Daughters, Pony Tails, and Forks

Have you ever tried to sit through a meal with a screaming child at the table next to you? Imagine this: You are sitting in a booth at a fantastic Mexican restaurant enjoying your chimichanga when suddenly a toddler in the booth beside you flings a spoon across the dividing wall and into your eye. That is exactly what happened to us tonight, but sadly to say I wasn't the one who pulled the spoon out of my eye. It was my daughter who threw the spoon! I apologized to the man profusely, but he seemed to be rather irritated. I think it really hurt his eye. He rolled his injured eye at me, and his date was quick to inform me that the spoon had indeed hit his eye. She was not happy either.

Now I wish I could say that it was the first time my daughter had misbehaved at dinner. As a matter of fact, before she was born, sitting at a table beside a screaming child, I remember telling my wife, "My child will only do that once," implying that my heavy disciplinary hand would bring any such outbursts to a quick halt. It turns out my disciplinary hand is about as heavy as Mary Kate Olson (that was inappropriate, wasn't it?).

A few months ago we were sitting in another booth at Outback. The three of us were sitting across from my sister-in-law and her husband. We were sitting back-to-back with a solitary man who was, in turn, sitting across from his wife. The man had a pony tail. While we were all concentrating on our meals, my daugher turned to find a tantalizing pony tail. Apparently she could not resist. Yep. She gave it a nice, hard yank. My wife and I did not see it; her brother-in-law did. We knew something was wrong by the look on his face. Then we turned around to look at the man. He was pretending nothing happened. When we finished our meal, I went to the man and apologized for daughter's zeal for pony tails. His response: "Don't you scold her for that. It's perfectly okay."

I must admit that I am much more like the guy with the spoon than I am the guy with the pony tail. I don't want to be inconvenienced; I surely don't want to take an assault from a flying spoon; and if I had one, I know I wouldn't want someone milking my pony tail at dinner.

Which one would Jesus have been? I think when Jesus said, "Let the children come to me," he meant, "Let them throw their spoons at me; let them pull my pony tail; let them be children." I think Jesus understood the innocence of children. I think Jesus knew that children were in the process of learning appropriate boundaries. I can't help but think it was inappropriate for children to be climbing all over a Rabbi. I can't help but think that the Disciples were just trying to maintain some level of appropriate boundaries between their teacher and the onslought of curious, inappropriate, snotty-nosed children. I can hear Peter saying, "If that were my kid, she'd only throw that spoon once." I can hear Thomas saying, "I doubt if those parents have any idea what they are doing." I can hear Judas saying, "Keep those kids away from the money." And then I hear Jesus: "Let the children come to me."

How can I be more like Jesus when it comes to children? I guess I need a pony tail.

Bewilderment

I sent an article to Leadership Journal about six months ago. I figured they had either lost the article or lost interest in it. Then I received an email from a friend that writes for them frequently. She told me that they had my article and were going to post it on their blog (www.outofur.com) to see what kind of response it got. If it gets a good one, they will put it in print. I went to the site, and voila...there it was (edited, of course). It was exciting to me, and then the comments started rolling in. People were reading it! I'm bewildered because it feels different than I thought it would. Some of the folks read, don't like it, and say horribly judgmental things. Apparently, I'm an embarrassment to Christianity. Oh well...that's better than being an embarrassment to Jesus. Just trying to get a handle on this...

Taking the Condom Off of Jesus

"No, Jonathan," he protested, "you can't put a condom on the cross." I thought it was a great idea. What a powerful image! A condom can be a strong metaphor for the obvious - a method of protection, a barrier, a binding. But it can also be a more complex metaphor for such oxymorons as "safe intimacy" or "risk-free love." And who says that it's inappropriate for a worship context? Come on. Trojan adds are on prime time! But alas, I was in a church that thought such things were inappropriate, and I had to compromise and wrap the cross in cellophane (like that's free of sexual inuendos!). The point? We were talking about how Christians get together, form a sub-culture, and claim exclusive rights to Jesus. We were talking about how we try to protect Jesus (and ourselves) from the voracious influence of "the world." We were talking about how Jesus can't fit inside our confining...cellophane? (see how the condom image works much better?) That was two years ago, and I was reminded of the metaphor a couple of days ago when a friend of mine told me of a recent experience he had.

We'll call him Matthias (because Mathias never really did anything noteworthy in the Bible and it's about time something is attributed to his name!). Matthias is an eighth year senior at a state university, not because he is a bad student but because he changes his major more often than his underwear. He exudes the eccentricity of Pauly Shore's character "Crawl" in SON IN LAW, but balances it with the seemingly random wisdom of Mr. Miyagi in THE KARATE KID. Matthias is genuinely spiritual as evidenced in his resonance with Zen while simultaneously pursuing Jesus. He is himself to the core. He questions and thrives in neo-Enlightenment conversations. Matthias reminds me of the Apostle Paul when he asks, "Why would God waste his time on a loser like me?" How can you not like Matthias?

The experience Matthias had? There is a group of Christians on Matthias' university campus, and because of Matthias' bent toward spiritual conversations, he decided it would be a great place to belong, question, and dialogue. He went to their meeting, and in a matter of a few months had matter-of-factly told them he didn't like their meetings, started a mosh pit in worship, and openly admitted that he has made out with some of his friends. But along the way, he asked some questions about faith. He genuinely wanted to hear others' perspectives. Matthias believes that other perspectives help shape his own. He is a guy that has come from experiences with pseudo-Christian cults and Buddhism that are narcisistic at best and hedonistic at worst. He is a guy that has come from a sometimes-amoral lifestyle and often immoral lifestyle. He is a guy that has journeyed quite a distance toward Christ-likeness, maybe much further than most of the people he met at the Christian gathering on his university campus. But Matthias didn't care how different they were from him. He was seeking authentic Christian community. And what did he find? They asked him not to come back. Yep, they said he made them feel "uncomfortable." The leadership of the group was followed up by an emailed vote of acclamation from angry and hateful group members. Matthias asked them what he did to make them feel "uncomfortable." He wanted to know what he could correct in his behavior. Their answer? "We don't know. You just do."

The real issue? They were scared the condom was going to break. Someone was going to get "knocked up" by his questions and sincere struggle.

Matthias loves Jesus. Matthias tries his hardest to follow Jesus. Imagine what would happen if someone who didn't have an affinity for Jesus walked into their group and started asking questions.

Come on. Let's risk a little. Take it off. It's better that way.

Used Cars, Time Shares, and Sleazy Forms of Evangelism

I'm cheap. That's the reason I found myself sitting across the table from a man pretending to be interested in my life, my career, and my family. That'’s the reason I had to put up with the sales manager awkwardly trying to connect with me by telling me I could use the purchase as a tax write-off. It was a good deal for me since I was (shhh) a pastor. They did everything right. We were offered drinks, snacks, whatever. And despite what you may be thinking, this was not a used (excuse me, "pre-owned"”) car dealership. There are a plethora of used car salesmen out there, so many, in fact, that there aren't enough used car dealerships to employ them. Consequently, the unemployed used car salesmen have had to find other work that suits their natural gifts and talents. One type of these used-car-salesmen-employers doesn'’t sell used cars; they don't sale automobiles at all. They don'’t even deal with transportation. Rather, they sale vacations. Anyone who meets their income requirements has received phone calls from them. For me and my family, the most recent was a phone call offering me a chance to win a car. I only had to drive three hours and listen to their sales pitch in order to see if my key fit the car! When I said it was too far to drive, they offered to give me gas vouchers, a free four-day vacation, matching watches, and an additional bonus six-day vacation. Like I said, I'm cheap. And that's why I was sitting across the table from this salesman who was pretending to like me.
Even though I felt degraded, I smiled. When the salesmen left us to talk about their offer, my wife and I laughed. The joke was on them. We had the better hand. We knew their scheme. We knew they only liked us because they wanted us to buy their $5,000 vacation offer.
That got me thinking: Have I ever been a used car salesman? Have I ever pretended to like someone so that they would buy something? Have I ever been a fake friend in order to sale my wares? Sure I have. As it turns out, pastors are used car salesmen. We have turned in our factory invoices for Bibles and our polyester suits for big hair, but the change in appearance can'’t change the fact that we are still preying Pinto-pushers.
Even worse, we have trained our parishioners to do the same. We have trained them to make friends with "outsiders" in order to convince them to "buy into" or "invest" in the Gospel. Sure, I agree that what we are selling is far superior to an old Gremlin or even a Viper, but that doesn't change the fact that we are degrading the customer (er...…friend). It doesn't change the fact that we are pretending to care only because we have something they need to buy. Call it “friendship evangelism;" call it “winning the right to be heard;" call it whatever you want. It may be relational, but it's an insincere relationship. "Now hold on," you might say. “I sincerely care about this person.” But I would ask you what happens when the person you have befriended repeatedly decides not to live for Jesus. What then? Is there a point where you stop going to ballgames with that person? Is there a point where you stop wasting your money on having that person over for dinner? Is there a point where you stop being their friend? I have...plenty of times. I have given up and moved on to people that are easier sales. Now I'm not suggesting we stop talking about Jesus in our relationships with people who aren'’t following him. But I am suggesting we stop befriending people just to "get '‘em saved."” What would happen if we really loved people and befriended them, not to "win the right to be heard,"” but to simply be their friend? What would happen if we started buying coffee for people simply for the sake of the conversation?
When the salesmen returned to our table, we told them that we were not interested. They proved us right. They stopped caring about us and moved on to the next sale. We could see it, and so can our friends.