics as separate entities, where one could be independent of the other.

As both my faith and my politics have grown over the years since then, one question still nags.  Which informs which?  Does my faith inform and influence my politics? Or do my politics inform my faith?  

It sounds like an easy question.  Obviously, our faith (some might say our religion) should inform the political stance that we take on a given issue.  But the rub is that too often we let our politics inform our faith.  If a candidate claims to be a champion of “Christian values,” we want to support him.  But what about his or her foreign policy?  Does God care more about oil-rich countries than poor developing ones?  What about his social or economic plans, are those Christian?  Would Jesus have been an advocate of gun rights and lower taxes?  

I’m not saying these issues are cut and dry, by any means.  I’m saying that there are often political issues that become faith issues.  I have actually had my faith questioned because I am not a fiscal conservative.  Too often, our political views become our “Christian values,” and that’s a dangerous place to be, because it’s easy to justify.  

As my relationship with Jesus grew, I came to realize that many of my political opinions stood in stark contrast to my faith.  Views that I thought were informed by my faith were actually quite the opposite.  I found that I had shoehorned my faith into a narrow political space, then judged other people who had other opinions.  Learning to untangle the web of politics and faith is a daunting task, but one worth undertaking.  

I love politics.  I love Jesus.  I strive to keep my faith first, and let it inform my politics, not the other way around.  Sometimes this puts me at odds with the “religious right” and sometimes not, but my politics are not determined by what are labeled “Christian values,” but by the One that those values are supposed to represent.

A Quick Tip on Prayer

As I sat down at my keyboard to type up my blog this week, two thoughts persisted in my mind. First, I thought a second bowl of Frosted Flakes was probably a bit overkill, but still an acceptable decision. (Hey, it was the morning. I don't plan these things, they just happen.) Second, I had a hard time thinking of anything that I could write or say better than Oswald Chambers said last week.

For the uninitiated, Oswald Chambers was an evangelist who is best known for his daily devotional "My Utmost for His Highest." I try to read it every day if I can. The wording is sometimes a little out of style, but it's still as relevant today as ever in history. It's incredibly readable and worth your time if you've never checked it out.

I came across this entry last week. It reads like a few quick tips on how and why to pray, like a sort of devotional Buzzfeed article. Prayer is one of those subjects that can feel utterly impossible to ever wrap your arms around, but Chambers writes succinctly enough that it makes sense without having to read an entire treatise. A former teacher and evangelist, he's a great coach to study on the practical aspects of the spiritual life.

Don't take my word for it. Check it out.


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August 6th - The Cross in Prayer

"At that day ye shall ask in My name."
      -John 16:26.

We are too much given to thinking of the Cross as something we have to get through; we get through it only in order to get into it. The Cross stands for one thing only for us—a complete and entire and absolute identification with the Lord Jesus Christ, and there is nothing in which this identification is realized more than in prayer.

“Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.” Then why ask? The idea of prayer is not in order to get answers from God; prayer is perfect and complete oneness with God. If we pray because we want answers, we will get huffed with God. The answers come every time, but not always in the way we expect, and our spiritual huff shows a refusal to identify ourselves with Our Lord in prayer. We are not here to prove God answers prayer; we are here to be living monuments of God’s grace.

“I say not that I will pray the Father for you: for the Father Himself loveth you.” Have you reached such an intimacy with God that the Lord Jesus Christ’s life of prayer is the only explanation of your life of prayer? Has Our Lord’s vicarious life become your vital life? “At that day” you will be so identified with Jesus that there will be no distinction.

When prayer seems to be unanswered, beware of trying to fix the blame on someone else. That is always a snare of Satan. You will find there is a reason which is a deep instruction to you, not to anyone else.

Stray Dog Freedom

How free do you feel?  We live in the good ol' USA, the “land of the free.”  We have constitutional freedoms.  We talk about being debt free, worry free, free from temptation, free to be me, free to live my life.  We like free stuff - a free lunch, a free ride, free samples, free range chicken.  Some free stuff we don’t like - freeloaders, free advice, free-form poetry (well, I don’t like it).  But how free are we really?  Talk to an Anarchist, and they will say we are not free in the least, but we are held down by the restraints of the law.  Ask a 13 year old, and they will tell you that they aren’t free because of their repressive parents always telling them what they can’t do.  I doubt that anyone wants, REALLY wants, absolute freedom.  Freedom from authority, government, society, parents, or God.  For example, people complain about taxes - “It’s my money and I should be FREE to do what I want with it!” they might say - but they enjoy the paved roads they drive on, and the protection of the police and fire services, and they benefit, either directly or indirectly, from the hospitals and schools that their taxes pay for.  Some people who think they want absolute freedom probably still want some rules for, say, driving (stop signs, traffic signals, everyone driving on the right side of the road).

People often struggle to be free from the very things that keep them safe and happy.  Since the beginning of human existence, we see this play out time and time again.  My sons, each in their own way, express their desire for freedom.  They might have money, but I won’t let them spend it on things that I know they don’t really want (or won't want in 10 minutes).  As parents, we balance the giving of freedom with ability to make good decisions, which, in reality, is not true freedom.  But do any of us have true freedom?  We are bound to earth, we are not free from gravity.  We need to eat, we are not free from our need for sustenance.  None of us will live forever, we are not free from aging or physical death. 

Still, we struggle to be free from God.  Free from the rules that we perceive he has bound us with.  Free from the obligation to acknowledge him as our provider.  But, like a stray dog, freedom from our protector and provider comes at a steep price.  This recently found freedom affords us hunger and thirst, fear and vulnerability.  We trade the external restraints for internal restraints.  Under authority, we have the freedom that the authority provides.  God offers us true freedom, but only inside his kingdom.  Similarly, my own children, under my authority, have the freedom to be kids, and grow up in a safe environment.  

So, how free do you feel?  I’ve met some people who are free from authority, but do not experience any freedom.  We can kick against reality, but that does not make it any less true.  The truth is that the only thing preventing us from experiencing the freedom that Jesus offered - God’s kingdom of love, peace, well-being and contentment - is our misplaced desire for this stray dog freedom.  In reality, we choose on a moment-by-moment basis, whether or not to live in peace.  It’s not a matter of choosing freedom over authority, it’s a matter of what kind of freedom you desire.

The Music vs. The Noise

I love writing in a busy place. I can't figure out why exactly, but I think it has something to do with the way it makes me feel invisible. Like right now, I'm sitting in Starbucks at my favorite table, typing away with my headphones on. In the last hour, probably twenty or thirty people have walked in, ordered their coffee, chatted with a friend, and walked out without ever acknowledging I’m here. It's like I'm hiding out in plain sight. It's a weirdly safe feeling, but something about it keeps me dialed in to my writing. It's like background noise, only it's visual noise rather than audible.

I've been thinking quite a bit about noise this morning. Most often, when we think of noise, we are thinking of unorganized, audible sounds, like pots clanking together or anything by Nickelback. The operative word here is unorganized. Random pots clanking produces a purposeless, meaningless sound. It's something that ultimately doesn't mean anything. In a word, it's forgettable. 

Now contrast this with a symphony. A symphony also involves banging things together, but it's organized and moves to a very specific tempo. It's purposeful sound, sound in a direction. Symphonies impact people; noise is easily ignored. Nobody gets moved to tears listening to their dishwasher.

This principle applies to more than just music. When you take stock of everything that makes up your life today, which does it resemble more, a symphony or noise? What's your direction, your aim? What are you trying to say? If your life was a song, would people have it on their iPod? Would anyone say it meant something to them?

Far too often, we clutter our lives with things that don't matter. We lose sight of the big picture and make decisions that play out like a poorly timed guitar solo that makes you cringe. If you feel like your life doesn't make sense, take a look at the way you spend your time, your money, and your resources. Want to know what you value most? There's your answer. What you value is expressed by what you love. And when we lose sight of what our lives ought to be about, things begin to get out of order, confusing. Disordered loves never produce beautiful lives, just as disordered sounds never produce beautiful songs.

Living a life that amounts to more than cluttered noise is a lot like writing a song. It takes intentionality and passion. Certain rules and boundaries apply. You need more than just a few good instruments; you need to find a way to make those instruments work in harmony with each other. Ultimately, it's about saying something that counts, something that makes a difference because it exists. It's about making something beautiful.

Is Authenticity Enough?

“It developed like a second language that I don’t understand.  I believe I was praying perfectly.  I know other people say they faked it, but I don’t feel like I did.  I know it was real.”  -anonymous, on speaking in tongues

(This quote is from a podcast called “This is Actually Happening”, from the episode “What if you used to speak in tongues?”  If very strong language doesn’t bother you too much, I recommend listening to it - but not in front of the kids.)

Is it possible to have a fully authentic Christian experience, and walk away from it?  Did someone who “loses” their faith, ever have it to begin with, or were they just faking it, or going through the motions?  Having grown up in the Church, I have had the opportunity to meet some super-spiritual people, and watch some of those same super-spiritual people walk away from their faith.  Either I am a terrible judge of character who grew up surrounded by adolescent and teenage scammers, or something else is happening.  I have known people who seemed to have it all together, and decided that Christianity wasn’t for them.

The speaker in “What if you used to speak in tongues?” recounts her experience in a charismatic church setting, with tongue-speaking, faith healing, and being slain in the spirit, but at its core it is not much different that the church I grew up in, or that I see my kids growing up in.  We, as parents and CM leaders, want to provide opportunities for authentic God experiences, which is fantastic.  But the young person in “What if…” seems to have had that.  She believes her experience was real, authentic, and valuable.  So why is her story called “used to” speak in tongues?  Because she gave up on religion.  If you listen to her story, it boils down to the fact that she was hurt by the church, and all of her very real and meaningful experiences weren’t enough for her.  

I have witnessed this trajectory before, and I don’t know if the modern church has a valid strategy for preventing it in the future.  Statically speaking, one of my own kids or their friends, having experienced God, will decide that staying in the church is either more painful than leaving, or simply lacks enough meaning to them.

So what are we supposed to do?  First, we need to understand that people change.  I have a friend who’s beliefs are not far from mine, but he can’t see them fitting into the narrow box of his idea of Christianity.  He can’t get past all of the prerequisites (including the need to speak in tongues) that he grew up with, so he feels that he has no place in the church.  We are all at different places, and accepting people on the journey without judgement is important.  Church is not an exclusive club for people who meet the requirements. 

We can also recognize that young people leave the church because their faith isn’t personally meaningful to them.  They have the faith of their parents, who made them attend church and have God experiences, but it never became their own, first-hand faith.  Maybe their friends went to church, but if their faith is not their own, they will likely see no reason to remain in the church, when there is no requirement or pressure to do so.

So, is authenticity enough?  Sometimes.  But no amount of striving on my part can create authenticity for someone else.  And even when an authentic experience happens, there’s still no guarantee that it will outweigh all else.  I suppose it’s truly a miracle when a person decides for themselves that, despite the potential for pain, an authentic relationship is worth pursuing, and holding on to.

Jeff Hyson