That old song always struck me as a little sad, but not too interesting. After all, I wasn't in either category: tired or scared. But it comes to mind today, as I am thinking about someone I know. He's an old man, in his 90s, who has been utterly miserable for years. It started when his wife died. He used to make her life miserable, and then she up and died on him. Now, maybe he's feeling like he has no purpose in life. I don't know. But over the past several years, he has been the loneliest, most unhappy man I have ever known. He wants to die, and - I know, this sounds cold - he really needs to die. But he's terrified of it. He's terrified of what might await him after he leaves here. I can't imagine a sadder life to live. And I can't imagine a more vivid illustration of the importance of living our lives today with the desired end in mind. We can't live an unpleasant, self-centered life and hope that somehow, at the end, everyone will think highly of us, and we can look forward to whatever awaits us. I read some years back that everyone should occasionally read an obituary. It's a good reality check. That's because an obit is an account of what someone else thought was important about a person's life. I've read a good many of them, and it's very often a depressing task, reading the account of a life that left nothing good for having been lived. Live life today with an eye on the outcome you want in the end. Live life today considering two things: What will your obit say, and what will your God say? It's a big deal, and it can't wait until later. There might not be a later. And have a happy New Year!

Continuing with the problem of why God would "pull us from the game" and, despite our gifts, training and desire, not let us do that for which we have prepared. I wrote in part one of building character as one possible reason. And I am assuming in all this that there is no willful sin, which, of course, changes everything. Such sin is in fact a demonstration of a lack of character. But there's another reason, one that I think is also very important, and perhaps more common than we realize. That's to bring us into a deeper relationship with God. As I think of earlier times in history, I often think how fortunate I am to have been born when and where I was. I have had a relatively easy life - never had to worry about whether I might survive another week - with resources to buy an occasional toy, lots of books and a few other things I like. Oh, and let's not forget a substantial number of years of education, collecting several college degrees along the way, and changing careers several times in my life. These are luxuries unimaginable to most of the people who have lived on this earth. And yet, there is one thing our culture doesn't give us, which we badly need. In fact, contemporary American culture is oriented to deny us this critical element. We are raised and trained to be busy, to do something. Even our so-called "leisure" is merely another form of being busy. And solitude, closely tied to quiet relaxation, is nearly unheard of. There is much loneliness, more alienation, but little intentionally chosen solitude. The two symbols of our culture might well be the personal stereo and the virtual reality game, both tools to help us shut others out and create our own world. Not good. We are not made for this sort of life. We are not intended to live in social and intellectual isolation and frenetic activity. And when we do, we suffer for it. Our culture offers us many good things. But instead of accepting these good things and living with them in a balanced way, we try to cram in as much of hustle and bustle as we can. We don't want to miss anything. We only go around this life one time, after all. And worse, we push our children into every conceivable activity, as we run ourselves and them ragged, in fear that the little darlings might grow up deprived of some opportunity. It's very often a parent's way of easing his or her conscience for giving a child everything but a caring, involved mom or dad. Much of this frenetic activity comes from our own sense of emptiness and failure. We run, run, run, trying to do something that will make us feel fulfilled and worthwhile. Something that will remove the emptiness inside, that will give us significance. But it doesn't work. We were made for a life radically different than the contemporary American version. We were indeed designed to work, to be active, but to do so for other reasons than to find significance. We work out of our God-designated significance, not to gain it. And we were designed to live in intimate relationship, not in isolation. Social and intellectual isolation is intensely destructive. Reading the first couple chapters of Genesis, we can see something of God's intent in creating us. First, we were created in his image. That means we have the capacity - in limited measure - to love, to create, to do a variety of other things unknown to any other being. It also means we were created to be in relationship. We are inherently social, and need each other. The first relationship for us was with our creator, with God himself. Then, after God came others like us. To be healthy, they have to be in that order. Finally, we were made to work in service of God's creation, caring for it, protecting it, and completing it. Not work for the sake of work, nor to achieve status, but in fulfillment of God's intended and high purpose for us. Okay, so if all that's true, what does it have to do with our feeling of being sidelined? A lot. We are a stubborn sort, and while we often say we want a deeper relationship with God - at least, some of us do - we then complain we simply don't have time. We're too busy to pray, to read our Bibles, to spend time at the feet of Jesus. So, being a gracious sort, God exercises a sort of mercy toward us, forcing us out of our pattern by pulling us out of the game, setting us on the bench and letting us watch the world go on without us. We don't like it, and we cry and complain about it, but that's okay. At least now we're talking with God and willing perhaps to make room for listening to him, too. These times are not permanent. They are of a relatively short duration - though it may seem excessive by our measure - for a purpose. And when the purpose has been met, things will change. Unfortunately, we don't always know what the purpose is, and so we don't know when it's been met. It's God's call. So, my thought on the most beneficial plan of action in times of God's silence is simple: Complain if you like - I do - but whatever you do, press toward God. Spend time sitting at his feet and enjoying the wonder of his grace and beauty. A good tool in beginning this pattern is to daily read a verse such as Psalm 27:4. And talk to Him. Talk with Him. It's a high honor that God gives us, this coming into his presence, and it's worth more by far than anything else to which we might aspire. And it's only when we have been in his presence that we have something to offer others in our world. It's when we are with Him that we begin to understand our purpose for living and to reflect the character and beauty of our God. Hallelujah!

I had a conversation recently with a friend, someone who is very bright and is by any definition an achiever. My friend - a scientist - is now more than fully occupied with the non-science demands of raising a family. And my friend - while understanding the importance and privilege of shaping young lives - struggles with missing the mental challenges and the sense of fulfillment that comes from using a very good mind in one's chosen field. I well understand the situation. As they say, "Been there, done that." And I don't like it. I struggle with it. Author and pastor T.D. Jakes once said that, when you pass a construction site, and see big diggers and heavy machinery and quantities of building materials, you know one thing for certain: "They aren't building a chicken coop." He was talking to an audience of leaders, men and women who were achievers, "get-it-done" types, who very often secretly struggled with feeling unproductive or useless. Jakes hit a sensitive spot. Many feel like they have little real purpose in life, at least at their present situation. Many feel like they contribute nothing to anything that matters. I was one of them. But Jakes has a good point. God has invested greatly in the least of his people, sending Jesus to redeem us. And if that had been all he did, it would have been enough. But He went farther, and in some folks, He invested in mentoring, education, training, character-building and more. And yet we wonder why. We wonder what the point might be of all the training and experience. Is it so we can sit on the sidelines, apparently doing nothing? Surely not. Many have written of times when God seems to withdraw from us any sense of his presence. Some have called it the "dark night of the soul," others a "wilderness experience." David cried out to God, pleading that He not remove his Spirit. Moses argued with God, telling him that without God's presence, the Israelites were just another bunch of escaped slaves, wandering in the desert. They needed God's presence for significance, or God had brought them out for nothing. I understand that too well. So why does God withdraw from us - though we know He's there all the time - and pull us out of the "game," letting us sit on the sidelines? And worse, as we sit, we can see places where the game is not going well, places where we are certain we could be a factor. Our training, experience and gifts all point us to that exact need. But we sit on the sidelines. Why would God do something like that? Why would a God - who never wastes anything in our experience and gifting - not want us engaged, using the gifts He has given us? I'm not sure I have the answer. At least, I have never been able to completely satisfy myself. But sometimes, in the middle of a storm, it's difficult to look objectively at what's happening to and around you. You're more concerned with living through the storm. Nevertheless, I have some ideas that I want to share. One common reason, I think, is that we might develop character. The biggest factor in our effectiveness in God's kingdom is not our intelligence or education or gifts. It's our character: Can God trust us, no matter what? We often assume that, well, of course: I'm a nice guy, honest, trustworthy and all that. But there's a deeper issue: Do we trust God with our life, no matter what the situation? Can we truly say that nothing is more important to us than knowing and serving God? That we would rather live in his presence than have the greatest success and satisfaction in anything else? Hard questions. But God isn't primarily concerned with what we think life has equipped us to do. He isn't primarily concerned with our career choices or our professional achievements. Our decisions in those matters, after all, come from our perspective, our own idea of our place in the world, not his. God could easily let us continue on, seeking our own goals and satisfying our own ambitions. But our goals are based on our perception of the world and our place in it, which is in turn based on a tiny amount of information. We see reality as though we were looking at the world through a nail hole in a wall. Our best perceptions are badly distorted. And so we relate to a "world' that is to the real world as a cartoon drawing is to a real person. Do we trust God with our lives? I was once in a gallery, looking at a beautifully mounted reproduction of a painting of a scene in the Colorado mountains. It was beautiful, and I spent a good while looking at it. Then a friend called me to come and see another item, hanging on another wall close by. It was the original painting. I was astonished. I looked at the richness of the work, then back at the reproduction I had thought so beautiful. After the real thing, the copy looked bland, washed out, and uninteresting. So it is with life. Once we have seen life from God's perspective - from the "other side of the sky" - what we previously found so fascinating is a lifeless, colorless copy. The best prayer we can make, I think, is two-fold: that we might see ourselves as God sees us, and that we might see the world and our place in it as God sees them. Makes all the difference.

If indeed you call yourselves Christians, and rest on grace, and make your confidence in God; if you say you know His will, and approve the things that are excellent, being instructed out of the Word; if you are confident that you are a guide to the blind, a light to those who are in darkness, an instructor of the foolish, a teacher of babes, having the form of knowledge and truth in your mind, you, therefore, who would teach others, do you not teach yourselves? You who preach that a man should not steal, do you steal? You who say, "Do not commit adultery," do you commit adultery? You who abhor idols, do you rob God, even worshipping yourselves as idols? You who make your boast in grace, do you dishonor God through making His grace a small thing? Know this: "The name of God is blasphemed among the people because of you." (Romans 2:17-24, paraphrased)

Knowing God is an interesting subject. So is knowing about God. But the two are clearly not the same. My guess is that a large majority of people who claim to know God would, on careful consideration, be found to know about God, but not to know God to any significant degree. And probably a large majority of self-identified Christians would say they do not "know" God. They would likely be correct. Knowing about someone is easy. I know about many people whom I have never met. Abraham and Paul from the Bible, for example. George Washington and many others in American history. Others in world history. Probably, you do too. After all, it's simply a matter of research and observation, of gathering information. Any competent journalist can attest to the ease of writing a fairly detailed article about someone - giving the appearance of knowing the person well - while never having met the person. Collecting data. But knowing someone is a different matter. That requires more than research and information. It's about personal interaction and time significant together. Knowing someone is far less easy, and that's especially true of knowing God. So how do we come to truly know God? And do we know that we know God? On such an important matter, we don't want to fool ourselves, believing something that's a product of our own imagination. A God whom we define is no God at all. But though it's not easy, neither is it complicated. I struggled with this issue for years. I want to know God, but how? And how do I know if I really know Him? Is there a link between knowing Him and being "spiritually mature"? Here's what I have concluded. How do we know God? Well, let's think about relationships in general. How do I come to know anyone? Not a moment of revelation, certainly. It's a process, not an event. In parts of Texas, they don't talk of having known someone for years, but rather, of having been knowing someone. "I've been knowing Joe for twenty years." A process. So how to I come to know another person? My wife, or a friend? It's fairly straightforward, right? By choosing to spend significant time together. Doing things, talking, each being a part of the life of the other, shaping a "together life." But notice, it doesn't happen by accident. There is an element of intentionality: We choose to know and be known by another person It's really that simple, of course. If I want to know someone, I have to spend time with that person. Not just passing time, but interacting, "being there" to each other. Knowing is a process that comes with living life together. And it works more effectively when that living includes hard times together. Knowing God is no different. God is a person, and reveals himself to us so that we can know Him much like any other person. So how do we live life together with God? A couple thoughts come to mind. First, read the Bible. Read it often. The Bible is our primary source of revelation from God, and the measure by which we can evaluate the validity of everything else. But don't simply read for information, collecting data. Read for personality and character. What do the stories say about this person we call God? What do his own words say about Him? Who is He? As we "read between the lines," we can get an idea of the person the stories reveal to us. We get something from the text itself, but we add to that by looking behind the text. What does the text imply, and what does it assume? Then, like any other relationship, we have to spend time together, talking and doing things. There is no substitute for shared time. Talk, talk, talk. Talk with God about anything and everything that pops into your mind. And, now and then, stop to let Him talk. It's only polite, you know. As you spend time carefully reading and talking, the relationship will grow, and over time you will come to know God more and more. But how do we know if we really know Him? How do we know we aren't focused on something out of our own imagination? I think it's again much like other relationships. How do husbands and wives know that they know each other? There are a couple interesting things that we might consider. First, people in a good marriage begin to act like each other. They take on the characteristics of their partner. They begin to understand how their partner thinks. Over time, each can often predict what the other will do in many situations. But what about God? No different. As we spend time with God, we begin to take on his characteristics: We start to act like Him. We become, some might say, a "chip off the old block." And over time, we come to know Him well enough that we can actually predict how He might act in a given situation. We know his voice. We can know God. That's clear from the Bible. We cannot know Him totally, knowing Him as well as He can be known. But we can certainly know Him well, with a relationship of intimacy and enjoyment. And that's the longing of his heart.

If you've been a long-time visitor of TheologyWebsite, you may recall our rather vibrant Discussion Forum boating nearly 4000 registered users. From the earliest days of TheoWeb (circa 1998), we've striven to provide a sane, safe and academic arena of discussion for anyone wishing to debate, inquire or merely proclaim on a wide spectrum of theology-related topics. The prior forum grew a bit unwieldy and, due to technological constraints at the time, an administrator's nightmare in spam control, causing us to temporarily abandon the effort. We are now happy to report that the newest incarnation of our Discussion Forum is now open to the public. Although the prior forum's content was vast, in-depth, yeah, unending... we've decided to start afresh; From scratch, as it were. And so we welcome and heartily invite you to take a look, register and participate. I think you'll find our version of "discussion forum" quite refreshing, if indeed you are looking for a fairly moderated online environment for theological discussion. We decided not to simply import all our previous forum's registered users into the new environment. Consider it a thinning of the pack. Thus if you were registered in the past, please go ahead and register again. Just like online reincarnation. Hope to hear from you on the inside. Sincerely, sdf

Every now and then, something will come to my attention that I find somewhat startling. Often, these things prompt questions that some folks consider outrageous or worse, but that response doesn't bother me. After all, what's life without a little controversy now and then? Boring. Here's what I noticed, and I wonder about the significance of it. First, I noticed that the most successful long-term democracies, the countries with high levels of political stability, economic opportunity, and a strong tradition of free speech and conscience, are pretty much anchored in Central Europe - Germany and Switzerland - and the United States, plus a handful of smaller countries. It's very difficult to find these conditions in a durable, relatively unlimited form anywhere else on the globe. What do these have in common besides their political structure? Well, they all enjoy a moderate climate, which is not insignificant. There are few highly developed cultures in either very hot or very cold places. But there is, it seems to me, another important factor in their success. The answer is this: Religious heritage. More to the politically incorrect point, nearly all were deeply involved in or had their roots in the Protestant Reformation. So here's the question: Could it be that Protestant Christianity is a seedbed of political freedom? Could it be that attempts at "planting democracy" in other nations - Haiti, Iraq, Afghanistan - are doomed to fail, because they don't have the necessary religious foundation? If the answer to these questions is yes - and I think it may be - why would this be? What's so special about being, say, a Presbyterian as opposed to a Roman Catholic or a Muslim? Here's what I think. Until the Reformation, individuals were invisible. By that I mean, they existed as basically insignificant cogs in the gears of a big medieval religious bureaucracy. There was no freedom, little education, no opportunity for bettering one's lot, and total subjugation to the dictates of the church. An individual had no standing with God or with anyone else. In effect, the idea of personhood that we hold so dearly didn't exist. Then came Luther and Calvin and others. Now, every man stands alone before God, a priest in his own right. And he does so based on God's extended grace, not on some papal decree. Furthermore, he is an individual, known to God loved by him. Now the individual lives! What a man or woman does counts! And so the spark is ignited. Individual recognition brings individual initiative, individual responsibility, and individual freedom. The right to self govern. The right to choose one's destiny. Of course, these didn't come all at once, born mature. But the spark was struck in the tinder, and change was inevitable. So that's what I think. Is it possible? Plausible? What do you think? Does a people need the gospel to be free?

Where is God? I mean, if God is everywhere, as theologians teach, and if God loves me deeply and wants a relationship of intimacy with me, as theologians also teach, where is he? I talk, talk, talk to him, and he is ... where? He says nothing. The conversation is decidedly one-sided. How do I deal with God's silence, his seeming absence? It's clear that he is often silent, though he has shown himself quite capable of conversation. David the Psalmist wrote of God withdrawing his presence (Psalm 51:11 and others), and cried out in anguish over it. Abraham, according to the biblical account, apparently went many years without a word from God, though he was asked to do some highly irregular things. Through history, Christian mystics have written of God's tendency to "withdraw himself" from us. St. John of the Cross wrote of the "dark night of the soul." Back in the 1970s, Christians used to talk about the "wilderness experience," a time - sometimes years - marked by God's apparent absence. As I write this, I confess to being depressed and discouraged. I have cried out to God, seeking his voice both in direction and reassurance that I have heard him, that I am in the place he has prepared for me, that I have significance and can look forward to a future with him. Silence. Why? Would it hurt God to let me in on what's going on in my life? It only seems fair, since I am, after all, the one who's living it. Perhaps it would be easier if it made some sense to me. I think these "wilderness" experiences are common to our lives. I don't pretend to understand the reason for them, though I have some ideas. But they are a given: It's a matter of when they come, not if, for anyone who is serious about knowing and serving this God. And the big question is, what do we do when we find ourselves out there, alone, and with no sign of God? I grew up in Colorado and spent many days wandering the mountains, sometimes without seeing another person or sign of civilization. And I learned some fundamental rules of survival. One is, when I don't know where I am, stop. Don't go anywhere, don't panic, but sit and wait calmly, thinking carefully about the situation. Rushed, panicky actions result in dead people. The spiritual wilderness is no different. When life is confusing, don't run. Stop. Wait. As I consider my situation in the mountains, I review what I know about both mountains and myself. Turns out, I know a lot, and often I find myself not as lost as I thought. As I consider my situation in the wilderness, I review what I know about both God and myself, and I realize that I know quite a lot. First, God has a long history of letting people wait without his evident presence. Second, God has over the centuries said some important things: that he will never leave us, never forsake us, and more. Third, people through history have written of times in the wilderness as times of deepening and growth. The wilderness can kill us. But it can also focus us and heighten our senses. The choice is ours. We can panic and run -- likely to our death -- or we can wait calmly for God's purpose to be complete, when we once again move on, but at a deeper and more intimate level. Fourth, God never really goes away. A fundamental principle of theology is that God is everywhere present. He is there with us, whether we can sense his presence or not. Very important to know. A cardinal principle then is this: Be calm. Be cool. Wait on God. He's there, and he won't fail. Years ago, I was the principal of a private school. It was a high energy environment that could test anyone's ability to remain calm. So I went to the local FedEx office and got from them some pin-on advertising buttons. I gave one to every faculty and staff member in the school, and the buttons sort of became our operating motto. "Don't Panic." So, I don't panic. I remain cool. And I let God do his thing with me. Sometimes I don't like it, and sometimes it's difficult. But the alternative is unthinkable. God is faithful, and can be trusted. Even in the wilderness.

Is there such a thing as a saved Unitarian? I mean, can one not believe in the Trinity and be a follower of Jesus? I just read - not for the first time - that among fundamental beliefs necessary to calling oneself a Christian is the teaching that God is trinitarian: One God existing in three coequal persons. But I struggle with this. Everyone struggles with the Trinity, which is beyond difficult to understand completely, but I struggle with making it a requirement. Don't get me wrong: I am Trinitarian to the core of my bones. I do not believe scripture supports any other conclusion. However, I was asked by a guy if I considered him a Christian. He believed firmly in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, and had trusted him for salvation. He was "salvation by grace through faith" all the way. But he called himself a "biblical Unitarian": He did not believe in the trinity. Of all the people he asked, I was the only one to answer yes. I am apparently in a very small minority, but I think I was right, and the others wrong. What does it take to be a Christian? Put differently, what do we have to believe and do to be declared righteous by God? The New Testament is clear - over 400 references - that salvation is by grace through faith in Jesus. That's all. Nothing more. It's all Jesus. So how is it we include a belief in one of the most difficult theological concepts in the Bible? I don't believe it. It's incomprehensible to me that God will turn away a sincere seeker for lack of agreement with a point of theology. If he did turn non-trinitarians away, would he not also be obligated to turn away the majority of Christians who profess their adherence to trinitarian theology, but who have no understanding of what they claim to believe? What's the difference? Refusing to believe what one doesn't understand, or "believing" what one doesn't understand? So I'm not ready to buy the statement that it's trinitarian or nothing. However, I will agree that one cannot grow to fullness in knowing God and be a Unitarian. The presence of the triune God is so overwhelming in the Bible that to deny it, in my opinion, so limits one's growth in relationship as to make it impossible to live a conversational, missional life of a Jesus-follower. So, can my friend be a "biblical Unitarian" and be saved? That is, can he be declared righteous by God and not believe in the Trinity? Yes. I can't come to any different conclusion that offsets the weight of 400+ verses. It's about Jesus. It's all about Jesus. Nothing else is in any way involved in salvation. After that, we can argue about whether certain doctrines are essential to growth, but first, we have to confess: It's all about Jesus.

What have you done lately? No, I'm not talking about getting the latest technotoy or buying a new car. Nothing like that. What have you done lately that matters? What have you done that changes the world, helps others, and lives on after you? Anything? One of the saddest things I ever read was from the Greek philosopher Aristotle: "The masses choose the lives of grazing animals." Utter insignificance. Profoundly disheartening, and the most depressing part: "Choose." People choose insignificance. So what have you done that isn't centered on yourself? That makes a difference in another life? That makes the world better? Anything significant? What have you done that isn't the choice of a grazing animal, a sheep? Are you pleased with the legacy you will leave? Are you happy with what someone will write about you after you are gone? "He had fun" isn't so great, you know. Does the thought of standing to give an account before God scare you? God has called us to himself, to be his, to represent him in the world. It's an honor high beyond our imagining. He has called us -- his own -- to be an essential part of redeeming the world that is his and was stolen away. But we'd rather play games. Little kids' games. And we pretend they're real life. We live in a little, fake, cartoony world, a world of our own devising. And we try to convince ourselves that, man, this is really living! We've got a good thing going! But it isn't. And we don't. And deep inside, we know it. Deep inside, we know that there has to be more. Our pain and our tears have to mean something. We want to be more than sheep. It just can't be we live, we die, and nobody cares. So what are you doing that matters? Thousands of children die of starvation every day. Every day, while the western world becomes a place of obese, self-indulgent brats. What are you doing about it? Millions of people live on the edge of disaster, one failed harvest away from starvation. Millions more have no clean water to drink. How would you do, drinking water from polluted rivers, lakes and ponds? They don't do well, either. They get sick. They die young. What are you doing about it? They are people just like you, you know. They are your brothers and sisters. If you were born anywhere on earth as a "person of color," your chance for quality education and a quality life are far less. Even in America. No fault of your own. Just because of where you were born. Or the color of your skin. You could look forward to bad schools if you had schools at all, and a bigger chance of dying young than going to college. This is simply wrong, and our hearts should break from it. What are you doing about it? These are huge problems of injustice. But many of them are solvable. I can't solve them and you can't, either. But we certainly can. And if they are solvable, we have a moral responsibility to do something about them. But we can't do it living selfish lives. So what are we going to do? Nothing? One day, we will all stand before God. "Give an account." For some of us, that will be a very bad day. According to the Bible, we were created to do good works. Works God planned for us in advance. What are we going to do about it? ***** Tutor school children • volunteer in a literacy program • volunteer at a hospital • volunteer at a nursing home • volunteer to work with AIDS patients • repair houses for those who are unable • deliver meals to elderly shut-ins • adopt orphans via Compassion International and similar organizations • volunteer at a school as a teacher's assistant • mentor a child • give money to organizations that are making a difference in solving social problems • volunteer at a homeless shelter • join an organization assisting refugees • help buy medical supplies for disadvantaged people • stop living as if the world revolved around you and your whims • invest your life in something bigger than you.

Twice in three days someone has asked me that same question. It's an important question, but one that is not asked often enough. It's not an easy question to answer. However, since I have some ideas about it, and since people have asked me, here's my answer. But first, we need to rid ourselves of some common assumptions on the matter. For example, full pews do not necessarily mean a healthy, successful church. Nor do full bank accounts. Nor does the absence of conflict within the church. Then to answer the question we must first determine the fundamental purpose of a church. Our answer should be as simple as possible, and solidly rooted in scripture. I will suggest our central focus is making disciples. It is not worship, which we can surely do better in heaven than on earth. It's not evangelism, if by that we mean getting our friends to come to church. Both of these are good and important things, but not the focus. Disciple making is much more. It's helping people grow into fully committed Jesus-followers who in turn win and disciple others. Our purpose is not social action or meeting material needs, though making disciples requires paying attention to both of these areas. They are related. But if the social aspects of ministry take precedence, we quickly become a religiously affiliated social services agency. That's not what God has called us together to do. Here's the bottom line: Everything the church does must be to the end of pointing people to Jesus and helping them grow in a relationship with him. After we understand our basic biblical purpose, another question might be whether a church is living out their stated individual mission and vision. Are they doing - really doing - what they say God has called them to do in their specific location and circumstance? If not, no matter what else they are doing or how they are doing it, they are not a success. They are not being obedient to the vision they say God gave them. A final question. and it's a biggie, deals with evangelism. Are they winning people to faith in Jesus and intentionally and carefully discipling them into mature Jesus followers? Are there people among them who came to faith as a result of that congregation's efforts at evangelism? In most churches, this is an embarrassing question. They don't win people, or win only a very few. Large crowds are not on the list. Lots of money isn't either. Lack of conflict in a congregation might mean only that it's already dead. And getting people to attend church is not the same as bringing them to Jesus. Being in a church, someone has said, doesn't make one a Christian any more than being in a garage makes one a car. So, to wrap this up, here's my "bullet point" evaluation list: • Are they driven by the biblical mandate to make disciples? • Are they focused on making disciples according to the vision they claim? In other words, are they consistent with their own words? • Are they winning people to faith in Jesus and discipling them to maturity in their faith, winning others as they were won?

"It was right here," he said. "Right on this spot." Hank was telling me about a recent dream. We were walking on a gravel bank on the edge of a beautiful Ozark river. "We were right on this bank, Jesus and me, when I picked up a stone and skipped it out over the water," he continued. "After I threw it, Jesus stopped and looked at me, smiling. Actually, I thought it was a bit of a smirk, and it hurt my feelings just a little. He said, 'Let me show you something,' and he picked up a stone of his own and fired it out over the water. It skipped way on out there. "Well, you know, my pride was a little hurt, and I said, 'Now wait a minute. I was just getting warmed up.' And I got a good skippin' stone, and I launched it. It went skippin' on out there a bunch of times before it sunk. "I felt pretty good about that one," he said, "but Jesus, he said, 'Okay, I know you're good, but now I'm going to teach you something.' He had a smile on his face, but I knew I was in trouble when he just grabbed up a stone--not even a good skippin' stone--and fired it out over the river. Man, I gotta tell you, that thing looked like it grew legs and walked on water!" By now I was thinking, Hank, you're crazy. You've lost it. But then I thought about what I had just heard: Hank and Jesus going out together, just messing around along the river. Hank skipping stones with God! What do I do with that? Hank and I were friends, and we both loved God. But I never had the sort of relationship with God that he had. I never dreamed about Jesus, much less went skipping stones with him. I envied him for his friendship with God, just as I envied Abraham, Moses and others in scripture. Hank, I thought, if you're crazy, I want to be crazy, too. I want the kind of friendship with God that, when I'm sleeping and my analytical mind is turned off, something in me--that part that makes my dreams--goes out to play with Jesus. How cool is that? But wanting it can be a long ways from having it. I struggled with putting myself in Hank's dream. Something stood like a wall before me, keeping me from moving to where I wanted to be. Me, skipping rocks with Jesus? I don't think so. Hank was great in God's sight, one of his choicest saints. And me? Well, I'm just me. As I look at my relationship with God, I would like something better, deeper. But I wonder if I am my own worst enemy? Am I doing the very things that hinder my growth? I think part of my problem was this: If I asked Hank if God loved him, he would immediately say yes. I would, too, and probably, so would you. After all, that's Christianity 101. Then if I asked Hank if God liked him, he would again--just as quickly--say yes. But I would not have been so sure. It's a far different question, isn't it? And there we have a problem. We can agree that God loves us, despite some reservations about the details. But I have asked many people whether they thought God liked them. Usually, there was a pause and a wistful no. Why is this such a problem for us? Here's what I think happened in me. I thought God didn't like me because I didn't much like myself. And who knew me better than I knew myself? I knew what kind of person I was, and I wasn't too excited about it. We might say I had a poor self-image. And there's no question that my self-image is a factor in my relationships. I act according to who I think I am. If I see myself as a slob, for example, I will act that way. But what we're interested in here is not only how I see myself, but how I came to see myself that way. I was not born disliking myself; I learned it from someone. So does everyone. From early in life, we take cues from those around us, learning who we are. For most of us, we see and hear is mostly positive and encouraging. For some, however, it's negative and critical, and they grow up thinking badly of themselves. As children, we believe most of what we hear about ourselves. As adults, we still believe more than we should. In the end, most of us grow up at least a little touched by the destructive things around us. I privately thought I was a loser, but I didn't want to be a loser and I certainly didn't want the world to know I was. So, to protect myself, I learned to keep others at a distance. To do that, I began to act like someone else, someone I thought was more acceptable and safe, but not the real me. I hid me and created a stand-in--an imposter--who looked, acted and talked just like me, but who was harder to hurt. And this imposter is who I presented to the world. Nobody got to know the real me. If people knew me, they wouldn't like me. But there were problems. Sometimes protection and truth are incompatible. Because the imposter's mission was protection at all costs, he wasn't concerned with truth. So this "me" was a liar--a good one--and the lies kept me feeling safe. Another problem was that, over time, I came to believe the lies. I believed that what I was hearing was the truth about me, a reflection of reality. But it wasn't. So because I believed a lie, when I said I knew myself, I was mostly wrong. When I said--often justifying behavior my mother would not like--"That's just the way I am," it wasn't true. I didn't really know "the way I am," because the real person had been hidden so long, I didn't even know he existed. I knew the imposter, not the real me hiding out behind the barn. And this fake person I knew wasn't one I liked or respected, one who measured up to what I wanted to be. The imitation was "safe," but not good. So I became increasingly unhappy with my perceived self. I would inwardly cringe at who I thought I was and the way I behaved. None of it was true, but I didn't know that. And in time, the negative attitude became destructive. It always does that, sometimes ruining lives. Now, this whole subject is important and complex. Small libraries have been written about it. From one aspect, however, it's not so complicated, and it's something we must address for wholeness. Here's the way I understand it: Like everyone else, I have an internal standard, a picture of the "ideal me," the person I think I should be. Sometimes that standard is a good one, but often it's not based in reality and sets me up for failure. When I do something I think I should not--a too-common happening--I violate my standard. It doesn't matter if the act is really wrong or not. If I believe it's wrong, that it's less than I expect of myself, then for me it becomes wrong. When I do these things, even things nobody else knows about, I offend my own expectations and over time, I lose respect for myself. In my case, I became ashamed of myself. This is especially true in the case of betrayal. When I betray someone, I become ashamed, because I have betrayed my own idea of the kind of person I should be. This is true both when I betray someone else, and when the one betrayed is myself and my own expectations. This is a very big deal, because this dislike of self is an inward thing; it attacks my self-respect. It's at the root of much destructive behavior and many personal problems, because I begin to act like the one I think I am, making my life a self-fulfilling prophecy. If this pattern is not broken, I will never live the rich life God intends, but may even enter a destructive spiral downward, thinking and acting worse and worse. We have all known people who have done this. We can never live well if we dislike ourselves. But what to do? We've believed the imposter's lies for so long, it's hard to know what's true. But there's hope. We don't have to live this way. God doesn't intend that we live a self-critical, self-condemning sort of life. After all, we are the jewel of God's creation, the only part created in his own image. He has spoken in many places of his delight in us. Overcoming, getting out of the trap in which we live, can be difficult, but it's not hopeless. In my own journey to healing, I have found three things especially helpful. The first has to do with prayer, and it's not complicated. I began to pray this way: "God, help me see myself as you see me." It's simple and straightforward, and it's powerful. And the truth is, I really did need to change how I saw things. So I stopped praying about my wants, my sins, my "needs," or the rest of my usual me-focused prayers. Only, "God, help me see myself as you see me." That makes sense, of course, because God sees us as we really are, consistent with truth, and not through the squiggly carnival mirror of our own self image. Nobody needs to live as a carnival character. A good follow-on prayer is this: "God, help me see you as you really are." They go well together, like a matched set. Second--and sort of related--I had to decide whom I was going to believe. I could continue to believe myself--or more accurately, the imposter--or I could believe God. And while we can recognize that our beliefs got us into this mess in the first place, changing those beliefs is not a simple task. Here's the problem: Most of us would say, "Well, of course I believe God. He doesn't lie." But I don't think I really believed him. I have noticed that my ease in believing God varies with what he seems to be saying, with the demands his words make on me. For example, it's fairly easy to believe Jesus came and died for my salvation, as long as I accept it at an intellectual level and it doesn't make too many demands on my life. But when the Bible gets more personal and insists that I have to do something with my faith, it's not so easy. For example, when God tells me He has chosen me--and you, if you follow him--to represent him, it's tougher. Still, both Jesus (John 20:21) and Paul (II Corinthians 5:18-20) say it's so. We might also talk about not being focused on ourselves, for another example. Children--both the young people kind and the spiritual kind--are self-focused. Adults are not supposed to be. It's not about me. It's about Jesus. As I believe that, my life will change. And more to our immediate point, when God says good things about me, about his passionate love for me and his delight in hearing me pray to him, do I believe him? The Bible says it's so (Proverbs 15:8). So do I really believe him? Do I live my life based on his word? Sometimes that's a question I would rather not face. He says he delights in one in whom I have too often taken little delight. I still don't dream of skipping stones with Jesus. But here's the bottom line: I can choose either to believe God or believe a lie, and so can you. There's no other option. We need to decide whom we will believe. It's our call. And like the man in scripture, we can pray, "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief" (Mark 9:24). Third, I began to read the Bible--starting in Genesis--with a view to learning what God says about himself--his nature and purpose--and about us and the sort of task He has given us collectively and me personally as a reason for life. God is purposeful in both his words and actions. That means we don't just happen to be here, like we accidentally fell off the back of the pumpkin truck. We are here for a reason, and to live well, we have to know what that reason is. We might label it our "call." We all have one, and it comes on three levels. The first call on our life is what God says about our fundamental purpose, the reason we live as human beings. Why did He create us? Why does He leave us here? Genesis 1 and 2 cover that pretty well. You can read carefully and see Adam and Eve in relationships with God, each other, and the natural world. They were here to live in intimate relationship with God and each other, and to act with God's delegated authority ("exercise dominion") in managing the world on God's behalf. They were sort of God's junior partners in the business of completing creation. After that, we need to know what life is about as a member of God's redeemed people. What does it mean--day to day--to be a follower of Jesus? The answers will be evident as we read some of the passages I mentioned above, such as John 20 and II Corinthians 5. In very much the way Adam and Eve represented God on earth, so do we. The details have changed a little--now we are "ministers of reconciliation"--but the basic focus is the same. We can understand more if we read the gospels in this light: what did Jesus do? Then, in Acts we can see how the first followers of Jesus understood these things. Finally, there's the details. This is how the first two look in my life in this place at this time. It deals with vocation, location, relationships and more. God leads us into it through a variety of means as we seek him. It involves our talents, interests, training, and the whole of who we are. So after I understand the first and second calls, I then pray about how to put that vision for my life into practice. I want to know how to make God's idea my idea. That's the third call. We need all three, but we have to understand them in order. We can't go backwards, because each builds on the ones before. Now, these steps are much easier to describe than do. They were not easy for me and there were no overnight successes. In some cases, I still occasionally struggle. But they are not complicated, and as we seek healing, God hears our cry and responds with his gentle strength and care. I have stumbled many times, but God lifted me up and together we continued. And as I practiced them, especially believing God, I began to see changes in my life. I began to see myself differently. I made decisions differently. I am no longer ashamed of who I am, and I am becoming a friend of God. And that's good.

The passage in Exodus 3 and 4, a conversation between Moses and God, is fascinating. There is enough here to write several books, and indeed, many have been written. As I read this portion, at least three things jump out at me. We all know the scene, where God spoke to Moses from the burning bush, telling him that He has heard the cries of the Israelites, and that He is going to rescue them. And he tells Moses: 3:10 "Therefore, come now, and I will send you to Pharaoh, so that you may bring My people, the sons of Israel, out of Egypt." But Moses responds with a question: 11 But Moses said to God, "Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the sons of Israel out of Egypt?" Good question: Who am I? I'm a nobody, and how is it that I am supposed to go out and tell people that I am here to save them, because God has spoken to me? Who am I, after all? And God responded by not telling him who he was: 12 And He said, "Certainly I will be with you, and this shall be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God at this mountain." Notice two things: First, who Moses was didn't matter, because God would be with him, and that's the deciding factor, no matter who Moses is. Or who we are. Second, the "sign" God gives is only going to happen after the fact. Moses has to step out in obedience first, and then God will show that he was in fact acting on God's instruction. Then, Moses asks another perfectly logical question: "Who are you?" 13 Then Moses said to God, "Behold, I am going to the sons of Israel, and I will say to them, 'The God of your fathers has sent me to you.' Now they may say to me, 'What is His name?' What shall I say to them?" And God's response, again, is very important--then and now: 14 God said to Moses, "I AM WHO I AM"; and He said, "Thus you shall say to the sons of Israel, 'I AM has sent me to you.'" Now this is one that generates reams of writing and discussion. But here's a good way we might understand it. The ancient world was not interested in gods as some abstract theological concept. They would have thought modern theologians, by and large, were crazy. A god--or God--was of value only as he acted in the lives of the people, protecting them, providing for them, meeting the needs of their daily lives. And he did this as an outworking of who he was: his character, personality, and power. So we might understand this statement by God, instead of "I am who I am," rather "As who I am, I will be present for you in your circumstances, as who I am." A little awkward to get hold of, but probably closer to how Moses understood it. And it's equally important to us. Our God is not some abstract, distant theological concept. 4:10 Then Moses said to the LORD, "Please, Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither recently nor in time past, nor since You have spoken to Your servant; for I am slow of speech and slow of tongue." 11 The LORD said to him, "Who has made man's mouth? Or who makes him mute or deaf, or seeing or blind? Is it not I, the LORD? 12 "Now then go, and I, even I, will be with your mouth, and teach you what you are to say." So then Moses raises another important issue: I am not equipped. I don't have the talent, gifts, intelligence, charisma, or whatever else, to go out in your name. Sound familiar? And God responded, "Who made your mouth?" If God made us, certainly he can work thorough us as we act in obedience to him. These three questions are ones that we ask over and over when God wants us to step out and do things in his name. God wasn't impressed by Moses' objections, and He isn't any more impressed by ours.

God has chosen us to represent him, to act like him, speak like him, learn to think like him, and be like him. We are called to be good, to reflect the character of our Jesus. As we do that in gratitude for his grace to us, we demonstrate his love through our lives, and we pass his gracious forgiveness--grace we experienced first--on to others who need to experience it next. The goodness that is in us--the character of Jesus--is practical, influencing our every decision through the day. God's goodness in us reaches out and touches everyone around us. I was reading recently in my Spanish Bible, in Colossians, and encountered the phrase, "abundando en acciones de gracias," or in the English NIV, "overflowing with thankfulness." It occurred to me that overflowing with thankfulness--gratitude--is both a part of goodness and a result of goodness. The Spanish is especially interesting, when we consider that gracias means both "thanks" and "graces." So we might say that we are to be "abounding in graces." Literally translated, the Spanish phrase means "abounding in actions of graces." Gratitude and goodness are manifested as we abound in the graces of God, showering them on everyone we touch. As we tell people thanks--gracias--we can think of ourselves as telling them, "Graces to you." And we can do much worse than that.

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