Real Life Matters

I love Thanksgiving! This year, I think I’m cooking my bird in a roaster bag. And we’re going to have, let’s see, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, real gravy made from bird juice and corn starch, cranberry sauce, sauerkraut, and Chardonnay. And then for dessert, we’re going to have coffee, a roaring fire, Pumpkin Pie, and… football!

But you know, Thanksgiving is a great event with deep meaning that extends far beyond food and football. Last week we talked about how the word “thank” comes from the word “think.” So this year, I’m celebrating “Thinksgiving” and I’m choosing to be “thinkful” about God and family and life. How ’bout you?

Our galaxy is only one of some hundred-thousand-million galaxies that can be seen using modern telescopes. Some estimates say that the most distant galaxy is racing away at 200 million miles and hour. It’s big out there.

But there’s more: God makes Maui and forges the French Alps. He makes mangos and peaches and blackberries and cabernet grapes. He makes the soil and climate of Bordeaux France and Sonoma Valley. And He gives us the whole thing like a wedding gift, and he says, “Here. Do you like it? What do you think?

And then God lets us in. He doesn’t just make a place and space out there; he makes a place in his perfect heart for us. And human relationships are a picture of that.. It’s why we long for intimacy. It’s why we love chivalry and heroism and intimacy and romance. Get the BIG podcast.

Hebrews 12:2: “Fix your eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of your faith.” How do we fix our eyes on Jesus? What does that even mean?

The person who wrote these ancient words is tagging on the topic of faith. Earlier he says, “Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen.” Those two words, substance and evidence capture the objective side of faith–that while there is a subjective aspect, it is not purely subjective; it has an object–God–who is an objective reality in himself, independent of my subjective approval or disapproval of his existence.

Notice that faith is the “substance” of things hoped for. The Greek word literally means, “that which stands under” or “foundation.” In other words, faith is as concrete as the slab our church auditorium is standing on. Now, we can’t see the slab because there’s a carpet in the way. That’s how life is. We can’t see the slab, but we know it’s there, so we walk on it. So the subjective certainty in our hearts has an objective solidity to it.

Notice also that faith is “the evidence of things not seen.” The Greek word for “evidence” means, “proof.” Richard Dawkins, well-known atheist and outspoken antagonist against the assumption of God, said this: “Science is not religion, and it doesn’t just come down to faith. Although it has many of religion’s virtues, it has none of its vices. Science is based upon verifiable evidence. Religious faith not only lacks evidence, its independence from evidence is its pride and joy.”

But this ancient author to the Hebrews says that faith itself is evidence–the “evidence of things not seen.” I like to think of faith as a higher faculty than reason, and a higher sense than our five senses. It’s kind of like a sixth sense that is able to conceive of realities that go beyond what we see. So when I’m stressed or depressed, I fix my eyes on this God I can’t see and somehow that makes life a lot better for me.

Recently, Lisa and I looked around and determined that clutter was freezing us up. That’s right, I said clutter. If upwards of 80% of stress is caused by disorganization, then it’s got to go. You say, “Mark that doesn’t sound like a very spiritual issue.” I say “Whatever, for us it is; it’s distracting us from being effective in other areas of life.” So we decided that we were going to win the war on clutter and now we’re winning instead of whining. I’m just not willing to “let myself go” in any area of life—and something as simple as clutter had become a metaphor for us.

Like camping on the deck the other night. I know it’s another small example but I just don’t have any major issues in my life right now; when I get some, I’ll be sure to share. But even the smaller things matter because progress is often the aggregate of little things. So camping on the deck. It was my stupid idea, but then I found myself trying to talk the kids out of it because I just wanted to sleep in my comfortable bed. I’m older now. I get sore you know. But then I came to my senses and I remembered, “I’m a dad. It’s my lot. It’s not about me. While they’re still young, it’s about them. So be a man and get out there and set up the tents.” So I decided to die to my want. The Result: the experience with my kids was way better than a comfortable night’s sleep. It in fact was so superior that we went camping again this past Friday night, this time for real, at Fort Fredrick in the great outdoors. No bathrooms, no showers, no mattresses, no cable, no internet, no blah, blah, blah… and we’ll never forget it, and hopefully it will inspire my kids to one day endure uncomfortable things for the sake of fun with their kids and so and so forth. We need to die to ourselves even in the small things of life to experience the really good things of life.

I occasionally purposely leave the comforts of life to go into the wilderness of Canada’s interior—miles away from cell reception. There’s a time for the everyday mundane, but there’s also a time for adventure. There’s a time for pushing yourself to your extremes to see what you’ve got, in order to get more of what you don’t. And each time I’ve gone to a place like India or Canada, I’ve come out different, better, stronger, braver, and definitely more appreciative of what I have here.

The Bible says that the Holy Spirit “drove” Jesus into the wilderness. Wilderness was the proving ground where Jesus would get the divine energy that can only come through tempting, testing, and hardship.

You know it: People acquainted with hardship are typically stronger, wiser, and broken. That’s why Paul told Timothy to “endure hardship.” We need to be broken. I don’t trust people who aren’t broken. There is a very, very short list of people that I would call in the middle of the night when everything is falling apart—and the one thing that each of those people have is that they are broken.

So I say consider seeking out some kind of wilderness experience: (1) To show God, the devil, the world, and yourself that you got what it takes. And if you have Christ, you have everything and this is never proven truer than it is in the wilderness. (2) To shed all distraction in order to connect with God in a unique and powerful way. Here, in our climate-controlled bubbles, it’s almost like we hide behind all our busyness. Busyness is so noble, we think, and we equate it with importance. And isn’t that convenient? We can kill two birds with one stone: We can feel important and hide from all the deeper issues of life. But busyness will never do anything to remedy your deepest issues. It may treat symptoms, but that’s about it. Wilderness-like experiences are the remedy. When all is stripped away, and only God is left, there is healing and vision.

It’s all about time—the only resource you can’t replenish. And isn’t it sad that in a lifetime—one study found—you will spend an entire year looking for lost stuff, and five years waiting in line.

In the book of Ecclesiastes, Solomon seems to know that just as time is essential, timing is essential too because it dictates the appropriateness of things. For instance, I can say the right thing, but if I say the right thing at the wrong time it becomes the wrong thing. It’s all related to time. And every purpose under heaven has an appropriate point in time (appointment with destiny), and an appropriate season (duration).

So to illustrate this, Solomon writes a poem using “polar opposites”—birth/death, war/peace, love/hate, etc. “Polar opposites” was a common poetical device to communicate totality. And all of these polar opposites describe the first polar opposite which is birth and death. Between birth and death, we’ll look at all the other realities common to human existence. This edition of Real Life Matters will give you hope as you face all these seasons of life.

Just scan the magazine Ads and TV commercials. Virtually everything is devoted to food, drink, and sex. It’s all about the body: how to clothe it, exercise it, feed it, decorate it, and make it smell good. Even down to footwear: “Are you gellin’? Yeah, and Zinfandelin’ with Helen McClellan.”

I have all these very strong drives. Take sex, for instance. God invented sex. And we’re created with a very strong longing for it. Why did God make it that way? Why do we always seem to want more, more, more?

The Rolling Stones recently completed the most successful world tour in their history, grossing $120 million. Mick Jagger is in the top one-hundred of Britain’s richest people. He has four houses worth over $12 million. He has five children by three different women. His girlfriends have included some of the most beautiful women in the world. Yet his friend Keith—as in Keith Richards—said, “99% of the male population of the Western world—and beyond—would give a limb to live the life of Mick Jagger… but he’s not happy being Mick Jagger.” One magazine article ends by saying, “Nearly 30 years after the Stones’ most defining moment in song… Mick still can’t get no satisfaction.”

Ah, the secret of satisfaction. That’s what this latest edition of Real Life Matters is all about.

What if we did something revolutionary this year? What if, instead of Christmas being a time of hurrying and worrying, what if we made this season a time of restoring our sense of wonder and awe? After all, our theology, like our cosmology, could best be defined as primitive. In both cases, there’s always more to explore. In both cases, we “see through a glass darkly.” Yet, the World of God and the Word of God give us a window. And there we learn that the same Christ who was born in a pool of blood just like you, created the vast, incomprehensible cosmos.

For instance, the earth alone-weighs 6.6 sextillion tons. Not trillion, not quadrillion, not quintillion, but 6.6 sextillion tons! That’s the “illion” with the 21 zeros behind it. And all of that weight is traveling through space at 72,600 mph. And the Bible says that the universe is God’s “finger work.” It’s like flicking a switch for God to create and sustain your world. So I think He can handle your mortgage payment.

Genesis 1:16 briefly describes the creation of the stars: “And He made the stars.” That’s it. It’s almost parenthetical; it’s an “oh by the way…” Why so short and simple? It’s too elaborate to elaborate. Psalm 19 tells us that the cosmos is God’s way of getting our attention: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge.” God is not silent; we are not listening. Just our star, the sun, is 93 million miles away from here. And just to give you an idea of the size of things, you could fit Planet Earth inside the sun a million times like a gumball machine. But there are stars out there much bigger than our sun. One star called Antares could hold 64 million suns the size of our sun. There is another sun out there in the constellation Hercules that could contain 100 million suns the size of Antares. “And He made the stars.” Our galaxy alone is over six hundred trillion miles across. But our galaxy is only one of some hundred-thousand-million galaxies that can be seen using modern telescopes. And each one of those galaxies contains some hundred-thousand-million stars.

Stunning, isn’t it, that the creator of the vast cosmos bounced around in a belly, on a donkey ride into Bethlehem, was born in a pool of blood, in a cave, in a dirty feeding trough? And from the cradle to the cross, Jesus had one all-consuming drive and passion: You. And your eternal well-being. I think a great gift idea for Christmas would be a theology of wonder, a theology that’s never quite complete, a theology that keeps seeking, keeps asking, keeps knocking. Merry Christmas.

Romans 6:23 For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. Ephesians 2:8 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—

I know that most of us are cynical about anything “free” these days. Seriously, what’s the catch? We’ve been told all our lives that there’s no free lunch and that we need to work our way to the top in this meritocracy called life. So anything free seems cheap. I was watching TV the other day and caught this eBay commercial. Their slogan is “shop victoriously; don’t just buy it… win it!” eBay kicks meritocracy up a notch. And I have to be honest, I love it. I love meritocracy. It seems right. And because I can be competitive, it’s just plain funner.

But there is something that I’ve come to realize in my 44 short years of life. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to shake this thing called sin. I know that it sounds like some archaic backwoods preacher-word, but the word sin simply means to miss the mark—it’s an old archery term. If an archer missed the target, he was called a “sinner.” The Bible says that “we all have sinned and all fall short [miss the mark] of the glory of God.” And we don’t like that, so we don’t like to admit it. We all want to be able to split the uprights; we want all of life’s baskets to go swish, and sometimes they do. But not always.

I was telling some friends this the other day: Everywhere I go, there my self is—and my self, like your self, doesn’t always choose the right things. And God is a perfect God with a perfect standard that we are just not capable of living up to. And that’s why we need what the Bible calls a free gift. And receiving it simply means admitting our need and taking this gracious handout from God. Until then, we’ll keep trying the same things over and over again expecting different results—Einstein called that insanity.

Around 20-some years ago, someone gave me a Bible and wrote on the inside cover Mark 8:36, where Jesus said, “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world yet forfeit his soul?” I couldn’t shake those words. They were all over me like a cheap suit with static cling. What are you toiling for in life? And what if you actually achieve it? Then what? What if you hit the lottery? I know—the lottery is basically a tax on people who are really bad at math. The chances that you will win the Lottery: 1 in 4 million. The chances that you will eventually die in a car crash are actually a lot better: 1 in 125. But the most staggering statistic of all: 10 out of every 10 people will eventually die. What you and I need is God’s free gift.

Read Philippians 4:1-7. Note the expression, “the book of life.”

Where will you be in 10 years? It’ll be 2017. 2017 sounds weird to me, a little futuristic. How old will you be? What will you look like? Who will have died? Now move that out 20 years—2027. What will cars be like? Now move it out 75 years—2082. Most everyone reading this will be gone.

Ah, but the Bible says that there’s this thing called the book of life. And every person whose name is written in it won’t have to worry about time anymore. What would that be like?

But then there’s that other alternative in Revelation 20:11-15. (You might want to read it.) Whether the “lake of fire” language found there is literal or figurative isn’t really the most relevant issue. But it seems convenient to make literal/figurative the issue—a nice diversion from what is likely intended to be real point: Literal or figurative, focus people: the lake of fire is bad and the book of life is good. Which would you prefer?

Studying more, it seems that getting in that book of life starts by simply accepting a gift—the free gift of God which is eternal life through Jesus Christ. It’s offered every time we hear about it. Maybe you’re thinking, “Yeah, but what about those who’ve never heard about it, what happens to them?” I don’t know. But I’m assuming from everything I’ve read that God is perfect love and perfectly just; so God must have some plan for those who’ve never heard. But us… we’re responsible for what we do know, accountable for the light we have.

So now that two convenient diversions are out of the way (literal/figurative & what about the never-hearing?) check out another judgment scene in Daniel 7:7-10. Read the language. I mean really read it. Then notice the words, “The court was seated, and the books were opened.” Ever been to court? Court gives me the willies—even mere traffic court. I remember sitting in traffic court waiting my turn. I just sat there and watched the judge roast one guy after another. My palms were sweaty. So this guy goes up and the judge asks him: “Do you have any previous violations?” He looks the judge straight in the face and says, “No, your honor.” The judge says, “Oh really.” Seconds later, the judge starts reading a long list of offenses to a very pale-faced liar.

We’re all a little like that pale-faced liar so long as we slough this stuff off with God. But if you’ve received the free gift of God which is eternal life through Christ, the Bible says, “There is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus.” So get right with God and admit you’re a sinner and ask God for forgiveness—everyday.

Then read a third judgment scene in Matthew 25. We find there that it’s not really just about the bad things we’ve done, although our twisted minds want to dwell there. No, it’s more about the good things we didn’t do. And if we’re real busy doing the good things of God, we’ll have much less time for bad stuff! So please—don’t just look busy; get busy! And that’s the simple key to a fulfilling life that no longer lives under the fear of condemnation, but under the motivation of compassion. Start fresh today.

Read Philippians 3:17-4:1. Paul says that “their destiny is destruction” (v 19). We all know people who live that way. You know the ones, those folks who are all wrapped up in destructive addictive or sexual behaviors that lead to disease or family fallout, or job loss, or DWI, or jail time, or at the very least, depression.

God is not some killjoy that wants to ruin your party. He’s the opposite. And if we live according to God’s pattern for life, we’ll enjoy real peace and freedom, not the fake-me-out illusion the internet offers. This is proven true in my life time and time and time again—I am much happier in life when I’m making right choices. We need to learn to hate and jettison anything that robs our peace and freedom.

Take sex for instance. God invented sex! But sex outside the context of commitment typically leads to awkward feelings and a mangled de-humanizing view of others. But within the context of commitment (marriage), sex is the most sacred expression of trust. We all want one person—just one—one that we don’t want to share with anyone else—one that we can trust with the most vulnerable area of life and that’s why we’re jealous by nature.

Paul’s “their god is their stomach” (v 19) is a rhetorical illustration. There is nothing wrong with enjoying food and drink in wise moderation. But to make consumption some kind of god… doesn’t that seem a bit shallow? The very first commandment is “You shall have no other gods before me.” God can get jealous just like you. Why? There’s this crazy little thing called love. It’s right and natural for Lisa to not want me messin’ ‘round. She would be right to be an out-of-control jealous psycho-chick were that the case. It wouldn’t be love otherwise. Just as Lisa would be right to say, “You shall have no other girls before me,” God says, “You shall have no other gods before me.” Doesn’t this just make perfect sense?

Ever met someone whose “glory is in his shame” (v 19)? It’s like that guy at the office who brags about all the chicks he’s had sex with or how much he drank last night. Woo. Doesn’t a little something inside you feel sorry for that guy? You can see how hard he’s trying, and you can see how empty he seems to be coming up every time. There is no true glory in shameful things. True glory is borne out of sacrifice and commitment. All our true heroes have the right stuff of sacrifice and commitment.

At the end of the day, there are two paths and two destinations: One is heading for construction; the other is heading for destruction. What’s it going to be for you—holiness and happiness, or sleaziness and sadness? The secret of satisfaction is the good life of continuing to cultivate a growing relationship with Jesus Christ. That’s what will bring us happiness, freedom and peace. Anything else is a lie.

From Philippians 3:10-16: Here, Paul has been a follower of Christ for 30 years. If there was ever a person we could look at and say, ‘Now that guy has made it” it would be Paul. But Paul basically says, No, I’ve not made it. The lesson here is simple: There must never be a stalemate or spiritual plateau. So we have to ask ourselves, what are those things that stale us out?

Recently, Lisa and I looked around the house and determined that clutter was freezing us up. If it’s true that upwards of 80% of stress is caused by disorganization, then it’s got to go. I’m just not willing to “let myself go” in any area of life-not spiritually, not physically, not educationally, not even aesthetically. Clutter is an indicator for us–a metaphor.

Then Paul talks about “the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings.” You can’t have resurrection without death. Let’s be clear about this. Paul isn’t some twisted sadomasochist. No, he sees identifying with Christ’s sufferings as the inevitable path to life.

Like camping on the deck the other night. It was my stupid idea, but then I found myself trying to talk the kids out of it because just wanted to sleep in my comfortable bed. Then I thought: I’m a father. It’s not about me; be a man, be the man, set up the tents. The Result: the experience with my kids was way better than a comfortable night’s sleep. Hopefully it will inspire my kids to one day endure uncomfortable things for the sake of fun with their kids and on and on. We need to die to ourselves even in the small things of life to experience the really good things of life.

So how do we “press on”? Well, we don’t look back: “forgetting what is behind” (v 13). Ever been fighting with your spouse and all you’re saying back and forth is, “You remember that time when you…” “Oh and let’s not forget that time when…” That kind of talk is about as useful as decaf coffee or non-alcoholic beer. What’s the point? Forgetting is a choice. We don’t have to literally forget something to move on and be productive. Focus on the productive things; not just all the cheesy “positive” things, but the productive things.

Read Philippians 3:1-9. Paul makes his stand against a first-century group called the Judaizers. It was a legalistic group that majored in checking all the boxes, insisting that you had to be circumcised in order to be accepted by God. But in v 2, Paul calls them “men who do evil” because they had false confidence in an outward religious rite.

Scripture speaks of a “circumcision of the heart” (Rom 2:25-29; Col 2:11). That’s the point of it all. And this was not some new innovation from Paul. The OT spoke of it frequently (Lev 26:41; Deut 10:16; 30:6; Jer 4:4; Ezek 44:7). The point is: don’t let outward symbols replace inward spiritual devotion.

Paul goes on to make the case that if religious works were the point, then certainly he had it made (vv 4-5). Paul was once a Pharisee — a member of the strictest side of Judaism. But ultimately, Paul rejects all his former religious works with disgust. He calls it “rubbish” when compared to something immeasurably greater: “The surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus.” “Knowing” is all about relationship.

The problem sometimes is that people can’t see Christ because they’re too busy looking at Christians. If we could just get people to get their eyes off of people and their “to-do” lists, and instead fix their eyes on a person — Jesus Christ — they would be wooed by “the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus.” So I like to tell people, just read the NT, and just study that person Jesus.

This new “confidence” Paul speaks of (used 3 times) changes everything, all the way down to your identity. When you begin to know your identity in Christ, you no longer rely on people to define you. Christ defines you, not your critical co-worker; not even a critical spouse. In 1 Corinthians 4:3-4, this same Paul says: “I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; indeed, I do not even judge myself. My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me.” Don’t let people’s opinions of you define you. Let Christ define you. And if the Scriptures say that “you are more than a conqueror” and that “you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you” and that God is “completing what He started in you” then believe that, not someone’s subjective analysis of you. Don’t even believe your own self-analysis. Believe God’s word!

But this kind of confidence takes time to grow. If we’ve allowed other people to define us our entire lives growing up, it won’t be easy to shake it. But if your life is truly centered on Christ, then your confidence and spiritual self-esteem will grow as you realize what is already yours in Christ. And the church should be a refuge and a greenhouse where this kind of growth flourishes.

Read Philippians 2:19-30.

This is a snapshot of koinonia, the truest, deepest kind of friendship at the spiritual level. Why is this sometimes difficult? It all started with Adam and Eve and the sin that caused relational issues with God and each other. Being naked just wasn’t the same anymore! And we’ve been putting on our garb and putting up our guard ever since. This is the purpose of the cross: So that we no longer feel the need to hide from God; and in our spiritual relationships, we should no longer need to put up our guard and be posers with each other.

Note the four marks of Christ-like friendship from this section of Scripture (Props to Nicky Gumbal for the framework of this outline; many of my thoughts injected. Nicky has a great book called “A Life Worth Living”, and it’s a little book “worth buying”).

1. Genuine Interest. Paul looks around and sees a bunch of selfishness, saying, “Everyone looks out for his own interests” (v 21). But not Timothy; in v 20: “I have no one else like him, who takes a genuine interest in your welfare.” I believe that this “genuine interest” is the most effective way to share Christ. It’s not that we make friends in order to proselytize; no, we genuinely care, and because of that, we share.

2. Common Focus (v 21). Paul was all about “the interests of Jesus Christ.” That’s what I call “looking out for Number One.” That’s what he had in common with his buddies. Ordinary friendships are usually about things we have in common, hobbies, doing things together, trash-talking each other’s football teams. And that’s great; who doesn’t love that? But Christianity is in another league. There’s an unparalleled closeness that the New Testament calls “fellowship” (koinonia)—the world knows nothing about it; it’s this inexplicable obsession with God and “the interests of Jesus Christ” (v 21).

3. Co-Slaving (v 22). Remember Paul was humble. The Greek in v 22 is, “He [Timothy] slaved with me.” Likewise, Epaphroditus was a “fellow-worker” (v 25). Some of the people I feel closest to are the ones I’ve had the opportunity slave with. Whether going to Mississippi, or India, or all the sweat we poured out in renovating the church together. Slaving together has a way of keeping it real.

4. Risk (v 30). Epaphroditus risked his life for the gospel. His name suggests that his parents had devoted him to the service of Aphrodite—the goddess of love and the patron of gambling! We might say that Epaphroditus was a gambler for the gospel. The expression used in verse 30 could be translated as “gambling his life.” In the days of the early church, there was an association of men and women called “the gamblers.” They would visit prisons and people with infectious diseases. They were willing to risk their lives to serve others.

Are any of these four marks of Christlike friendship evident in your life?

Here are my Top Ten reasons why Calvary may be a difficult place for you:

10. We love the Bible and think it’s important to actually do what it says

9. We think the gospel is more than just talk; it’s walk: going to places like India, Kenya, Ukraine, Mississippi, Assisted Living Homes, the local Soup Kitchen, building houses for people, etc. …you get the point

8. We are a bunch of strugglers and our spirituality is sometimes messy; so we want to help each other UP, not push each other down

7. We don’t feel the need to dress up, and we don’t judge those who do

6. We are real (which sometimes means admitting our own hypocrisy)

5. We hate gossip… but sometimes get caught up in it anyway. Most of us, I think, want to change that

4. We would rather ask, “What was your name again?” than say, “Hey… man!”

3. We think change is usually good

2. We like drums, guitars, smiles, tears, and singing worshipers who applaud God after most songs

1. We’ll ask YOU for time, talent, money and yes, even blood when we bring the Red Cross to town

If you are up to the challenge, then join us in our efforts to change this world amuck, with God’s help, little by little…

Thoughts that Stick from Philippians 2:1-11

Division really gets to Paul; he often pleads for unity. He lists four “ifs”…

1. If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ (I do)
2. If any comfort from his love (that’s me)
3. If any fellowship with the Spirit (last I checked)
4. If any tenderness and compassion (on my better days)

If these four ifs are true of me, then Paul tells me to make his “joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.”

If, if, if, if; in other words, it’s “iffy” to think I’m really a Christian if I’m typically divisive.

Paul is purposely redundant on unity because it’s the most significant authentication of our Message.

The life Paul is calling us to is totally counterintuitive: jettison selfish ambition, pride, division, and vain conceit.

I see a ladder. If we follow Christ’s example in vv 5-8, then we climb down.

In the kingdom of God, down is the new up.

What can a ladder teach us about God? From the very beginning we’re taught to climb. We’re told to scratch, to claw, to stab; whatever it takes, just get up there. Oh, and the promise? Happiness is there at the top; you’ll see. But just watch the news; is this typically true? So there’s this “secret” that God wants you to know. It’s deep, it’s liberating, and to some, it’s farfetched. Decide for yourself, Sunday morning, 10:30. Get directions to Calvary by clicking the link to our website…

I have a friend named Tom. Tom is a plumber. Tom is an especially good friend of mine when things go wrong with the plumbing at my house.

Tom doesn’t claim to be a theologian, but he sure does seem to understand the Kingdom of God. See, some time ago Tom went to work for a very rich, mean man. This man had that tangible superiority complex thing going on. In fact, this rich mean man wouldn’t even shake Tom’s hand. How would that make you feel? Tom could have returned evil for evil; Tom could have been bitter. Instead, Tom had a made-up mind that he was only going to return good for evil. That’s was Tom’s personal policy toward said rich mean man.

Tom did the hard, counterintuitive work of mercy. And guess what. Over time, something began to happen. Rich Mean Man really started liking Plumber Tom, and not just liking Tom, but respecting Tom. Rich Mean Man was turning into Rich Nice Man, at least whenever he was exposed to Tom. Now Rich Nice Man shakes Tom’s hand and asks Tom for advice and likes Tom a lot. That’s the power of mercy in the kingdom of God.

Tom lived out the principle of 1 Peter 2:12: “Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.” That word “see” in “see your good deeds” means long observation over time. What if Tom had only been nice to former Rich Mean Man one or two times? Probably nothing. But because Tom persevered in his practice of Kingdom living, the long testimony of a life well-lived had an eventual transforming affect on the guy.

Counterintuitive living isn’t easy. But it sure is powerful.

I have a friend named Tom. Tom is a plumber. Tom is an especially good friend of mine when things go wrong with the plumbing at my house.

Tom doesn’t claim to be a theologian, but he sure does seem to understand the Kingdom of God. See, some time ago Tom went to work for a very rich, mean man. This man had that tangible superiority complex thing going on. In fact, this rich mean man wouldn’t even shake Tom’s hand. How would that make you feel? Tom could have returned evil for evil; Tom could have been bitter. Instead, Tom had a made-up mind that he was only going to return good for evil. That’s was Tom’s personal policy toward said rich mean man.

Tom did the hard, counterintuitive work of mercy. And guess what. Over time, something began to happen. Rich Mean Man really started liking Plumber Tom, and not just liking Tom, but respecting Tom. Rich Mean Man was turning into Rich Nice Man, at least whenever he was exposed to Tom. Now Rich Nice Man shakes Tom’s hand and asks Tom for advice and likes Tom a lot. That’s the power of mercy in the kingdom of God.

Tom lived out the principle of 1 Peter 2:12: “Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.” That word “see” in “see your good deeds” means long observation over time. What if Tom had only been nice to former Rich Mean Man one or two times? Probably nothing. But because Tom persevered in his practice of Kingdom living, the long testimony of a life well-lived had an eventual transforming affect on the guy.

Counterintuitive living isn’t easy. But it sure is powerful.

We’re all lawbreakers. So how should a bunch of lawbreakers treat each other? We know we’re supposed to delineate between right and wrong. But we can never forget just how level the playing field is. James warns us: “Judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment!” (James 2:13) This is a hard word for hardliners.

Real mercy—the kind Jesus says we’re supposed to “learn”—is helping each other UP. Are you helping up or pushing down?

I was running late on my way to a funeral. I was tooling down the Interstate totally stressed, totally late. A State Trooper took interest in my vehicle and stepped out into the lane and flagged me over. I was busted, stressed, and totally flipping out. He said, “You were doing 85 in a 55. Where are you going?” Black suit and all, I replied, “Officer, I’m sorry. I’m a pastor on my way to do a funeral, and I’m late.” I saw that he could see the Bible on the passenger’s seat. So he said, “Given the circumstances, I’m going to show mercy; next time, leave your house earlier.” I was so grateful. I did the speed limit all the way to the funeral home. The mercy the cop showed me made me want to obey the law. That’s the lesson. When the woman caught in adultery was shown mercy, Jesus could say “Go and sin no more” knowing that her heart of gratitude would learn from mercy more than it would ever learn from trap-setting legalism. The best way we can hold each other accountable is to show mercy.

Now, contrast the merciful State Trooper with an unmerciful red light camera. About a year ago, I was tooling along failing to memorize which intersections had those nice little legalistic cameras installed. As I went through what I saw to be an “orange” light, I noticed a flash go off on that warm dusk evening.

I can’t justify speeding or running lights. It’s the law. But in the one instance, a human heart saw a difficult circumstance and made a call using the rule of mercy. The inhuman red light camera, however, ruled purely on the basis of law. I’m not here to say which is better for our law-breaking society, but I think I can say which is better for the church. The heart of mercy trumps legalism. Which should we more reflect? The State Trooper, or the Red Light Camera?

I’ve been around red-light-camera-Christians long enough to know that their hard-line religious legalism never leads people UP. Now granted, the red light camera system does work. But it’s superficial. I bet fewer people run lights in my town of Columbia—at least at the intersections with the cameras. And those that do run them may even pose for the camera by flipping the bird. Mercy is better than law because it makes reasonable people want to obey; but merciless religion leads to loopholes and superficial behavioral modification. Choose mercy.