Brian Castelli – With His Heart

I used to work as a grunt in a machine shop. Whatever dirty job the boss wanted done was assigned to me. The problem–besides the dirt and tedium–was that my boss usually only told me half of what I needed to know to complete the job. When I got half done, I’d ask for additional directions and get–you guessed it–half of what I needed to know to finish. This process would repeat itself. Purists in the audience will be quick to point out that the theoretical conclusion of always getting half meant I would never actually finish! Luckily the tasks were entirely practical and I was eventually able to get close enough to declare the jobs complete for all practical purposes.

I would have benefited tremendously from some kind of road map to my end goal, how a task fit into the larger scheme of things, and the step-by-step directions for how to get there. In chapter 1 of J. I. Packer’s Knowing God, the author provides all three. In fact, The Study of God delivers with three main thrusts:

• Road map
• Reasons
• Recipe

Road Map

Packer opens the chapter with a discussion of the universe. He asserts that God made the universe, that it operates according to principles He put in place, and that where we’re going in the book requires us to at least agree to think about it in this way. As such, Packer invites the skeptic to table their doubts for a time and join him on the journey. His request:

I ask you for the moment to stop your ears the those who tell you there is no road to knowledge about God, and come a little way with me and see. After all, the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and anyone who is actually following a recognised road will not be too worried if he hears nontravellers telling each other that no such road exists.

In the same way we trust MapQuest or our GPS to show us the way–until the directions tell us to take a left turn into a corn field–Packer is inviting us to trust him that there is, indeed, a road to God that can be followed. He says that if we give him a chance we’ll see the road and not the corn field.

More on Road map, Reasons, and Recipe in subsequent posts…

My edition of J.I. Packer’s Knowing God has two prefaces, a short one penned for the update in 1993 and a longer one for the original edition penned in 1972. The latter contains a most interesting description of Packer’s intended audience.

Referring to a previous work by theologian John McKay, packer describes “balconeers” and “travelers.” One could think of the balconeers as those:

…sitting on the high front balcony of a Spanish house watching the travelers go by on the road below. The “balconeers” can overhear the travelers’ talk and chat with them; they may comment critically on the way the travelers walk; or they may discuss questions about the road, how it can exist at all or lead anywhere, what might be seen from different points along it, and so forth; but they are onlookers, and their problems are theoretical only. The travelers, by contrast, face problems which, though they have their theoretical angle, are essentially practical–problems of the “which-way-to-go” and “how-to-make-it” type, problems which call not merely for comprehension but for decision and action, too.

As he approaches God in this book, Packer is staking claim to writing a book for travelers–those who not only wish to know God but also wish to know how to live, how practical knowledge of the creator affects their lives.

Packer was motivated to write the book–really a series of articles that became the book–by his perception that the church of 1972 was weak–weakened by an ignorance of God. I wonder how much worse it is today–in a society where many young people do not even know that the Bible has two testaments. Of the ignorance, Packer identifies two causal trends:

Trend one is that Christian minds have been conformed to the modern spirit: the spirit, that is, that spawns great thoughts of man and leaves room for only small thoughts of God. The modern way with God is to set him at a distance, if not to deny him altogether… Furthermore, thoughts of death, eternity, judgment, the greatness of the soul, and the abiding consequences of temporal decisions are all “out” for moderns…

Trend two is that Christian minds have been confused by modern skepticism. For more than three centuries the naturalistic leaven in the Renaissance outlook has been working like a cancer in Western thought. [Many] came to deny… that God’s control of this world was either direct of complete, and theology, philosophy and science have for the most part combined to maintain that denial ever since.

Packer’s invitation to the reader comes from Jeremiah 6:16:

Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good path is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.

Packer is calling us back to the old paths, on the ground that “the good way” is still what it used to be.

Usually, I speed read through the books I select. I write all over them, with underlines, marks, and extensive notes in the margins. Reading for me is like a relentless march to the sea. once in a while, however, I discover a book with a depth that puts me in full stop. one such book is Knowing God by J. I. Packer. Last year I read through page 166 of it’s 279 pages–and stopped dead. The book–constructed from some 22 solid lessons about God–did not bend to my will, did not succumb to my fast pace. At page 166 I paused long enough to realize I had missed something, and the realization prevented my return. There is something deeper there. A slower pace is required. I have resolved to begin again. It is my intention to document my journey in this space.

A friend lent me her already-borrowed copy of the audio book, “same kind of different as me.” It’s the true story of the ministry of Debra Hall and her husband, Ron, and how they reached out to befriend a homeless man named Denver Moore. Denver, as he’s referred to in the book, came out of a life of virtual slavery. The Hall’s reached out to him as part of their weekly work with the homeless in Fort Worth, TX.

Some insights from the book that apply to outreach:

• That the Hall’s kept coming back week after week set them apart from the “seasonal” volunteers that the homeless saw at the Mission. Denver said that the folks who only show up on holidays come because they feel guilty for all that they have. Once the guilt is assuaged, they return home and let the guilt start building up again. Since the Hall’s kept coming week after week, folks began to get the idea that they really cared. (And they did!) This tells me something that I guess I already knew from my trip to San Diego a couple of summers ago: Drive by help is not always appreciated. The kind of help that makes a difference is the kind of help that builds relationships.
• Denver’s tough exterior was his shield. He’d been hurt enough times to not want to let anyone get too close again. When he appeared dangerous, people left him alone. Because of this exterior, Ron didn’t want to be friends with him at first. Debra, who looked through the exterior, kept insisting. It took time, but Ron and Denver eventually became good friends. Denver became part of the family. In fact, he moved into the family home after Debra passed. The lessons here: The tough exterior we see is sometimes an act, and it takes a while to break through layers of defense. Patience and perseverance are required.
• Even though the Hall’s had no common background or experience to help them understand the plight of Denver and other homeless folks, they did what they could–they loved. Ron didn’t have to spend the night in a cardboard box to show love and compassion to Denver. He didn’t have to sell all of his possessions and give the proceeds away to become Denver’s friend. The lesson here is that even people of diverse backgrounds have something to share. This isn’t always comfortable. In fact, it is decidedly UNCOMFORTABLE. And that, my friend, is just what we need sometimes.
• When the visits to the homeless Mission began, Ron felt sorry for the men and women he met there. He admits, however, that he also felt somehow superior to them. He was there to help them, but what he found, in the end, that he was in many ways INFERIOR to Denver. That is, as the relationship progressed, Ron found that it was *Denver* who poured his life into Ron, not necessarily the other way around. The lesson here is that humility helps us understand our role as we work to become better friends.
• God is in control of all things. Although there was terrible pain for Ron when Debra passed–why did He take her when she was doing so much good for so many people?!!?–Denver took up the torch she laid down. He became an advocate for the homeless and has made a difference in that community that Debra by herself could not have achieved. Even her horrible, painful death yielded evidence that God works all things together for good.

I highly recommend the book. I also highly recommend that we endeavor to find uncomfortable situations in which we can minister. Speak life into people!

I’m reading a very interesting book, “How Full is Your Bucket,” by Tom Rath and Donald O. Clifton. The ideas here are not new, but the presentation is interesting. Covey speaks of the Emotional Bank Account as a very similar idea.

The bucket metaphor is a good one. We all have a bucket. When our bucket is full, we feel good. Not so when our bucket is empty. The idea is to figuratively ladle water into other people’s buckets through positive interactions with them (doing what Covey would call, “making deposits in the Emotional Bank Account”). A kind word. A specific praise. Purposely catching people doing the right thing and praising them for it. (Oh! There’s “The One-Minute Manager!” I told you these ideas are not new!)

The Bible talks about this area, as well. Proverbs tells us that the tongue has the power of life and death. I’ve taken it as a lifetime challenge to speak life into the people around me. The Bible also consistently pictures God’s grace like rain pouring down on us–and filling our buckets!

One thing that is very clear from my readings about this subject: Our objective is not to get other people to fill our buckets. In none of the books I’ve referred to does the author even hint that we ought to be in this for ourselves. No. They consistently and correctly point us to filling other people’s buckets.

One of the clear goals I have for Josiah’s Stand as a ministry is to become a bucket filler. There are hurting people all around us–and no shortage of them among our students–who need (yes need) someone to come along side and encourage them, to ladle the life-giving water of words and relationship into their buckets. A quote from the book says it well:

Whether we have a long conversation with a friend or simply place an order at a restaurant, every interaction makes a difference. The results of our encounters are rarely neutral; they are almost always positive or negative. And although we take these interactions for granted, they accumulate and profoundly affect our lives.

Speak Life!

I recently rented the movie, “Hancock,” starring Will Smith as John Hancock, reluctant super hero. (Using RedBox for the first time! $1 a night! Try it!) In entertainment terms, it was so-so. The special effects were good, the acting was fair, but the story had holes a mile wide. At the center of it all, though, was the story of John Hancock’s redemption. When the movie opens, we find that Hancock isn’t well liked. Many of the people in the city want him gone. Along the way, Hancock saves the life of a professional PR man who, in return, helps Hancock with his image.

At first the changes are superficial. Hancock sticks to the script he’s been given and pretends to be different. Through a series of events, however, he goes through a true transformation – one that enables him to lay his own life on the line for someone else.

I like redemption stories because they strike very close to home for us. At some level, we’re all messed up like Hancock. John Eldredge in his book, “Wild at Heart,” says that we’re all posers, hoping that no one gets a peek under our fig leaves. In the movie, Hancock is, in a way, running from himself. He knows that he has flaws, and he protects himself from that knowledge by adopting a, “I don’t give a hoot,” attitude.

Isn’t that just like us? I mean, aren’t there times in our lives when our #1 goal is to cover our weakness in order to appear strong? And, although I like redemption stories, Hancock falls well short of reality. That is, we actually can’t fix ourselves. on our own power, we can change for a time and even make steps in the right direction. But it takes something outside of us, something greater, to affect true change.

Here’s the bottom line: We’re all the same. We’re all messed up. In fact, we’re messed up beyond our ability to fix it. We can’t do it on our own power. This is where Jesus steps in. Romans 5:8 tells us that God loved us so much that he saved us while we were still sinners. No clean up required. No perfect saints in this church. Just saints that have been cleaned up by God.

Jesus changes things. That’s true redemption.