What I wrote last month about my debate with Shane Claiborne got me thinking (often a dangerous thing!). After I wrote to you, I started to work on a series of sermons about the subject. I will, of course, preach those sermons; but mostly, I wrote them for myself. The titles are: Why Can't We All Get Along?, Why Can't We All Agree? and Why Can't We Sing the Same Songs?

I'm not sure why I can't just let it go. Maybe it's the Holy Spirit. Maybe it's indigestion. Whatever. If it's from Jesus, he'll use it. If it's not, the angels will laugh and say among themselves, "Look, Brown's at it again! He just won't let go. We must talk to the Father about his obsessive nature."

At any rate, as I said last month, we really do need to learn how to love one another without compromising our convictions.

Every month or so, I'm a guest on Brant Hansen's radio network morning show, Mornings with Brant. Brant is one of my favorite people and I like talking with him. He's winsome, informed and thoughtful.

(I do a lot of those kinds of interviews and sometimes they're so boring-for both me and the person doing the interview-that I'll play solitaire on the computer while I do them. And if you say I said that, I'll say you lied.)

Brant brought up the subject of Rob Bell's new book, Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived.

Talk about a controversial book! While Bell isn't a Universalist (someone who believes that everybody will eventually end up in heaven…albeit with the scent of smoke on their clothes), he does "smell" like one.

Reading the reviews, I've discovered that there are people who think that Bell is the devil incarnate and has destroyed the church, America and motherhood. And others are just as sure that Bell will retire when there is a vacancy in the Trinity. I have friends in both of those camps and, as the politician said, "I stand with my friends."

Next month, I plan to say something about the book's content, but this month I want to speak to the reaction to Rob Bell as a person and a brother in Christ.

(The short version on the content is that, while I have some serious issues with a lot of what Bell writes, I like him a lot. I even thought about tweeting, "Everybody who doesn't like Rob Bell is going to hell!" Sorry.)

My first reaction to Bell's book was, "I don't believe I would have said that!"

My second reaction was, "How could he say that?"

My third reaction was irritation.

As you know, I'm probably the most conservative/orthodox friend you have. I came to my convictions the hard way and, believe it or not, paid a major price for those convictions. I don't change easily (if ever) and I'm not altogether happy with anyone who questions what I consider the eternal verities of the Christian faith.

That's when Jesus showed.

I tried to ignore him because Jesus "messes with my mind" and, frankly, I don't like Bell or anybody else doing that. The problem with Jesus doing it is that he's the High King of Heaven. He's gentle, kind and gracious, but he's also right…and right all the time. He's also opinionated and doesn't ever give me any "wiggle room" or ask for my vote.

"So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love…In humility count others more significant than yourselves…Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross" (Philippians 2:1-3, 5-8).

As if that weren't enough, right after the "come to Jesus" conversation, a friend who is working with Key Life on some new projects was in my office. Mark mentioned that he had lived in Grand Rapids and attended Rob Bell's church for two or three years. He said that Rob Bell was the "real deal" and had had a major effect on his life. Then I remembered some dear friends in Atlanta who were able to survive spiritually during a very hard time in their lives because of the ministry of Rob Bell.

Spit!

That was the process I went through before Brant's interview.

Brant asked, "Do you think Rob Bell is a Christian? Is he saved? Is he your brother?"

I said in my normal and kind way: "Are you a fruitcake? Of course he's a Christian, my brother and saved."

"So," Brant then asked, "you haven't taken him off your list?"

"Of course not," I replied.

Then Brant said something I've thought about ever since. "Steve," he said, "you're old (I get no respect) and everybody I know who is wise (well, some respect) has a shorter list than he or she had when he or she was younger."

Brant told me about a prominent Christian teacher who even tweeted after reading Rob Bell's book: "Farewell, Rob Bell."

What? Who made you the one to decide? "Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand" (Romans 14:4).

I was just getting ready to have a major attack of self-righteousness when Jesus interfered again. He reminded me of the time when, as a young pastor, I was quite critical of the shallowness of some Christians with whom I disagreed (I don't even remember who they were now). One of my staff members said, "Steve, if you don't get off your Calvinist hobbyhorse, you're going to kill this church."

I fired him.

Okay, so I'm not throwing rocks here; but frankly, I like Rob Bell a whole lot better than those who don't.

I also had a fourth reaction to Bell's book: "I'm not sure he's right, but I wish he was." I'm glad he opened the conversation. We really do need to talk. So next month, I want to address some of the issues in Rob Bell's book: Is there a hell and who is going there?

Brant said something else that was insightful. We were talking about the pro and con, and "over the top" comments about the book. Brant said, "It's messy…kind of like family."

Well, yeah?

That's the point.

Other than you and me (and I sometimes worry about you!), God has made some very weird and irritating choices about who is and who isn't a part of his family. But we're stuck with one another. And the lab Jesus gave us is the church. In John 17, he prayed that we would be one and love one another "that the world might believe," and he promised to help us.

In other words, if we want our friends, colleagues, neighbors, wives, husbands, sons, daughters and parents to know Christ, we have to somehow learn to deal with Rob Bell…and those who can't deal with Rob Bell.

Don't you hate it?

He asked me to remind you.

I participated in their World View Forum where I debated Shane Claiborne on the subject of civil disobedience. Shane is the author of a number of books including The Irresistible Revolution and Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals. He is the founder of The Simple Way, a ministry to the poor in Philadelphia, and has been on our talk show a number of times. (We helped him raise money when a major fire burned down his house and other buildings at his ministry.)

My time at Malone was confusing and, in some ways, very difficult. No, I didn't make a fool of myself (there's something to be said for that). I actually acquitted myself and the issues I supported quite well, thank you. I have a glib tongue and talk for a living so the confusion and difficulty weren't at that point.

My problem was trying to process Shane's insane political views with his love for Jesus and incredible ministry to the poor. It was sort of like having a reasonable conversation with a friend when, suddenly, a frog hops across the floor, and the friend picks up the frog and eats it. And just so you know, I suspect that Shane had a similar problem with me.

There were some other difficulties with the Malone thing. As you know, I carry a gun and have a concealed weapons permit (I referenced that fact in the debate) and Malone is a Quaker institution. (They aren't big on guns.) Not only that, I smoke a pipe and evangelical Quakers aren't big on smoking either. Add to that the fact that most of the some 2,000 people there were young and haven't been mugged yet. So they are basically as liberal as Shane.

So the folks at Malone weren't entirely sure I was even saved.

And then Shane has dreadlocks down to his navel and I'm bald. So, on top of everything else, I was dealing with hair envy.

The whole experience was kind of like Daniel going into the lion's den. Uh…that makes it too spiritual and pejorative. It was more like going to a nudist colony fully dressed. Uh…that's too secular and pejorative. How about like being Rush Limbaugh at a Nancy Pelosi political rally when they both start talking about Jesus and then join hands, kneel down and pray?

What's with that?

That brings me to what I've thought about all this morning. The question is this: How in the world are Christians going to love one another when we don't agree on anything but Jesus, don't think the same way, don't look alike, or don't share a common cultural and political understanding of the way things ought to be? And then there is a second question: How can we love one another without selling out our convictions?

The short answer is that Jesus makes everything else look small by comparison and, if we can get that right, we can probably love one another and make room for our convictions. John Wesley said, "If your heart be as my heart, give me your hand."

My experience at Malone University is probably increasingly becoming your experience in the personal encounters of your life. That's true whether you're an old guy like me or a young one like Shane; you're a Democrat or a Republican; you prefer "bubba" and Blues Brothers or Bach as worship music; you like Picasso or Kinkade; you're a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution or an immigrant; you're politically a liberal or a conservative; you get your clothes from Coldwater Creek, Brooks Brothers or Walmart; you comb your hair with a sponge or have dreadlocks…and it goes on and on.

We just don't agree on much anymore. The fragmentation of America (and the world)-where we once shared a common understanding of politics, religion and culture-has become the norm. Frankly, I hate it. It's really bad!

No, actually, it's really good. Do you know why? It gives us an opportunity to shine with a powerful witness of convictions and love. There is nothing more unusual and powerful in our time than that. And with all the humility I can muster, despite all the hassle and difficulty, that was the witness Shane and I (he less than me because he's not ordained and is a liberal…sorry) made at Malone University.

There are some specifics about love sleeping comfortably with convictions…

First, love and convictions can't go together without repentance. What the prophetess said to the king in 2 Kings 22:18-19 is a major theme in Scripture: "Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: Regarding the words that you have heard, because your heart was penitent, and you humbled yourself before the Lord…I have heard you." The Psalmist said that God was close to those with a broken heart of repentance (Psalm 34). Jesus said that the kingdom of God was present when he came and that the appropriate response was repentance (Matthew 3:2). Jesus also said that he had come to call sinners (that would be us) to repentance, not the righteous (Mathew 9:13). It's everywhere in Scripture.

Jack Miller said that the only people in the Body of Christ who have anything to say are those who are repentant and the most repentant people in the church should be its leaders. Repentance is an attitude more than an act-an attitude of recognition that God is God, he is always right in his judgments, and we are subject to that judgment throughout our lives. It's hard to have that attitude, know who you are and who he is, and pull a trigger on someone who is different than you. It's an attitude that one can be wrong as well as sinful.

Second, one can't put love and convictions together in the face of differences unless one recognizes that Jesus has made some weird choices in those he has chosen to love…and we are among the weirder. Paul said to Timothy (1 Timothy 1:15): "The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost." Our message is not a political or a cultural one. Our message is always that of a sinful, needy and forgiven sinner telling other sinful and needy people that Jesus saves, loves and forgives sinners of whom we are the foremost. That's the main thing and everything thing else is secondary.

Finally, love and convictions rest comfortably together when one is free to speak one's truth. That freedom comes with repentance before God and love from God. Our fear keeps us from speaking our truth because we want to be acceptable, valued and affirmed. If you seek that from people, you'll be a weenie, agree with everything people in power say, and cave in the face of differences. We dare not get that from anybody but Jesus. Jesus accepts me and whether or not you accept me is of very little importance. When he bought me with his blood, Jesus placed a very high value on me and that value is all that counts whether or not you value me. Jesus likes me big and affirms me whether or not you affirm me.

When I remember that-and I do sometimes-I'm dangerous. When I forget it-and I do sometimes-my convictions don't get spoken, I become an "echo" of the tastes and convictions of others, and Jesus blushes.

The morning we were at Malone, Shane and I participated in a radio interview to be aired on the Moody network. During that interview, the subject of Bonhoeffer and Eric Metaxas' biography of him (Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy) came up. (That's an incredible book and I referenced it.)

Anyway, Shane said that he thought Bonhoeffer was wrong.

I told Shane I thought he (Shane) was crazy and if everyone had agreed with him during the Second World War, we would be conducting the interview in German.

Shane didn't change his conviction about Bonhoeffer and neither did I. But we did love each other, speak our convictions clearly, and decide not to be each other's mother.

It worked for us and it can for you too. So don't shilly-shally.

Jesus asked me to remind you.

As soon as I finish writing you, I'm getting drunk. (Given that I don't consume alcoholic beverages, one beer ought to do it.)

Okay. I won't. But the thought is a pleasant one…transcendence in a bottle.

As I read over what I've written, some of it seems to me to be very good, some of it not half bad and some of it so bad I wince. Trouble is, I'm not sure which is which. I'm sure the editors will tell me…and I'll wonder where they were when the page was blank.

Most of yesterday and this morning, I've worked on the last chapter. It is, as in some of my other books, a Q & A chapter in an attempt to ameliorate the damage I did in all the other chapters and thereby keep my job. The title of the chapter is Are you Crazy? Because that chapter is on my mind (and I always write to you with whatever is on my mind at the time), I'm going to share with you some of the answers to some of the questions in that last chapter.

Well, are you crazy?

Sometimes I think so. In fact, the things we Christians say we believe are quite crazy. We believe that there is a God who created everything, and especially and lovingly created us. We believe that creator God is in charge of all that creation and directs it for his purposes. Then we believe that the same God humbled himself and became a man, walking our dirty roads, hanging out with the worst of us, and then hanging on a cross for his people. We believe that that dead man got out of a grave and walked around, was taken up to heaven and will return to clean up the mess.

If you believe that, you'll believe anything!

But if that doesn't cause you to wince, this will. The Bible teaches that God likes us a lot. And that our sin isn't the issue and it was covered on the cross. Not only that, we believe that the "goodness" of Christ himself was given to us and we stand good before God because of that gift.

Paul called the Gospel the "foolishness of God" and said it "pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe…" (1 Corinthians 1:21).

There is a sense in which what seems logical, balanced and reasonable probably isn't the Gospel, but people trying to create a God who they think ought to exist. That's called "religion" and it's easy to win arguments with that religion. The truth of the Gospel is so foolish that you have to get it rather than understand it. If you don't get it, those who do seem crazy.

Why do you persist in irritating everybody? Free sins??? That's outrageous! Why don't you write and teach in a normal way?

I've tried to say it in a normal way. Nobody listens. So I decided to ditch the theological and religious words, and to be as outrageous as God was in his giving of himself for us. It sometimes makes people angry but they do listen.

What about discipline? You very conveniently avoid Hebrews 12:7. It says, in case you don't know, "It is for discipline that you have to endure. God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline?"

The reason I don't refer to that very often is that it is the weapon of choice in the hands of the manipulators. They (and me on occasion) give the gift with one hand and take it away with the other. In other words: God loves us without condition; but if you don't respond appropriately to his love, he'll take you out to the woodshed and you won't be able to walk for a week.

What's with that?

I can't tell you how many times I've heard people with cancer, AIDS, rebellious children, lost jobs and a thousand other "dark" experiences refer to Hebrews 12:7. They are sure that God, in his love, is disciplining them. One time a man even told me, after he lost his family, that God was disciplining him because he stole a quarter from his mother's purse when he was twelve.

Nonsense. If there were a correlation between our obedience and his discipline, we would have been destroyed a long time ago.

This isn't a book given over to a proper exegesis of Hebrews 12:7, but it is proper to take the father in that and apply it to the father Jesus revealed. It is also quite proper to compare a good father to our images of a heavenly one. Jesus said, "If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" (Matthew 7:11).

My father was evil by human standards, but there was never a man who loved his sons more than my father. He was not a very good disciplinarian and was criticized for it. In fact, he only spanked me twice in all the years I was growing up. That wasn't because I only deserved to be spanked twice (are you kidding?); it was just all he could muster. And he wept real tears both times. Do you know what happened those two times? Afterwards, I got hugged and I got ice cream. In fact, it was worth the spanking just to get the ice cream. The hugs too! It just took me a lot of years to see that the hugs were more important than the ice cream.

If we're going to teach discipline to God's people, it must always be done with the Father Jesus revealed and my father in mind. If it isn't, it's just a back door way to pour on the guilt and to keep God's people in line.

Okay, but where do you draw the line?

There isn't one. And as soon as you draw one, it ceases to be the Gospel.

My friend, Zach Van Dyke, a youth pastor and a regular on our talk show, recently attended a conference for youth leaders with some three or four thousand people. One of the main speakers was Ted Haggard. He was the president of the National Association of Evangelicals and pastor of a mega-church when it was discovered, based on the claims of a male prostitute, that he was buying drugs and later, he admitted to "sexual immorality."

I don't know Ted Haggard, but I have heard some of the pain he's gone through subsequent to his fall. Shame, financial ruin, and loss of friendships and ministry are just a part of it. I suspect his nights are very dark. But he has "come back home" and his repentance is now as notorious as his sin.

When he was introduced to these youth ministry people, Zach told me that a whole lot of people (maybe as many as a thousand) stood up and walked out of the auditorium. I get that and suspect they felt they were taking a stand for Christ. Sometimes one must do that. But this time when they left the building, Jesus didn't go with them. He stayed behind and rejoiced in the "coming home" of Ted Haggard.

But that isn't the tragedy. The tragedy is that those who were hesitant about staying or leaving because of their own stand, must remain silent, hiding their own sin and their own unworthiness. It almost killed Ted Haggard and it will kill them too.

No, there isn't a line.

What if you're wrong?

I'm in trouble.

You are too.

In fact, if what I've written in this book isn't true, neither of us has a prayer.

He asked me to tell you that it's all true.

Our problem is that we're working to accomplish something that has already been accomplished. Our obsession is killing us.

You already knew that. Now you don't have to buy the book when it's published.

As I've worked on the book, I've felt increasingly uneasy. Let me tell you why.

I just finished reading Eric Metaxas' wonderful biography of Bonhoeffer (Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy). Frankly, I've been overwhelmed by the story of Bonhoeffer's courage. I didn't know where Bonhoeffer got it. In fact, there is no explanation for him. Bonhoeffer should have been simply a gentleman, enjoying his wealth, his piano and his books. He was bright, of course, and had an incredible heritage, but he didn't have dirt under his fingernails. One expects courageous warriors to come from the ranks of the "common man," not from the privileged classes.

When I was a student at Boston University School of Theology, Bonhoeffer was (wrongly) identified as one of the fathers of the "God is Dead" movement. He was seen as another example of a man whose liberal theology informed his concern for justice. Out of that concern, he became a martyr for the cause of the oppressed. After reading this biography, I found out that that is drivel.

While I respect my colleagues and friends who hold that spurious theological position, I could never see how a position that was more humanistic than theological could inspire anybody to do anything, much less give his or her life for any cause.

But as I read Metaxas' book I saw, for the first time, Bonhoeffer's profound relationship with Christ and understood that he was a major danger to the Third Reich and a "troubling thorn" in the liberal theological ranks of the German church not despite his faith, but because of it. Bonhoeffer was dangerous because he was free, and he was free because he was forgiven.

Boldness is a very hard trait for Christians to acquire. In fact, in some circles, boldness is considered a sin or, at best, in bad taste. If you must say what you think (and that should be rare), at least be nice about it and don't offend anyone.

Because of the "default" Christian position of niceness, one has to be careful to define words like forgiveness, love and compassion very carefully lest it become just another way to be nice. Forgiveness always costs, love is sometimes as hard as nails, and compassion can degenerate into another form of do-goodism if one isn't careful.

In Acts 4, the disciples were arrested. Luke said, "Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus" (v.13). Then later on in that chapter when the religious leaders told the disciples to back off, they replied, "Whether it is right in the sight of God to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge, for we cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard" (vv. 19-20).

Now that's boldness. Where did it come from? It came from the fact that they had "been with Jesus." He loved them, forgave them and accepted them just the way they were and out of that freedom, those disciples became dangerous. They didn't have anything to protect and they didn't have anyone they wanted to please except Jesus…and he was already pleased.

A number of years ago on my television show, I interviewed Jim Bakker about his book, I Was Wrong: The Untold Story of the Shocking Journey from PTL Power to Prison and Beyond.

I told Jim Bakker about an experience I had speaking for a convention of religious broadcasters during the time of his arrest. Every one of those broadcasters (myself included) suffered significant financial loss because of Bakker's actions. Not only that, he created a public relations disaster for all of us. We had every reason to be angry.

Just before I got up to speak, the organization's president stopped me and said, "Steve, I was just watching television and I saw them taking Jim Bakker off to prison. He was weeping. We need to pray for him."

I agreed and figured I would call on someone to pray for Bakker. I thought that I could find at least one "nice" Christian in the bunch who wouldn't pray that he got the hives. "Bill told me that he had just seen the police take Jim Bakker off to jail," I said. "He was crying and we probably need to pray for him."

Just when I got ready to ask someone to pray, to my astonishment, the entire group of people at the convention got up and quietly knelt down by their chairs and started praying for Bakker-for God to uphold him, to bless him, to forgive him and to enable him to get through the pain, doubt and confusion that he was, at that moment, experiencing.

After I told Jim Bakker that story, he seemed emotionally moved. I asked how he felt and he said, "I feel loved, forgiven and free."

That's it!

Jim Bakker went on to describe the difference between having a successful national television ministry with millions of followers and going to prison, finally getting out and having nothing. I don't remember everything Bakker said in that interview. I do remember his humility and the quiet way he described his pain and his surprise at being released from prison early. I remember his description of the time Billy Graham visited him in prison and loved him, and about Jerry Falwell's visit too and how hard it was to forgive Falwell for what Bakker perceived as Falwell's betrayal.

I don't remember the details, but I'll never forget what Jim Bakker said about being loved and being free. He had done some really bad things and yet he felt loved. Everybody knew he had done some really bad things and was capable of doing more, and yet he was free. He said, "I can go wherever I want-to a bar, a church or a Wicca gathering-talk to anybody about anything and nobody is shocked or surprised. I'm free for the first time in my life."

Jesus said, "If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free" (John 8:31-32).

I feel better now about the danger of niceness that could be implied in the concept of "three free sins." In fact, if I can say it in a way that people understand it, the people who read the book will be boldly dangerous.

Do you remember the story about the little boy who killed his grandmother's pet duck? He accidentally hit the duck with a rock from his slingshot. The boy didn't think anybody saw the foul deed, so he buried the duck in the backyard and didn't tell a soul.

Later, the boy found out that his sister had seen it all. Not only that, she now had the leverage of his secret and used it. Whenever it was the sister's turn to wash the dishes, take out the garbage or wash the car, she would whisper in his ear, "Remember the duck." And then the little boy would do what his sister should have done.

There is always a limit to that sort of thing. Finally he had had it. The boy went to his grandmother and, with great fear, confessed what he had done. To his surprise, she hugged him and thanked him. She said, "I was standing at the kitchen sink and saw the whole thing. I forgave you then. I was just wondering when you were going to get tired of your sister's blackmail and come to me."

If he already saw and forgave you, don't let anybody say to you, "Remember the duck."

That makes you dangerous. So go out and offend somebody!

Speak your truth to power and do it with love.

And don't you shilly-shally.

That was right after I ran two red lights.

I'm writing this from jail.

Actually, I'm not writing this from jail and therein is a story of grace.

It was the evening of July Fourth and we drove to Lake Junaluska to see the large firework display. There were thousands of people there, we were running late and I made a wrong turn. In an effort to get back on the right road, I ran two stoplights (well, one and a half, since my son-in-law said that he thought one of the lights was yellow) and made another wrong turn around some traffic cones. As I mentioned, there were lots of people and lots of confusion.

So I backed up.

That's when I heard the crash. I thought I had hit my son-in-law's car (he and the grandchildren were following us) until there was this flashing red light.

Someone said that you know you're going to have a bad day when your horn sticks and you're driving behind a group of Hell's Angels. That's true. Right behind that on the list of very bad stuff that can happen to you is backing into a police car.

So while Anna, our daughters, their husbands and the grandchildren watched the fireworks, I talked with the police officer and his friend (another police officer he called), and made nice. This was not a time to give reign to my authority problem with police. This was a time to be humble, quiet, apologetic and really, really repentant.

And I was!

There is a lot more to be said, but to make a long story short, the police officer checked his car and there was no damage. As an afterthought, he checked mine and there was very little damage there either. Then to my surprise and relief, he said, "I've decided not to give you a ticket."

After I got up from kneeling before him, I walked over to where the family was and said, "He decided not to give me a ticket!"

Our oldest granddaughter (she's 13) grinned and said, "I would have."

"I would have too, honey," I replied.

Barnhouse said that all of life illustrates Bible doctrine. I've been thinking about the incident with the police officer and there are clearly some illustrations of doctrine.

For instance, with the police officer, I didn't have an excuse. I don't have one with God either. If that officer had put me in jail and thrown away the keys, I simply would have had to accept his decision as just. I had nothing but his mercy and, as you know, a police officer's mercy can be an iffy thing.

God's mercy never is.

Paul said to the Romans (1:20) about those who have "seen" God's eternal power and divine nature, "So they are without excuse." We are without excuse too.

Yesterday, I did an interview with a radio station in Pittsburg (WORD-FM) and my friends, John Hall and Kathy Emmons. Among other things, they asked for a reaction to an Anne Rice quote. Anne Rice, as you may know, is the woman who wrote vampire books and made a fortune, announced that she had become a Christian and would never write vampire books again, and started writing Christian books. She recently made an announcement that she was no longer a Christian:

For those who care, and I understand if you don't: Today I quit being a Christian. I'm out…It's simply impossible for me to "belong" to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I've tried. I've failed. I'm an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else…In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.

I was asked to respond. "First," I said, "I really don't care. Second, I think that might be the most self-righteous, silly, sophomoric drivel I've heard in weeks. Such overweening presumption and arrogance drives me nuts!" Then I thought about what I had just said and added, "…as does the self-righteous statement I just made."

It's really hard to be offended at self-righteousness without being self-righteous.

God and police officers are pleased with a "broken and contrite heart" (Psalm 51:17). Self-righteousness, making excuses, pretending to be something you're not, and self-justification can get you into serious trouble with police officers. It's not very smart with a holy God either.

There is another similarity between my encounter with the police officer and my encounter with God. It's the totally amazing, unbelievable and surprising grace I received from both.

Shortly after my unexpected run-in with the police officer, I met, through a friend, the District Attorney of the county where the incident took place. The DA listens to Key Life, likes my books, and was a friend of my late brother who was DA in the adjacent county." Do you know a police officer named Mike?" I asked him. He said he did. "If you see him," I continued, "tell him you met an old preacher who rises up and calls him blessed."

The DA asked why and I told him the story.

Do you know what his reaction was? "You're making that up!"

"No I'm not. Your officer let me go without a ticket or jail time."

Paul gave a benediction to the Ephesians that begins this way (3:20): "Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think…" Sometimes police officers do that.

God always does.

And the most surprising thing about that is we aren't surprised by it. If you've never said about what you've discovered in Christ, "This can't be true…Nothing is that good!" and if everybody to whom you witness doesn't say, "You're making that up!" then it's probably not the Gospel. Religion, policemen who give tickets for bad behavior, scary calls to obedience ("God's going to break your legs!"), and justice for screwing up…none of that is surprising.

Grace always is.

I got it from a police officer in the mountains of North Carolina.

I got it from God a few minutes ago and there is a whole lot more where that came from…more than I can ask or think.

You be careful out there. Watch for police cars. If you hit one, you'll get a ticket and might even go to jail.

Didn't happen to me. But then, God likes me more than he likes you.

But he likes you too!

I just got a new car!

I know, I know, that's not very spiritual, but I'm in that stage where I have to tell someone and you're it. It's a black (befitting the clergy) Honda Accord and I like it a lot.

I generally run cars into the ground, often getting close to 200,000 miles out of them. My old car was a hybrid with 125,000 miles on it. If the batteries go in a hybrid, it can cost up to $4,000. Given that batteries don't last forever and on the advice of a mechanic, I decided that it was time. The new one isn't a hybrid, so the mileage won't be as good as the old one, but it has four cylinders as opposed to the six in the old one, so even that isn't half bad.

Besides, I had milked about all the self-righteousness I could from the hybrid. People were beyond tired of me telling them that I loved our children and the environment (and they didn't). What's the good of a hybrid if you can't be self-righteous about it?

But you know what's so good about a new car (that is, other than the smell)? It's the fresh start. It's giving one's old car problems to someone else and driving away with no problems (at least in the beginning).

You get used to things going wrong with a car and then just learn to live with them. After I had the old one for two weeks, I backed out of my office parking place and hit the front end of a truck. Didn't hurt the truck at all…but there was a big dent in my back bumper. I covered most of the dent with a "Speak Truth to Power" bumper sticker and dealt with it.

Then there was this large scratch I got backing out of my colleague's driveway and hitting their mailbox. (Dr. Kistemaker teaches at the seminary and his wife, Jean, volunteers at Key Life. They were kind and forgiving.) Thankfully, I didn't destroy the mailbox. I righted the mailbox and got some touch-up paint for the scratch. While you could still see the scratch, it was better, and I learned to live with it.

The side mirror was loose. The handle on the console box was broken. The cruise control didn't work right. The temperature gauge was always wrong by about ten degrees. The air conditioning still worked, but I was sweating more. And the radio speakers didn't have the clarity they once had.

But one learns to live with it. Like a lot of things in life (if you're an old guy, there are a lot of them), you learn to live with them and keep on trucking or…uh…driving.

My new car got me to thinking about new things. Being spiritual and all, I thought about 2 Corinthians 5:17, "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come."

Sometimes, I think, we forget the incredible freshness and joy of being a new creation. My old car was functional. Cars have a purpose, to get you from one place to another. The old car did that. Life can be functional too. A comma on a gravestone between the birthday and the death-day says everything that is needful. It can be functional in the same way an old car is functional.

Matthew Arnold wrote in his poem, Rugby Chapel:

Most men eddy about
Here and there – eat and drink,
Chatter and love and hate,
Gather and squander, are raised
Aloft, are hurl`d in the dust,
Striving blindly, achieving
Nothing; and then they die -
Perish; – and no one asks
Who or what they have been,
More than he asks what waves,
In the moonlit solitudes mild
Of the midmost Ocean, have swell`d,
Foam`d for a moment, and gone.

Jesus said in John 10 that he came to give us life-not just functional life where one is born in one hospital and dies in another, but "abundant" life. That life (new creation life) is one of pain (with a purpose), joy (with tears), and freedom to experience both with a depth and authenticity connected to a world in which God is in control. It is a world in which God is working out his purposes in a grand and glorious plan that will be incredibly exciting in the final chapter. "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness" (Lamentations 3:22-23).

There is something else good about a new car, to wit, it's clean. I'm not a slob, but after driving around in a car for five years, there are some stains that simply won't come out. One learns to live with those too. Both the new car and the new creation are clean. "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool" (Isaiah 1:18).

I got a critical email this past week from someone irritated by my comment about sin being a gift from God (when you know it) and obedience a dangerous place (when you know that). Frankly, his underwear was on too tight. But now that I think about it, he did have a point. Sin really isn't the gift. It's the way we get to the good part.Forgiveness is the gift.

I've been reading Pat Conroy's novel, Beach Music. It is about incredible pain…and forgiveness. The leading character's wife takes her life and the book is about the implications flowing from that pain. Until I read his dedication, I wondered how Conroy could write with such passion and understanding of suicide. He dedicated his book to his three "wonderful and irreplaceable" brothers ("loyalists and life-sharers") and "our hurt brother and lost boy" who took his life.

The leading character says of his wife and her suicide, "Shyla was that rarest of suicides…she was forgiven as instantly as she was missed."

The new car and the new creation are clean. The car will get dirty, but the new creation never will. I am forgiven instantly. But more than that and different from Shyla, I'll be remembered, loved and acceptable forever.

The "forever" thing is important. My new car won't stay new. It will get old and one of us (the new car or me) will wear out and die.

God said, "For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth, and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind" (Isaiah 65:17). Jesus promised the thief crucified alongside him that the thief would be in paradise. And Revelation 2:17 talks about the "new name" we'll have in heaven.

The new creation starts now and moves from here to there, from earth to heaven, from time to eternity. None of us is altogether pleased with the eternity side of the new creation. ("The good news is that there is golf in heaven. The bad news is that you have a tee time on Thursday.")

I'm writing this in the mountains of North Carolina. We're here with our daughters, their husbands and the granddaughters. I made the mistake of telling my sons-in-laws what I was writing, that I had this idea to compare the "new creation" to a new car.

That was a mistake.

They started joking about the things that were good about an old car and not so good about a new one. It was an effort, I suppose, to keep me from the sin of pride as it relates to the new car. They talked about the computer system that my "bubba" mechanic wouldn't understand, the learning curve of finding the right controls and getting killed in the process of mistaking the windshield wiper control for the cruse control, and the first scratch on the new car with all the "cussing and spitting" to follow, etc.

I almost wanted my old car back.

But not quite.

Do you remember the old song, This Old House, written by Stuart Hamblen in the fifties? Some of the lyrics:

Now my old hound dog lies asleeping
He don't know I'm gonna leave
Else he'd wake up by the fireplace
And he'd sit there, howl and grieve
But my hunting days are over
I ain't gonna hunt the 'coon no more
Gabriel done brought in chariot
When the wind blew down the door.

I might write a song, This Old Car.

Nah, I don't have time.

I have to go out and wax my new car.

I just finished reading the paper of one of my pastor students who wrote (referring to me):

The class helped me think about surviving and thriving. I like Steve. I like his attitude about the ministry. He has survived well. And he has thrived, it would seem. He has served churches, written books, had a radio ministry. He is celebrated in some circles as an authority. He seems comfortable in his skin as a pastor. He is the right guy to teach the class on surviving and thriving in this complex field. However, at the end of the day (and at the end of the class) I'm not Steve Brown. I'm a guy who finds himself settling into a sad mediocrity. I actually do sometimes go to bed at night grateful for another day of survival.

My first thought was, What a wise and insightful student! He's going to get an "A" for this class.

Then I had an attack of sanity. My second thought was, He's insane. If he only knew…

One other student in the class asked his father-who was a successful pastor-about a particular issue in ministry and that led to a discussion about success and ministry. "The ministry is a very brutal profession in many ways," his father said. "I think just making it through with a bit of sanity means you have succeeded at it."

You've heard the old statement that any airplane flight from which you walk away is a successful flight. That's true of pastoral ministry, parenting, work, life…

…and the Christian faith.

My student's comment about settling into a sad state of mediocrity haunts me. It's a statement filled with pathos…but, if you think about it, it's maybe not a bad place to be. A friend told me once that, when he was young, he thought he would be great but, since then, he discovered he was a "plodder." I told him I had never heard anybody say that before. He laughed and said it used to bother him until God told him that "plodding" was a "gift of the Spirit."

He was, by the way, one of the most secure and joyful Christians I've ever met.

So I decided to do something that very few do, to wit, say a good word about mediocrity. Don't expect much! What I'm going to say will be…uh…well…mediocre.

Let me give you four biblical truths I find helpful, using the imagery of poker. I hope that doesn't offend you but, if it does, you should know that I don't play poker anymore. A friend told me that it hurt my witness, so I stopped. I do think, between you and me, that he wasn't as concerned with my witness as he was with the fact that I was winning all his money.

But with that being said, I really wasn't that great at poker. It was fun, I enjoyed playing with friends and, while it may have been sin…I still liked it. (That by the way is why we sin, to wit, we like to sin.) But, frankly, nobody would ever ask me to participate in the World Series of Poker. I was a mediocre poker player at best.

First, poker players don't deal the cards or decide on the cards; they just play poker with the cards they're dealt. My life's verse is, "Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might…" (Ecclesiastes 9:10). That verse is comforting to me in that I remember I'm not the dealer. Sometimes I play the game well, much of the time I don't, and most of the time the game ends in a draw. All I have to do is keep on playing as best I can.

I often tell seminary students that some of them will serve large and prestigious churches while others small churches, and that is rarely determined by their brilliance, gifts, skills or lack of same. That's true. It has to do with God who determines the boundaries of our lives and does it with great wisdom and understanding.

Second (and if you've been to a Born Free seminar, you already know this), when a dog plays poker (or checkers, if that makes you feel any better), one shouldn't criticize his game; one should just be pleased and surprised that he is playing at all. Besides that, "power is made perfect in weakness" and God sometimes gives a serious defect in poker playing to keep poker players "from being too elated by the surpassing greatness" of their game (2 Corinthians 12:7-10).

Yesterday, I had lunch with a group of college students who are serving as summer interns at a large Presbyterian church here in Orlando. They wanted to ask "Dr. Brown" some questions and I was flattered that they did. Frankly, I was really impressing them…

…until I spilled a full glass of Coke onto the lap of the woman who directs the intern program at the church. She, of course, was gracious. The college students were kind and thinking, He's an old guy doing the best he can. And the other people in the restaurant pretended that nothing happened.

God thought it was funny.

Evidently, he wasn't as impressed as the college students were and decided to let them see what a klutz I am.

Third, the game can be fun if you remember that it's just a game. If you take the game or yourself as a poker player too seriously, it will drive you nuts. You can't play poker and enjoy it if you're too serious about it. In fact, the only poker players who enjoy poker are those who can afford to lose. High expectations about the game, about winning, about the other poker players or about your own poker playing can kill you. Poker is fun if you can afford to lose…or in this case, afford to be mediocre.

Paul said, "For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's" (Romans 14:7-8). In Philippians 4:11-13, he writes, "I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me." In other words, I can win or lose through Christ who strengthens me.

And finally, the really incredible thing is that the dealer is your Father and he dotes on you. Not only did God say about Jesus, "This is my beloved Son with whom I am well pleased" (Matthew 3:17), the same God says to you because of Jesus, "This is my beloved son or daughter with whom I am well pleased."

During the summers when I was growing up, I was a "locker boy" and later, a lifeguard, at the city swimming pool. In the "off times," we often played poker and more often than not, I was the dealer.

I cheated.

No, no, not for my benefit. It was for theirs. Most people who work at city facilities don't make much money, are not very good poker players, and really can't afford to blow too much on a game. I fixed it so they wouldn't lose too much or win too much. I managed-with my not insignificant skills at dealing-to see that each of the poker players (my friends) came out about even.

To this day, those guys don't know that I was their benefactor.

You know your Benefactor.

Now go take a nap.

I just read over what I wrote. It sort of sounds like I think excellence is a bad thing that Christians should avoid at all costs. Please don't misread me. Excellence is a part of our witness and it matters…

…but not as much as you think.

Are there certain Bible texts that make you wince? You know the ones I'm talking about… Bible teachers and mothers use them to make us feel guilty. Both want us to be good. They figure the best thing to do is to make us memorize Scripture that will keep us up at night until we either get in line or become atheists.

I call those "law enforcement texts."

I avoid them except when I'm doing the "lucky dipping." That's when you close your eyes, tell God you're in trouble and ask him to give you some "fresh word." Then you open the Bible at random and put your finger on a verse.

(That's not the way to study the Bible, you bozo! I know that! I'm a Bible teacher, okay? But we all do it and those who don't will lie about other things.)

When I do that, I either get "kill the Philistines" or one of the above mentioned law enforcement texts. I have friends who underline those verses, memorize them and read them often. It's nice to know that there are brothers and sisters who are more neurotic than I am. Not me. I make an intentional effort to avoid those texts until I have a lot of time to study them.

Let me give you a hermeneutical (look it up…the way I did) principle: When you study the Bible, start with what God clearly revealed about himself and, when you come across a text that seems to contradict what he already taught you, you need to go deeper. Utilizing that principle will always lead you to the truth of God's Word without going into the "sloth of depression"-you remember how Pilgrim almost got caught there in Pilgrim's Progress-every time you encounter those law enforcement texts.

There is one text that gives me a fit. It's Matthew 25:14-39. You know the one. It's where a master goes off on a trip and leaves some money with three servants. When he comes back, the first two have invested the money and give the master a good return on his investment.

Yep! That's where we get the words of Jesus, "Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much" (v. 23).

All someone has to do is quote that and ask, "Don't you want to hear those words?" and I become suicidal.

But that's not the main point of the parable. You will remember that the third servant, knowing that his master was a "hard man," went out and buried the money given to him. When the master came home, he gave the master back the original money. Jesus said that the master said, "You wicked and slothful servant! You knew that I reap where I have not sowed and gather where I scattered no seed? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and at my coming I should have received what was my own with interest. So take the talent from him and give it to him who has the ten talents…And cast the worthless servant into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth" (vv. 26-30).

Now if that doesn't make you wince, you're dead.

But I'm here to help and, at the same time, wreak good-natured revenge on everybody who ever said to me, using this text, that I wasn't living up to my potential. This parable is a kingdom parable and, not only that, Jesus was talking to the religious priests and religious elders about religion…orthodox, protective, good, righteous and dead religion.

Jesus isn't talking about doing, he's talking about dancing. It's not about doing right, it's about doing something. It's not about potential, it's about protection-the danger of protecting what you've got.

(In the very next chapter, those religious leaders are so ticked at him that they make plans to kill him. They, at least, "got it" even if my mother, my teachers and a long list of Bible teachers didn't.)

If the wicked servant had lost everything, it would have been okay. If you read Matthew 18:22-33 (another kingdom parable), the servant lost everything and couldn't even repay his debt to his master. That master forgave him and was only upset because the servant refused to forgive the debts of another. You can't read the parable of the talents in a vacuum. That's another hermeneutical principle (did you look it up yet?): Always let a single text be interpreted by the "whole counsel of God" or, as Calvin put it, let the whole interpret the parts.

I had a staff member of a church I served once tell me, "Steve, if you don't get off your Calvinistic hobbyhorse, you're going to kill this church!"

Do you know what I did? I fired him.

When Jesus said it to the religious leaders, they crucified him.

That really was what he was saying, to wit, you're going to kill this thing if you don't get off your "religious" hobbyhorse, if you keep trying to protect a God who doesn't need protecting, and if you keep trying to bury what God never intended to be buried.

Jesus said he came to love and accept needy, sick and sinful people…people like us. And it is his intention that we tell other needy, sick and sinful people. When we try to take what he's given us and keep quiet about it, protect it and make a nice religion out of it, then we should feel guilty.

Do you know why we should feel guilty? Because we are.

One other thing before I go.

Please note the misperception about the master. The servant who buried the money said, "I knew you were a monster." And the master said to the servant "You knew (i.e. your perception was that) I was a monster." It's always dangerous to fail to see reality and to have misperceptions about people. It's even more dangerous to have misperceptions about God. It makes you so afraid that you won't risk what you've been given. It makes you bury good stuff in the ground so you won't lose it. It makes you hard and cold.

The truth is that if the wicked and slothful servant had lost everything, the master would have been pleased with him. Do you know why? Because Jesus (the real Master) was the one who told the story. They said he said, "I came that they may have life and have it abundantly" (John 10:10). They said he said, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick" (Matthew 9:12). And they said about him, "For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ" (John 1:17).

If you're forgiven, you don't have to protect your goodness or even pretend to be better than you are. If Christ is building his church and loves the church, you don't have to work hard to keep it safe and pure. The church doesn't have to have a wall around it and it doesn't have to be militarily defensible. If God is God, he doesn't need protecting and defending.

As someone said, "There is a limit of one Messiah per universe…

…and you're not him."

There, now, don't you feel better?

So chill out and let 'er rip!

…and then doing it!

I remember how deeply that book affected me. In fact, I decided I would live my life by asking that question and then, when I came up with the answer, doing it. God was pleased because he knew that my heart was a heart for him…but I suspect he may have also winced.

Years later, those WWJD pins, bumper stickers and bracelets started appearing everywhere.

I didn't buy or display any of the pins or bumper stickers, and never wore one of the bracelets. It wasn't that I felt the sentiment expressed therein was wrong. Just the opposite. It's a good question. Not only that. I was pleased that others had the bumper stickers, pins and bracelets.

Do you know what happened? Between the time I read the book and the time the pins, bumper stickers and bracelets came out, I came to a more realistic assessment of me as well as an awareness of how terribly much I needed God's grace and mercy. I was a lot older and a bit wiser. When I was young I had not failed nearly enough nor sinned nearly big enough to understand that Jesus is Jesus and, even if I knew what Jesus would do, I probably wouldn't or couldn't do it.

But maybe more important, I found out that Jesus likes me anyway.

Pastor in his twenties: "Lord, let me win the world to Christ."
Pastor in his thirties: "Lord, let me win my city to Christ."
Pastor in his forties: "Lord, let me win my church to Christ."
Pastor in his fifties: "Lord, don't let me lose too many."
Pastor in his sixties: "Lord, hold on to me tight."

I've decided that I like "widget" better than WWJD.

Let me explain.

This morning, my friend, Lea Clower, told me about "widget." That is how it's pronounced. The letters are WIJIT. Those letters stand for "Where Is Jesus In This?"I've been thinking about that all morning. In fact, it's so good I'm thinking about having someone make bracelets, bumper stickers and pins…and marketing those in Christian bookstores. I could make a fortune.

It's a great question. And it's a freeing question for the New Year. This year, I'm going to ask God to show me what he's doing in my life, my family, my church, my community and the world and then, in so far as I can, I'm going to come alongside him.

Who knows? Maybe he will let me be a part of it.

Do you remember in John 1 when Jesus started his public ministry? Jesus walked by John the Baptist and two of John's disciples, one of which was Andrew. John said that Jesus was the Lamb of God and then Andrew and his friend left John and followed Jesus. Jesus asked them what they were seeking and they didn't answer the question. (Most of us don't.) Instead of telling him what they were seeking, they simply asked Jesus where he was staying.

Jesus said, "Come and see."

Then the disciples followed him to where he was staying and "stayed with him that day."

I can do that!

And then there is another incident. John the Baptist is in prison and facing his death. He wonders if it's been worth it and sends his disciples to Jesus to see if Jesus is really the Messiah and worth John's death. Jesus says to John's disciples, "Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have good news preached to them" (Luke 7:22-23).

I can do that too!

Someone has said that when a "bubba" says to you, "Hold my beer and watch this," one should quickly move away.

That's wise advice.

Let me give you some more.

When Jesus says, "Come and see," go with him. Pay attention and be quiet.

What would Jesus do? I'm not sure because, as we begin this New Year, he hasn't done it yet. I just want to be there when he does.

I have been walking with Jesus for a very long time. Over the years, I've come to a fair and accurate understanding of what Jesus would do in most situations. That's not my problem. I have the information and, not only that, I teach it to others.

I know Jesus would forgive the twit who said bad stuff about me, that he would always treat people with kindness and gentleness, that he would cut slack for sinners, and that he wouldn't be angry with friends who saw things differently than he saw them. I know that he would speak truth to power, give love to the unlovable, and show compassion to those who don't deserve it. I know about his goodness, his purity and his cross.

I've tried to be like him.

But do you know what I've discovered? I've discovered that God has only one Messiah and Savior per universe…and even more important, I'm not him. I've also discovered that I don't have to be him. He's already done all that because he knew I would have trouble doing it.

So, I'm not going to ask what Jesus would do…I'm going to ask where he is and I'm going there to watch. I'm going to pay attention to what he's doing in my family and in my church. I'm going to try and see Jesus in my friends and even in those I don't want to be my friends. I'm going to pay attention to what he's doing in the world and in my own life, in politics and in Key Life. And then I'm going to ask him to let me be a part of it.

And he asked me to tell you:

"Come and see."

They house the speakers in log cabins (there are three or four of them) up on a mountain overlooking the natural cove while the people who come to the conferences stay at two fairly large and nice hotels. The log cabins are closed except to authorized personnel and are in a very secluded area. This week, in fact, I'm the only one "up on the mountain."

Some of the speakers actually refuse to stay here because of the bears and being so far away from other people. I generally like bears better than people (well, that's not true, just some people), so I'm happy to be here.

At any rate, I saw two reindeer.

Really.

Well, maybe not reindeer, but deer. And since I was thinking about writing this to you for Christmas and because Jesus likes me, they could have been reindeer!

It was early yesterday morning and I went out on the log cabin's porch to smoke my pipe. And there in front of me were these two deer. They didn't run.They just stood there looking at me. Maybe it was because I look sort of like Santa Claus and, as everybody knows, Santa smokes a pipe. Maybe they were confused. It was too early for Christmas, but here I was.

We just stood there quietly looking at one another for a good five to ten minutes.

Then, perhaps because they got bored or didn't like the smell of my pipe tobacco, they just turned and walked off into the forest. As they left, I think I heard one say, "That's not Santa, you dolt! Leave him alone."

(Later, I told a friend about my experience at The Cove with the deer. My friend was surprised and said, "I thought you were going to say that you shot them." I've got to do something about my reputation! In fact, that will be my first New Year's resolution, to wit, getting people to see the warm, fuzzy, loving and nice person I really am.)

All kidding aside, it was one of those rare and profound moments when it's quiet enough "to hear the soft sound of sandaled feet." Time stands still and in that stillness, God comes. In the crispness of the early morning, I had a "God takes care of the lilies and the birds" kind of feeling. It was the quiet recognition that he is in charge, that he loves me and that everything will be okay.

As some of you know, a lot of what I do causes anxiety in me. Actually, most of what I do scares the spit out of me. I worry that I'll screw it up and make a fool of myself. I fear that people will find out I'm not nearly as good or as spiritual nor know as much as they thought. I've been called to speak a biblical message that, for some reason, irritates people and I have this desire to be liked. It goes on and on.

And then there's the economy and how that affects all of us in general and Key Life Network in particular…to say nothing of the world's incredible divisions and hatreds, and the really hard stuff some of the people I love are going through.

But there on that mountain in the quiet and looking at those deer, I knew and was at rest.God came quietly and I realized that he is totally sufficient for every need, he is fond of me and he is "working all things out for good." I remembered what Jesus said, "'Look at the birds of the air [and the deer]: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?…O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious…your heavenly Father knows…But seek first the kingdom of God…'" (Mathew 6:26, 30-33).

A fairly large church here in Orlando asked me to speak for all their combined adult Sunday school classes on the subject of "Surviving Christmas." I accepted the invitation but, as I thought about it, I wondered why they would give me that subject.I would understand if they asked me to speak on something like "Celebrating Christ in Christmas" or "Rejoicing in Christmas," but "surviving" it?

Then I realized that everybody knows I don't like Christmas much. About this time of the year, I start getting irritable, "cuss and spit," and pray that it will just end soon. I complain about Christmas music playing in department stores in November, the twits in the schools trying to celebrate a holiday with no purpose (because they aren't allowed to mention Jesus), and the shallow political correctness preventing me from even saying "Merry Christmas" to certain people.

Vendors, pagans and celebrations don't bother me. I get the need that vendors have to eat and support their families. After all, most of their income is made during the Christmas shopping season. I'm not any pagan's mother…They can worship their stuff if they want to. And I like dinners and parties okay. So it's not all that.

It's just the whole thing. The world is out of sync, the culture is coming unraveled, and people are without meaning and value. They feel hopeless, guilty and unloved. The problem is that the truth of Christmas is the only truth that will make a difference and we've taken that truth and "stomped that sucker flat."

Are we out of our minds?

Yeah, it ticks me off.

Now, don't get upset. I hide it reasonably well for the most part. I'm nice to children, play with kittens, sing carols, eat Christmas cookies, give and receive presents, keep on smiling and…well…uh…I survive.

I suppose my friend who arranged for me to speak for the Sunday school classes wasn't fooled, figuring that if Brown can get through this thing, anybody can. I also suspect that he (and almost everybody else) has some trouble with the Christmas season and thought that I would be the best person to talk about it. Or, at least, talk about it and mention Jesus.

I have an acquaintance whose business is billboards. I've probably told you this before, but it's worth retelling. A number of years ago, he became concerned about Northern Ireland and the Catholic/Protestant hatred there. After praying about it, he bought billboards all over Northern Ireland and put up a message:

I love you! Is that okay? Jesus

I'm going to teach that Sunday school class…but I'm going to surprise them. I'm not going to say what they expect. You see, I've been to the mountain and have a message. It was the message I really needed at the time and the one they will need too… and maybe especially at Christmas.

It's what the incarnation is all about. In Luke 2:10-11, it was first spoken to shepherds who were on their own mountain of sorts. For them it wasn't deer, but sheep. Regardless, the message was the same:

Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.

Merry Christmas!

Oh, and don't forget the message I got up on the mountain. Some of you are going through hard stuff and it's difficult to find the joy. Remember…

Jesus loves you! He's the King. And it is really going to be okay!

One letter was addressed to the President of the United States and suggested that, instead of giving billions of dollars to companies who will squander it, the president should send a million dollars to each person in America over a certain age in the work force. It would include millions of people.

It sounds like, given the trillions that are being spent by the government now, it could be a fairly cheap solution to the nation's economic woes.

The million dollar gift would have three stipulations.

First, the recipient must immediately retire. (Several million job openings.)

Second, the recipient must buy a new American car. (Several million new cars sold.)

Third, the recipient must buy a new house (Several million new houses sold.)

Not bad.

For maybe several trillion dollars (getting to be routine spending for the government), the employment crisis, the auto industry crisis and the housing crisis would be fixed.

Hmmm. Maybe!

When I read that, I thought about the "simple" ways Christians tell other Christians to deal with their lives. The man's simple advice about the economy might work…but often the "simple" answers we get from other Christians won't. And trying to follow that Christian admonishment often creates an undue amount of guilt.

"If he was my son, I would kick him out!" he said to his friend.

"If he was your son, I would kick him out too," replied the father. "But he's not your son, he's mine, and love makes it messy."

There is probably no place where the advice from other Christians is more often used and more difficult to follow than in the words, "Just trust God."

How does one do that? What does it mean to trust God? It sounds like good and biblical advice and I certainly don't have anything against trusting God. But sometimes telling someone to trust God is like telling a drowning man or woman, "Just swim." He or she already knows that.

Let me give you some refreshing words from Jesus. In Matthew 6, Jesus gives his followers some good words about anxiety. He reminds them that God is a God of "little things" (birds and flowers) and is faithful there, and that his followers were a lot more valuable than the birds and the flowers. Jesus tells his disciples to seek the kingdom (v. 33) and God would take care of the rest.

Then Jesus says (v. 34), "Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble."

I love those words because they recognize the problem, to wit, troubles yesterday, today and tomorrow. But then Jesus says two things that are very important. He says first, you can't do anything about the troubles and, in fact, there is very little you can "fix." Play the cards as they are dealt, do the best you can with what you've got, and "let the devil take the hindmost."

A number of years ago, I wrote a book on the sovereignty of God, If God Is In Charge.

(That was part of a trilogy on the Trinity that took me years to complete. It also includes If Jesus Has Come and, on the Holy Spirit, Follow the Wind. I know, I know, I'm not above pushing books whenever I can.)

At any rate, I told the editor at Thomas Nelson Publishing that we could save a lot of time and money if we got the title right. I told him we could title it, If God Is In Charge…What the Hey? Then we could, since that was what the book was about, just market the title without having to go through the hassle of a book.

He didn't think much of the idea and was kind of shocked at what I said. (Okay, I didn't use "hey"…it was a little stronger than that.) But nevertheless, what I said was true. If God is in charge of this mess, I don't have to try and do things above my pay level. I have to just do what I can and trust that God is in it. The "trusting God" isn't a volitional thing I have to work at. It's the only alternative I have. That, I suppose, is one of the reasons we have "unfixable" things in our lives.

Then Jesus said one other thing. He said "Seek the kingdom."

That's doable too. It doesn't mean that I'll get everything right, fix the problems causing anxiety, have all the answers, or even do the seeking right. I can seek the kingdom (try and see God and all that he does) in my day, and Jesus promises that God will be there.

And not only that. When I even seek to seek the kingdom, I'm seeking the kingdom.

At Thanksgiving, when we're called to be thankful, perhaps what Jesus told us to do is what Paul meant when he said that we were to give thanks in all things (Ephesians 5:20). Thanksgiving is the recognition that God is God and is in all things (both the good and the things we don't perceive as good), and seeking the kingdom in all of it.

I did an interview for Steve Brown Etc. with Cathleen Falsani, the award-winning religion columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times. She has written a new book, The Dude Abides: The Gospel According to the Coen Brothers. (If you're into film, you'll really like this book.)

At any rate, Cathleen was talking about how the Coen Brothers' movies (O Brother, Where Art Thou?; No Country for Old Men; The Big Lebowski, etc.) deal with questions of theodicy (i.e. justifying God). We talked to Cathleen about that subject and discussed how hard it is to believe without having all the answers to the great questions of pain, evil and suffering. Then I pointed to the fact that we did believe and that reality was one of the best arguments for the existence of a good God.

Cathleen said, "I'm okay with that."

Me too. In fact, in doing the doable ("accepting the dark" and "seeking the kingdom"), God shows with understanding, forgiveness, mercy and love. He really does.

Everything else is small stuff.

That's it?

Yeah, that's it. It's doable and probably a lot more important than fixing the economy.

But still…it would be nice to get the million and to have the freedom of not working, to say nothing about the new car and the new house.

It's just that, while it might fix the economy, it probably won't fix me.

I get "fixed" (as much as possible in a fallen world) when I recognize the fallen world for what it is, accept it and my powerlessness, and then seek the kingdom. In other words, in thanking God for and in all things.

Now let me tell you something else. I not only had a lousy job, I had (and still have) a job I really ought not to be doing. If I were God choosing someone to do what I do, I wouldn't even be on the list of prospects.

I've just returned from a week of teaching at Westminster Seminary in Philadelphia. In Presbyterian and Reformed circles, Westminster is a very old and quite prestigious graduate school of theology.

Why did they invite you?

Very funny.

But in answer to your question, I don't have the foggiest idea. Maybe it's my good looks, my thoughtful scholarship or my incredible teaching gifts. Then, again, it was probably because they couldn't find anybody else.

For the past 15 years, I've taught at Reformed Seminary in Orlando with colleagues holding doctorates from Harvard, Duke, Oxford and Cambridge…and then there is me. I ran away from kindergarten. I used to sit in faculty meetings and pinch myself just to make sure that I wasn't dreaming or maybe having a nightmare.

I've been thinking of late why I do anything I do. I'm not the most qualified person I know to do any of it. In fact, it's insane. Frankly, I'm not good enough and I don't know enough.

A number of years ago, I spent an afternoon with the retired chaplain of the U.S. Senate. He had moved to Miami and invited me to lunch at his home on the ocean. It was a really nice afternoon and I was quite flattered to be invited. During that time, he got out scrapbooks and showed me pictures of his years serving the rich, the powerful and the famous. I was quite impressed and even more so when he said, "Steve, I have to work at remembering that none of this had anything to do with me. It was about Jesus and I represented him."

You think?

Paul wrote, "we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us" (2 Corinthians 4:7).

They say that behind every good man, there is a surprised mother-in-law. There may be some truth to that. But I do know that behind every opportunity for me to be in over my head, there is an equal opportunity for everybody I know to be surprised…and me more than anybody else.

My schedule doesn't allow for it now, but for a number of years I was often teaching and speaking at the chapels of professional sports teams. If it's insane for me to be at a seminary, it's even more insane for me to be speaking at sports chapels. (I once asked Monica Seles if she played tennis!) One time, as I was getting ready to speak for a professional football team, the chaplain and a friend who knew I didn't know anything about football, said, "Steve, whatever you do, don't say, 'Go out there and hit a homerun!' Okay?"

Almost every preacher or speaker at those chapels has a talk titled, "God's Game Plan"-or something like that-and sports figures grow quite weary of hearing it. I started my talk by saying, "I want to talk to you about God's game plan." Every guy there winced and rolled his eyes.

"Just kidding," I said. "I don't know anything about sports or about God's game plan, but I do know Jesus. Let me tell you about him."

I suspect that's the reason I was invited back and, in fact, why I'm invited to a lot of places.

Paul wrote to his friends at Corinth, "And I, when I came to you, brothers, did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified" (1 Corinthians 2:1-2).

People always say to me that they would talk about their faith but don't because they aren't good enough and don't know enough. I get that, but listen: If you wait until you're good enough and know enough, it won't ever happen.

Do you remember in John 9 when Jesus heals the man born blind? You will remember that he was called before the religious authorities who grilled him theologically, pointing out that what happened to him couldn't really have happened because Jesus was just a man and a sinner.

He responded, "Whether he is a sinner I do not know. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see" (vs. 25).

Do you know the most dangerous thing in our lives? It is self-righteousness and its ugly twin sister, self-aggrandizement. For instance, it is quite sinful to be prideful, but even worse to act like you aren't.

Aren't you doing that now?

Of course not. I'm doing just the opposite.

Now people will say how authentic and humble you are, right?

No. Well…uh…maybe.

Then you can be proud of your humility?

It's my best quality. And, frankly, how many famous scholars have taught at Westminster?

One less than you think.

Okay, okay. I repent.

I confess that I wanted to tell you guys that I had been to Westminster. Nevertheless, the point is still valid.

It's valid for you too.

Are you forgiven?

Are you loved?

Are you going to live forever?

Now go out and tell someone.

As you know, I'm a preacher/pastor and my job description is to keep people from doing what they obviously want to do. I've often felt like an overwhelmed police officer at a rock concert charged with keeping the concert goers from using drugs.

With a job description like mine, you hardly ever get invited to parties, people are not very honest, and sometimes you feel like a wet shaggy dog shaking himself at a wedding. I tell them that I'm trying to help and that God anointed me to reach out to them, but they simply don't care.

Preachers are supposed to keep people from sinning.

I haven't been very successful so far.

There are times when I feel like I'm standing by a cliff where people come to dance. "Be careful," I tell them. "It's a long way down and the stop will be quite unpleasant." They look at me. They sometimes even thank me.

Then they jump.

But I keep at it. "Hey," I say to the next group who approach the cliff, "not too long ago, I saw people go off that cliff and if you'll bend over and look, you can see the bloody mess they made." Like everybody else, since I've been standing beside the cliff, they seem grateful for my concern. They maybe even say something about my compassion and wisdom.

Then they jump.

Frankly, I'm tired of it. In fact, I've given up standing by this stupid cliff. I'm tired of being people's mother. I'm tired of trying to prevent the unpreventable. I'm tired of talking to people who don't want to listen. And I'm tired of pointing out the obvious.

Just when I determine to leave my position by the cliff, to my horror and surprise…

I jump!

What's with that?

Let me tell you. There is a very human and undeniable proclivity of human beings to sin-to jump off the cliff. We're drawn to it. We love it (at least for awhile). No matter who tries to keep us from doing it or how much pain it will cause, we are irresistibly drawn to that cliff. Maybe we want to fly. Could be that we have a masochistic streak in our DNA. Could be that our default position is jumping off cliffs. I don't know. But for whatever reason, we do jump, we do get hurt, and if we survive, we then climb back up the cliff and jump again.

There is a parable (author unknown) about Felix, the flying frog. Even if I mix the metaphor a bit, let me tell you the parable.

Once upon a time, there lived a man named Clarence who had a pet frog named Felix. Clarence lived a modestly comfortable existence on what he earned working at the Wal-Mart, but he always dreamed of being rich. "Felix!" he said one day, hit by sudden inspiration, "We're going to be rich! I'm going to teach you to fly!"

Felix, of course, was terrified at the prospect. "I can't fly, you twit! I'm a frog, not a canary!"

Clarence, disappointed at the initial response, told Felix: "That negative attitude of yours could be a real problem. We're going to remain poor, and it will be your fault."

So Felix and Clarence began their work on flying.

On the first day of the "flying lessons," Clarence could barely control his excitement (and Felix could barely control his bladder). Clarence explained that their apartment building had 15 floors, and each day Felix would jump out of a window, starting with the first floor and eventually getting to the top floor. After each jump, they would analyze how well he flew, isolate the most effective flying techniques, and implement the improved process for the next flight. By the time they reached the top floor, Felix would surely be able to fly.

Felix pleaded for his life, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. "He just doesn't understand how important this is," thought Clarence. "He can't see the big picture."

So, with that, Clarence opened the window and threw Felix out. He landed with a thud.

The next day, poised for his second flying lesson, Felix again begged not to be thrown out of the window. Clarence told Felix about how one must always expect resistance when introducing new, innovative plans.

With that, he threw Felix out the window. THUD!

Now this is not to say that Felix wasn't trying his best. On the fifth day, he flapped his legs madly in a vain attempt at flying. On the sixth day, he tied a small red cape around his neck and tried to think "Superman" thoughts. It didn't help.

By the seventh day, Felix, accepting his fate, no longer begged for mercy. He simply looked at Clarence and said, "You know you're killing me, don't you?"

Clarence pointed out that Felix's performance so far had been less than exemplary, failing to meet any of the milestone goals he had set for him.

With that, Felix said quietly, "Shut up and open the window," and he leaped out, taking careful aim at the large jagged rock by the corner of the building.

Felix went to that great lily pad in the sky.

Clarence was extremely upset, as his project had failed to meet a single objective that he had set out to accomplish. Felix had not only failed to fly, he hadn't even learned to steer his fall as he dropped like a sack of cement, nor had he heeded Clarence's advice to "Fall smarter, not harder."

The only thing left for Clarence to do was to analyze the process and try to determine where it had gone wrong. After much thought, Clarence smiled and said…

"Next time, I'm getting a smarter frog!"

A number of years ago, I realized that I was, as it were, trying to teach frogs to fly. Frogs can't fly. Not only that, they get angry when you try to teach them. The gullible ones will try, but they eventually get hurt so badly they quit trying. And the really sad thing about being a "frog flying teacher" is that I can't fly either.

Let me tell you a secret. If one is a teacher trying to teach frogs to fly, nobody ever bothers to ask if you can fly. In fact, if you pretend that you're an expert and tell a lot of stories about flying; if you can throw in a bit of aeronautical jargon about stalls, spins and flight maneuvers; and if you carry around a "Flight Manual" and know your way around it, nobody will question your ability to fly. You just pretend you're an expert and tell stories, and the students will think you can fly.

The problem is that you become so phony you can't stand yourself.

So I've repented.

Now I just send them to Jesus and try to get out of the way.

Come to think of it, if you're struggling with sin and aren't getting better, don't come to me. I like you okay, but that kind of depends on how my day is going. Instead of coming to me, run to Jesus. He'll love you and maybe even make you better.

As the doctor examined him, Rubinstein kept talking.

"I know this is serious," he said, "and I want you to know that I can handle bad news."

The doctor continued his examination in silence.

"I've lived a full life," Rubinstein continued talking, "and can face death with no regrets. So whatever you find, I can take it. Don't soften it; just tell me the truth."

The doctor put down his stethoscope and said, "Your problem isn't that you have cancer. Your problem is that you talk too much!"

I spoke for this year's graduation at Reformed Theological Seminary where I've taught for the last 15 years. I'm glad to report that I did it and didn't make a fool of myself.

But the best part was that I didn't talk too much.

In fact, the shortness of the speech/sermon was my gift to the graduating class. It was also my gift to the faculty who, like me, has suffered through years of long, tedious and boring graduation speeches.

What I'm saying is that while the speech may not have been altogether that great…at least it was short. For that, a lot of students, faculty and guests at the graduation "rose up and called me blessed."

Proverbs 17:28 says, "Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise; when he closes his lips, he is deemed intelligent."

Do you ever think that maybe we Christians talk too much?I do. And not only that, I'm often the one who talks too much. I make my living talking and that can be dangerous because you learn to just keep talking "until something comes to mind."

There is an interesting verse in the prophecy of the coming Messiah (the "suffering servant"). In Isaiah 53:7, the prophet writes:

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
yet he opened not his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
so he opened not his mouth.

Of late, I've thought a lot about talking too much. What follows is my own confession; but, frankly, I know you guys. You might benefit by some of what follows too.

One of the reasons I talk too much is that I'm into control. If you are the adult child of an alcoholic, you probably have the same problem. Every time things got out of control, we got hurt. So, to this day, we work very hard to control everything we can.

I have this deep voice (if I looked the way I sounded, I would have a television ministry) and have worked very hard to speak, teach and preach with skill. When I was a kid right after my voiced changed from a squeak to a foghorn, a teacher said to me, "Stephen, you must be careful what you say because people are going to listen to you." I've tried to follow that advice and "talk good" for Jesus…but also because I need to try to control things, events and people.

Jesus didn't try to control anything. He just went with what God ordained. He was God, but didn't "grasp that to himself." He "made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant…he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross" (Philippians 2:7-8).

Because Jesus was not into control, I don't have to be. He now controls everything and the more I let him rule, the less I have to talk.

Another reason I talk too much is that I'm constantly trying to justify myself, what I say, what I've written or what I do. I have this belief that if I can just say it right and keep saying it, people will understand and love me.

I recently interviewed Tony Campolo. (He's a regular guest here at stevebrownetc.com and, no, I don't agree with him most of the time…but I do love him.) Tony talked about forgiveness and related the time he spoke at a prayer service in Northern Ireland with both Catholics and Protestants. He said the Protestants were on one side of the room and the Catholics on the other.

In their turn, both Protestants and Catholics stood and said to the other side of the room, "I've done some horrible things and I'm so ashamed. I ask you to forgive me."

Then the other side of the room said in unison, "In the name of Jesus Christ and because of him, you're forgiven and I forgive you!"

I am too!

If I am forgiven it means that I have a bunch of stuff about which I need to be forgiven (so why pretend that I don't?) and, if that's true, I don't have to defend myself against charges that are probably true anyway. Even if I'm guilty (and I am), I'm forgiven. When I remember that, I talk less.

And there is one other reason I talk too much. (Well…probably a lot of other reasons, but I'm running out of space and time here and, after all, I am writing about saying less.) I talk too much because I'm not altogether confident in God's acceptance of and love for me.

Jesus rested in the confidence that his Father loved and accepted him and, in fact, prayed that we would have the same experience. A part of the prayer he prayed in John 17 was that we would be one: "I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me" (vs. 23).

Psalms 131 is one of my favorite psalms. I love these words: "I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother" (vs. 1-2).

Each morning, I tell God about my sins, I tell him where I'm afraid and sometimes I even tell him what I think he did wrong. After all the words have been spoken (sometimes a whole lot of words), I think I hear him say, "You through? Try to remember that I love you."

When I'm quiet enough to hear that, I find myself talking less during the day.

One time Saint Francis went into a village and discovered that the people had built a church building, naming it after him. He instructed his monks to tear down the church which they did.

As they walked away from the village, one of the monks said to Francis, "I thought we came to preach."

Francis replied, "We did."

Maybe we need to preach more like that, to wit, witness to Jesus-his love and grace-everywhere we go. And as someone has said, "when absolutely necessary use words."

Enough. This is already almost as long as my graduation speech.

"Be still…

…and know that I am God!"

In fact, God told me you would receive three free sins if you helped me out and, not only that, you would have a grateful pastor.

(No, it isn't indulgences. I can't really give you free sins!)

Okay, I want to make sure you know about PoopedPastors.com.

I have a major concern for pastors. It's a concern not dissimilar to a former drunk having a concern for someone not yet set free from booze. Okay…uh…not a great analogy.

Let's say it's a concern of someone who has a lot of wounds reaching out to someone who is still in the battle.

We get hundreds of emails, letters and phone calls from pastors, and those come immediately to my desk. That means I spend a considerable portion of my time talking, praying, crying and laughing with pastors.

After a lot of discussion, we decided to create a "soft place" for pastors. That soft place is PoopedPastors.com and your pastor needs to know about it. It's a great website with piles of content to help make what is a very hard job, doable. There are thousands of pastors at the website who have been there, done that and have a pile of T-shirts. I do a weekly video and often write a blog. We have a pastor's psychologist, a health and fitness guy, a special place for youth pastors, and a variety of others who can come alongside your pastor to help him get through the day.

And then there are forums (no, you can't go on them) for pastors to share anonymously whatever is on their hearts and to have a pile of pastors again come alongside and help out.

There is a lot more, but I wanted you to know so you could tell your pastor.

Okay, maybe you won't get free sins and maybe your pastor won't rise up and call you blessed.

But it still would be a good thing if you told your pastor.

Especially after all that Jesus has done for you! : )

(Oh, if you are a pastor and haven't yet visited the website, do it now! It might keep you from becoming a Buddhist.)

Who are they?

I'm glad you asked. Joe is our Italian agency guy, the president of Renaissance Agency in New Jersey, and the least slick person you ever met.

(Tony Campolo asked me a couple of weeks ago if I knew the difference between an Italian wedding and an Italian funeral. I allowed that I didn't and he said, "One less person." Sorry. Tony said it. I, of course, would never say anything like that.)

At any rate, Joe is an Italian with connections. (No, no…not those connections.) He's one of the best known and well-liked Christians in Christian broadcasting in general and in contemporary Christian music broadcasting in particular. He was the manager of a New York radio station–one of the first (maybe the first) contemporary Christian music stations in the country.

Joe doesn't hustle, manipulate or push the way agents are supposed to. He just hangs out and good things happen. That's because Jesus likes Joe a lot!

Jesus likes John Frost too. He is "the man" in contemporary Christian broadcasting and programs a number of highly rated stations throughout the country. Years ago, John worked for secular rock stations and became offended by some of the "stuff" that one will often hear on those stations. So he made a suggestion that they change formatting to be more "family friendly" and hit a goldmine of ratings and sales. He is now working the "other side of the aisle" with Christians who want to make a difference in this culture.

Joe, John and our staff spent much of the day together, figuring out how Key Life can come alongside and partner with contemporary stations with our message of radical freedom, infectious joy and surprising faithfulness. Some really good things came out of that meeting and I'll be telling you about that in the not-too-distant future.

Joe and John are both guys who understand culture and how to communicate to it without using religious words people don't understand. Their time with us was sort of a catalyst for some things I've been thinking of late about "them"–the culture, the world and the people who don't "get" the Christian faith, don't care about it or are angry because of it.

My friend, John Armstrong, says that in our efforts to reach out to them, we have made two mistakes. We have either accommodated our message and our mission so much that we offer only more of what they already have. Or, on the other hand, we spend our time "reserving barriers that are not essential to the gospel or for Christian community…we make our cultural expressions of Christianity the norm." (You might want to check out John's website: www.act3online.com.)

That means we either accommodate/acquiesce or we're irrelevant.

I do both sometimes, so I'm not preaching here.

Right after our time with Joe and John, I got a letter from a financial supporter of Key Life. He had heard my interview with Paul Young who wrote The Shack. As you perhaps know, I believe that Young has enabled a whole lot of people to see God in a different and accurate way. Not only that, I know him to be the real deal. He believes every word of the Bible, is not a Universalist, and has touched a mother lode of pain in a whole lot of people.

This Key Life contributor was quite upset with my affirmation of Young. I had said on another nationally syndicated program where I was interviewed that I felt the harsh, over-the-top critics of The Shack had "their underwear on too tight." I don't know why that bothered him, but he said that he was no longer going to support Key Life and no longer wanted to be on the mailing list.

Given the bad economy and the way we are struggling, just like everyone else in ministry, I decided that I would find some bad things to say about Young or, at minimum, try to explain and defend my position.

(We know what I am…we're just talking about price.)

That's when Jesus messed up my plan. He does that a lot and, frankly, I don't like it one bit.

Paul wrote the Corinthian church that what Christians have to offer is not "the wisdom of this age" but a "demonstration of the Spirit and of power" (1 Corinthians 2:4,6). Then he writes, "Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God" (vs. 12).

As you know, I'm not into rules, but I've decided to make four rules for myself. You might want to adopt these rules or write your own. These are necessary because I've decided that, no matter what I do, I'm probably going to offend somebody. So here are my rules:

Rule #1: Offend people…but offend them for the right reasons.

I'm probably the most opinionated friend you have. I have an opinion on everything from Obama (didn't vote for him) to global warming (I'm cold) to Christian music (I like Bach). I know what I like, I know what I don't like and, frankly, I'm right about almost all of my opinions. It's hard to be right all the time and it's, also, quite irritating to those of us who are right to have people who aren't right contradict us.

But there is something harder than that. It is trying to discern what my opinion is and what is God's opinion, what is true and what is surmise, what is important in terms of my Christian witness and what is not important. I'm still working on it but, at minimum, I've decided that Obama, global warming and Christian music aren't hills I will fight and die on for Jesus.

Rule #2: Offend people…but make sure they understand why they are offended.

You've heard the statement that someone can tell people "to go to hell with such skill that they will look forward to the trip." I can do that if I work at it and that's scary.

I know you won't believe it, but I really don't like offending people. I have this desire to be liked, affirmed and admired. It's hard to maintain that when one is talking about hell.

I still remember this. I allowed my late friend, Rusty Anderson, to attend Skeptics Forum–a ministry I did for a number of years in which, aside from myself, only unbelievers could attend–on the condition that he keep his mouth shut. I was being so very sensitive and kind, and Rusty did well keeping quiet…until that third meeting. He just couldn't do it anymore. I still remember the sound of his hand hitting my desk and his words, "I'm tired of this nonsense. You guys are lost for eternity and are going to hell, and that bothers me. I've grown to sort of like you and I don't want to go to heaven without you."

I thought that the whole ministry had just come to an end. Just the opposite happened. That night several of the skeptics signed their names on the Lamb's book of life.

Rule #3: Offend people…but make sure they "see" what offends them.

As much as I hate it, there is something about me that ticks people off. I'm not exactly sure what that is, but I'm working on finding out. I want to say to people (the way I did with what Tony Campolo said above), "Look, I didn't say that. Jesus did. I don't care so much what you think of me, but don't let me get in the way of Jesus. He can be your best friend or your worst nightmare, but get beyond me and look at him. He's worth more than a passing glance."

Rule #4: Offend people…but make sure they understand that you're offended too.

Given that I'm so opinionated, I have a tendency to pretend that I don't struggle with the truth in general and uncomfortable truth in particular. It is here that I (and maybe you, too, sometimes) get into trouble. When we speak truth to power, to peons, kings or paupers, or to the famous or not-so-famous, there needs to be an addendum, to wit, "Don't you hate it? Me too!"

We are not outsiders of the human race. We are needy almost all the time, afraid and still struggling with our own sin. People get offended when we act like their mother or, worse, like an expert who is trying to "fix" them. Maybe a bit more identification with the human race is in order.

Well, those are my rules. As I work to put something together that really speaks to them, I'm going to try and remember my rules. Who knows? I might offend less and bless more.

Now, go out and offend someone…but do it right. Okay?

If you clicked on it, do you know what happened?

No, no, no. We wouldn't do that!

If you clicked on that link, you ended up at the website of Campus Crusade for Christ with an opportunity to hear a plan of salvation.

I would have left it there, but Jesus made us take it down. I think he said something about the ends not justifying the means and that dishonesty-no matter the result-was not a good thing.

I've been thinking about the people who came to our website, saw the Playboy link and clicked on it. What a surprise! I wish I could have seen their faces.

Surprise!

It wasn't what they expected. Something else was going on…

Are you worried? I am.

Over the last few months on our talk show, we have interviewed a whole lot of people about the economy, the war, the environment, world poverty, politics, etc….and the general impression is that "we're all gonna die!"

It's bad and it's going to get a lot worse.

(I've been trying to book Joel Osteen or Robert Schuller but, as I understand it, they were tied up, putting the final touches on their bomb shelters and storing food for the coming world famine.)

There is a wonderful story in 2 Kings 6. The king of Syria was at war with Israel. Israel, though, had a powerful "secret weapon" in Elisha the prophet who kept warning Israel of the troop movements of Syria. The king of Syria was ticked and sent a large army to take out Elisha.

When Elisha's servant got up in the morning and went out, he saw the great Syrian army, panicked and then ran to Elisha, only to find Elisha calm, cool and collected. Elisha said to his servant that he should chill out because "those who are with us are more than those who are with them" (vs. 16).

The servant looked around. And it was only the two of them. It was then, I expect, the servant figured that he was following a crazy man.

Elisha prayed, "Lord, show him."

The text says: "So the Lord opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw, and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha" (vs. 17).

If you're worried, there is plenty to worry you. You could lose your job, you could lose your house, you could become homeless, or you could get cancer from the carcinogens everywhere. The economy could tank. And if that doesn't happen, you could freeze to death from global freezing (Newsweek 1975), be cooked to death from global warming (Newsweek 2007) or starve to death from global famine (Newsweek 2006).

The "all news-all the time" news channels pound us 24/7 with "news alerts" that tell us to be afraid…be very afraid.

Well, I'm tired of it…and I'm not going to take it anymore.

I've asked God to remind me about the armies.

In order to see the armies, you have to know the Commander of the armies "for from him and through him and to him are all things" (Romans 11:36). That would be pretty scary except for the joyous words of John 1: "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth…from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace…" (vs. 14,16) and "to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God" (vs. 12-13).

During every election, someone says, "It's the economy, stupid!" I don't even remember who first said that…but they are quite wrong. It's not the economy, or the war, or terrorists, or the fearsome specter of death and destruction. It's about God, stupid! It really is. Behind the surreal news, the surmise of "experts" who don't know what they are talking about any more than we do, the silly atheists who say that we're on our own, and the shallowness of what everybody says is important…there is a Commander of the armies who rules, sustains and works all things according to his will.

If you forget about the Commander, it will drive you nuts.

But there's more than that. If you want to see the armies of God, you have to thank him for them. Paul said to the Ephesians-whose situation was seemingly even more perilous than ours-that they ought to continue with their lives, "singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ…" (Ephesians 5:19-20).

Giving thanks for everything? Does that mean…? Yeah, that!

One of the advantages of being an "old white guy" is that I've watched the false prophets screw it up so often and so badly that I don't listen to them much anymore. That doesn't mean I'm silly or unaware of what they are saying. I'm a news junkie and fascinated by the seriousness and gloom of the "we're all going to die" crowd. I've seen God's circuitous ways so often in bringing "dry bones" to life, in removing pompous and arrogant leaders and replacing them only to replace the replacements, and in glorifying himself in the timeline of history, that I've decided it is all above my pay level and "all things do work together" for those who are on the side of the Commander.

I've decided to thank him for the mess.

That, of course, doesn't mean I'm going to necessarily like the way God works it out for me personally, for the nation of which I'm a citizen, or for the world. I've often told him that, if I were him, I would do it differently. But he has the armies and I don't. He's my Father and the Commander. So, I've decided I'll just thank him for the mess and then take a nap.

But there is one other thing about "seeing the armies." You not only have to know the Commander and trust him in what he does, you've got to act on the reality of the truth that has been revealed.

In Matthew 8, Jesus gets together a bunch of ragged, sinful, needy and confused followers. (I always thought he could have done better in his choices…but then I remember that I'm one of his weird choices too.) One of his "choices" says that he will follow Jesus, but he needs to bury his father. It seems reasonable until one realizes that his father isn't dead yet…not even close. So his "excuse" was an option to run.

Then Jesus says something that will haunt you if you think about it much: "Follow me, and leave the dead to bury their own dead" (vs. 22).

You can't let the dead bury the dead unless there's something better than the cemetery…

…and there is.

So I have this list where I ask myself what I would do, how I would act and what I would think if the Commander of the supernatural armies were my Father and if I trusted him to do it right. Then I act on the truth that I know.

I still get scared and listen to the wrong voices on occasion.I sometimes still hear the "harsh bark" of the con artists and become enamored by the bright wares of the trinket salesmen. I still, as it were, "click on the Playboy link." But in my finer moments, Jesus comes and prays for me.

He says to the Father: "Father, show him!"

That's when I see the armies.

He'll do that for you too.

Adding to her contribution to unity and bipartisanship at the Inauguration, she said, "It felt like a 10-pound anvil was lifted off my head!"

I'm going to restrain myself here from saying anything more about Pelosi's comment because…well…uh…because some of you are Democrats, liberals and Communists. My restraint, I should point out–given my right-wing reactionary position–is an amazing demonstration of grace and discipline.

However, believe it or not, I agreed with her. When Bush left the White House, a "10-pound anvil" was lifted from my shoulders too. I just had a different reason.

I was relieved because now I don't have to defend Bush anymore

(Just so you know, I believe Bush is a good man and a man of integrity and skill. His problem was that he didn't know how to talk and should have taken one of my Communications courses. I don't, of course, agree with all he did, but I am still alive…and there is something to be said for that.)

At any rate, I'm in a new position. I'm not on the inside, defending against the rocks thrown at the house. I'm on the outside, throwing the rocks. I like being on the outside with the rocks better, I think, than being on the inside with the wounds.

Now, hopefully, the rocks won't be thrown very often. Frankly, I don't want to, but I really do like our new president. Not only that, I've been praying for him each morning and will continue to do so as long as he is the president. And even more, I hope and pray for his success. We are all on the same boat and if it goes down, "they" aren't the only ones who will drown.

Being on the outside is, however, a relief. There's no responsibility, no need to defend, no need to agree, and no need to be anything but a critic. It is far easier to be a critic than an apologist, an accuser than an accused, and a problem-definer than a problem-solver.

I was thinking about what I wrote above when it dawned on me (and it may have been the Holy Spirit…or maybe just indigestion) that Christians are always on the outside. We always have been "outsiders" and always will be, until Jesus comes back and cleans up the mess. It was only an illusion when we thought differently. We have never had much power or leverage and, when we did, we "paid too much for our whistle."

The Bible says that we are "strangers and exiles on the earth" and here we "have no continuing city." Further, Jesus said that the road of faith was a road that "few" would walk.

So, whatever our political convictions, if we walk with Jesus, we are always on the outside of the house looking in. That's cool because there are other mansions and other elections, and ultimately the battle will be over and the "victory" will be won. He promised and you can hang your hat on that.

Meanwhile (and this would be good advice for Republicans too), we are here for them. We need to bring our witness to the table and do it in a way that the outside doesn't look like another battlefield.

They will know that Republicans are Republicans when they see how much better (or worse) we would do it.

On the other hand, Jesus said that they will know we are Christians by our love.

It's grading papers.

Do you know what I'm doing right now?
Well, I'm writing to you, of course, but what I was doing before writing to you and what I'll do right after writing to you is…

…grading papers.

I remember once at Disney when I was with our grandchildren at one of those "character" lunches. Our daughter, our son-in-law and my wife deserted me and the granddaughters decided it was time to party. They had food fights, ran around the restaurant chasing after Mickey Mouse and ate cupcakes, getting icing on the walls, their clothes and me.

That was when the waitress came over to take our drink order. I ordered lemonade for the girls and an iced tea for me.

"Sir," the waitress said, smiling. "I don't want to be presumptuous, but are you sure you don't want something stronger? I think you could handle this better drunk."

That's how I feel about grading papers…and a variety of other things.

As you know, I don't drink "adult beverages," but that doesn't mean I don't see the attractiveness of "transcendence in a bottle." I might not be a better grandfather, a better preacher or a better professor…but then, I wouldn't care so much. And there is something to be said about not caring.

Do you know the story of the woman who complained about the anxiety of being a new mother and went to her physician for help? He prescribed some anti-anxiety pills and told her to take one every morning.

She decided that if one of the pills was good, two or three would be even better.

The next time she saw her doctor, he asked the woman how she was doing and how the new baby was.

She replied with a puzzled expression: "What baby?"

What student? What paper? What sermon? What book? What broadcast? What…

I know, I know. I shouldn't have written that, but even preachers sometimes fantasize about being out from under all the responsibility…and just running away with a bottle or a pill.

I've never run away from you.

I know, but you're God. You're different.

Why do you care? Why does any of this make a difference to you?

Because I'm weird?

No, because your caring and your loving is from me. That's why. And you can't get away from me because I cared about you and loved you before I taught you to care and love anybody else.

That's when I started thinking about the stack of papers on my desk that need grading.

I remembered Psalm 103: "For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust" (vs. 11-14).

I also remembered Matthew's description of Jesus, quoting from Isaiah, as he wrote about us and about Jesus in Matthew 12:20: "…a bruised reed [that's us] he [that's Jesus] will not break, and a smoldering wick [us again] he [that's Jesus] will not quench…" Then Matthew illustrates Isaiah's prophecy throughout his biography giving examples (e.g. 9:36, 14:14, 15:32, 20:34) of Jesus being "moved with compassion" toward the weak, the needy and the sinful.

It really does put a different light on that stack of papers.

I know my students. They aren't just names…they are sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, and husbands and wives who are sometimes so needy even though that neediness isn't always reflected in the papers.

The students who wrote the stack of papers on my desk are afraid. They're afraid that they may not make it, that they will fail, that they've made a mistake in this God stuff and sometimes they even wonder if, when they get in the battle, they will be skilled enough to stand. They are afraid…really afraid.

Me too!

He knows our frame…He remembers…A bruised reed he will not break…A smoldering wick he will not quench…He was moved with compassion.

The students who wrote the stack of papers on my desk are not only afraid, they're guilty. Nothing will make you feel guiltier than to be a theological student or a preacher and have people think that you are good, pure and obedient when you know you're not. Those students are beginning to discover that their motives aren't altogether that pure and that their call is filled with ego, selfishness and sin.

Me too!

He knows our frame…He remembers…A bruised reed he will not break…A smoldering wick he will not quench…He was moved with compassion.

The students who wrote the stack of papers on my desk are not only afraid and guilty, they're just plain tired. The seminary where I teach is very rigorous academically. Frankly, I don't know how the students read all they are supposed to read and do all they are supposed to do. Often they neglect their own needs, staying up to the wee hours of the morning, skipping meals and working harder than they ought to work. Sometimes, they look so tired and so burned out.

Me too!

He knows our frame…He remembers…A bruised reed he will not break…A smoldering wick he will not quench…He was moved with compassion.

So, when I go back to those papers, I'm going to try and remember that the students who wrote them are afraid, guilty and tired. I'm going to remember that about me too. And I'm going to give to them what God has given to me…more compassion and gentleness than professors are usually thought to give.

And just so you know, I wasn't just talking about students, professors and grades here. Maybe you guessed that I was talking about you too. You're just as afraid, guilty and tired as we are.

What if God were different than what you've been told? What if God were kind, gentle and compassionate toward you? What if grace always ran downhill?

How different would your life be?

Enough.

I've got to get back to these papers, but do ask yourself how you would live if you knew that God cared more about you than he did about your grade?

He does, you know.

It's as close as I'm ever going to get to being a pastor of a mega-church.

I've always asked God to make me the pastor of a mega-church and told him, if he really loved me, he would. Or, at any rate, that was my prayer until I started visiting Perimeter.

They have more staff people than I ever had as church members where I served as pastor and I've come to realize that God's decision to never make me the pastor of a mega-church was because he likes me. Frankly, if he had answered my prayer, I wouldn't have known what to do. It is far better to make a fool of oneself with a small group of people who love you, forgive you and make excuses for you than it is to do it in front of that many people.

Besides, I would be sort of like my German shepherd who chased motorcycles. It was fun for him to chase them, but he wouldn't know what to do if he ever caught one. German shepherds look silly trying to ride motorcycles.

But I digress.

Generally, when I'm at Perimeter, I preach on Saturday night and then twice on Sunday morning. Randy said I wouldn't have to go to meetings and didn't have to be nice to anybody. All I had to do was get on an airplane, fly to Atlanta, preach and, when finished, get on an airplane and come home.

I know, I know. It's hard work, but somebody has to do it.

The last weekend I was at Perimeter, some of the folks there asked that I spend some time with them at a meeting of one of their ministries called "Celebrate Recovery." Frankly, that isn't what I wanted to do, but Cathy (my assistant and events person at Key Life) insisted that I do it. "Trust me on this," she said. "These are your kind of people."

So, while there were heel marks from the church to the home where the meeting took place, I went. And God (because he really does like me) gave me one of the best evenings I've had in a very long time.

I thought I was supposed to speak for a while and answer questions. It turned out to be a meeting with no other purpose except to pray for me and to thank me for being faithful to the message of God's grace, mercy and love. Not only that, they gave me a gift certificate for ice cream. (I would have preferred pipe tobacco, but they decided not to encourage my sin/addiction.)

There were 30 or 40 people there…all "in recovery" from some bad stuff. They are leaders of Christian 12-step program groups and all of them have been there, done that and have the bloodied T-shirt.

You would have loved these people. Do you know why?

It wasn't because they were so "religious" or "spiritual"…it was because they weren't religious and spiritual, and knew it. Not only that. They admit it; support, love and encourage one another; and are so authentic and real that they would blow you away.

They opened the meeting by going around the room with each person introducing him or herself the way they do in A.A. For instance, a man would say, "Hi, my name is Jim and I'm addicted to drugs. While I still struggle with recovery, I've found love and freedom in being a follower of Jesus Christ." And then the whole group would say in unison, "Hi Jim."

It went on and on with every addiction and painful, sinful behavior you can imagine…each person saying the same thing, "Hi, I'm _____ and I'm…an adult child of an alcoholic, a drunk, addicted to sex, addicted to pornography, addicted to prescription pain pills, addicted to anger, abused by my father and addicted to approval, co-dependent, addicted to…

It went on and on and on. After each introduction, the person was greeted by name and sometimes applause.

I may have told you and, if you don't know it, you haven't been listening. I'm probably the most cynical friend you have. It is impossible to shock or surprise me. When you're as old as I am and have been around as long as I have, you get so you don't expect too much from others or from yourself. You live with the principle that when a dog plays checkers, one doesn't criticize the dog's game…one is just pleased and surprised that the dog is playing at all. And when you've seen as much as I have, you've learned that the "victorious Christian life" is really just keeping your nose above water and the goal isn't winning the world to Christ, but simply not losing too many.

Because God likes me and because he knows how discouraged I get about myself, about others and about the church, he regularly allows me to see the "real deal." If I didn't see the real deal sometimes-in others and even sometimes in myself-I would throw in the towel (if I knew where to throw it) and become a turnip farmer.

So I was mightily blessed and decided to bless you by telling you about what happened.

And I have a modest proposal.

At least once a month, all our churches should have a Sunday morning worship service for S.A.-Sinners Anonymous-where everybody who comes to the service is required to introduce himself or herself, and name his or her sin, dark secret, addiction, fear or doubt. Then, after each introduction, the rest of the congregation would be required to say "hi" and to applaud and shout in unison: "God loves you anyway!"

And there's more. As we went through the introductions, the pastor would be required to go first, followed by the staff, the elders, the deacons and then the ministry leaders and Bible teachers.

Steve, are you crazy?

Yeah, crazy like a fox.

You think it would destroy the church. You think you simply couldn't do it because of the horrible embarrassment, so much so that you could never show your face in church again. You think the cause of Christ would be irreparably damaged and that the Kingdom of God would come crashing down.

None of it.

Do you know what would happen? There would be revival in America! That's what would happen.There would be another Great Awakening that would make the one of 18th century look like a small Bible study group. We would start getting better, becoming more obedient and far more loving toward one another and the world than we have been.

You see, it's a lot easier to serve Christ without a mask. You're far freer, you laugh and sing more, and you get to dance without caring what people think about how well you dance.

Well, what do you think about my proposal????

Is that cool or what?

You first!

Me?

Are you crazy? Do I have "S.T.U.P.I.D." written across my forehead?

I need this job.

Aisles and aisles of booths of bric-a-brac and books…It was overwhelming.

Frankly, I planned to write you a kind of funny/critical post about trinket salesmen and Christian hustlers. I wanted to tell you about the convention a number of years ago that introduced "God's Airline." (They had the shell of an airplane on the floor of the exhibit hall and promised to play only Christian music and serve only apple juice on their flights.) And then, another year, a cowboy came riding in on a horse to promote a book on cowboys or something.

This year, there was a man dressed up as Jesus-sandals and all-walking around on the convention floor and giving out pamphlets (WWJD…What would Jesus Distribute? Sorry…Just a joke!).

A friend of mine ran into him and said, "Hey, I read your book!"

"Did you like it?" Jesus asked.

"Some of it, but if you ever need a good editor, I'm your man."

There were new Bible translations (I guess the previous three million translations missed something), a bunch of new books on marriage (I guess the three billion previous books on marriage missed something) and a book on humility written by a guy who was giving out foot washing towels with his name and the title of his book on them.

I could hardly wait to write this post. It was going to be really funny and caustic and, believe me, there was plenty of material at the convention.

That's when Jesus messed up everything.

And how did you get the material?

I was there and saw it myself. That's how!

And what were you doing there?

Well…uh… I have this new book and the publisher wanted me to do interviews and sign books.

And what is your book about?

Actually, it isn't a new book. It's the new edition of an old book with great new stories and a study guide. Is that cool, or what?

That wasn't the question. What is it about?

It's about prayer. Okay?

All the previous millions of books on prayer missed something?

Well, no, not exactly. But they wouldn't say it the way I said it and, besides, the publisher thought it was worth doing.

In other words, you're sitting in front of the computer getting ready to write caustic remarks making fun of people at a convention hustling product.

Yes.

And you were at the same convention hustling product?

I didn't think about it that way. It is a bit hypocritical, isn't it?

So you're going to miss one of the funniest posts ever written about "wild and crazy" Christians at a convention hustling product.You would have loved it!

But don't blame me. It's Jesus' fault.

Paul wrote, "Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things" (Romans 2:1).

Ouch!

So I repent.

Have you seen the bumper sticker that reads: "I like Jesus. It's his followers that drive me nuts"? I'm going to get one of them (I probably could have purchased one at the convention) and create another one to go right under that one. It would read: "And I'm one of them. Sorry."

Do you know the reason our witness doesn't have any power? It's because we forget that the witness isn't about us, our purity, our wisdom or our insights. The truth is that, if it is, we're in serious trouble.

I have a friend (you would know his name…he's a famous Bible teacher) who was introduced at a Bible convention this way:

You're very fortunate to be here. I've been asked to give an introduction and the man I'm introducing to you has spoken to audiences the world over. His message has changed millions of lives and his presence has brought peace, repentance and love to very difficult situations throughout the church. He is profound, wise and compassionate, touching people everywhere with his message.

And here is _______________ to tell you about him.

And so I started this post one way and it ended up being something else altogether.

Did you hear about the arrogant young preacher who went into the pulpit quite sure that his sermon would be published in the "Great Sermons of Christendom." It ended up being one of the worst sermons anybody in the congregation had ever heard.

As the young man came down from the pulpit, there were tears of shame in his eyes and a dear saintly lady said to him, not unkindly, "Son, if you had entered the pulpit the way you left it, you would have left it the way you entered it."

Am I going to the convention again next year? Are you crazy?

Of course, I am!

But, next year, I'll laugh at us and not at them. We really are a funny bunch…

…and Jesus is quite fond of us.

You too!

(You can hear the interviews here and here.)

Keller writes: "Whether you consider yourself a believer or a skeptic, I invite you to seek the same kind of honesty and to grow in an understanding of the nature of your own doubts. The result will exceed anything you can imagine."

He then proceeds to present a vibrant, thoughtful and clear presentation of orthodox Biblical Christianity, giving real answers to real questions.

In the introduction to the Emergent book, the authors write:

"If you listen to U2, Moby, and Johnny Cash's Hurt (sometimes in church), use sermon illustrations from The Sopranos, drink lattes in the afternoon and Guinness in the evenings, and always use a Mac;…if your idea of quintessential Christian discipleship is Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, or Desmond Tutu; if you don't like George W. Bush or institutions or big business or capitalism or Left Behind Christianity;…if you love the Bible as a beautiful, inspiring collection of works that lead us into the mystery of God but is not inerrant; if you search for truth but aren't sure it can be found; if you've ever been to a church with prayer labyrinths, candles, Play-Doh, chalk-drawings, couches, or beanbags (your youth group doesn't count); if you loathe words like linear, propositional, rational, machine, and hierarchy and use words like ancient-future, jazz, mosaic, matrix, missional, vintage, and dance;…then you might be an emergent Christian."

Then after that rather funny introduction, DeYoung and Kluck spend a lot of time on the eternal truths of the Christian faith and why they can't be compromised.

Both of those books have served to remind me of something important…something one tends to forget if you're as religious as I am, debate as many people as I do, answer as many questions as I do and deal with as much criticism as I do.

What's that?

Truth. That's what.

I've often asked Christians how their lives would be different if they woke up tomorrow morning and found out that all they believed about God, the Bible and their faith was not true. People look at me as if I've lost my mind.

But it's a good question.

I, of course, would be out of a job if I told people what I had discovered.

But maybe I would just keep quiet. Who would know? I could pretend that it was still true, still pray the public prayers and preach the sermons. I could maintain Key Life and write these posts. I could still teach at the seminary if I didn't tell the students about my discovery. I could still go to church and support what's happening at the church. As long as I was really careful, I could keep on writing religious books and doing religious broadcasts.

If I found out that none of this was true, I could still fake it until I died. Then it wouldn't matter.

But, frankly, why would I?

C.S. Lewis, in referring to Freud's spurious comment that we made up God because we needed a father figure, said that Freud's assertion was crazy. Freud said a lot of crazy things, but that one topped the list.

Freud reminds me of the character in the movie Network played by Peter Finch who went crazy on national television. They planned to fire him, but the ratings went through the roof, so they kept him on. Everybody suspected that Freud was crazy too; but, since a lot of people listened to him, they decided to let him keep talking.

But I digress.

Lewis said if he was going to make up a God, that God would be a whole lot different than the one of the Bible. He would be nicer, more accommodating and a whole lot less scary.

So, if I found out that my Christian faith wasn't true, I wouldn't try to fake it. That would make me crazier than Freud. After all, I would have a whole lot more time to do what I wanted and to pursue my own interests. Things like forgiveness, meaning, thankfulness, values and eternal life would be irrelevant, and I would spend very little time dealing with irrelevant things.

Camus (the French existentialist and atheist) said that the only question with which a thinking person should deal in a meaningless world is suicide. I'm "tired of living and afraid of dying," so my suicide would be slower and more fun than the kind Camus favored. Maybe I would develop a taste for booze. If I discovered that the things I've always believed weren't true, "transcendence in a bottle" would be far more attractive to me than it is now. Without God, I could handle life a lot better drunk.

But I have a problem. It's true.

This post isn't a defense of the verities of the Christian faith. You can do your own homework. Or, if you prefer, trust me because I have so often wished that the Christian faith wasn't true and so often tried to make it "not" true. I've read all the books you don't have time to read, checked all the alternatives, and spent my life going down the dead end roads of unbelief.

Sometimes I still look for an "out"; but, every time I look for one, I'm "whacked upside the head" with truth. Truth is…well…uh…true. You can't change it, get rid of it, ignore it or pretend it's not true. It just is…and once you see it, you're stuck.

I'm stuck.

But that sounds so negative.

One of the most interesting interviews we've done was with A. J. Jacobs. He wrote a book, The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible.

Jacobs is Jewish and a "respectful unbeliever" (his words) who did his best to be "religious" for a year and to do it in the deepest and most profound way. Because he is Jewish, for the most part (in addition to some Rabbis, with advice from Protestant ministers and Roman Catholic priests), he tried to live as an orthodox Jew.

During the interview, it became quite apparent that Jacobs deeply loves his family. When he talked about his children, he talked about how they were such a gift to him and how much he wanted them to grow up to be "good" adults.

I asked him in the interview about his family. "When you look at your children and you are overwhelmed with gratefulness for them, who do you thank?"

There was a long silence and he said, "Steve, I've thought about that a lot. And, while I'm still not a believer, I've found myself offering prayers of thanksgiving even if it doesn't make sense."

Talk about a disconnect!

Who are you going to thank?

Who is going to forgive you?

Who is going to love you?

Who is going to give you a reason to live?

Who is going to meet you when it's your time to die?

This morning, as I write this, I've been overwhelmed with the absolute truth of the Christian faith. I've remembered that my faith isn't surmise, wishful thinking or a subject for debate. It's just true!

When I've prayed, he has come…

I'm here. You're forgiven, loved and called, and that's a forever kind of thing.

He told me to remind you to rest in it and rejoice because of it!

I've been remembering.

I got an email from Wanda Lu Paxton who lives in Brevard, North Carolina, and works at WSQL, a radio station there. She said she was putting together a brief history of that station which had previously been WPNF ("Wonderful Pisgah National Forest"). In 2007, the station was bought by a number of local business folks, renamed WSQL and moved to downtown Brevard on Main Street.

At any rate, she had been doing some checking and found out that I had written about having worked at WPNF years ago and wondered if I could tell her something of my experience with the station.

Let me share with you some of what I wrote to Wanda:

I was a student at Brevard College in those days and worked for a laundry collecting shirts from students for 25 cents a shirt. I got three cents a shirt. (I didn't have the money for college and was saving every penny to pay tuition and expenses.) I figured that there had to be something better and easier, and which paid more than the laundry. A friend said, "Steve, you have a good voice. Why don't you go down to the radio station and see if they will hire you?"

So I just "showed" in the lobby of WPNF and asked for a job. They heard my voice and hired me on the spot. That was in 1958 and I worked at the station through that year and into the summer of 1960.

The folks at the station were extremely patient and kind to the "kid" who didn't know what he was doing and made enough mistakes to get him fired at any other station.

It was a good time for me and the last time that radio was that much fun and that laidback. Every evening we had a program called, "Music for the Dinner Hour." I would put an album on and, as it was playing, turn up the speakers and go out on the front porch of the station and smoke my pipe. When I would hear the clicking of the first side of the album running out, I would go back into the control room, give a station break, turn the album over for the second side, and go back to the front porch and look at the mountains.

In those days, there was (and I suspect there still is) a wonderful sense of community of which WPNF was a part. Once I was out for a few days with a cold or flu and received a pile of get well cards from people all over the community.

I will always be grateful for those days at WPNF and the people there who put up with some very bad and unprofessional "stuff" from me until they got me trained. Even today I'm grateful for them because they were people who "took a chance" on a young college student who didn't know what he was doing. They gave me the training that enabled me to pay for my undergraduate degree, to support my growing family and, later, when I was working for commercial radio in Boston, to pay for my education at Boston University School of Theology.

Today, much of my life centers around radio and sometimes I think of those kind people. I don't remember their names; but, when I think of them, I "rise up and call them blessed."

Sorry. Probably more information than you needed…but you know about old guys.

But there is a point. Our memories contain the "smell of Jesus."

C.S. Lewis said that before he knew God, he "experienced" God. He said that he would be working and would sense someone watching. He would turn around and no one would be there. He said, "To say that I was searching for God was like saying that a mouse was searching for a cat."

You'll remember in John 8 when Jesus was criticized by the religious folks who brought up the name of Abraham, He said something that was astonishing…and still is.

He said, "Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I am" (verse 58).

When Jesus said that, he was saying a couple of things (maybe more) of great importance. First, he was using a form of God's name and applying it to himself. Second, he was talking about the timelessness of his presence in places where one doesn't expect him.

I don't remember the names of the people at that radio station, but they gave me a gift that has been a part of my life ever sense. I don't even know if they were Christians or not…but they were working for Jesus on behalf of one of Jesus' followers-me.

When Helen Keller was told about Jesus, she said that she knew him, but she didn't know his name. I knew him too. I just didn't know his name.

As I was writing this, my poet friend in Dallas, Bruce Fogerty (the "Birdbath Poet"), sent me a great poem. That was a "God thing" too.

Grace Masquerading

The darkest hour of some lives
Often yield the big surprise-
Grace masquerading once again
Who would have thunk it; Oh my friend!

For grace attends life's costume balls:
In prison cells and funeral halls!
Unfriendly courts and ugly falls!
Hospital rooms and midnight calls!

Grace masquerading once again;
Who would have thunk it; Oh my friend!

Eternal epilogue will bring
Perspective to all happenings,
Both the good, and seemingly bad
For those who call the Father-

Dad…

So, I've been remembering this morning and, in the remembering, I'm thankful to God for the story he has written (and is still writing) in my life. I've thought about teachers, mentors, friends and even critics. I've thought about those who loved me when I didn't deserve it. I've even remembered the times when I thought I was going to die from the pain. I've gone back and looked at a pile of memories and I'm so thankful for God's kindness and presence in all of it…

…even before I knew his name.

Why not take some time to think about your story too?

Think about the people who affected your life. Remember the events that were such a wonderful delight and even the ones that caused great pain. Remember those people who have come in and out of the story that God wrote for you. Remember the sound of your children laughing, the loss of those you loved, the people along the way who were unexpectedly kind and those who gave you guidance when you needed it. Think of those who helped you and those who hurt you (helping when they didn't even know it). Think of those (you may not even remember their names) God used to write the story of his grace in your life.

It's the smell of Jesus in the memories.

Jesus says, "I was there."

He asked me to remind you.

That's me, by the way.

You too. I'm just honest about it.

At any rate, I was reading Jesus' parable of the sower in Matthew 13. You will remember that Jesus talks about a sower who goes and sows his seeds. Some seeds fell along the path and birds snatched them up; some fell on rocky ground and didn't grow much before they died; and others fell among thorns and the thorns killed them. But some of the seeds fell on good soil and produced a good harvest.

After Jesus told that parable, the disciples said to him, "Huh?"

So Jesus had a family time and explained the parable to his disciples. He said that the seeds represented the word of the kingdom and how various people who hear it receive that word.

I've taught that parable a thousand times. Whenever I've taught it, I've focused on the seeds.

I repent.

That parable is as much about the sower (that would be you and me) as it is about the seeds (that would be the word in them). In fact, it might be far more about the sower than the seeds.

I believe that Jesus looked at the disciples and realized they were a motley crew of the unqualified. He was going to ask them to do things that were not only impossible…but way above their pay level.

Peter, for instance, had a far higher view of his ability than the facts warranted. You'll remember he told Jesus that the other disciples would run when the going got rough, but then he said, "I'll be here." There was Thomas who had to get the details right before he believed. Don't forget about Nathanael ("in whom there was no deceit") who had no armor and would be devastated by his failure. And consider James and John ("Sons of Thunder"), sort of the Hell's Angels of the disciples, who would try and force success and then be really shocked and dangerous when their message was rejected. Andrew was a kind of "people person," working on networks (he was the one who introduced Peter to Jesus when Philip introduced Andrew to Jesus). He would be the one who would care deeply about what people thought.

So Jesus looked at them and said, "Let me tell you a story." He told them about an unsuccessful sower. As I count the seeds in the parable, only 25% of the seeds grew to harvest and the rest died.

You've probably heard me say that if you get 51% in a fallen world, you should file it under success. Let me tell you something else. If you're a farmer and you get only 25%, you probably should give up farming.

Now let me tell you what I learned when I started thinking about the sower.

First, I learned that if you can't deal with failure, don't play the game.

I'm reminded of the priest who, when he began his ministry at 20, prayed, "O Lord, grant that I may win the world to Christ." When he was 40, he prayed, "O Lord, grant that I may win my city to Christ." When he was 50, he prayed, "O Lord, grant that I may win my church to Christ."

When he was 60, he prayed, "Lord, don't let me lose too many!"

I tell my students that if they have biographies of "famous Christians" in their libraries and those books don't tell about the failure and the sin, they should burn the biographies. The ones that don't tell you the truth about the humanness of being human will make you go into vinyl repair.

I also learned from the parable of the sower that I don't own the farm or the seeds. I'm just a "hired hand."

Have you ever seen the picturesque stone walls in New England? The stones came from the fields that can't be farmed without first putting the stones somewhere else. So they made those stone walls.

When the New Yorker drove by a New England farmer digging up stones from his field, he stopped his car and said, "Mister, that's a hard job."

"Yeah, it is," the farmer replied, stopping and wiping his sweating brow, "but it isn't as bad as it seems. I don't own this farm."

Sometimes I get anxious about my family, my church, Key Life and other places where God has asked me to serve. Then I realize that I don't own anything.

"How much did he leave?" a visitor asked a friend at the funeral home.

"Everything!" the friend replied.

I also learned that what God does, he does quite well and what he doesn't do, doesn't matter.

I said that the farmer in the parable was a failure at farming. That isn't entirely true. Jesus said, "Other seeds fell on good soil and produced grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty" (Matthew 13:8).

Years ago, I was the opening speaker for a large missions convention for high school students. Maybe I didn't make a fool of myself, but I could see it from where I was. I remember walking backstage after I spoke and moving as fast as I could to the cab that would take me back to the airport.

For years, every time I thought about that sermon, I blushed.

A couple of years ago, a young man came up to me after I spoke at an engagement and said, "You don't know me, but I was at a youth missions conference where you spoke. That was years ago."

I thought, Lord, don't do this to me. I'm a sensitive person and, if you really loved me, you wouldn't do this.

"Just thought you would like to know," the young man said, "I became a Christian that day as a result of what you said and am now serving as a pastor."

Is God great or what?

Oh, and I learned one other thing from the parable of the sower. I learned that one should never define oneself by the seeds, the soil or the harvest. If you define yourself that way, sometimes you'll feel that you're "pond scum" and at other times you'll think they ought to expand the Trinity to make room for you.

Both are inappropriate for a Christian.

The only appropriate way for a believer to define himself or herself is by the One who loved us enough to make us acceptable and to give us the seeds to sow. Wherever you are, just throw the seeds God gave you. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to do that and you don't have to be trained at a leadership seminar. All you have to do is to take the seeds God gives and, wherever you are, throw them on the soil.

And don't keep digging them up to see if they're growing. That's not your concern.

He asked me to remind you.

What do you do when your pastor says really stupid things?

It's not that I have to apologize for my pastor. I'm thankful that I don't; but, frankly, I suspect that a lot of friends have had to apologize for me.

If you ever visit the Key Life building, you should note a cartoon that hangs on the wall in the lobby. It's a picture of a pastor standing in front of a shocked congregation…their eyes wide, their hair standing on end and incredulity all over their faces.

The caption reads, "Now Steve didn't really mean what you thought he meant."

When Obama vigorously disavows the comments of his pastor, I think of the "eat the frog syndrome." That's when someone seems sane, balanced and rational, and just when you are about to join the club…a frog hops across the floor and the formerly sane, balanced and rational man or woman picks it up and eats it.

Rev. Wright ate a big, juicy frog and Obama has to explain it.

Obama said that his pastor told him about Jesus and taught him about his obligation to love others, to care for the sick, to feed the hungry and to help the poor. I'm sure that all of Rev. Wright's sermons weren't as divisive, hate-filled and wrong-headed as the ones we've seen and heard in the media. I know that black anger isn't totally without reason and that preachers get caught up in the excitement of the moment and…well…uh…say stuff that might cause them to wince when they have an attack of sanity.

Okay. But there's still the frog.

As you know, I wasn't going to vote for Obama anyway, so I don't have a horse in this race. But I do like Obama and wish him well in trying to explain the unexplainable and defend the indefensible. That's a hard place to be…especially with a beloved friend or pastor.

And then, I do feel constrained to say something about Rev. Wright. If I knew Rev. Wright, I would say this to him and not about him:

I know, I know. I'm a preacher and have said some really stupid things in my day and probably will again. But good heavens, man! What were you thinking? Are you out of your mind? You're a pastor and you're supposed to help this love thing along…not bury it in a pile of hateful manure.

I know about justified anger and I think I somewhat understand the black/white thing…but you're about Jesus. Okay? He did the cross in the face of this stuff. You made an obscene gesture.

I'm not your mother. But if I were you, I'd repent.

If you don't repent, Jesus will still love you.

I'll try too.

But a bunch of Democrats and Republicans might not.

Wait!

That's a lie!

It's generally said by people who either 1) don't have political opinions or convictions, 2) don't want to offend and/or 3) suffer from the malady of perfectionism. I'm opinionated, offensive and, given my proclivity to screw things up, it would be insane for me to be a perfectionist.

So, I'm going to vote Republican. Okay? I'm going to pull the lever for McCain. I may have to hold my nose, ask God's forgiveness and let the Devil take the hindmost, but that's what I'm going to do.

When I go down the issue list, I find more about John McCain with which I agree than disagree and I can't even say that about my mother. So, he gets my vote.

But let me tell you who I would like to vote for.

I would like to vote for Barack Obama. Frankly, I like him a lot better than I like John McCain. I like the way he talks…and, even better, I like the way he talks about God. I find his call for us to "come together" quite appealing because I'm tired of the hatred and demonizing. Not only that, I think it would be wonderful to have an African American in the White House and, to boot, a person who can talk.

(I think that George Bush has been a great president and that history will render that judgment on his presidency. But he can't talk. Drives me nuts. I just wish he could take one of my communication classes. But I digress.)

One of the women on The View said that Obama reminded her of a boy one dates and, the next morning, wonders why she took her clothes off. That's rather crass and I, of course, wouldn't say anything like that. But the point is well taken.

There are a bunch of people I would enjoy (if I drank beer) having a beer with, but I wouldn't want to be President of the United States. There is a long list of people I genuinely like, but it would be insane to let them even near the "hot button" on an atomic bomb. There is a great difference between having a commanding presence and being commander-in-chief of the most powerful military in the world.

But with all of that being said, I like the man. I'm glad I do, because he may be the next president and it helps to like the person, if you're a Republican as I am, who screws everything up. It's kind of like your favorite uncle…the crazy one.

You know something? If you're a Democrat and a Republican is elected president, you'll probably survive and the nation will too. And if Obama is elected, I'll survive and the nation will too. Do you know why? Because the ability of the head of state to change the state of the world is vastly overstated.

Ask Woodrow Wilson.

When Hillary Clinton was in Detroit, she said that she was glad to be there because she had been born there.

One of her supporters said, "Yeah, and Obama was born in a stable."

No, he wasn't…and that's a good thing to remember. As I understand it, there is a limit of only one Messiah per universe. We already have ours. He's the King that nobody elected and nobody will depose.

As I understand it, he's still in charge of this mess.

When I think of that, I feel better about both Obama and McCain.

I was glad that nobody was around to see it. I'm a guy, okay? Guys only cry at football games and funerals…and certainly not over a rich, spoiled, celebrity brat.

As a mother, Brittney Spears makes Joan Crawford look like Olivia Walton. She represents the worst of America's celebrity fixation and is the answer to why one shouldn't give a bottle of whiskey and the car keys to a teenager. She is incredibly shallow and narcissistic, without her make-up looks like the witch of Endor, and when she planted a passionate kiss on Madonna on national television, it was ugly-on-ugly.

Nevertheless, I thought about her and cried.

I asked Jesus about it, knowing that he is the Great Physician and could heal my emotional breakdown.

That's when he told me it wasn't me…it was him.

There was probably never a time when tears were more puzzling than when Jesus came to Jerusalem. Talk about a city filled with people who make Brittney Spears look like a saint. Self-righteous, arrogant, power-hungry killers. As Jesus entered that city, he knew that he was, as it were, going to leave it "in a box." He understood the anger and hatred of the city directed at him and, and not only that, he had the power to do something about it.

But he didn't. He wept.

Luke says, And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it.

Maybe those who hang out with Jesus, who see things through his eyes and feel what he felt, will cry more than condemn. Maybe the truth of lostness, pain and confusion should solicit tears. Maybe the tears are as much a sign of God's Spirit as the doctrine.

Then, again, maybe not.

At any rate, I'm not going to make a habit out of it. And if you tell anybody I cried over Brittney Spears, I'll say you lied.

I just finished my regular physical. I have one every ten years whether I need it or not. I went through all the tests…including a colonoscopy. (I would rather go to the dentist. He only sticks things in my mouth.)

My doctor checked my blood pressure and it was very good.

His went up.

Greg, my doctor and friend, loves me and wants to save my life, but he can't find anything wrong. I smoke a pipe, eat what I like and exercise only sporadically. Besides, I'm older than dirt and probably should be dead. It drives Greg nuts.

Kind of makes me wonder too.

I really shouldn't be this healthy.

But come to think of it, there are a lot of things I shouldn't be.

I shouldn't be forgiven. If I were God and someone like me came to me as much as I have to him, I would eventually say, "You've got to be kidding. Get out of my sight. Sorry isn't enough."

I shouldn't be loved. I know I can be quite irritating. I like to think that I irritate by accident…but, of late, I find myself doing it on purpose. God is my Father, but sometimes he must blush. Love is a cool thing, but you can kill it if you work at killing it.

I shouldn't be saved either. While I don't believe that one can lose one's salvation, if you could, I would have already. When people say to me, "After all that Jesus has done for you…" I act like it doesn't bother me, but I do wince. I have no idea why I'm still his.

But I'm forgiven, I'm loved and I'm saved.

I'm also healthy.

Of course, none of the above precludes my getting run over by the Welcome Wagon, getting hit by lightning or being shot by some crazy nut I've offended.

Should that happen, do your best to think fondly of me.