Everything I know I learned from Jesus.

Well friends, we’ve come to the final day of this series and I hope it’s been as enjoyable for you as it has for me. The emails you’ve sent and conversations we’ve had have encouraged me with the news that this series accomplished what I hoped, which included inspiring and encouraging whomever happened to stop by.

I want to end by saying thanks, not only to you but to the many people who made this series possible. Turning 30 has been as meaningful for me as I’d hoped. This series has memorialized many of the things I’ve learned in three decades, and if there’s one thing I’ve realized through the process it is how much I owe to the good people I’ve had the fortune to interact with, whether face-to-face or face-to-page.

I’m tempted to try to name all my influences but I won’t for two reasons: I’d forget too many of them, and I don’t want to pretend this series is some sort of great accomplishment. My corner of the blogosphere is tiny, so all I want to say is that this tiny corner wouldn’t be the same without my family, friends, and mentors. And most of all, I want to say thanks to Jesus for everything I’ve learned. I’ve not felt the need to say “Jesus” at every turn, but I have begun to see what Paul meant when he said “all treasures of wisdom and knowledge are hidden in Christ.”

I’ll close with one more encouragement. We are all teachers; other people will believe certain things because of our existence, most of the time in ways we can’t predict or plan for. So let’s be good teachers. And for what it’s worth, anything good I’ve said can be traced directly or indirectly to you know who.

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NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #30 (see all the topics here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

Don’t take yourself too seriously.

I love when I don’t mind being laughed at, which isn’t often enough, because it means I am in the presence of people I know truly love me. I also love it because it means I’m not taking myself too seriously.

I’ve been honest about the fact that I take my life seriously, and that I have a relatively high opinion of myself. But I must be equally honest about the obvious: I am not a god. I am a man. I am weak. I am small. I am laugh-at-able. In the long arc of history, I am insignificant. If the odds hold, very few people will remember me one hundred years from now, and after another hundred no living person will know of my existence. I might be wrong, but probably not.

I suppose this can be a bit depressing, but for me it is also freeing. The pressure’s off. While our lives matter and everything we do or fail to do makes a difference, the success of history as a whole does not depend solely on you or me. We’re just not that important. This is good news, because it means we can fall asleep at night knowing our inactivity does not stall the world’s productivity. And we can laugh at ourselves.

The next time you act goofy or someone pokes fun or talks behind your back, laugh at yourself. Laugh and celebrate the fact that God never said not to take your name in vain.

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NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #29 (see the so-far list here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

I’ll never get rid of my pride and that’s a good thing.

If a prideful person discovered the formula for actually overcoming pride, he’d be ruined.

It’s almost cliche to say this, but pride is one of my primary sin tendencies. I want what I want, and I generally believe I deserve it and am capable of getting it. [A few people have tried to convince me that I only like myself on the surface because I hate myself underneath. I appreciate their attempts at psychological excavation, but I’m afraid they’re wrong.]

I don’t believe I should hate myself; God made me and he likes me, so I like me too. But I know I’m far from all good. I can be kind of mean (even if only in my head) as well as intensely competitive to a dangerous degree, and I fight regularly against the pull to build some sort of empire (however puny in the grand scheme).

I like to win contests and make discoveries. So if I became the one who unlocked the secret to mastering pride, I would immediately become the most prideful person in the room. Because of pride’s toxicity, the best thing for God to do is disable me from “winning the battle” against it.

As it stands, I know who I am and why that is a problem. I know I can’t just work a little harder or smarter and fix myself, so I have no option but to constantly rely on God to be powerful in my weakness. And that is a good thing.

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NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #28 (see the so-far list here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

Don’t hate your doubt.

Doubt, for lack of a better word, is good.

Doubt opens the door for faith. Faith without doubt is like courage without fear. The absence of fear is not courage; it’s naivete or immaturity or pathology. Fear is the precondition for courage. There is no courage without fear. Courage without fear is like victory without competition. If you’re not competing, you can’t win. And if you’re not afraid, you can’t prove courageous. It’s not a lack in you, it’s a logical impossibility. Maybe the analogy breaks down, but maybe it holds: If you have no doubt – if you know – can you believe?

Doubt keeps us honest. My nervous-meter rises when anyone claims that their view is obvious. Christianity or atheism, pacifism or just war, new perspective or old. If you “don’t understand how anyone could think that,” that’s a you problem. People think all of it because none of it is obvious. And if it is obvious, then everyone who disagrees with you is either evil or stupid. And that’s obviously not true. By all means land, but land lightly.

Doubt exposes our idols and recenters us. The further we migrate from the center of any web of belief, the more we are tempted to exaggerate the importance and structural soundness of our convictions. My doubt reminds me that my faith isn’t in a doctrine or a position or a party or a method, but a person.

Don’t hate your doubt. God can use your doubt to save you.

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NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #27 (see the so-far list here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

Stop lying to yourself.

Most of us spend much of our lives running from the truth.

We hate when others lie, but what about when we lie to ourselves? Why do we allow ourselves to deny or bend reality to fit our fantasies or confirm our fears?

Stop lying to yourself about life. It is not that simple. You tell yourself it’s simple because you’re afraid to face it’s complexity. Stop lying to yourself and face reality, even if you can’t yet handle it.

Stop lying to yourself about others. Everything is not their fault. They are not dumber, smarter, uglier, or prettier than you. They are not out to get you, upstage you, seduce you, or bow before you. In fact, they’re probably not even thinking about you (except when wondering what you think about them). Stop lying to yourself and let others be.

Stop lying to yourself about yourself. Most of us hate being truly alone and completely silent, because in silent solitude all we have is ourselves – our petty fears, vindictive memories, and embarrassing fantasies. (I can’t tell you how many last second shots I’ve hit or arguments I’ve won while I was “praying.”) Get alone, get quiet, and face the reality of how much you depend on noise and affirmation to make yourself feel loved. You’ll never know love until you face the ugly truth about who you are, and you’ll never face that truth so long as you persist in distraction. God loves you, so tell yourself the truth.

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NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #26 (see the so-far list here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

Convictions become idols more easily than you think.

I’m a guy with strong convictions. I think things through and arrive at conclusions I can fight for, and I enjoy fighting for them. This may be wrong or mean, but I think people without convictions usually have emotional or social baggage that prevent them from developing the psychological and relational capacity to commit.

Convictions, however, are dangerous. Our convictions become part of our identity. You can’t call yourself a “Calvinist” or “pacifist” or “conservative” or “Muslim” without these labels penetrating your sense of self. And we protect whatever becomes attached to our definition of “me.” Our convictions become objects of faith rather than pointers to the only One to whom our faith should be directed. Convictions are especially dangerous when we believe we can justifiably back them with the support of God. In short, they become idols.

Take Galatians. Paul’s opponents in Galatia were certain about what we could call their “four spiritual laws”:

1. God had chosen them as his people.
2. They were called to live different than the world around them.
3. This differentness was defined as faithfulness to God’s will as revealed in their Bibles.
4. Those who called themselves “God’s people” but deviated from this path were compromisers who needed to step up their faith.

Kind of hard to argue with that list, so it’s surprising that Paul called their beliefs a non-gospel that set them on a sure course straight to hell. But he did.

Why? Because their convictions prevented them from being revolutionized by Jesus.

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NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #25 (see the so-far list here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

Keep reading people you don’t understand.

When you don’t understand what you’re reading, keep reading. It’s called learning and it’s not supposed to be easy. The ancients used to say mathein pathein, which in Greek means “to learn is to suffer.”

Think about people whose writing style or depth of content stretches your brain. I first read C.S. Lewis in high school and couldn’t get through his paragraph-long sentences. I got lost in all the Russian names of my first Dostoevsky novel. For the life of me I can’t understand poetry beyond Dr Seuss. But I keep reading and find that I can grasp more today than ever before.

Think also about people who write things we disagree with or think are so dumb it’s baffling someone could actually believe them.

If you lean left and come across an article that questions whether welfare actually helps poor folks, or argues that while equal in worth men and women are designed for different roles, or rips open the logic that an actual living human being is someone else’s physical and legal property to be disposed of at will, don’t hastily write off the writer as unenlightened. Keep reading.

If you lean right and read someone who claims that big corporations are more dangerous than big governments, or that your favorite way to describe the Bible is less than helpful, or that Christians shouldn’t say the pledge of allegiance, don’t get angry at this evil person and their preposterous positions. Keep reading.

It may hurt. But you will learn.

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NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #24 (see the so-far list here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

Gender-inclusive Bible translations are superior.

I deeply love my wife, who is a gifted and strong woman. I adore my daughter. I love and respect my mom for raising me to love Jesus. I have four sisters and I’d die for any of them. I care that women are properly empowered and respected and I resonate with those who draw attention to the ways we have failed to do this both past and present. One of those issues is how we translate the Bible from Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek into today’s languages.

More than once and for different reasons, I’ve heard folks deride new translations of Scripture that verbally include the female half of humanity in certain words and phrases: “humankind” instead of “man,” or “brothers and sisters” instead of “brothers” alone. Without sanctioning all the motives for these recent changes, I believe gender-inclusive translations are superior. I’ll tell you why, and then I’ll answer what seems to be the most common objection.

They are superior because they better represent what the original authors said. When writing the Hebrew word historically translated into English as “man,” they often had in mind both men and women. When they addressed a community with the Greek word translated “brothers,” they were speaking to both “brothers” and “sisters” alike. Since the purpose of translation is to accurately represent in our language and culture what the original writers meant in theirs, gender-inclusive translations make sense in cases like this.

Many object that this is all about political correctness and not offending people.

1. No it’s not, or at least it doesn’t have to be. It is about faithful verbal representation of original meaning.
2. Political correctness isn’t always lame. If someone would rather not be called a certain word, call them something else. It’s called kindness.
3. As Christians we’re commanded to be sensitive to our context and not cause unnecessary offense.

(I went over my word limit at “correctness” so stop reading if you must. I do have an appendix today though. After the jump I critique a blog post a friend sent me that argues against today’s point. Click “continue reading” below the next paragraph.)

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NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #23 (see the so-far list here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

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Politeness is more than just a middle-class coverup.

I used to think politeness was just a coverup high- and middle-class folks use to justify our sins. The niceness of manners arguably enables us to avoid the ugly truth about the injustice and oppression enabled by upholding the status quo.

I’m pretty sure I was right. Kind of.

Beth and I have always seen this issue a bit differently, but now that we have a young life to shape I’ve had to think beyond simply agreeing-to-disagree. I still think I’m right (surprise, surprise), but I realize that she is right too – especially now that I better understand her point. She might not say it this way, but she intuitively gets that politeness is a way of respecting another person’s dignity as someone whose assistance we are not entitled to receive. Adding “please” to our requests acknowledges that people aren’t our slaves. They don’t exist to serve us, and therefore they can choose not to if they so desire. Similarly, because we have no inherent claim on anyone’s kindness and love, saying “thank you” when someone helps us out just makes sense.

Some manners are silly to me – even dangerous. (I don’t give a crap how many forks you use, which side of the plate you put them on, etc. And if you care more about forks than sexual immorality or political idolatry, tisk tisk.) But at the very least, “please and thank you” are based on the truth that people don’t exist to meet my needs.

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NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #22 (see the so-far list here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience. 

On (Christians) cussing.

I hate getting asked about cussing, because most of the time it involves wives wanting to justify their husband-nagging, husbands wanting to justify them disregarding their wives’ sensitivity, or Christians wanting to justify more serious sins. (We’re good at that.) The actual words are rarely the real problem. Nonetheless I have to say something. If the words themselves aren’t the issue, what is?

Contempt. Our words reveal our heart and intention toward other people. Are we speaking in ways that build up or tear down? Much cussing falls into the latter category. It would be difficult to argue that calling someone a s*head or dumb son-of-a-b*, or telling them to f* off demonstrates Jesuslike love.

Control. In our day of dumb advice like, “You should say whatever you’re feeling because anything else is inauthentic,” self-control lies among the most underrated virtues. Just as good character reinforces itself, so does bad character. This isn’t to say that people who can’t control their mouths will cheat on their spouses, but learning to control your language certainly doesn’t weaken your ability to control other parts of your body. Either way, inability to control our tongues is not okay.

Context. Put simply, we need to know what kind of impact our words will have on the people we’re speaking to. Sometimes this means using a normally-out-of-bounds word for emphasis, but more often it means finding more creative and less offensive ways to make our point.

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NOTE: In light of my 30th birthday and in honor of the guys who have all the fun, I’ll be offering thirty reflections in thirty days starting December 19th. Today’s post is #21 (see the so-far list here). The only rule is that I have 250 words to make my point. After that just stop reading. Thanks for making my blog part of your internet experience.