YoSteve

More than your experience (1 John 1:1-2)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 07 Feb 2019 03:30:00 +0000

John opens his first letter with a huge claim: he's planning to write about what he's heard, seen, looked at, and touched.

This might not seem like such a big deal. I've recently been enjoying listening to "A Love Supreme" by John Coltrane ... jazz, but not smooth jazz. The band plays with passion and patience and tells a story and I think it's just wonderful. That's something I've heard. I could tell you stories about things I've seen, looked at, and touched too.

But John's experience-based testimony isn't about jazz or apples or cows or a child's drawing. His testimony claims as its subject: "the Word of life." The logos of life, the logic of life, the animating force behind all animated matter ... that's what John claims he's heard, seen, looked at, and touched. The eternal Word broke into our temporal sphere and appeared.

How greatly do we wish we had had John's experience? We tell ourselves that if we had his same experience so much would be different. Doubt would vanish. We'd be filled with faith and confidence and courage. But would we?

It doesn't seem fair that John and his buddies get this experience with the Logos of Life but all we get is gold-edged scritta paper and music and preaching (even my best preaching is no real substitute for the Word of life). Why does John get an experience that none of us get to share?

We all get experiences that aren't shared with others. Our appeal to fair opportunity of experience rings a little hollow. Experience is never fair.

Different people can have the similar experiences and benefit from them differently. I went to Duke, graduated and made $18,000 in my first year of working. Jay Williams graduated too from the same school around the same time and went on to make $36,000 per game in the NBA. We had the same experience on paper, but brought very different things to it, and went very different places after it. Was that fair? No. Is there something wrong with it being unfair? Not really.

Lots of people saw and heard what John saw and heard. Not all of them believed. Not all of them had courage and faith. What makes us think we would be in the same boat as John? And what account do we give for all that we've seen and heard and touched - that breadth of experience? Perhaps there's something in there of the Word of life and we just have failed to attend to our own experience well.

Let's not discount John's experience just because we don't share it. Let's be curious. Let's listen to what he heard, pay attention to what he saw, and interrogate what he touched. He opens his letter by offering to share his experience with us. And, if we listen, we just might learn to see our own experience differently.

Part of being fully and healthily human requires us to receive and learn from the experiences of others. We don't have to do all of the research ourselves. We don't have to invent everything, run every experiment, read every book, climb every mountain. We can take great joy in our relationships which enrich us and broaden our perspective.

Love, at its heart, requires us to reach out to people who have had different experiences from us. We connect with the Other. We communicate an internal experience of appreciation or affection that they can never precisely experience themselves. They can only choose if they will believe.

And, perhaps, love will return to us.

Take it from the beginning (1 John 1:1a)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 05 Feb 2019 01:48:00 +0000

John's first epistle starts so distinctively, as does his Gospel. John begins with beginnings: "That which was from the beginning ..." and "In the beginning was the Word ...". John has this sense throughout his writing that he and the whole story of Christianity have been swept up into a much larger cosmic narrative, a drama that began before time.

I remember my youth pastor Sherrie Leatherwood telling our class in middle school that our parents had a relationship with each other before we had a relationship with them. And I've seen time and time again how devastating it is for families when a child's relationship with a parent kicks the other parent off stage. Healthy families welcome children (when and if they arrive) into something bigger.

Our relationship with Jesus has just this character. We're invited into something bigger. The train is already in motion. It doesn't stop for us, but it does slow down just enough as it passes the station for us to hop on if we have the courage. History has her fill of heroes who have jumped aboard. And we have no memory of those who chose to remain at the station. They fade into the past.

1 John will include in the next several verses (which we'll look at in the next post) the most robust endorsement of experience-based witness in any letter written in the early church. But before we look at the experience, we have to catch that something comes before any experience we have with God.

God's being, action, choice, freedom, love, joy ... God himself exists before and apart from our experience of him. If we ignored or missed God, that wouldn't change whether or not he existed. This is remarkably good news for us. Every day we miss God or ignore him. We may even go farther and reject him or rebel against him. But he's still God. Still present. Still full of freedom and joy and love.

Because he was from the beginning, he can be fully present in our present. Because he didn't have a start date, we can believe that he won't have an end date. Because he exists independently of us, he can always be available to us. Nothing we can do can ever, ever drive him away.

Remember this when we think about experience, wrestle with mystery, and consider his love.

Writing with Love (ie. Starting a series on 1 John)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 02 Feb 2019 02:36:00 +0000

The theme of love permeates the world around February. Maybe it's because of Valentine's Day. Maybe it's because February usually only has 28 days, meaning it moves fast ... like time when you're with someone you love. Or maybe it's because February sometimes has 29 days and you can never quite remember when that happens, so it's unpredictable ... like being in love.

I thought I'd take some time off and on this month to write about 1 John, the epistle that I think of when I think of love. The letter moves quickly and feels unpredictable. Oh, and it talks a lot about love.

I won't be pinging your inbox every day, so don't worry. I'm currently writing poetry on Sundays, working on a Bible study project, and writing on a weird fantasy story that will never, ever see the light of day (but is so much fun to write I have to keep pulling on the thread just to find out what happens). But between that, I'll share some thoughts on 1 John here on YoSteve.

Years and years ago I had a blast taking a walk through Hebrews (see some of those posts here: Hebrews). I'm hoping to have that same love of writing as I walk through 1 John. And I hope some of that love becomes contagious and infectious and fills you with a desire to share the love of Christ with everyone you see.

What if the silver bullet doesn't work?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 31 Jan 2019 02:50:00 +0000

In horror mythology, silver bullets stand as the human's last line of defense against a werewolf. One silver bullet and you'll be safe. But imagine this scene ...

The towering werewolf lumbers toward our frightened protagonist. Fangs gleam in the moonlight. Yellow eyes show not a single gleam of humanity in the once tormented face. The wind howls and the wolf howls in return. Gravel crunches under the monster's paws. With wavering hand, the protagonist (unnamed since this is only an illustration) raises the weapon. "Shoot to kill," the memory echoes in the protagonist's skull. Eyes closed. Squeeze. BANG! The monster yips but keeps on coming.

The silver bullet didn't work.

We live in a world filled with promises of silver bullets.

The latest diet will have you ready for the beach by summertime.
The big family event will give everyone a chance to mend broken bridges.
The next election will solve the crisis du jure.
That answered prayer will make faith feel secure for once.

Can you think of some silver bullets you've loaded into the chamber of life?

What you do next - when the silver bullet doesn't work - makes all of the difference. Learn from the experience and adjust your behavior.

Try it again a little differently (maybe your shot went high). Try a different tactic ("fly, you fools!"). Try a new perspective (perhaps the werewolf just wants to play a humerus game with you, which explains why he's licking his lips and eyeing the long bone in your upper arm). Accept reality (there are worse things than being eaten by a werewolf and you do seem to have a moment to make your peace with God).

Don't keep repeating the action that didn't work. Those strange loops will make you crazy. Or, perhaps, get you eaten by a werewolf.

All about that base(line)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 25 Jan 2019 02:11:00 +0000

I still remember the moment I fell in love with statistics. I think about statistics every day and have at least one, in-depth statistical conversation every week. And I don't even feel weird about it.

The moment was in my senior year at Duke. Our professor had been slogging miserably through frequencies and t-tests and statistical jargon for months. But on this day, he had a spring in his step and a gleam in his eye.

"I'm a Bayesian," he said, in the tone of voice someone might use to admit that they belong to some secretive cult. He went on to explain the core concept of Bayesian statistics: expected value (or baselines).

Here's how he explained it:

Social security numbers contain nine digits, of which the last digit is completely random. You have a 50:50 chance of having an odd number as your final digit for your SSN.

In a class with 100 people, this means you would expect 50 of them to have an odd number.

So, he was going to ask a combination question and request that people raise their hands. You wouldn't know if someone was raising their hand for Part A or Part B -- this creates a condition of anonymity. We could then count the number of hands raised, compare it to your expected value, and draw some conclusions.

Raise your hand if you:

a) Have an odd number at the end of your social security number
b) Have had sex this week

He counted the raised hands and came up with 70 (20 more than the expected value for a chaste sample of students).

Then, this buttoned-up little statistician looked at our class and said "Sluts."

He left the classroom with a smile, a wave, and to the sound of thunderous laughter and applause.

That silly little episode stuck with me and that "expected value" principle shows up over and over again in my life. I think about it when I track our family budget, donations to our ministry with InterVarsity, and the church's financial status. It comes up when I think about parenting and discipline and discipleship with my kids. It impacts how I think about nutrition and health as I continue my weight-loss journey. It shapes my reading practices, my prayer life, my writing, my time-management. Baselines (and deviations from them) are everywhere.

John Maxwell said that the role of a leader involves "seeing farther and seeing faster." I believe that paying attention to expected values is a key element of this. The ability to spot trends and deviations from them can position you to lead, serve, and love well.

Consider these three examples:

Your co-worker normally comes to work in a bright and cheery mood. (Baseline) Today, she's acting tense or stressed. Noting the difference, you could ask some "nudge on the door" questions that might position you to help her navigate a family conflict or give you a heads-up that a challenging conflict is about to erupt in the office. Compassionate curiosity requires attention, noticing deviations from the expected value.

You're tracking giving patterns for a non-profit. A donor has a very steady pattern of giving every month. (Baseline) Then a month happens and the donor doesn't give their usual gift. Noting the difference, you could reach out to the donor and discover that they're experiencing a financial hardship and could use prayer or that they're struggling with your organization's new online donation portal or that they've decided to redirect their philanthropic interest. Depending on their situation, you can offer help. And, if necessary, you can revise your income forecast to account for the changing in giving, allowing you to make strategic adjustments so that you don't dig into a deficit.

Last one ... attendance patterns. Every week you count how many people show up. (Baseline) Over the years, you gather enough information to run some real analysis. Seasonal variations emerge. Demographic profiles take shape. Growth engines start to reveal themselves. You begin to be able to forecast, to run experiments, to fine-tune services to match your market. All of this could apply to a school, a campus ministry, a church, and even a restaurant. You pay attention to deviations from expected value to discover tactics that are and aren't working. The mailer goes out but the attendance doesn't budge off of baseline (make some adjustments). The hours shift causes a spike in traffic (might want to keep those times). The applications go on and on.

I'm a manager, an analyst, and a strategist ... just like in the examples above.

How do you pay attention to the baselines? Who might this practice be useful for you?

On Reading randomly

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 23 Jan 2019 01:43:00 +0000

I'm an advocate for reading randomly. A look at my monthly reading list looks more scattered and scrambled than hash browns from Waffle House. But there's a method to my madness. As a poet once said: "Not all who wander are lost."

Reading randomly involves taking your reading very lightly. I'm not trying to impress people by what I read or to "stay current" with the latest conversations. I'll find an interesting vein and mine it and mine it and mine it. And then I'll jump to something different. This month I read several books in Lee Child's Jack Reacher thriller series, then a theological commentary from Jacques Ellul, then a piece of historical anthropology from Zora Neale Hurston, then a "theological romance" by George Macdonald, then a church strategy book, and I'm getting ready to start Billy Crystal's autobiography. All. Over. The. Place.

All but one of these books was available to me for free from the public library or via public domain. I could listen to them lightly rather than study and dissect them. I can sift them, find a nugget or two of value, and then move on. And I can take a risk on books I wouldn't have tried otherwise. I'm not interested enough in Jack Reacher's adventures to drop $100 on books about him, but if I can get them for free they make great entertainment while I'm cooking dinner or resting before falling asleep. You have to be willing to read randomly if you're going to make the vast majority of your reading "whatever I can find for free."

But there's more than that. Random reading allows you to make connections across genres. I heard similar themes come up book after book after book this month. Perhaps I'm tapping into a universal human consciousness or narrative in a special way. Or perhaps there's a movement happening deep inside of me that I'm not aware of, only noticed in the reflected selective attention that's available via random reading.

One of my life goals is to be able to have a meaningful conversation with anyone about anything. Stanley Hauerwas once said that theologians need to become conversant in the other sciences (and this is a paraphrase) because the other sciences have no interest in becoming conversant in theology. So, I learn about nutrition and folklore and critical race theory and physics and fantasy fiction and comedy and literature and economics and management and I keep on reading and reading and reading. My random reading makes me strategically available to the random people who wander into my life every day. And this helps me make a meaningful connection with God.

As CS Lewis once said "A young man who wishes to remain a sound atheist cannot be too careful of his reading."

To which box does Tamar belong?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 12 Jan 2019 02:37:00 +0000

I ran into another interesting Bible rabbit trail last night.

I'm currently working my way through Genesis and got to the wild and uncomfortable story of Tamar and Judah from Genesis 38. The story touches on inheritance, fertility, tragedy, loyalty, honor, and Levirate marriage ("this is not the 'biblical marriage' you're looking for").

In my memory, Tamar clearly belonged to the people of Israel and carried Hebrew ethnicity. But not everything we remember ABOUT the Bible is actually IN the Bible.

In fact, I was talking to my friend Noemi this week (one of the authors of the new book Hermanas, available on Amazon for pre-order). Noemi is preaching on the story of Rahab, Joshua and Jericho at our LaFe Staff Conference in March. In the conversation, I made the claim that Rahab's inclusion in Jesus' genealogy (in Matthew's Gospel) gave Jesus a foundation for a mestizo, bi-racial identity because "Rahab was the first non-Hebrew to enter into Jesus' family line." Theologically, Jesus' mixed identity serves to me as a signal that he came to be the savior of all peoples.

But was I right? Tamar came before Rahab. I knew that. That's the kind of trivia that I picked up in 6th grade in an attempt to gain acceptance and approval in religious circles, before I believed any of it meant anything significant. But was Rahab the first Gentile to enter into Jesus' family line?

You might be thinking: "Who cares? Why does this matter?"

What's interesting to me about the question is that I got a glimpse into my mis-remembering. I felt 100% confident on the phone with Noemi about what I knew. I remembered the text saying that Tamar came from a Hebrew family.

It doesn't say that.

I read Genesis 38 over and over again. I picked up my commentaries, but they didn't settle the question. I turned to Google (which led me into a weird debate that included Jubilees, the Testimony of Judah, Philo, historical critical reading of the text, and the Black Israelite movement).

What I discovered is that the biblical text does not indicate Tamar's ethnicity.

Judah lived in Canaan and married a Canaanite woman. One could find some justification (as Philo, much modern scholarship, and the Black Israelite movement do) in assuming that Judah's children would have married someone locally, from the same ethnic community as their mother.

But then, Judah's wife's ethnicity is clearly noted in v. 2. The text's absence of any mention of Tamar's background stands in sharp contrast. Why mention Judah's wife's ethnicity but not hid daughter-in-law's? Perhaps it was understood (as Jubilees and the Testament of Judah do) that Judah sent back to his own ethnic community to find a wife for his son (as Abraham had for Isaac generations earlier).

Tamar's ethnic identity becomes a blank slate, onto which we can project our own preferences, narratives, and assumptions. We can then defend our self-drawn slate with our poor memories.

If I had one or two more commentaries in the house that agreed with my perspective, I never would have done the research. I might have carried a false idea around forever, built systematically on it, and taught it to others.

I think a lot of our conflict over religion comes into play at just this point. We take a "maybe" and make it a "definitely" or a "definitely" and make it a "maybe." Then the power of confirmation bias kicks in and we pile up evidence to back up our belief.

And then we go to war.

The Hunger for Authority

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 06 Jan 2019 01:43:00 +0000

Working and worshipping in a non-denominational church offers interesting challenges when it comes to my deep-seated hunger for authority.

The hunger for authority is something we all share, even those of us who rail against authority and have a rebellious / revolutionary streak. We just want to be out own point of authority sometimes. Perhaps we all share that too.

But sometimes we want someone else to be in charge, someone who is different from us. The Catholic church does this remarkably well ... the Pope, the Magisterium, the priest in their robes. The narrative in the church is that they have special access to God, a tradition that's been around since before you were born, a level of commitment that's beautiful and beyond your own. We feel: "Yes. Someone like them should be in charge."

The non-denominational church doesn't offer this at all. At least, not when we're at our best.

And we have this experience when we're working inside of a non-denominational organization: there's no papacy to look up to, no set tradition to which we're bound, and our clergy go by their first names ... shrugging aside honorifics with humility if not with style.

We don't exude an aura of authority when we're healthy, though we operate as sub-creators and vice-regents in the kingdom held by the One who wields all authority in heaven and on earth. Our appeal isn't to our own authority. It's to Jesus and to his Word: the words spoken by him, about him, and treasured by him. We have no authority of our own to protect. Our Authority has proven indestructible and indomitable, has been seated at the right hand of his Heavenly Father, and works even now in the quiet places of the world to make all things new.

We must resist the temptation to find authority in spiritual celebrities. We must deny ourselves the self-satisfying inner hum that wants to set ourselves up as authorities for ourselves or others. We have neither the wisdom nor the guardrails of our brothers and sisters in more formal religious movements. We're out walking on the waters. Let's keep our eyes fixed on Jesus.

And as we walk in places that only angels dream to tread, crossing boundaries and barriers, shocking all witnesses with our willingness to reconcile, slipping unnoticed beneath a shroud of meekness past the watchful dragons of our age, let's not look back.

Well ... isn't that special?

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 03 Jan 2019 02:25:00 +0000

I noticed an interesting little intersection while reading Genesis 1 this week. Want to follow me down one of my rabbit trails?

In Genesis 1:28, we read that God blesses humanity and sets them to rule over the fish and the birds and every living thing. There's something special about being human in God's very good creation.

But how special is it to be human?

The word "blessed" jumped out to me in the text. After some digging (I didn't know this off the top of my head), I discovered that this is the Hebrew word "bârak," which is used over 62 times in Genesis (second only to it's usage in the Psalms). And this wasn't the first use of the word in Genesis.

In Genesis 1:22, we read that God bârak'd the great sea monsters and every thing that swims and the birds in the air. And after the creation, blessing, and commissioning of humanity, we read that God bâraks the Sabbath day. He's blessing and blessing and blessing (which reminds me of a scene where Mel Brooks plays Rabbi Tuckman). It's in God's nature to bless.

What about the commissioning? Isn't that special? Well ... yes. But it's not the first commissioning in the Genesis narrative either. Before turning to humanity, God commissions the Sun to govern and rule over the day and the Moon to govern and rule over the night (v. 16-18). The narrative uses the word "memshâlâh" initially (a word only found in v. 16) and then "mâshal" in verse 18 (a word found throughout the Genesis narrative).

It's not hard to imagine the medieval scholars chortling as each cosmic sphere receives her own unique ruler.

But the word used for humanity's commission is a little different: "râdâh."

I'm not enough of a Hebrew scholar to parse the distinctions between these three different words for rule or dominion. The only observation I can make (and this is just reading comprehension 101) is that the "mâshal" word that gets used throughout Genesis comes back up again time and time again in tough situations: the man domineering the woman, sin crouching at the door and needing to be dominated, the older brothers scoffing at the notion that Joseph would have dominion over them.

I'm glad that the word of commissioning that came to humanity isn't the word behind those harsh scenes. The Sun and the Moon have their own harsh cruelty. Perhaps humanity can be kinder.

Maybe that's what makes us unique.

Free Time

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 02 Jan 2019 01:53:00 +0000

After over four years, I'm handing off the Connect Devotional blog to my colleague, Alex. I've written (almost) daily during the week on that blog ... racking up over 1000 posts and 300,000 words (enough for 5-6 books!). The Connect Devotional has several hundred subscribers and is a key component in our discipleship system at Chatham Community Church.

I'll feel the absence.

Writing the Connect Devotional gave me structure and accountability for my writing. I've had that in other ways and at other times. The one year I really took a swing at National Novel Writing Month. The year Abigail Dean challenged me to write every day over break (in response to my challenge to our leadership team to read the Bible every day over break). The year I live-blogged Urbana (while hosting the LaFe lounge and a group of significantly culture-shocked students). Structure: write on the passage for this week's sermon, write the next chapter in the novel, write a reflection on what you're reading, write a response to the plenary session talks. Accountability: a daily email people are counting on, a bar graph with NANOWRIMO progress, a friend checking up on me, ministry partners keeping in touch.

As I restart my personal writing rhythm, I'll have to design a new system. My professional writing has really boxed out my personal craft.

I'll have to find a new structure that works for me. I'll have to develop some kind of accountability (even if only to myself). I may have to rediscover my voice ... a lot has changed in my life since I had creative margin for personal writing. And I may have to decide if I want to invite an audience.

I probably won't do all of that writing here. Platform-building never really appealed to me. That's one of the reasons I'll find it an uphill battle to ever publish a book. But I'll toss things up here from time to time. Especially if I think it will be helpful for someone other than me!!!

Any recommendations for ways I could find structure and accountability as I restart my personal writing?

The Multiethnic Crunch

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 17 Sep 2018 00:45:00 +0000

Imagine the story behind this image.

The car races forward as the walls close in. The sunlight and the trees and the gleam of the sky and the distant blue peaks of the mountains fill the windshield. The long-awaited holiday - made holy by longing, made holy by God - beckons. Then ...

CRUNCH

The car can't make it through the gap. The walls press too tightly on either side, cold and unyielding. The engine revs. Tires spin and squeal and smoke. The smell of rubber and disappointment fills your nose. You rest your chin on the steering wheel. You release your foot from the gas. You stare out at the beautiful and unattainable holiday and sigh.

The pursuit of true multiethnic community often ends just like this. We see it. We sprint toward it. Our eagerness for it masks our unpreparedness for it. The CRUNCH moment has been waiting for us from the moment we started out but we don't find that out until it's too late.

What would it take to get the car through the narrow gap?

A better driver wouldn't do it.
A more powerful engine probably wouldn't make much of a difference.
Bigger tires?
Better paint?
More enthusiasm?

Until something structural changes, the car will never make it to the mountains. In fact, one could say (to continue the parable) that THAT car can never make it through THAT gap. Either the car must change of the gap must change.

All too often those who desire multiethnic community tow their crunched cars out of the gap and cruise out for other destinations. "Multi-ethnicity didn't come easy ... let's try social justice or global missions or picking a fight with people who disagree with us politically. Let's just try to get really, really big ... maybe no one will notice that we're mono-ethnic if we're really, really big" they say if you listen carefully.

All too often a cheap substitute is found. Pictures of the mountains get plastered to the walls. A few branches from one of those longed-for trees get hung on the concrete, dead inside but present enough to contribute to the illusion. Look behind the facade and you'll find those walls. You'll find that concrete. You'll find that none of it is real.

God's people have always wrestled with this. Despite receiving a call to bless the nations (Gen. 12), God's people pursued conquest and hierarchical power relationships every time they engaged with other nations from a position of strength. Empire always seemed more attractive than kingdom. Laws of exclusion always defeated the call to embrace. And every time multiethnic community started to form ... CRUNCH.

This happens today. Well-meaning, good-hearted people start building momentum toward multi-ethnicity and then they hit the crunch. A recruitment system won't adjust to include people who come from different backgrounds. A decision-making system attaches negative labels to people who offer different decision-making processes. A mountain of covertly ethno-prejudiced systematic criticism buries those who don't belong, who don't know how to belong, who will never belong as long as the structure stands unchanged.

These systems don't usually exist TO exclude, but they always, always, always DO exclude. And innocent intention doesn't change outcomes for communities, for participants in those communities, and for the multiethnic kingdom mission of God.

Move the wall or shrink the car. Build a ramp and jump over the gap. Pop the car up on two wheels and see if it'll go through that way. Or leave the car altogether and pursue the journey on foot.

None of these options are easy. I know people who've tried them all. The jumpers have all crashed. The wheelie-riders have all been caught as too slick for their own good. The wall has worn out the sledgehammers and the car will not run when you start cutting it to pieces. Only the walkers seem to make it through.

But is it worth it to reach that holy day in those long longed-for mountains? This question always comes up: "Is it worth it?"

Sunday Recap - Ethnic Reconciliation in 1 John 3:1

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 27 Aug 2018 00:31:00 +0000

Here's a little note on my particular interest re: ethnicity in the Bible with a specific focus on the text from our message from this Sunday morning at Chatham Community Church.

I believe that ethnicity is everywhere in the Bible. And God invites us to engage in the conversation about ethnicity - to embrace our unique ethnic heritages, to reconcile across ethnic boundaries, and to form multiethnic communities - and that this invitation comes to us straight from his Word, if we'll listen carefully.

If your eyes haven't been trained to see it, you might not notice the invitation to ethnic reconciliation right in the middle of John's first epistle.

Here's the text:

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. - 1 John 3:1 (NIV)

The first clue lies in John's use of plural pronouns. The Father lavished love on us. It is we who are called children (also plural) of God. That's what we are! And the world does not know who? Us. John wrote to a particular community, a community in which he included himself.

What do we know about that community?

According to David Jackman, John likely wrote his epistle from Ephesus to the churches under his care in Asia Minor. These churches would have gathered together a mixed-ethnic collection of people: both Jews and Gentiles. These churches might have included the church in Colossae as well as the seven churches mentioned in the beginning of John's Apocalypse. John's audience would almost certainly have been multi-ethnic.

Now, all of these various ethnic people have been pulled together into the various churches in their locality. They have been pulled together underneath the common Fatherhood of God. They each are God's children. They find themselves adopted into a new family.

John picked a loaded phrase in order to communicate this new reality: "children of God." While this may not send up many flares for us, these would have been provocative words in the ancient world.

Romans believed their Caesar to be a son of god. Emperors who lived according to standards of justice and righteousness were believed (or said) to have been deified after their death (those who didn't got turned to pumpkins, one satirist claimed). Jews at this time believed that Israel were "the children of God" (Keener quoting Rabbi Meir). Special, privileged relationships.

At this time, Christians were being kicked out of Rome for causing disturbances there and being chased out of the synagogues for their proclamation of Jesus. Shoved to the margins, John had the temerity to claim that this small, persecuted community had special access to God. Rejected by each of their source communities, they started to form something new ... not a new ethos but a new family. Each kept his or her own ethnic and economic and gender identity, but diversity didn't inhibit belonging.

He closes this verse with a sharp contrast. The children of God versus the world. The world doesn't recognize the children of God. The world (lit. kosmos) didn't recognize Jesus when he came and loved and served and died and rose again. Something has blinded their eyes. They can't see this new opportunity for reconciliation with God and with each other. Don't blame them. This blindness strikes us as tragic and painful at times and, perhaps, not permanent.

We all believe that we see something that other people can't see. Climate change. Public moral crisis. A child's artistic gift. The potential in a distressed property or business or animal. We can learn to do this without arrogance, to do this with kindness and invitation: "Come and see!"

From John's perspective, the children of God can see new possibilities for a new way of reconciled life. They're called into it -- not just labeled "children of God" but invited to live as God's very own children, to live like Christ. This involves receiving God's radical acceptance of you and offering radical acceptance to people who are different from you ... which is exactly what Jesus did!

Failing Forward

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 01 Jan 2018 20:43:00 +0000

One of my big lessons from the last year has been revisiting how I respond to failure. When other people fail, I'm (usually) gracious and patient. But not so with myself.

2017 started with a big work failure - we missed the fourth deadline for our new campus launch. And the year ended with an embarrassing work failure - I made a major, hilarious and humiliating typo on a very public piece of publicity for our feeding of the 5,000 partnership with the local food panty (see if you can spot the typo, I recreated it in this very sentence).

Here's the thing ...

We launched our new campus on the 5th deadline, getting our certificate of occupancy with 2 hours to spare. In the last 10 months, dozens of new people have connected with God and with each other in Pittsboro. We added a second service. We had our first person get baptized. And no one but me remembers the string of failures.

As for the typo ... I'm still working my way through that.

What we do when we fail matters so much. Failure shapes our character, gives us opportunities to grow, and humbles us. Failure can make us wiser and kinder ... if we'll let it.

As I reflect on failure, here are ten quick gleanings that I've taken from the past year:

You can't learn from failure if you re-label it, hide it, or ignore it.
Your failures reveal your pride.
Your failures show you your limits.
Your failures provide opportunities to ask for help from God and friends.
Your response to failure gives you a glimpse into your heart's maturity.
There's a difference between failure of tactic and failure of strategy.
Few people notice your failure as much as you do.
Grieving over a failure can be healthy, but wallowing in it can be deadly.
Failing doesn't make you a failure.
Failure doesn't have to be final.

What are some things you've learned about failure in the last year?

Consent in the Christmas Story

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 15 Dec 2017 13:00:00 +0000

Reading the Christmas Story (out of Luke 1-2) in this year's news environment has been challenging for me.

God sends the angel Gabriel to announce to Mary that she's about to become miraculously pregnant and become the mother of the Savior of the world. Classically, this announcement has been called The Annunciation.

In a way, this makes the narrative of the conception of Jesus radically different from many of the ancient narratives around the birth of the god-human hybrids. Zeus disguised himself and forced himself on women in many of the ancient stories. The gods of the Romans did likewise. But Mary conceived Jesus in a different way.

But as I've been reading I've been struck that The Annunciation wasn't a request for permission. Gabriel told Mary that she had been chosen. Could she have rejected the opportunity?

In v. 38 of Luke 1, Mary responds positively to the angel's message. But that response still contains language of a power-dynamic: "Lord," "servant," fulfilled prophecy.

I still find myself troubled reading this story.

Mary's Magnificat (her powerful song/poem found a few verses later) gives us some insight into how she saw her encounter with God: a blessing, a privilege, a joy. How can I be troubled by the Annunciation and conception narrative when she seems to experience great joy as a result of it all?

But then my critical mind circles back and points out that our insight into Mary's state-of-mind requires us to trust the narrative we're reading in Luke's Gospel.

I find myself rocking back and forth as I read this text, unsettled. And perhaps that's a good thing.

What do you do when you find a biblical text that unsettles you?

Marking progress

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 08 Dec 2017 17:38:00 +0000

I recently had an opportunity to mark a tiny bit of progress in my spiritual life.

I overcooked the Thanksgiving turkey and dried out the Macaroni and Cheese. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and I love the cooking-part of the day. It hurt my heart to have the food fall short (in fact, I'm considering making another turkey and mac-and-cheese just to make up for it).

Years ago, the overcooked turkey and dried pasta would register in my soul as a failure. And the presence of my in-laws at the meal would trigger an endless stream of apologies and self-recrimination from me.

But not this year.

Jesus and I have been working on acknowledging that I'm doing the best that I can, on learning from when things go wrong rather than beating myself up, and on sparing my family and friends from my crazy performance addiction.

And it worked this time.

We ate the food, put sauce on the overcooked turkey, ate less of the dry pasta, and had a wonderful afternoon together.

I'm not just going to run off to the next thing.

I'm putting a mental and emotional marker down and celebrating this little win (and I know it's a small one). Sheryl Sandberg and Adam Grant in their book Option B encourage this practice as a way to generate momentum and increase our ability to generate positive change in our lives and environment.

Take a look around your own life. Do you have any "little wins" you can celebrate in your spiritual journey? Take a moment to pause and mark the milestone. You'll be glad you did.

Reading Plato

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 01 Dec 2017 17:26:00 +0000

I've been on a kick reading Plato recently.

Reading people who write about Plato is miserable. CS Lewis joked that "If you can't explain something simply, you probably haven't understood it yourself." And that makes me think that most of the people I've stumbled across who write about Plato have a lot more digging to do.

But reading Plato himself is lovely.

In his writing I hear echoes of conversations that continue to be had in my own community.

What is friendship?
What is virtue?
What is wisdom?
What is love?
How do we educate young people in our community?

Plato rarely seems to land on a definitive answers, but he takes his readers on a delightful journey that has a side effect of shaping how we view these great questions. I feel like I'm getting a rollicking crash-course in critical thinking when I read Plato.

Years ago, my friend Steve Wimmer convinced me to pick up Plato's Republic and I was shocked to find how easy it was to read. Over the years I've been circling back and filling in the gaps in my education, reading some of these old, old books that had such a role in shaping Western history and thought. Along the way, Brian Sowers (now a prof. a Brooklyn College) has continued to nudge me to read beyond the "canon" and to read with confidence. And along the way I've discovered how much I enjoy reading old books.

I wonder if we all just need a nudge to try to read or listen to something old. Maybe I can do that for you today.

Much of Plato's writing is available for free on Kindle or via audiobook on LibriVox.

Check out his "Apology". I listened to it recently and found myself deeply moved by how Socrates (the main character in this piece) defended his behavior, his hopes for the Athenian youth, and his fate at the hands of his accusers.

December's a long month and Plato's writings (at least some of them) are pretty short. Would you consider giving one of them a try?

Scheduling posts

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 27 Nov 2017 13:00:00 +0000

I write in bursts.

Life is crazy in the Tamayo household and I can't do the traditional, "hour-every-morning" writing that people rave about. As awesome as it is to imagine Hemingway greeting the rise of the sun while standing naked at his typewriter, I think it would weird my kids out.

So, I sprint-write.

Every week I write around 1,750 words for Chatham Church's five Connect Devotional posts and I do that in about an hour and a half. For LaFe, I usually work on one writing project per week and write about 1,000 words per hour (usually on a Friday after having lots of coffee).

I sat down a few weeks ago and outlined a book on preaching in two two-hour sittings.

Why am I sharing this?

I'm going to be posting here on the blog a little more often in the next year and I'm going to be writing in sprints. I'll probably write a month's worth of posts at a time (maybe more).

What does this mean for us?

Not much. I just want you to know.

I read and respond to comments as fast as I'm able (they ping into my email inbox).

If you see me in town or talk to me on the phone and ask me about something I published this morning, please don't be surprised if I have no idea what it was ... I probably wrote it a while ago! Don't take my not remembering as an unwillingness to talk about what I wrote.

This also means that ...

If I say I don't have time to meet up or talk this week but you see me post something online, I'm not brushing you off (I just scheduled this to post a while ago!)

If I say "yesterday" or "last week" in a story I'm telling, it was "yesterday" or "last week" from the time I sat down to write, not from the time I published the piece.

I'm not neglecting my family in order to write. Today, I'm writing in a coffee shop while Amy and the kids are running errands. Amy and I worked it out so I could slip away for a few hours to write before we go on a big Pokéhunt as a family and then get dinner out (I'm hoping for Chipotle, but will be excited if we end up at Panera or Cookout). We get tons of time together as a family and I appreciate all of my friends who encourage me to keep my workaholism in check and enjoy this season with my kids.

I love being able to schedule posts and to see them strung out in the calendar over the course of a week or month. I think it's a little more respectful to you who are reading this than flooding your inbox.

This is the last one of these self-reflective posts for a while. I mostly had to think through this myself, so shared it here as a form of "thinking out loud."

Wandering through the publishing landscape

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 25 Nov 2017 16:44:00 +0000

Over the last several years, I've invested a lot of time and energy into a book project that I hoped to publish with my friends over at InterVarsity Press. I know several of the editors there and have a tremendous amount of respect for the work they do.

After bouncing a proposal back and forth with them several times, I realized that I don't have an essential component that the publishers need to successfully publish a book: a large "platform." In today's publishing environment, book publishers need authors to be able to promote their book through conferences, blogs, professional networks, and fans of previous books.

So, I've got three choices:

Build a platform
Give up on the project
Create a new alternative

Building a platform is out for me for this season. With a young family and two jobs, I can't be running around on the conference circuit (as fun as that would be). I'm already writing 250+ posts per year for Chatham Church over at the Connect Devotional and doing a ton of writing/creating for LaFe over at our new web suite. Sure, I could publish a solid, weekly post here or on a platform for a potential book project ... but I couldn't do that AND write a book.

So, I've tried Option 2: Give up on the project. Knowing when to walk away is an important piece of tactical wisdom. Some things just aren't meant to be. Most people with great ideas for books never publish them.

But ideas keep bubbling up for me. My mind wanders over and over again onto these threads that I'd love to write about and that I think would be helpful to share.

As I've been stalled out with the publisher, I've been forced to re-evaluate why I wanted to write a book in the first place. Is it about ego and income or is it about connection and teaching? This hasn't been easy for me to tease apart. There's something beautiful about a printed book stamped with an official ISBN and available wherever books are sold. If my writing generated income, I'd be more free to do more writing. But this isn't the season for that.

So, I'm working on creating a new alternative. I don't know what it'll look like. But I have some ideas ...

Frank Kern over on this Facebook video shared a simple process for self-publishing an ebook (Outline-Dictate-Transcribe-Edit ... and have a professional edit the transcription)

I could just drip the content out here on the blog (Who - besides my ego - says it has to be in book form?)

I could create a Facebook page and post a series of Facebook Live posts sharing the content (this is probably the fastest way to get the content out into the world)

Whatever I decide, the pressure to seek a publisher has faded. And, with that pressure gone, I'll do a little more playing with my writing ... wandering without being lost.

Salvation: Before and After (from Ephesians 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sun, 02 Jul 2017 02:35:00 +0000

I'm preaching on Ephesians 2 tomorrow and, true to form, have way more content than I can communicate in the 30 minutes we have. I thought I might pop it up here to ease my conscience about not sharing it on Sunday. That's how this whole blog got started in the first place anyways.

In the first few verses of Ephesians 2, Paul charts four changes that happen when Jesus saves us. Here they are ...

1) We experience a change in state (from death to life)
2) We experience a change in motivation (from cravings to grace)
3) We experience a change in leadership (from the ruler of the kingdom of the air to King Jesus)
4) We experience a change in community (from those in that former kingdom to the new kingdom created in Jesus)

I'll still talk about the death to life transition on Sunday, though not in the depth I was planning to in my initial draft. This imagery around death communicates the desperation of our situation and our powerlessness to change it on our own. We don't just need a helper or a teacher; we need someone to come and save us. And that's just what Jesus has done. The same One who conquered death in his resurrection triumphs over the death that attempts to hold us still and bound.

The change in motivation corner of the passage is powerful. Paul pictures us as being motivated by the desires and thoughts that fan into flame the cravings of our flesh. Gratifying those cravings lead us step by step deeper into our enslavement. And people have learned to steer and manipulate us via our cravings: marketers, politicians, and even preachers. But Jesus wants to liberate us. He breaks the power of those cravings and gives us grace as a motivation.

We hardly ever think of grace as a driver of behavior (hence Paul's series of rhetorical questions in early Romans), but that doesn't change the fact that God loves to move us forward with grace as the motive power. We don't do the good works that he prepares in advance for us to do because we owe him something or are busy earning our keep. We dive into those good works because God has prepared them for us, the God we love and who loves us has prepared for us the gift of great, good work. And that's a beautiful thing.

Paul bounces off of the ruler of the kingdom of the air comment multiple times in this section of Ephesians. He has throughout the letter the cosmic scope of our salvation always in view, even if only out of the corner of his eye. The spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient leverages our bondage to transgression and sin and uses it against us, to hurt us and do us harm. He's driving the bus - not us - and he's driving it off of a cliff. Thank God Jesus takes the wheel. We can't do it ourselves (remember, we're dead). We need a better leader, one who loves us. We need a leader who has our best interests in mind and who cares for us. That's who we have in Jesus.

Finally, we look at Paul's language of a new community. He hints at it in the first several verses of chapter 2 and then dives fully in in the second half of the chapter (which Alex is preaching on next week). But suffice to say that the community we're a part of apart from Christ is a community marked by transgressions, sins, and disobedience. We drift away from God and isolate ourselves from each other. We form mono-ethnic enclaves and terrorize those who are different from us. We lost touch with compassion, mercy and love and become cold, hard, dead warriors for truth, justice and whichever way gives us power. How different this is from what Jesus offers us in his kingdom and in the new community that he's creating through his death and resurrection!

This is five minutes of rough scattershot, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I was sad that I didn't get to preach it.

Dual Identity Crisis

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 24 Dec 2016 04:46:00 +0000

Having white skin and blond hair creates complications if you carry a Latino ethnic identity. That's my situation. And I've been thinking a lot about it during this Christmas season.

People I work with continue to forget that I'm Latino as well as white. There's zero malice there. It's just a challenge for them. I get strange looks and pushback whenever I point to my heritage or Latino perspective. I struggle to explain to others the complex sense of otherness I feel when I spend a lot of time in an all white group.

I feel like the Latino facet of my ethnic identity is being slowly smothered. I wonder if Jesus ever felt the same way with his dual identity: fully God and fully human.

Theologians seem engaged in a near constant tug-of-war over Jesus' dual identity. Some emphasize his humanity; others his divinity. Both sides overstate their case. And this is not a new problem.

Early church history is riddled with conflicting perspectives on Jesus' identity. Arius refused to see Jesus as fully God. Marion refused to see him as fully human. Irenaeus and Ignatius and Athanasius and Tertullian and that crowd pushed back against both of those refusals until we ended up with something that looks like today's Christian orthodoxy.

I find this conflict over the identity of Christ to come as no surprise. People with dual identities know how hard it is to pin them down, to explain them, to communicate them in all their nuance. I can't describe my own identity; how can I expect someone else to explain the complexities that spring into this world as a result of my background?

Multiethnic people (and multiethnic churches) give us a context to embrace both the reality and the mystery of a Christ who is fully human and fully divine.

Four ways ministries grow in ethnic diversity

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 20 Dec 2016 02:27:00 +0000

When ministries grow in meaningful ethnic diversity, God's kingdom advances rapidly. A loving multiethnic community is the most powerful witness to the gospel's power. Our best evidence that Jesus' death and resurrection has made a difference in the world shines forth when people can see racial and ethnic barriers torn down.

Here are four ways I've seen ministries grow in ethnic diversity.

1. Visually

The easiest changes are the optical ones. Put a more diverse cast on your publicity. Use stock photos if you must. Pull a person who looks different from the majority of the group up on stage. At some point or another every ministry that wants to grow more diverse must make this jump.

I've wrestled with this step because so often it merely amounts to tokenism and window dressing. The brochures don't match the boardrooms. The appearance of diversity can actually serve as a roadblock to experiencing true diversity (and the reconciliation necessary to make that happen). But ministries that want to grow more diverse always have to take this step ... and often before they feel ready.

When I served with InterVarsity in South Florida we struggled to get white students involved in our ministries. We had lots of Haitian, Black, Latino and Asian students, but few white students involved. On some campuses, we were the only campus ministry present. And with our vision to reach every corner of campus, we knew we had to make an intentional effort to reach white students. Having white students on our marketing materials and at our events made a small but noticeable impact on our ability to reach an unreached corner of our campuses. But, I'll be honest, it felt uncomfortable to be so intentional about the pictures we used.

2. Culturally

Cultural expressions and artifacts can create space for people to connect across barriers and boundaries. I've argued elsewhere that culture is a gift from God that he can use to guide his people through the debris left by racial and ethnic barriers. Ministries that grow in ethnic diversity will find ways to share and enjoy a diverse set of cultural expressions: languages, musical styles, food, and dress are a few of the expressions I've seen used to help a ministry grow in diversity.

Multiculturalism almost always comes before multi-ethnicity.

I'll never forget the first time I heard musical worship in Spanish. The stadium at Acquire the Fire in Tampa softly sang: "Dame, dame, dame más de ti, bendito Señor" (listen here). I'd heard all kinds of Spanish language music in my house and at my relatives' homes, but I'd never heard anyone sing musical worship in Spanish in the mostly white churches that I went to as a child. This experience had a significant impact on my faith and its integration into my life. I shared something special on that day with my Christian friends from different ethnic backgrounds.

3. Temporarily

This is the most difficult truth about ministries growing in diversity. There's something in the world that pulls us toward homogeneity. As a ministry grows more diverse, people might get hurt and pull back. Other might feel newly excluded and pull away. Building a multiethnic ministry requires constant adjustment and will almost certainly involve seasons of failure.

When I joined InterVarsity at Duke the chapter had just started to grow in multi-ethnicity. My year had a balance of white and Asian-American students. The year that followed me had a few more Asian students than white students. Now, 15 years later, the chapter is almost all Asian and Asian-American. I've seen this pattern repeated time and time again: white flight, black flight, Latino flight ... they're real and really difficult to forestall.

Additionally, I've seen ministries gain momentum in diversity and then lose it. One ministry went from employing one to seven Latino staff in just 4 years. But a series of strategic decisions and some hard realities beyond the ministry's control broke the momentum. Three years late and that ministry now employs three Latino staff. Momentum matters and proves difficult to maintain.

4. Persistently

No ministry will experience long-term growth in ethnic diversity without persistence.

Growing in ethnic diversity requires work at every level in an organization. Adjustments happen at the leadership level, in recruitment, in teaching and worship style, in marketing, in discipleship approach, in evangelistic communication ... the list could go on and on and on. A ministry must be deeply committed to multi-ethnicity for it to grow in ethnic diversity over the long haul.

This persistence only comes from a conviction that multi-ethnicity is essentially tied to the mission of the ministry. Individual leaders must be captured by the vision of a multi-ethnic community. They have to learn to articulate how diversity and mission are connected with each other. They have acquire stories of victories and failures, sacrifices and blessings, pain and joy.

What else do you see as essential for a ministry to grow in ethnic diversity?

Loving a moving target

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Sat, 17 Dec 2016 04:52:00 +0000

Here's a marriage challenge for you: the person you marry will transform into a significantly different person over time.

They will age. Their interests will shift. They will mature, but not at a predictable rate. Life will smack them around a little bit and that will change them. Your love itself will transform them.

A healthy marriage requires people to re-connect and re-engage over and over again throughout their time together. And doing this while juggling work and children and the Sturm und Drang of life will always be a challenge.

But it's worth it!

Revelation and the Challenge of Coded Speech

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 16 Dec 2016 03:02:00 +0000

I've been switching back and forth between reading the Christmas narrative (for work) and Revelation (for my personal study). I've been really struck by the difference between these two stories.

Both Matthew and Luke (the two Gospel accounts that tell the Christmas narrative) tell the story very directly. The characters have names and genealogies. The locations are pretty specific. Almost anyone can understand almost everything in the story.

Revelation, on the other hand, is a cypher. I've found it confusing ever since my first reading of it over 20 years ago. In today's reading, John writes about a woman being chased by a dragon. Is the woman Mary? The church? Israel? All of the above?

The church in the ancient Roman empire found itself persecuted in terrifying ways. Christians were dragged into the courts and into the Coliseum. They were lit on fire and fed to lions. Being caught in possession of the scriptures could have devastating consequences.

Disempowered people have long used coded speech to communicate. From the dog-whistles of modern politics to the code switching in ethnic minority communities, people will find a way to communicate what's most important to them no matter how closely supervised and restricted they may be.

Stumbling across coded speech that isn't meant for you can be extremely frustrating. Especially when it's in the Bible. We have to either do the hard work to understand the speech (ie. to learn the code) or skip it and hope that we're not missing something important.

What do you do when you don't understand the scripture's coded speech? Do you tend to dig or skip?

The Difference Between a Goal and a System

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 15 Dec 2016 04:26:00 +0000

This article right here contains the most significant leadership insight I've learned in the last year: "Forget About Setting Goals. Focus on This Instead." by James Clear. (<--- You should really consider reading this article ... it's better than what I'm writing here).

From James Clear's excellent article (which you should read) - linked above

Throughout my adult life I've been a goal setter. And I've been a goal hitter. Except when I'm not.

In 2015, I wanted to get in shape so that when the twins were born I'd have the energy to keep up with them. In 2014, I wanted to write my Ethnicity Everywhere book. In 2013, I set a goal get my whole Staff team fully funded. In 2012, I was going to finish the Barbaro book with my dad. In 2011, well, you get the picture, right? I didn't hit any of these goals.

The common reason I failed to hit my goals is because I failed to develop meaningful systems.

If I had an exercise 20-minutes per day (and don't drink anything but water and black coffee) system, I'd hit my goal of being in shape in 2015. If I did daily writing (like I'm doing now), I'd have finished all of my books (Ethnicity Everywhere, Barbaro, The Discovery of the Ring, The Good Circle, Circle Theology, Idle Worship, etc ...). If I made one request for a donation per day, my team would have been funded.

There's a world of difference between a goal and a system.

A goal is the end zone; a system is the field. Where do you play the game?
A goal is the finish line; a system is the course. Where do you run the race?
A goal is the eulogy; a system is the daily grind. Where do you live your life?

As I round the corner of another year, my brain and my heart swing into goal mode: what did I accomplish this year? what do I want to do next year?

I wonder what would happen instead if I focused on my systems.

Do you have any great systems that you've developed to be healthy, write more, or lead better? I'd love to hear about them.

The Myth of Walking in Someone Else's Shoes

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Wed, 14 Dec 2016 01:55:00 +0000

You can't actually walk in someone else's shoes. Ever.

I like the impulse. It reflects a desire to understand and connect. It reflects a desire to love. And that's great. But where does it lead?

I've seen so many people who have what I'd call "a false perception of understanding." We think we understand what someone else is going through or we think we know what it's like to be someone else. We then feel justified to speak for others or offer confident critiques. We stop listening and asking questions.

When you try to walk in my shoes you end up making them your own. My feet have their own shape and stink. My legs swing in their own particular way. I have particular paths that I walk. You can take my shoes, but you can't actually walk in them.

This is actually a warped application an idea from the ancient philosopher Heraclitus, who famously said that "You can never step into the same river twice." Both you and the river change continuously. I change every day. My shoes change every day. How can you walk in them?

Here's the thing: relationship can go where understanding can't.

I'm never going to fully understand you but I can know you. You'll never fully understand me but you can love me. We can't walk in each other's shoes, but we can walk together.

[Note: this idea has tremendous implications for our thinking about Christmas and the incarnation]