It’s not easy to stand in the middle. Our social discourse has become increasingly polarized over the last couple years, with society and social media perpetually seeking to pull us to the extremes. We’re told we either have to view the pandemic as an overblown hoax or order our life around it. Either trust the science implicitly or reject it wholesale. Either view the person sitting in the oval office as a savior or a traitor to America. 

Sadly, this polarization of society has come at a steep cost. Though we communicate using state of the art technology, our social discourse has regressed to trench warfare. We’ve dug into our hyper-polarized perspectives and then we take potshots at the other side via social media. And as a result, the middle ground has become a no man’s land where you will likely be shot at from both sides if you go there. 

But we need people to go there. We need people who don’t ascribe to either extreme to stand up and say, “Wait a minute. Let’s reason together. Neither extreme holds the solutions to the problems that plague us all, and so long as we stay dug into our trenches, we will never truly advance.” 

The people who are willing to risk their social standing to resist the polarization of our society and inhabit the middle ground are modern-day peace makers. They are the sort of people who are willing to listen to both sides and seek to identify the common ground. They are the ones who invite people to get out of their trenches and move towards one another so that we can work together toward viable solutions, rather than continuing to mock and villainize the other side. We desperately need more peace makers, because as long as we focus on what divides us and treat those who disagree with us as the enemy, we will never come together. And a nation divided cannot stand. 

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” (Matthew 5:19) 

Trying to Make Sense of Evil

Yesterday, I sat with a woman who was reeling from the tragic death of a close friend who'd been killed by her husband who then took his own life, orphaning their 8-month-old child. As we sat there grieving the situation, I found myself wanting to say something to lessen the pain, something that could make sense of a senseless tragedy. But what could I say?

It's human nature to want to make sense of evil, to explain why something awful happens. And this urge is particularly strong for me as a pastor, as if I need to defend God. But I've come to realize that evil has no place in God’s good creation. It's like a piece from a puzzle that has been placed in the wrong box. Though our rational, thinking minds want to figure it out, want to find where it fits and why it’s there, the truth is it doesn’t belong. It is an interloper into this world and our job isn’t to understand it, but rather to resist it.

Wait, couldn’t God remove it?! Of course He could; He’s God and scripture tells us that eventually He will do just that. Yet, part of the mystery of evil is that He doesn’t do so now. Rather than shielding His image-bearers from the pain of this sin-scarred world, He invites us to live as ambassadors of hope to those who have grown hopeless. And that means we will suffer right alongside of them. In fact, He warns us that "here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). In other words, following Jesus won't protect us from pain, won't insulate us from evil. We will experience sorrow and grief. Our hearts will ache, our bodies will break, but we can find hope in the fact that because of the cross, the brokenness of this sin-warped world won't get the last word. Depression and anxiety won't get the last word. Social and relational conflict won't get the last word. Even senseless death won't get the last word. Because of the cross and the empty grave, God gets the last word, and that's the hope we can cling to in the face of senseless tragedy.

But finding hope in tragedy doesn't diminish the fact that life in this world is painful. When we, like the woman in my office, are faced with an unexplainable tragedy, there's no easy answer to make the pain go away. Perhaps our best response in those times is to simply grieve with those who grieve and to bring our sorrow and our questions to Jesus, the source of our hope. He's big enough to handle our deepest emotions and our toughest questions. Besides, He's proven over and over that he can bring beauty from the ashes and breathe new life into dead hearts.

 WHY OUR IDOLS FALL

We live in a culture that celebrates gifting, whether or not that talent comes with an equal measure of character to temper it. So we elevate people onto lofty pedestals, and then act surprised when our idols fall. Gifting is a cheap substitute for character. And the fame we give our idols is often more of a curse than a blessing. It’s like handing car keys to a child who has never learned to drive. Not only are we endangering their lives, but the lives of everyone else around them.

Take note that the wisdom literature of scripture, particularly the book of Proverbs, encourages us to grow in wisdom and character, rather than gifting or fame.

So why do we keep setting our most gifted up for failure? In part, it’s because our culture has historically celebrated results, regardless of the carnage left along the road to greatness. We tend to idolize people for their accomplishments without stopping to ask whether this person is the kind of role model we’d want our kids to emulate. And what we celebrate becomes the norm. The things we elevate and the stories we share will inevitably shape the values of the next generation.

So we are reaping what we’ve sown. We have celebrated gifting over character. We have turned fame into a worthy endeavor, and then act surprised when people willingly behave badly in order to garner more attention.

Perhaps we should stop elevating people on account of their talents and start celebrating character over accomplishment. Maybe we should stop looking to our movie stars and sports stars and reality stars to be our culture’s influencers, and instead look to the men and women of deep character to influence us, those who don’t trumpet their own accomplishments but who serve quietly in the background. Perhaps our true stars should be the sort of people who place goodness above greatness. 

Of course, we don’t hear their voices often, because they’re not the ones reaching for the mic or seeking the closest camera lens. But we would do well to consider their example and stop placing talented people on unstable pedestals. Because when they fall, we all lose.

Joy Comes in the Mourning

Yesterday, we laid my friend Josh to rest. Our family has known him for almost 2-decades and the news of his passing from a heart attack last month came as a complete shock. After all, he was in the prime of his life and left behind a wife and two young sons.

There were plenty of tears shed at his memorial service, but I was surprised that the sorrow of his untimely death was overshadowed by very different emotions: hope and joy. This is because just three months before his heart gave out, Josh had entrusted it to Jesus. After years of relying on his own strength to fight his battles, Josh had come to the end of himself and recognized how desperately he needed a savior. And these are the words he wrote in his journal on that day:

Today I decided to stop playing God.

It didn’t work.

I decided that here after in this drama of life,

God was going to be my director.

He is my principal. I am his agent.

He is my Father and I am his child.

10/03/2020

It might seem cruel of God to take someone so shortly after they’d placed their faith in Him. But I see God’s grace in the timing. Because Josh had been relying on his own strength for a long, long time, and God allowed him just enough time to get to the end of his rope and recognize that he really did need a savior. And Josh’s faith in Jesus didn’t just change his life for those three short months. It radically altered his eternal life. In comparison to that, the lives we lead now are a drop of water next to the ocean of eternity.

So we grieve Josh’s unexpected death, but we don’t grieve as those who have no hope. Josh’s trust in Jesus tempers our grief, because we know that this isn’t goodbye. At most this is a temporary separation. And I look forward to seeing my friend again.

That said, if you’re reading this and you are still trying to navigate life in this broken world by your own strength, then know that I am praying for you as well. And while the content of my prayer might seem odd, know that it’s motivated by love:

I pray that you would reach the end of your rope quickly. I pray that you would recognize, as Josh did, that you are not equipped to be self-sufficient. The truth is, you were never intended to do life on your own. Our heavenly Father made you to do life with Him, and you will remain restless until you allow yourself to rest in Him. You will remain unfulfilled until you find your fulfillment in Him. So I pray that you would stop running, stop striving, stop trying to hold your world together and entrust all that you hold most dearly into the hands of the One who formed you and who holds the world together. Because He loves you and He’s not far off. You can always find Him at the end of your rope.

 “I wish I hadn’t broken it.”

My son’s small voice was heavy with grief last night as he looked upon the shattered pieces of a Lego set he’d been constructing for several weeks. Earlier in the day, in a fit of anger, he’d thrown it to the ground, breaking it and scattering the formerly interlocking pieces everywhere. It had taken us quite a while to gather up the pieces and even now I need to walk with care so as not to step on a Lego landmine.

“I know, son. You worked so hard on it. But I can help you put it back together if you let me.”

After I tucked him in, I couldn’t help but liken the grief my boy felt over his Lego set to the sorrow many of us feel about the state of our nation. It, too, took a beating yesterday, fueled by anger and unmet expectations. While the details are still fuzzy and I will refrain from casting blame, yesterday’s events further exposed the deep rifts of animosity and mistrust that have formed in our society. We call ourselves the United States, but I can’t think of a time in my life when we’ve been more fractured. We all want America to prosper, but our disagreements about how to do that have fueled a pursuit of power at all costs. Add to that our unwillingness to listen to people who disagree with us, and our knee-jerk tendency to blame others rather than taking a good hard look in the mirror, and it’s no wonder why we are experiencing such deep division. It’s messy and painful and at times it seems hopeless.

But we have one thing going for us.
We don’t have to put the pieces back together by ourselves.

Like my son, we have a Father who is willing to enter into the messiness of our reality, a messiness that we had a part in creating, and He will help us heal our broken society. Now, I’m not naïve enough to believe that everyone in our country will all of a sudden yearn for Jesus to take the wheel. But for those of us who call Him Lord, if we will keep our eyes fixed on him and allow his values to shape our values, then we can begin piecing our fractured society back together again starting with our own little spheres of influence. If we, who call Jesus our Lord, will stop pointing the fingers at others and start asking ourselves, “how would Jesus have me respond?” then we can break the cycles that breed division and dysfunction in our society. Let the healing start with us.  

So let me be the first to say it: “God, we’ve made a mess and we need your help.”

“If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” 2 Chronicles 7:14   

On a Wing and a Prayer

This morning, I went for a run in the Back Bay. I figured it's time to start working off the extra 20 I picked up in 2020. Along my route, I noticed some hawks floating on the breeze. Grateful for the excuse to catch my breath, I stopped and watched them for a few minutes.

I was struck by how effortlessly they glided, often going minutes without flapping their wings. Although they couldn’t see the breeze, they harnessed its power rather than expending their own. They didn’t even need to labor when they were flying into the wind. Instead, they used the headwind to rise up. 

As I watch them, I considered the headwinds that we all endured in 2020. I can't speak for you, but when the winds buffeted me, I tended to strain hard to overcome them, often leaving myself exhausted because of my efforts. If there is a lesson we can learn from the birds, it’s that the trials of life are not necessarily a curse. In fact, they can be the very things that help us rise higher and higher, if we will just rely upon the power of the one who raises us up, rather than upon our own strength. Perhaps that's what it means to live on a wing and a prayer.

“Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭40:28-31‬

I never cease to be amazed at how God’s word, penned thousands of years ago, can speak directly into our current circumstances. Take the Christmas story for instance. It’s a story we’ve heard countless times before, especially Luke’s version that Linus recounted in Charlie Brown’s Christmas Special. It starts like this:

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. (James 2:1-5)

This is just the set up for the story. What follows are the parts we typically focus on: a baby born in a stable, angelic choirs and visits from startled shepherds and Eastern astrologers. But this morning, the opening lines of the Christmas story are what captured my attention. Because the Christmas story starts with a political edict that threw a wrench in Joseph and Mary’s plans.

Can you imagine what an inconvenience that edict from Caesar Augustus must have been? “Wait, you mean we have to travel 90 miles to Bethlehem at the tail end of Mary’s pregnancy all because of a census?!” I suspect that both Joseph and Mary had some not so holy words for the guy who made that decision.

And yet, despite how unexpected and inconvenient Caesar’s call for a census might have been for Joseph and Mary, it didn’t take God by surprise or thwart His plans. In fact, hundreds of years prior, God had prophesied that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem (Micah 5:2). So Caesar’s call for a census wasn’t an inconvenience to God. It was integral to His plans. He used the decision of an unbelieving ruler to fulfill His redemptive purposes.

Which brings me to this Christmas. Because, let’s be honest, there are some governmental edicts that threaten to upset our best laid Christmas plans. And this could stir up a lot of consternation for us.

“What do you mean I can’t gather with my extended family?”
“What do you mean we can’t hold our Christmas Eve service indoors?!”
“What right do our governing officials have to try and limit our celebrations?!”

May I simply remind you that God isn’t spun out by this Christmas curveball. He isn’t limited by the limitations that we’ve been forced to endure due to Covid. And as the Christmas story reminds us, He even works through the decisions of unbelieving governmental officials.

So don’t grow weary or lose heart this Christmas. God is at work despite the disruption to our lives. And even though it might be inconvenient to us, this curveball may be the very thing He uses to further His redemptive plan in our lives, just as He did in Bethlehem 2,000 years ago.