Imago Dei

What do Cuba, North Korea, Russia, and America have in common? Their national flags are red, white and blue, along with 24 other countries. In fact it seems that red, white and blue is the most common color scheme for national flags. This reality struck me yesterday as I was listening to Toby Keith’s song, “Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue (The Angry American).” I’m glad Keith clarified the song as “The Angry American” because I might have mistaken the courtesy there extended as coming from Cuba, North Korea, Russia, Liberia, Thailand or Slovakia. And while I’m not a fan of the song, I was struck by the fact that most Americans probably resonate with these three colors because they view them synonymously with America, patriotism, national identity and pride. It also gave me pause because the British flag (I’m British by decent) is red, white, and blue, and the Australian flag (I’m Australian by birth) is also red, white, and blue. I don’t know that I can feel complete allegiance to “red, white and blue” when it’s the most common color scheme for national flags on the planet. Knowing that it’s also shared with 27 other nations somehow causes me to lower my voice before cheering for the red, white and blue in confronting other reds, whites and blues in the international theater. Should relations with North Korea sour even more, we might have a case of the red, white and blue verses the red, white and blue. Then, what do we sing? It gets quite confusing.

And if you’re wondering where the American “red, white and blue” originated, I’m sorry to report that we “borrowed” it from the British. America’s first flag, the Grand Union Flag (or The Continental Colors), was created by simply adding white stripes to the British flag of the day. It was also nearly identical to the flag of the British East India Company. Hence, we have the British to thank for the reds, whites, and blues.

This might not be an issue at all if this were the only occurrence of co-opting language for ourselves. When people speak of “church,” they typically mean “their” church, despite the Christian tradition’s expression of many different churches, or “the church” when what is meant is “Southern, rural, white, moderate Church of Christ.” It’s a frustrating lesson in clarity, provincialism, ethnocentrism, and myopia. And it never seems to leave us.

It would be nice to identify an appropriate expression that doesn’t ignore the fact that 27 other nations share these colors but speaks to the true heart of our national identity that can’t be defined by three colors. And it would be nice to speak of “church” while not ignoring the fair people from many thousands of dissimilar global churches who might also regard themselves as a “church” and learn something about ourselves from their expression of church.

And lest I be labeled as unpatriotic, let it be known that my views and affection for my new home are not defined by provincial language or colors or much of the usual patriotic expressions, but by the freedoms and cultures present herein that makes this country strong and the expression of the Christian faith so diverse.

As my clock alarm, the enemy of my sleep, beeped loudly at me, I rolled over to look out the window and gaze down toward the ocean. Instead, I saw clouds on my balcony, large clouds bursting forth rain and relentlessly drowning the earth around me. This might be a common sight in Seattle but it’s rare in Malibu and it’s the first big rain I can remember since last December. I tried hard to focus on the clouds and the cotton-cloaked buildings on the Pepperdine campus. Slowly, cars and buildings came into focus. People were leaving for work and the streets were awakening to new day. It was the only view I had, for a minute. I then adjusted my focus, similar to the way you have to change your focus when you move your eyes from a distant object to a close object. I then saw a different story, hundreds of rain drops on my window were sitting there looking back at me. Some decided to make their journey to the bottom of the window and into a pool of rain while others sat, waiting for another rain drop to roll down the window and collect it on its journey downward. I couldn’t look at both stories at the same time. Both were interesting and compelling but I figured the window was designed for me to look through it and the world beyond, not at it. This is why we clean windows, right? They are not meant to be seen, which is why people draw large white Xs on them in order to prevent people from killing themselves by walking through them.

It occurred to me that we look at the bible in two similar ways. The bible, a window to the story of God and the stories of his people, provides us with great depth and rich insight into a few thousand years of the eternal story of God. But, if we adjust our focus to the window itself (the books of the bible, textual criticism, linguistic peculiarities, apparent contradictions and errors, cultural imperatives and exegetical problems), we can quickly find ourselves in a parallel story of authorship, audiences, occasions for writing and literary conversations. And while there is certainly a time and place for these conversations (having spent years in college and seminary I know this too well), the real purpose of the “window” is to tell the grander, overarching, story of God’s faithfulness which ultimately points us to Jesus. If we miss that story, the window has failed to serve its true purpose. It doesn’t exist primarily for our intellectual pleasure (although we can love God with our mind here), nor does it exist primarily as a literary curiosity, code to crack, blueprint to decipher, or check-list to follow. It exists to tell a greater story through and beyond its pages. It exists to tell the world of the story of God’s faithfulness found in full expression through the life of Jesus. If we miss this in looking through the window, then we’ll only ever see rain.

I like to consider myself a seasoned traveler. I have the flying routine down to an art and can navigate crowded terminals and long security lines with ease. I pre-select my seat based on advance intel from seatguru.com and even invested in a pair of noise canceling headphones to maximize my time in flight. I’m also fascinated with the way that chance and providence affects many things we do. The two came together in a dramatic way in the last twenty-four hours for me, for nothing could have prepared me for the near arrests, missed connections, stolen luggage, and Satanic rental cars of the last twenty-four hours.

The first sign that this trip was about to go from good to terrible was a text message from American Airlines informing me that my flight was delayed by twenty minutes (three hours before departure). I knew from experience that this was “best-case scenario” and my 50 minute connection in Dallas was shrinking. After parking my car at LAX and removing the key so it could be cleaned (this is important for later), I made my way to security only to be sent through the new body scan machines. Lights flash and bells sounded. I receive the full pat down and they wipe my fingers and test for “residue.” More lights flash. “Do you have lotion on your hands,” the officer asks. “No,” I said. “Well we’ve found something suspicious on your hands. Please follow me.” They collect all my bags and lead me to a frosted glass room, wipe all my clothes down and test again.  This time they find nothing. What I failed to remember is that I had checked the oil level in my car using my fingers to wipe the dip-stick earlier in the morning, not knowing that I would be treated to this joyous experience as a result. My flight departed 45 minutes late but the oily handed man was on board. After over-nighting in Dallas I boarded the shuttle to return to DFW for my flight to Little Rock. I was the last guest to be dropped off and the driver ran to the back of the shuttle to retrieve my bag. I took one look at the bag and said, “That’s not my bag.” “This isn’t your bag?” he asked. “No, that’s not my bag,” I replied. We stood there staring at each other for what felt like five minutes. Neither of us knew quite what to do. There are no social rules for situations like this. He called his boss while I opened the bag to look for the owner’s contact details to no avail. Further, this bag looked nothing like my bag, not even close. The driver remembered who took my bag so I jumped back on the shuttle and we drove to the airport Hyatt hotel where the guest had exited. My plane was boarding in 15 minutes. I ran frantically through the restaurant looking for my bag but couldn’t see it anywhere. The concierge at the Hyatt said he would take my name and address and have it shipped to me when the guest discovered he had it and came looking for his bag. Wow! I was very impressed. His boss walked over and immediately asked who would be paying for the shipment. Wrong question to ask a guest who had just been impressed by the concierge’s customer service. The Westin driver and the Hyatt concierge both said they would, leaving me with the chance to make my flight. I raced through security and arrived at the gate just as they were closing the door.

I sat on the plane pondering the events of the last twenty-four hours. What if I hadn’t checked my oil? What if I had used a paper towel when I did? What if the shuttle driver dropped me off first? What if the guest who had my bag had been catching a flight and not staying at a hotel? It seems that little, almost insignificant decisions can dramatically affect your life. How much of this is chance and how much is providence is unknown to me. None of it could have been prevented given what I knew at the time. I do know that I will not be checking the oil on the day of departure and I will be watching what bags people take when they get off the shuttle, but changed behaviors like this are only possible with hindsight.

However, I do think God intended to give me a laugh when I arrived at Little Rock airport. As I approached my rental car I read the license plate: 666 OMG. Now that had to be providential!

I still don’t have my bag and I’m hoping there will be another story to share when the man calls me, apologizes, and offers to allow my family to use his yacht in the Caribbean for a week. Or, UPS may just dump the bag on my porch. Let’s hope the right choices are made between now and then.

Oh, and my keys are all in my bag, except the one and only car key I have which I removed before I left to have my car washed before I return (something I have never done before). Chance? Providence?

“God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams!”

Ephesians 3:20 (The Message)

I tried to put the sentiment of this verse in my own limited words today. Here’s what I came up with:

You can’t outrun him in running to those who need him, or outbless him in blessing the oppressed, you can’t outcheer him in cheering for his children, or outchase him in his pursuit of the broken, or outcry him in his pain for the suffering.  You can’t outdream him in his dreams for you, outlove him in his love for you, outserve him in his service to you, or outheal him in his healing of your soul.

He will outlisten you when you’re tired of listening to friends in need and outmourn you when your mourning over their injustice ends. He will outprotect you when you grow weary from protecting others, outrace you when you run to help them and outstart you when you begin.

He will outsupply your needs and outgive your gifts, but will also will outclap you, outdance you, and outrejoice you as he celebrates you and your gifts. When you feed others, he will outfeed you. When you think you live a model life, he will outmodel you. When you hold those you love, he will outhold you. When your gifts bring you praise, his gifts will outshine you.

You can’t outthink him, outlaugh him or outplan him, for his thoughts, humor and plans are always better. When you think you teach well and read well, remember that he outteaches and outreads you every day. And when others harm you, he will outforgive you for he is quicker to forgive than we can ever be.

He is our outdoing God who uses his outdoing power to heal, restore, love and mend perfectly.

Thank God he is God and we are not.

I reached for the bill placed carefully on the edge of our table, having just enjoyed a great conversation with a new friend at a local restaurant. My friend reached for it, saying, “It’s my turn to pay. You got it last time.”  “I’m not allowed to get it again?,” I asked, half-joking. “No, no, let me get it,” he said. I loosened my grip on the bill, smiled, and said, “Well, thanks. I enjoyed our time together,” trying to shift the conversation from finances back to our experience together.

I’m becoming convinced that score-keeping is a sign of the fall. Many of us don’t like receiving more than we can give. We’re not comfortable with a friend’s generosity unless we are able to reciprocate. “I owe you one,” we’ll say.  If people give us more than we can ever give in return we’re likely to say, “How can I ever repay you?” The commonality of such questions points to a universal condition of score keeping. I recently heard of a friend who responded to a friend’s gift by saying, “I’m not comfortable with you doing that because we’ll never be in a position to do the same for you.” Children learn this early in the negative form. A child will say to a sibling, “You’ve borrowed my shirt three times!! I should be able to borrow yours once!”

This attitude is magnified in our relationship with God. We will always be receiving more than we can ever give in his economy. This will never change. No amount of score-keeping with God will make us feel better about our meager contributions. We might privately think that our spiritual score card looks quite good, marked with church attendance, feeding the hungry, saying our prayers and reading our bibles, so when the time comes to turn in our score cards we will have a compelling argument to offer if our contributions are questioned. While not earning our salvation, we can at least feel good about what we have contributed to it. And while my friend will spend more on this breakfast than I did on our last meal, I can at least feel good about my last contribution.

This is bad theology and a warped view of God’s economy!  It’s exceedingly bad because it robs the giver of the opportunity to lavish his gifts on you without any thought of a repayment plan which then messes up your view of grace which then screws up your mission to the world.

It’s never been about balancing the scales of our contributions. It’s always been about us receiving God’s lavish love and grace and then giving his lavish love and grace in the same way we have received it, without any thought of people repaying or tracking our gifts. This also means we must be willing to receive from others in the same way we expect them to receive from us.

This is at the heart of the gospel, the crazy story of a God who gave everything for  people to restore right relationships and remove the score-keeping. And when the gospel is fully expressed in our relationship with God and with each other, score cards are unnecessary, mental gift-tracking and spiritual check-lists are worthless. Receive the fullness of God’s generosity and respond with the fullness of your generosity in the lives of others, no more, no less.

I wrote this last summer and share it publicly as a reflection on the life of the church after our five interviews…

I dream of a church where Christ’s Lordship shapes the personal lives of every member, where every member claims his and her faith in joyful embrace as their character evolves to reflect the character of Christ. I dream of a church where every member independently seeks to invest themselves in the work of Christ, taking personal responsibility for their level of commitment in sharing the love of Jesus through acts of justice and mercy. I dream of a church where every member is united in purpose, not in preferences or traditions, to love God and love their neighbors. I dream of a church where people genuinely tolerate the preferences of other members so the full gospel is reflected in the life of the church. I dream of a church where members don’t expect the entire church to always accommodate their personal preferences. I dream of a church where the “amens” shouted by members in agreement with sermons on loving neighbors and reaching the unchurched are surpassed by members who actually love their neighbors and reach the unchurched.  I dream of a church where unnecessary complaint and detraction is silenced by the overwhelming cry of poor and hurting people in their midst in need of a Savior, instead of lectures on peripheral issues which hijack the mission of Christ. I dream of a church which is willing to lay aside traditions which limit her ability to speak the language of the culture she seeks to reach, recognizing such traditions as sinful in their essence and practice when they prevent people from seeing Christ in the church. I dream of a church where members are honest and open about their personal brokenness and sinful character so that those who appear to have their lives in order are really the ones who are truly broken. I dream of a church that strips bare the gospel of Christ revealing the central truths of faith, hope and love upon which our faith turns. I dream of a church whose leadership is fortified with unrelenting courage and boldness in their pursuit of Christ and his mission, willing to take great risks to reach those in the center and on the fringes of our culture.  I dream of a church that walks intimately with the Spirit of God, listening to his guidance and surrendering to his will, regardless of where that leads. I dream of a church that is saturated in God’s word, knowing deeply its words of life and living in ongoing transformation by its infallible power. I dream of a church that lives out its mission in relationship with the larger community of faith, willing to join with believers from different traditions to reflect the unity for which Christ prayed on the night he was betrayed.  I dream of a church unsatisfied by their stagnation and apathy for radical discipleship with one another and those yet to believe.  I dream of a church that measures success by the personal transformation of members and the hearts of those who come to know Christ through their love, not by counting property and people. I dream of a church where private ownership and personal possessions are valued as the blessing they should be to the community and world, not in the amassing of fortunes for themselves. I dream of a church where the titled, credentialed, and experienced are not by default the “gifted and skilled,” but rather those who are willing to be used entirely for the mission of Christ as a “gift” of his grace to the world.

I dream of a church which is Protestant in its “protest” against broken and apathetic church practices, Catholic in its “universal” reach to the hurting, and Jewish in its charge “to life” (“La Chaim”) lived in the Spirit. I dream of a church where salvation is not defined by mere intellectual assent to theological beliefs, but faith in Christ responding in love to God and our neighbor.  I dream of a church where God’s prophetic voice is welcomed and heard in our assemblies as the Spirit guides women and men of faith.  I dream of a church willing to hear God’s revelation to us through our culture and world, recognizing that the church does not control the voice of God. I dream of a church whose members take their identity from Christ alone, not from their national identity, political affiliation or denominational loyalty.

I dream of a church which is not defined by what members practice when they gather together, but by how they live when they’re apart. I dream of a church which doesn’t take its security from its “Christian” nation, but finds its security in Christ alone. I dream of a church that resists the Americanization of God, realizing that God transcends national and political borders and loves our enemies as much as he loves us. I dream of a church that can easily identify the inherited limitations of its denominational lineage to better contextualize the gospel for the emerging generation. I dream of a church that can speak the language of emerging generations and come alongside the work God is doing in them to help bring them to spiritual wholeness. I dream of a church which has a high view of people and a tempered view of process. Lastly, I dream of a church where staff and leaders pour themselves into the lives of those they serve (both churched and unchurched), using all means possible to touch and heal as many as possible, allowing programs and methods to take shape around the distinctive qualities of their culture.

I dream many dreams. These are just a few. I hope you have dreams, too.

I think all the Christians in Malibu decided that today was their day to visit Starbucks. That, or I just had the unlucky experience of meeting many of them before I ran into Jackie. Jackie was sitting at a table adjacent to mine. She was engrossed in emails when I asked her if she could move her bag which was blocking the outlet my laptop desperately needed. I apologized and then asked her if she would mind helping me for a few minutes with my project. (This line has tended to work better than others I’ve tried!) After describing it for her I asked her how she defined “the world.” “The planet,” she said as she gently shrugged and raised her eyebrows as if to question her answer. “Okay,” I continued, “so “the world” is the material world, the continents, oceans, mountains, and so on?” “Right,” she said.  “Have you ever heard Christians use this term,” I asked. “I don’t think so,” she said. Jackie had told me earlier during my description of the project that she didn’t have many friends who went to church. Frankly, I wasn’t surprised by her answer, nor was I surprised by her answer to my first questions. She went on to say that she didn’t know many “Christian words” but didn’t think “the world” was a Christian term. I thanked her for her time and she quickly returned to her email.

“The world” is a term that could be described as “strong insider language.” It is frequently used by Christians to label non-Christians but seldom, if ever, used by Christians in the presence of non-Christians. It’s become a dirty term for some, a term used to villify people, create suspicion and distance, separation and exclusion. “Non-Christian” is a safer, more popular term to use. “The world” can also be used to describe an unseen influence, a cultural reality or “the pattern of the world” which stands in opposition to “Christian values.” Thus, it can be used differently depending on the context.

This brief conversation was insightful for me in a significant way. It reminded me that our use of the term carries more negative connotations than its use by people who don’t follow Jesus. It’s become adversarial language for many of us. I tried to reconcile this with John 3:16, “For God so loved the world…” Clearly, God has a very important place in his heart for “the world.” John didn’t say, “For God so loved the church…” (even though he does), or “God so loved Israel…” (even though he does), or “God so loved those who love him…” (even though he does). God LOVES the word, is MADLY PASSIONATE about the world, and was willing to give his son for it. And while a Christian’s identity should be shaped by Christ, we shouldn’t position ourselves in a superior way to those who don’t follow Christ. Wasn’t it Jesus who washed the feet of his betrayer, who fed many how would never follow him, who forgave his executors, and honored the dishonorable? Wasn’t it Jesus who drank with sinners and IRS agents, who enjoyed the company of people despised by religious leaders, and who loved people worthy of stoning? I don’t know about you, but I want “the world” to experience this type of Christian response to “the world.” Perhaps then, “the world” will experience the love of Jesus and surrender more easily to his Lordship when they witness the true presence of God in their lives.