Duped by the Make-up Man

I've been sucked into the political circus. All over the T.V. and radio there are thousands of people saying millions of words that amount to nothing and the thing that makes me mad is that I like it. I talk about politics at work, I listen to the circus on my way to and from work, I watch the conventions at night . . . it has subtly become an idol. I'm not at all suggesting that politics are a waste of time. In fact, the stakes of this next election are massive and the issues our country faces are not insignificant. Yet, the media is trivializing the governing of our country and we the people are eating it up. We should be looking for a great civil servant who desires to govern in wisdom and we are enjoying this political game like drunks at a cock fight.

I read a quote last week in J.P. Moreland's Love Your God with Your Mind that speaks directly to the political fluff I've been entertaining myself with lately.

"Our society has replaced heroes with celebrities, the quest for a well-informed character with the search for a flat stomach, substance and depth with image and personality. In the political process, the makeup man is more important than the speech writer, and we approach the voting booth, not on the basis of a well-developed philosophy of what the state should be, but with a heart full of images, emotions, and slogans, all packed into thirty-second sound bites. The mind-numbing irrational tripe that fills TV talks shows is digested by millions of bored, lonely Americans hungry for that sort of stuff. What is going on here? What has happened to us?"
-J.P. Moreland, Love Your God with All Your Mind, p. 21

Lord, Help is to grow in wisdom so that we may discern what is best and live for that which matters. Save us from falsehood. Help us to stand up for truth and to love the blessing of freedom without falling into the trap of thinking that your Kingdom is of this world. Guard our hearts and give us the eyes to see through the fog and delight in what is true, noble, right, excellent, and praisewothy. Please give us a a leader who serves and help us to be servants ourselves. Amen.
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My Toilet Talked to Me

This past week Abby and I got to take a group of high schoolers to a Christ in Youth Conference at Southern Illinois University. I enjoyed the racquetball, silent football, smoothies, chicken nuggets, worship music, Bible studies, and dorm room chats with the kids, but I especially enjoyed the sermons. One line from the first sermon of the week really sticks out to me.

"Most Christians spend more time on the toilet than they do talking to God."

I know God doesn't have a giant graph up in heaven comparing the time I spend on the can to the time I spend on my knees in prayer, but the fact of the matter is that, for me, that statement is probably true.

In Matthew 7:21-22 Jesus said, "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?" Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers."

It doesn't really matter if we call ourselves Christians. It matters what God calls us. I can do all kinds of Christiany stuff, but it doesn't matter unless I know Him--not know about Him, or know of Him, or know trivia facts about the Bible, or have read the latest theological books,but whether I know my Father and He knows me.

"And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you."

Matthew 6:5-6

I Just Received 55 Billion Dollars

Seriously. I was just given $55 billion in currency from Zimbabwe, which is worth absolutely nothing. Abby and I are blessed to be staying with Mac and Elsa van den Berg, the directors of Eagle's Nest Christian school in Polokwane, South Africa this week. Mac gave me the $55 billion tonight as a gift because he picked it up off the road last week in Zimbabwe. He was taking food rations to the country last week and saw the currency flying out of a bus in front of him. He drove up next to the bus to let them know that money was blowing out the windows and they literally laughed at him and told him it was worth nothing. He later bought a Coke for $3 billion.

Zimbabwe is in the news around the world, but here in South Africa on the border, the news is reality. The people in Zimbabwe literally have nothing. The government has seized most everything, and the people are starving. Tonight a friend of Mac's, Thaddeus, a church planter in Zimbabwe, came over because he was in South Africa buying food to take back to Zimbabwe tomorrow.

What do you say to a pastor from Zimbabwe who is sitting down to dinner with you for his first meal of the day and he asks you, "What is America like?" and "What is the Church there like?" He got his first pair of shoes when he was 21 and his truck is full of meally-meal that most American Christians wouldn't feed to their pets . . . what do you say to a guy like this?

We sat there and talked for awhile and during our conversation, my mind drifted to the prayer that I utter every Sunday morning with the rest of the Church--"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread . . ." What? Have I ever really meant it? Will I ever say it again? How would Thadeus say this prayer?

Thaddeus will be the first to tell you that Zimbabwe needs more than food--it needs the hope that only Christ offers. But it does need food. Statistics got a face tonight. Real people are really starving. God's Word is clear, "But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth" (1 John 3:17-18) I'm not sure how much we will give or how we will go about it, but I am sure that I cannot do nothing and continue to call myself a Christian.

Paul once wrote that the "His grace was not without effect." Lord may your grace have collossal effect in our lives!

I Hate Goodbyes

I knew today would come, but I wish it hadn't. After school today, Abby and I sat down with the teachers here at Lifesong to wrap up our week, and I couldn't get one word out before the tears started. It was interesting, because as I was choking back the tears, the Zambian woman could not look at me. People around here have seen so much death and suffering that they don't cry much anymore and they especially don't see men crying. Abby took over for me, until she started crying, and by that time, I had a little composure, and we finished our time together encouraging them in their important work here.

But saying goodbye to the teachers was only a warm up. What I had really been dreading all week, was the moment I would have to say goodbye to the kids. I'm bad at goodbyes. I often try to avoid them, which is a cowardly thing to do, but they are a part of life. After school we went to the "Compound", the shantytown nearby where almost all of the students live and walked around with Dru and John Mumba and a mob of about twenty kids. I have 50 stories I could tell you from the hour and a half in the "Compound", but right now all I can think about is driving away. I had become especially close to the second graders this week--Ezron, Richard, Haggai, Ngosa, Geoffrey, Martin, Ford, Trever, Dorthy, Jorsam, and Jinny. Though they are only in second grade, they are 10-12 years old, and are the oldest kids at school. In many ways, they are like little adults because they don't have any other choice here. I spent a lot of time with them in the classroom working on phonics, math, and geography, and we also played a good bit of soccer together. There must have been 100 times this week when I looked at that class and wanted to take the whole class home with me. I want to get them up to speed academically. Love them. Laugh with them. Give them opportunity. Share with God's Word. Watch them grow up. I fell in love with that class.

But there we were in the compound. Dru gave them a piece of candy. I rubbed their heads, gave some hugs, and got in the car. Ezron and Martin, who I would adopt as my own sons in an instant if it were possible, could barely look at me. We were tight, and I walked out of their life like dozens of others have done before and I may never see them again on this earth. I love those kids. I mean that.

I got in the car and the tears started flowing. These kids don't have any idea what a loving dad looks like and I'm just one more man walking out of their life. I was angry. I'm still angry. I have so many questions and so few answers. The only thing I know is that I love those kids and that God loves them far more than I do. This world is messed up and some people blame that on God and today I wanted to blame God too. But as I drove away from the Compound, the only bit of hope that I had was that one day, God is going to redeem that place. I'm confused in many ways, but without redemption, I'm lost. Without redemption, none of this makes sense at all.

"For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing." Deut. 10:17-18

Thanksgiving in July

Last weekend, before we flew to Zambia, Abby and I were hosted overnight in Johannesburg by an amazing Christian family in South Africa. We sat around the table for several hours trading stories and asking questions about one another and one question they asked us was, "What is Thanksgiving?" They had heard of it in the movies, but have no such holiday in South Africa. We explained to them about the Pilgrims and the Indians and the first Thanksgiving and how it became a national holiday. They said, " . . . So on Thanksgiving, what do you do? Do you give thanks?" I said that some families go around and give thanks, but for many, it's about watching two football games, eating a ton of food, seeing some relatives, and getting ready to go shopping the next day.

Interestingly, God used that coversation as a bit of a foreshadowing for a lesson in thanksgiving in the days to come. Since that conversation in South Africa, we have spent 5 days in Zambia with some of the most thankful people I've ever met. I want to share with you a few of the questions God has whispered in my ear over the past few days, confronting me with my ungrateful attitude. I hope they are challenging to you as well:

When was the last time you had the same thing to eat 5 days in a row?
When was the last time you went to work or school barefoot
When was the last time you went a week without getting to shower, brush your teeth, or wear deodorant?
When was the last time you sang hymns with your friends outside of church just for the joy of it?
When was the last time you really thanked God for a paid holiday?
When was the last time you were thankful that your lights always turn on when you flip the switch?
When was the last time you were thanked God that when you wash your hands, you can trust that the water coming out of the tap is clean?
When was the last time you didn't have a chair to sit in at work?
When was the last time you said something like, "Ahh, I hate this stupid computer!"
When was the last time you worked all day and got paid a dollar?
When was the last time you woke up freezing and had no way to get warm?

God, take away from us until you make us a thankful people. We would rather have nothing and be thankful, than have the world and not praise you as the giver of all good things.

Some Things I Love About Zambia

I love the way that the kids smile and laugh all the time, even though they wear the same clothes every day and some have no shoes. I love the way the power goes out often, and people talk to each other instead of isolate themselves with electronics. I love it when 20 kids mob me at once with dried snot on their faces, germy hands, and dirty bodies and part of me wants to back away, but the Spirit of Jesus--the One who touched lepers--helps me to let them jump all over me. I love it when I see two seven year olds picking up a table that is far too heavy for them, and struggling to carry it from one classroom to the next with smiles on their faces. I love it when we play soccer on a dirt lot where the ball never bounces the right way and the groundskeeper brings out big yellow sanitary gloves for the goalie to wear so he feels like he has professional goalie gloves. I love it when the kids get their porridge and roll and sit down next to me and offer me their roll. I love it when I take a shower here and the cold water barely trickles out of the spout and I'm reminded of the hot showers I take for granted every day and am challenged to be more frugal in the way I use my time and resources. I love it when you sit down for dinner with a complete strangers from South Africa, or Zambia, or Australia and get up from the table hours later. I love it when you see a five year old girl leave to go home with tears in her eyes because she doesn't want to leave and know that God is at work in this place. I love it when I'm the awkward white guy who doesn't know how to give a Zambian handshake. I love it when I'm typing a blog and a mouse runs past me on the floor! I love it when the world seems big and I seem small and I know God is huge. I love it when I see the teachers here loving these students like their own children. I love it when the kids sing without a worship band or lights or a fog machine and they are yelling at the top of their lungs and it echoes off the concrete walls and through the halls of heaven. I love how the director of Lifesong in Zambia, John Mumba, always seems to be saying things like, "I hope and pray" and "The Lord will do it" with a massive smile on his face and a really cool accent. I love it that I go to a church that is full of people who love to give and we will get to give these kids books and shoes and food and medicine and people who will tell them about Jesus. Finally, I love how I can see a living example of what Paul said when he wrote that he "had nothing, yet possessed everything." God is good.

Colleseo

Abby and I took a tour of the Collesium today and learned a lot of interesting facts, but two stick out in my mind. First, our guide told us that the emperor would often decide in advance who he wanted to win and then rig the competition to ensure his desired outcome. If the emperor wanted the contestant to die, he would either give him a fake sword or starve the lions for days prior to the event. If the emperor wanted the gladiator to win, he command that the lions be fed pills that acted as tranquilizers. In either case, the 50,000-70,000 fans in the arena wouldn’t have been able to tell that the contest was rigged, which reminded me of today’s reality T.V. phenom. The producers chop and edit the shows to fabricate heroes and villains and the masses soak it in thinking it’s real. I guess Solomon was right, “There’s nothing new under the sun.”
Secondly, we learned that at age 15, all Roman young men were required to join the army. If they refused, they were sent to the Collesium where they had the pleasure of fighting a professional gladiator. With this fate in mind, my guess is that most of them went ahead and signed up for the military. I thought about the 15 year old men that I teach and that are in the youth group out at Gridley and what is expected of the average American 15 year old today contrasted to what was expected of a 15 year old in Rome. I don’t think we should be shipping our American 15 year olds off to Iraq, but I think that a 15 year old can handle more than we often think or expect.
I’m afraid that when we coddle 15 year olds who are supposed to acting like men, they end up acting like babies. Self-centered, quick to complain, unable to persevere in hardship, and incapable of many things that a man ought to be able to do. My struggle is that I want to expect much out of the young men I teach, but I don’t want to be like a cold-hearted Roman general. When much is expected, failure is likely. Considering the fact that a Roman 15 year old likely died for the mistakes made on a battle field, maybe we should be more willing to challenge our young men and watch them fail . . . at least they’ll still be alive if they do.