Brian Castelli – With His Heart

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.

In the most-recent edition of the Christian Research Institutes’s Journal magazine (www.equip.org), Sean McDowell reviews the book Thank God for Evolution by Michael Dowd. McDowell quotes Dowd’s explanation for his shift from Bible-believing fundamentalism to evolutionary evangelist:

“First, I came to know and trust several students and teachers before learning that they held evolutionary world views.”

Dowd is a smart guy. It seems likely that he has considered the evidence carefully. But what I find particularly compelling in his story is that relationships he built with people who held opposing viewpoints with him ultimately led to his change of heart and mind. My guess is that he came to trust these folks before he was willing to give their viewpoint a fair hearing.

This applies to all of us. When we carry the truth–either to an unbelieving co-worker, a homeless vagabond, or a student at the local high school–we need to show them that we care through our relationship with them.

I’m reminded of the story of the Hall’s relationship with Denver Moore (http://briancastelli.com/?p=211). It was the people who came down to the mission week after week that came to be trusted. As we build our relationships, we must be consistent in the way we spend time with people. Drive-by charity doesn’t build relationships…

We ended up watching our 6-year-old neighbor while her parents went to the hospital. It was all very unexpected. Unprepared, we “entertained’ with DVDs. One of them was, “Finding Nemo.” There’s an amazing scene in the movie that got me thinking.

Marlin and Dory are searching desperately for Marlin’s son, Nemo. Along the way they both end up inside of a whale. Marlin freaks out, but Dory is calm, insisting that she can understand the low-pitched droning of the whale’s voice. Here’s one of their exchanges, courtesy of Wikiquote:

Dory: [the whale speaks to her] Okay, that one was a little tougher. He either said “We should go to the back of the throat”, or “he wants a root-beer float”.

Marlin: Of course he wants us to go there! That’s eating us! [rubs his tail on the whale's tongue] How do I taste, Moby? Do I taste good?! [to Dory] You tell him I’m not interested in being lunch!

Dory: Okay. He-e-e-e–

Marlin: Stop talking to him!

Dory: He (the whale) says “It’s time to let go!” Everything’s going to be all right!

Marlin: How do you know? How do you know something bad is gonna happen?!

Dory: I-I don’t!

The last part of the scene takes place as Marlin is holding on to the whale’s tongue as it raises up threatening to send he and Dory sliding down into the back of the throat. Marlin is fighting with everything he has, refusing to surrender control. Dory was willing to trust. She just let go.

It turns out that the whale had transported them to their destination and was putting them in the back of his throat so that he could deliver them via his blow hole. Although everything around them made it look like it was the end, the bigger picture was that they were safe. All they had to do is trust in something bigger then themselves, trust what the whale was telling them.

I think it’s like that with us and God. I heard Dr. Irwin Lutzer on the radio this morning. He told the story of guests at a castle walking up to a huge tapestry on the floor of a great hall. From the up-close perspective of walking on the tapestry, there was no discernible pattern. The tapestry looked like a mainly random collection of colors and patterns. When the guests climbed the stairs, however, and looked down from a great height, they could see that the tapestry was actually a large, beautiful picture. Up close, the big picture was obscured. This is like Marlin and Dory inside the whale. They couldn’t see what was going on outside.

This is also like us. When we look at the world and our circumstances in it we can only see what’s up close. We sometimes get glimpses of God’s larger themes, but mostly the big picture is hidden from us. We’re too close, too deep in the tapestry to always be able to make sense out of what we see. Like Dory, we sometimes need to trust and let go, trust that God has it under control even though what we see suggests otherwise.

I think this is one of the most difficult parts of being a Jesus Follower: Trust beyond what we can see. That why strong faith is grounded in knowledge rather than feelings.

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’m always looking for ways to link popular media to faith. I like to write about redemptive themes. This post is a bit different. I was talking to a friend the other day about the stickiness of sin. That is, sin has a way of clinging to us. I’ve written previously of a friend who took one step off the narrow path and then proceeded to sprint into deeper and more flagrant sins. I also know first hand of what it feels like to carry the guilt of unconfessed sin. It’s like an invisible backpack of bricks. Other people can’t see it, but it slows us down, hunches us over, and affects everything we do.

Spiderman 3, the movie, comes to mind here because of that black, icky thing that covered Spiderman for part of the movie. Background: An asteroid crashes to earth and Spidey goes to investigate. The asteroid contains more than just rock and ice, however. It carries some kind of icky black symbiote that clings to Spiderman, becoming part of his Spidey suit. Except for the fact that Spidey’s suit changed from red to black, you couldn’t even tell it was there. I’m not sure if the thing was evil or if it somehow amplified Peter Parker’s evil nature, but Spidey and the icky black thing together were a bad mix.

After Spidey had done some really bad things, he came to his senses and tried to get rid of the icky black thing. He struggled mightily to get the thing to let go of him, but it was like gum-on-steroids stuck to the bottom of a shoe. Spiderman pulled and pushed, stretched and groaned, tried and failed, but eventually succeeded at ridding himself of the thing.

I think sin in our lives is like the icky black thing. It clings to us, blending in such that other people aren’t always aware of it. We often struggle mightily to rid ourselves of it, but, unlike Spidey, we usually don’t have the strength to get rid of it on our own. (We haven’t been bitten by radioactive spiders after all!) We need help. We need a savior.

I came across an article on MSNBC today. I was intrigued by the title: One tiny truffle may lead to more indulgence. The article sites the work of a couple of Florida researchers, Juliano Laran of the University of Miami and Chris Janiszewski of the University of Florida Gainesville. The bottom line: Giving into a small temptation may be the first step down a slippery slope of indulgence. Are you surprised? I doubt it. You and I live on the same planet, after all.

I think it’s safe to apply the slippery slope rule to sin in our lives. A man know used to be a decent, stand-up guy. Then his wife left him for another man. For a while he seemed like the same guy. Then he started messing around with other women. Then I began to observe hints of other immoral behavior. He even started lying to me to cover it all up. A new man emerged – one that seems to have gone deeper and deeper into a lifestyle that does not suit him. I believe he is on the slippery slope.

Laran and Janiszewski characterize their research in terms of goal conflict. Their study shows that whether people give in to that first temptation and how they react when they do corresponds to how firmly held their goals are. A person who has strong convictions about eating healthy will be less likely to indulge in the first place and more likely to return to healthy eating habits if they do. I can’t resist the urge to tie this conclusion to sin in our lives as well.

One of my firmly-held beliefs is that we ought to have good reasons for our choices. When we understand why we make the choices we do we are more likely to be consistent with our goals. Let’s use the example of a young woman who refrains from having sex before marriage because she’s afraid of what her mother will think. Under constant pressure from her boyfriend, she may give in and discover that her mother’s reaction isn’t so bad. She becomes more and more willing until pre-marital sex becomes a “natural” way of relating to the men she dates. The slide down the slippery slope began because she didn’t have a really good reason for her behavior. If, however, the young woman understands that pre-martial sex is wrong – not just because her mother says so, but because it is against God’s plan for her life, that it is a violation of the purity she brings to her marriage, that it is a betrayal of her vows to her future husband, and is a step of disobedience to her Lord and Savior – she is less likely to give in to her boyfriend’s advances.

Translate this into what it means for us. If we are living our lives to please Jesus, we will be less likely to give in when temptation comes our way, and, for those times when we do give in, we will be quick to repent and return to Him. If our world view is consistent with the truth found in scripture, we are much less likely to make choices that involve us in sin.

Yeah. I agree. Weird title.

Two notions collided in my head this morning. I was listening to a sermon titled, “The Whole Christmas Story.” One of the strong points that was made was that if we don’t understand the bigger picture – the back story – it’s hard to understand the significance of Jesus’ birth.

Jason, one of our Elders, asked us to consider a contrast. We were invited to compare the joy we feel when we hear the news that a couple we barely know has delivered a child with the incredible joy we feel when we hear the news that a couple we know well, a couple that has struggled with miscarriages, pain, and suffering, has delivered a child. Because we know the back story of the couple we know well, there is greater significance and greater joy when we hear the news.

When we read the accounts of Jesus’ birth in the New Testament, we might feel joy akin to the joy we feel when we hear the news of that couple we barely know. We know it’s a good thing – birth, that is. We might also recall that Jesus is headed for the cross, therefore we know that it’s important. But without knowing the back story we might miss the incredible joy that comes from understanding the significance of that birth.

The reality is that Jesus’ birth was a huge deal. It was a birth long awaited and hoped for by the Jews. As we read through the Old Testament, we find an amazing story of a people that kept going their own way and God who wouldn’t abandon them. The Jews were waiting and hoping for a Messiah who would accomplish that which they were incapable of doing for themselves. In the dark days prior to Jesus’ birth even the prophets had been silent for some 400 years. It was as if God had turned his back on the nation. I’m told that the rabbis writing in those days wondered what God was doing. They worried that Israel had, at last, exceeded God’s patience.

But in the darkness there was hope. Jesus quietly burst onto the scene to begin a journey that would fulfill God’s promises of blessing to the Jews (Israel) and the Gentiles (the rest of us).

How does this fit with the Matrix?

In the movie, the people living in the Matrix don’t know the back story. What they see is a facade, a mere shadow of the reality behind it. I believe that many of us – Christians and non-Christians alike – look at the Christmas story through Matrix-colored glasses. It’s a nice story. It makes us feel good because it means that God loves us. But we don’t understand the back story. We don’t understand the significance.

In The Matrix, when people finally know the back story, their lives are radically changed. It’s not possible to go back to business as usual. This kind of radical change can be yours, too, when you know Jesus’ back story. Read the Old Testament and the gospels. I believe they will open your eyes to the bigger picture.

I shared the “I was wrong” part of the Be Still post with a friend of mine. With all sincerity, he told me, “You can’t discount the leading of the Holy Spirit. Maybe that is the meaning the Holy Spirit wanted you to take from that passage that day.” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to hurt my friend’s feelings, but I believe he was very wrong.

As I’ve recently been learning, scripture is composed of words arranged in sentences and paragraphs. “That’s obvious,” you might say. Yes, but the implications of “words on the page” are sometimes thrown out the window when we look at scripture. A single word in scripture has no meaning on its own. It’s meaning comes from the context of how a word is used along with other words to form the sentence. The sentences (verses in this case) cannot derive their full meaning apart from the larger context of the paragraph, chapter and book.

To take a verse and derive what it means to me without the context of the verses around it is dangerous and often wrong. The words on the page mean something. They meant something when they were written, and they mean the same thing today. Meaning does not change. Truth does not change. Application may change as the culture changes, but I can’t claim that any verse means something different to me that it did to the original author.

Our only clue into the minds of the authors of scripture is what they wrote. Cults have been founded on claiming the right to decide what scripture means apart from that.

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.