The Spiritual Tortoise And The Zealot Hare (April 30, 2006)
"Fab Freddy" was the top physics student at the University of Illinois in the early 1980s. I never met him and don't even know his last name, but I have invoked his example many times when lecturing my sons. I heard about Fab Freddy from my friend Bill, who was a physics student at the same time. Bill was one of the finest mathematical minds ever to graduate from my high school, but in college he was no match for Fab Freddy. No one was. Fab Freddy aced every exam without bothering to study.
A few years later, as Bill was getting his Phd, I asked him about Fab Freddy and was shocked to hear that the genius had flunked out of the Physics Phd program! How was that possible? Bill explained that Freddy was so gifted that as an undergraduate he never had to work hard, and he assumed that he could carry that same breezy confidence into graduate school. But the Phd program was so demanding that even an Einstein would have to study. Fab Freddy never made the adjustment, and students he formerly ran circles around sped by him.
Fable became fact as Bill the Tortoise got his doctorate and went on to Fermilab, and Freddy the Hare never even crossed the finish line of an advanced degree (as far as I know.)
It is possible that in real life Freddy got things turned around and now chairs the Physics Department at MIT. But I'll take as a morality tale the slice of the story as I know it: Fab Freddy's great beginning and tremendous talent could not guarantee success, because they were not supported by the virtues of discipline and perseverance.
I tell this story to my sons mainly as an academic lesson, but I also apply it to spiritual life. Secure endings matter more than spectacular beginnings. I have seen the flash of white-hot zeal from an "on-fire" Christian burn out like a match, and have now come to prefer the type of believer who resembles a consistent, slow-burning
coal that lasts through the night.
Steady progress in the faith is possible if you simply maintain a consistent pace. Shun the overconfidence that assures you that you can manage ok without ordinary disciplines. Remember Fab Freddy. Pray daily, read the Scriptures, go to church, partake of the Lord's Supper and repent of known sin. Do this until you are so old that your mind cannot connect thoughts, your eyes cannot discern print, your legs cannot bring you to church, your throat cannot swallow and your will cannot rebel. Then you will cross the finish line in the time your Lord has ordained, and receive the reward that he will delight to give you. Slow and steady will win the race.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Therapists Or Friends? (April 23, 2006)
One of my favorite pieces of folk wisdom comes from Crocodile Dundee. When the Outback croc-killer's love interest tells him that a friend has sought help from a psychiatrist, he says, "I didn't know she was nuts."
"Of course she's not nuts!" she responds. "People go to a psychiatrist to talk about their problems. She just needed to unload them - you know, bring them out in the open."
Then he asks, "Hasn't she got any mates?"
That is a good question. Maybe this woman should talk to her mates (friends) - unless, horror of horrors, she just hasn't got any. Is it that she is unwilling to talk to them about painful things? Are they unwilling to listen? Are they too cruel to sympathize, or too foolish to say something helpful?
I sometimes wonder what in the world people did with their problems before wise counsel became institutionalized in the therapeutic professions. Did "people issues" remain unresolved for millennia until psychiatry came to the rescue in the mid-20th century? I doubt it. I bet people used to talk to friends more often. Nowadays, those friends are quick to say, "Get professional help." Friends have been intimidated into thinking that they are too dumb to speak wisely, and they have been tempted into delegating the responsibility to listen to those who get paid for it.
Dundee's girlfriend answered him, "You're right. I guess we could all use more mates. I suppose you don't have any shrinks at Walkabout Creek?"
"No, back there if you've got a problem you tell Wally. Then he tells everyone in town, brings it out in the open. No more problem."
Very good, very good. Wally's method is brilliant. Not all gossip is malicious - sometimes it is the kindest therapy, since the weight of a problem dissipates when it is carried on the shoulders of many. Counselors (and pastors) are bound by rules of confidentiality, which can greatly limit their effectiveness. But a chatty friend like Wally might be the best thing that ever happened to your problem. If you're
just plain nuts, then by all means go to a psychiatrist and get some Risperdal or Depakote or Zoloft to set your brain chemicals aright. But if you have ordinary troubles, I recommend finding a Wally who will cheerfully relay your "issues" to a community of caring friends. Certainly they will listen, and probably they can help.
One of my favorite pieces of folk wisdom comes from Crocodile Dundee. When the Outback croc-killer's love interest tells him that a friend has sought help from a psychiatrist, he says, "I didn't know she was nuts."
"Of course she's not nuts!" she responds. "People go to a psychiatrist to talk about their problems. She just needed to unload them - you know, bring them out in the open."
Then he asks, "Hasn't she got any mates?"
That is a good question. Maybe this woman should talk to her mates (friends) - unless, horror of horrors, she just hasn't got any. Is it that she is unwilling to talk to them about painful things? Are they unwilling to listen? Are they too cruel to sympathize, or too foolish to say something helpful?
I sometimes wonder what in the world people did with their problems before wise counsel became institutionalized in the therapeutic professions. Did "people issues" remain unresolved for millennia until psychiatry came to the rescue in the mid-20th century? I doubt it. I bet people used to talk to friends more often. Nowadays, those friends are quick to say, "Get professional help." Friends have been intimidated into thinking that they are too dumb to speak wisely, and they have been tempted into delegating the responsibility to listen to those who get paid for it.
Dundee's girlfriend answered him, "You're right. I guess we could all use more mates. I suppose you don't have any shrinks at Walkabout Creek?"
"No, back there if you've got a problem you tell Wally. Then he tells everyone in town, brings it out in the open. No more problem."
Very good, very good. Wally's method is brilliant. Not all gossip is malicious - sometimes it is the kindest therapy, since the weight of a problem dissipates when it is carried on the shoulders of many. Counselors (and pastors) are bound by rules of confidentiality, which can greatly limit their effectiveness. But a chatty friend like Wally might be the best thing that ever happened to your problem. If you're
just plain nuts, then by all means go to a psychiatrist and get some Risperdal or Depakote or Zoloft to set your brain chemicals aright. But if you have ordinary troubles, I recommend finding a Wally who will cheerfully relay your "issues" to a community of caring friends. Certainly they will listen, and probably they can help.
Sunday, April 9, 2006
Serve Where You Are Competent (April 9, 2006)
Have you ever been asked to serve in an area you stunk at?
I have. When I was in seminary the associate pastor of my church had the bright idea of organizing a day of sport games in the park for kids. Then he made the mistake of putting me and two other seminary interns in charge of it.
The other interns were great guys, but neither had kids of their own and neither had a clue about how to work with them. And none of us knew anything, anything at all, about putting together a day of fun and games in the park. That would have been o.k. if, despite our inexperience, at least one of us had good instincts for that work. None of us did, and the thing flopped. The kids wound up scattering around the park, and I think more than a few just wanted to go home.
That incident has become a life template experience for me: it instructs me in the danger of hammering round people into square holes. Round people don't fit in square holes. When you stuff them in there they get annoyed and even the holes get frustrated. When King Saul sought to cover David with body armor for his fight with Goliath, the young man wisely demurred. "I just need my sling," he said (or something like that). He knew what fit him and what did not.
After Melissa talked about her mission work in Taiwan on Sunday, it struck me how well-suited she was to the job of running a VBS, making friendly contacts and conducting home Bible studies. The joy of a good fit shone from her face. On the other hand, when a married father of two told me he might go to Mexico for a short-term mission trip, I raised a red flag. "You speak no Spanish," I said, "and your duties will consist of...handing out tracts while an evangelistic troupe does street drama? Why exactly do they need you for this?" This man has a professional skill that I'm sure could be put to use somewhere. But from what he told me, the Mexico trip would demand nothing more of him than what a child could perform. My fear is that, unless he is given opportunity to exploit his skills, he might wind up as frustrated as those emergency personnel who went to areas devastated by Hurricane Katrina and were given the job of handing out fliers.
But I could be wrong. One of the things I wish I were better at is being right more often.
May God enable you to serve him in the things you're good at, sidestep the things you stink at, and perform just enough of those "jobs that anyone can do" (Jesus washed feet!) to keep you humble without causing you to think, "You know, maybe my service time could be better spent somewhere else."
Have you ever been asked to serve in an area you stunk at?
I have. When I was in seminary the associate pastor of my church had the bright idea of organizing a day of sport games in the park for kids. Then he made the mistake of putting me and two other seminary interns in charge of it.
The other interns were great guys, but neither had kids of their own and neither had a clue about how to work with them. And none of us knew anything, anything at all, about putting together a day of fun and games in the park. That would have been o.k. if, despite our inexperience, at least one of us had good instincts for that work. None of us did, and the thing flopped. The kids wound up scattering around the park, and I think more than a few just wanted to go home.
That incident has become a life template experience for me: it instructs me in the danger of hammering round people into square holes. Round people don't fit in square holes. When you stuff them in there they get annoyed and even the holes get frustrated. When King Saul sought to cover David with body armor for his fight with Goliath, the young man wisely demurred. "I just need my sling," he said (or something like that). He knew what fit him and what did not.
After Melissa talked about her mission work in Taiwan on Sunday, it struck me how well-suited she was to the job of running a VBS, making friendly contacts and conducting home Bible studies. The joy of a good fit shone from her face. On the other hand, when a married father of two told me he might go to Mexico for a short-term mission trip, I raised a red flag. "You speak no Spanish," I said, "and your duties will consist of...handing out tracts while an evangelistic troupe does street drama? Why exactly do they need you for this?" This man has a professional skill that I'm sure could be put to use somewhere. But from what he told me, the Mexico trip would demand nothing more of him than what a child could perform. My fear is that, unless he is given opportunity to exploit his skills, he might wind up as frustrated as those emergency personnel who went to areas devastated by Hurricane Katrina and were given the job of handing out fliers.
But I could be wrong. One of the things I wish I were better at is being right more often.
May God enable you to serve him in the things you're good at, sidestep the things you stink at, and perform just enough of those "jobs that anyone can do" (Jesus washed feet!) to keep you humble without causing you to think, "You know, maybe my service time could be better spent somewhere else."
The Poor Are Welcome Wherever We Worship (April 2, 2006)
Church must be free.
The English word "free" is ambiguous. I do not mean that the church must be liberated - I mean it should not cost anything. Gratis is the word in Spanish. Church must be gratis. Not so that anyone should be relieved of his duty to tithe and give generously, but so that the poorest of the poor will always be welcome to anything that the church, as church, does.
I can trace two sources of my conviction. One is my mother, who grew up in Chicago in the Depression as the daughter of a mostly unemployed alcoholic. She told me how pleased she was as a teenager to go to Moody Church and see at the entrance a plaque that read, "Ever welcome to this house of God are the stranger and the poor." She was welcome! You did not need a penny in your pocket to walk through the great wooden doors of Moody Church.
But you do need some pennies now, hundreds of them, to go to Moody's "Friday Night Sing." Before Mom passed away in 2001, she told me that she felt Moody betrayed its long-standing commitment to the poor when it started selling tickets to things that took place in the sanctuary.
The other source of my conviction is 1st Corinthians 11. The Apostle Paul was outraged at the way the Corinthian church was abusing Holy Communion. "It is not the Lord's Supper you eat," he said (v. 20). At issue was the fact that the rich had made it their private party - some were even getting drunk while the poor were shut out with nothing (vs. 21-22). Paul insisted that they reform their practice and celebrate the Supper worthily by doing it together and waiting for one another (v.33).
I don't think today that we violate the principle of egalitarian worship at the Lord's Supper. But we do violate it elsewhere. I believe the spirit of 1 Corinthians 11 is violated whenever we set up structures whereby poor Christians are denied worship opportunities that the rich can participate in.
That is why I will never authorize the selling of tickets to a church-sanctuary event. (We will either fund it some other way or we won't do it.) That is why, at my former church, when some wanted to assemble a group to attend a mega-church Christmas pageant replete with real donkeys ($5 tickets, $15 for good seats), I let others announce and organize it, but did not participate myself. That is why,
whenever Chuck Swindoll or David Jeremiah or Tony Evans announce another ocean cruise that features their Bible teaching, I turn off the radio or switch to the Catholic station. Cruises are fine. Jesus cruises are not. The poor can't participate.
Please understand, I have no problem with the rich being able to afford things that poor people can't. That is life. I favor right-wing capitalism, am at peace with the fact that the rich can get better health care and education, and believe that compulsory redistribution of wealth is a great evil. But in the church all worldly economic advantages and privileges have no place. As a pastor I guard against even their most subtle intrusions. As spiritual groundskeeper I try to keep things as level as I can at the foot of the cross.
Church must be free.
The English word "free" is ambiguous. I do not mean that the church must be liberated - I mean it should not cost anything. Gratis is the word in Spanish. Church must be gratis. Not so that anyone should be relieved of his duty to tithe and give generously, but so that the poorest of the poor will always be welcome to anything that the church, as church, does.
I can trace two sources of my conviction. One is my mother, who grew up in Chicago in the Depression as the daughter of a mostly unemployed alcoholic. She told me how pleased she was as a teenager to go to Moody Church and see at the entrance a plaque that read, "Ever welcome to this house of God are the stranger and the poor." She was welcome! You did not need a penny in your pocket to walk through the great wooden doors of Moody Church.
But you do need some pennies now, hundreds of them, to go to Moody's "Friday Night Sing." Before Mom passed away in 2001, she told me that she felt Moody betrayed its long-standing commitment to the poor when it started selling tickets to things that took place in the sanctuary.
The other source of my conviction is 1st Corinthians 11. The Apostle Paul was outraged at the way the Corinthian church was abusing Holy Communion. "It is not the Lord's Supper you eat," he said (v. 20). At issue was the fact that the rich had made it their private party - some were even getting drunk while the poor were shut out with nothing (vs. 21-22). Paul insisted that they reform their practice and celebrate the Supper worthily by doing it together and waiting for one another (v.33).
I don't think today that we violate the principle of egalitarian worship at the Lord's Supper. But we do violate it elsewhere. I believe the spirit of 1 Corinthians 11 is violated whenever we set up structures whereby poor Christians are denied worship opportunities that the rich can participate in.
That is why I will never authorize the selling of tickets to a church-sanctuary event. (We will either fund it some other way or we won't do it.) That is why, at my former church, when some wanted to assemble a group to attend a mega-church Christmas pageant replete with real donkeys ($5 tickets, $15 for good seats), I let others announce and organize it, but did not participate myself. That is why,
whenever Chuck Swindoll or David Jeremiah or Tony Evans announce another ocean cruise that features their Bible teaching, I turn off the radio or switch to the Catholic station. Cruises are fine. Jesus cruises are not. The poor can't participate.
Please understand, I have no problem with the rich being able to afford things that poor people can't. That is life. I favor right-wing capitalism, am at peace with the fact that the rich can get better health care and education, and believe that compulsory redistribution of wealth is a great evil. But in the church all worldly economic advantages and privileges have no place. As a pastor I guard against even their most subtle intrusions. As spiritual groundskeeper I try to keep things as level as I can at the foot of the cross.
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