Taking Back His Rebel World

In many Christian circles, we've reduced the gospel to a simple pitch about the afterlife. Saving souls (i.e. trading hell for heaven upon one's death) is often seen as God's primary objective—the meat of the gospel, so to speak. Consequently, signing people up for the sweet hereafter becomes our exclusive agenda (with everything else seen as either a distraction or an optional add-on). Jesus’ version of the gospel, however, had a noticeably different focus than our popular afterlife-insurance spiel. Jesus, for example, was preoccupied with announcing the coming of God’s subversive counter kingdom (arriving off the grid and under the noses of the present powers it was undermining, like yeast spreading through dough or a germinated seed slowly growing into a mighty tree). He invited his followers to experience this radical kingdom-life today as we’re reborn into him and subsequently transformed from enemies into agents of his sweeping new creation project. He described a new humanity and a new world that is even now crashing into and supplanting the old by way of his incarnation, death, resurrection, ascension, and eminent return. In God’s kingdom, the hungry, forgotten, and marginalized—the “last”—are given priority and the “first,” the powerful and privileged, are sent away empty handed. Jesus’ story crescendos with his physical return, the resurrection of the dead (and the end of death), his final confrontation of evil, a restored creation, and the total reunification of heaven and earth in himself, through the power of his Spirit and to the glory of his Father. Far from an evacuation to heaven, the gospel is more accurately describing the invasion and “colonization,” as N.T. Wright would say, of earth by heaven (a proposition that is either wonderful or terrifying—maybe both at the same time—depending on one's perception of the King and attachment to the present system that he means to overthrow). In short, God is now taking back his rebel world through the person and work of Jesus.

God, as the Creator, has exclusive rights to his creation. In Genesis we read how God created humans in his image and assigned them the task of tending to his creation as his administrators. The original human vocation, then, is to reflect the goodness of God to creation and to lead creation in worship of the Creator. It should be noted, however, that despite humanity's extensive, delegated authority over creation, Scripture is always clear that humans are tenants and not owners. When his vast and finely-tuned temple is operating correctly it harmoniously tells a true story about the One who made it. The resulting music is spectacular for everyone involved. But what happens when the middle management refuses to play their part? What damage is done if the conductors won't lead the orchestra to perform the symphony as the Composer has written?

Jesus once told a story about some presumptuous tenants who thought they could deny their landlord access to his own vineyard (the specific context of this story is relating to 1st Century Jewish leaders, but there are intended parallels throughout the biblical narrative between the Israelites/Canaan and humanity/creation). The tenants behaved as if the vineyard was their own, managed it as they saw fit, tried to keep the harvest for themselves, and ultimately murdered the owner's only heir in their attempts to retain power. It didn't go well for them in the end.

Seeing ourselves rightly as created beings who are indebted to our Creator is an important first step in recognizing the severity of our collective offense. If we wrongly conclude that God has created us with no particular purpose in mind, we may assume that we're free to do whatever we want so long as we're generally nice, decent creatures. Judging whether or not we've been successful at this ambiguous endeavor is itself an extremely subjective task (leading many to falsely conclude they are basically “good people”). We'll undoubtedly have differing ideas, for example, about what is or isn't nice and decent human behavior. If, however, we rightly understand that God has made us to be something like a mirror, to reflect his beauty, his justice, and his mercy, then the question isn't whether or not I'm being the best me that I can be. All of our opinions at this point are irrelevant. The real question is whether or not I'm accurately reflecting a specific person, namely my Creator, as he intends (It should be noted here that billions of finite image-bearers could potentially reflect an infinite Creator, with no two of them being the same, and yet the cumulative sum wouldn't even come close to fully describing him). He alone is qualified to determine my success at this. If it turns out I'm not accurately reflecting him (perhaps, like a shattered mirror, I'm no longer even capable of accurately reflecting him) then I'm essentially lying about him by way of the distorted image my life is projecting. Even worse, all of humanity (a tragic collection of broken mirrors that only produce more broken mirrors) is systemically and perpetually misrepresenting the Creator to each other, the rest of creation, and—most importantly—to the Creator himself. Whether we realize it or not, the exploitative and materialistic ways in which we typically view and abuse our fellow image-bearers and the rest of what God has made is nothing short of blasphemy. And the resulting dissonant music, if we can even call it that, is ravaging his creation.

At this point in the story, God has a decision to make (a decision he mysteriously settled in his own mind before even creating). Will he wipe the board clean and begin again (it seems creating is a simple thing for him, after all), or will he undergo the long and painful process of repairing and reinstating the undeserving rebels and undoing the damage they've caused to his creation? (It should be noted that simply ignoring the hell his wayward image-bearers have birthed was never an option for the Creator, as he is intrinsically incapable of apathy). His restrained approach to human rebellion, however, speaks volumes about how he views and wields the infinite power at his disposal. He hasn't abandoned the creation he dearly loves to its usurpers; he has subjected it (as an act of his permissive will) to bondage “in hope” (Romans chapter 8).

The Creator has a unique knot to untangle if he wants to have his creation restored to him as the temple it was meant to be. As already mentioned, an essential component of his interconnected design calls for humans to be willing participants, submitted to his sheet music as an act of their own volition, functioning as conduits of his grace and administrative justice (this willing submission to God by humans is the essence of his kingdom). This delegation of his power is certainly not out of necessity. He could easily conduct his composition himself, play all of the individual instruments, and so on, but this clearly isn't what he's after. The specific structuring of his orchestra, including the vital role assigned to its human conductors, has as much to say about the generous Composer as the actual symphony it was all meant to perform. Jesus, the servant King, once contrasted God's shockingly reserved methodology with typical human rulers' heavy handedness (as seen in our predictable tendency to lord it over each other). Human rulers have historically used violence or propaganda to coerce or manipulate their subjects into submission. But this simply won't produce the sort of kingdom that the Creator is after. He naturally won't bypass or extinguish human volition in his efforts to restore it. The kind of submission he's after can never come as the result of brute force or deception. But how does one convince one's enemies, pitiful creatures who are now inherently rebellious, to willingly, without coercion, submit once again to their rightful King? The complexity of the Creator's dilemma can hardly be overstated, but fortunately for us his ingenuity is boundless.

If human rebellion is the epicenter of creation's trouble, then the remedy can only come as the result of a humanity back on track, reflecting God's glory, and tending to his temple as the priests we were created to be. Here in lies the problem. Every one of us, according to Scripture, has become disqualified. There's an incredible scene in Revelation chapter 5, involving an important, symbolic scroll that sat unopened. An angel shouted out, “'who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seal?' And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it.” John, the author of Revelation, at this point broke down and wept uncontrollably over the hopelessness surrounding this unopened scroll. It seemed as though the original human vocation would tragically go unclaimed and unfulfilled.

What John witnessed next in Revelation 5 parallels the incredible Daniel 7 prophecy, in which a mysterious human character (a “son of man”) ascends to heaven, walks boldly into the throne room of the “Ancient of Days,” and is “given dominion (see Genesis 1:28) and glory and a kingdom, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him; his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom one that shall not be destroyed.” John sees this same epic “son of man” moment in his vision, when the despair surrounding the unopened scroll is suddenly shattered with the arrival of the “Lion” who is also a “slain Lamb.” Pin-drop silence falls over the crowd as this mysterious figure emerges. This somehow worthy human walks right up to “him who was seated on the throne” and claims the scroll on our behalf. The onlookers erupt into song, “Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth.”

His solution to the human dilemma is elegant and unexpected. Ironically, God himself, as an authentic human, fulfilled the original human vocation, and, by doing so, he is reclaiming all that was lost. The only begotten Son, the eternal Word of God, who spoke the universe into existence, became the human we were all meant to be, the true “image of the invisible God.” As the Creator, God's authority over his creation and subsequent rights to it are uncontested. But in the incarnation, God reclaims, on our behalf, a uniquely human authority. Suppose for a minute that the person who invented American football also established and presided over the National Football League, built all the stadiums, owned all the teams, and held lifelong contracts with every player. Despite this person's vast authority over the sport they created and maintain, they would still need to take to the field as an athlete if their intention was to fairly win the league's most valuable player award. And that's exactly what he did. God took to the field in the form of a 1st Century, penniless, Galilean from backwoods Nazareth, and he conquered the world without firing a shot.

The unique mission of the Christ could only be fulfilled by a human character (that he was also by necessity God, on account of universal human failing, is a fantastic twist in the story but not the main point of this chapter—as we often make it). In other words, Jesus wasn't just pretending to be human in the incarnation; he was human (John claims that denying this fact is “antichrist” - 2 John 1:7). And though his divinity is firmly established in Scripture, proving it wasn't the drum Jesus was beating during his earthly ministry (You might remember that “son of man” was his favorite term for himself). He silenced demonic beings who recognized who he really was, and he frequently made it clear that he didn't speak or act on his own authority (Philippians chapter 2 describes his behavior in the incarnation as a humble emptying of himself in order to faithfully fulfill his mission). He operated with borrowed authority, given to him by God, authority reserved for an untarnished human, the promised King, God's chosen representative, on whom his divine favor rests (The term “Messiah/Christ” sums this up nicely). The call to accept Jesus as God's chosen human representative, the exclusive conduit through which his grace would flow, and the means by which he would reclaim his rebel world is what we see primarily promoted in Scripture (John 5:37-38, 6:29, Acts 4:10-12). Jesus lived his life as a perfect image-bearer, fully relying on the Holy Spirit, and in complete submission to his Father (he “learned obedience” on our behalf - Hebrews 5). Receiving Jesus as the Christ is equated with submitting to God's plan for humanity. If we miss this, if we instead see Jesus as something of a superman, then we miss the point of the incarnation (As an untarnished human, he was a superman of sorts, but not the way we often think). Don't misunderstand me; defending the deity of Christ is an important task from which the Church should never shrink back. But in doing so, we must also realize that there's much more going on in the incarnation than simply, “surprise—Jesus is God.” The man Jesus isn't meant to be seen as a perpetual singularity but the extraordinary means by which God is producing many more sons and daughters of a similar kind (Hebrews 2:9-18). We've unfortunately allowed the heretics to define the parameters of this conversation (especially the misguided ideological descendants of Arius). As a result, we're spending so much energy defending Jesus' divinity that we're left with little time to recognize and accurately describe the implications of his humanity.

Just as the first Adam's rebellion infected all of humanity, so the second Adam's obedience makes him patient zero for a new pandemic, what C.S. Lewis calls the “good infection.” Jesus is something of a Trojan horse, in this way, an unassuming Antidote for the human condition. He is the first of many Spirit-filled and fully submitted humans, the King and the kingdom rolled into one, the person where heaven and earth intersect, and the divine image-bearer who sacrificially resolves the human conflict with God in his own broken body. He alone, through restored conductors, will direct the orchestra to properly perform the Composer's magnum opus. Jesus is the prototype for a restored humanity and the catalyst for the new creation. He is the invasion we never saw coming.

Of course not everyone is celebrating Jesus' enthronement. There are plenty of people who don't want God to reclaim his rebel world (plenty of tenants who think they are owners). God is patient, but he won't wait forever. His rescue plan will go forward as scheduled (It's his universe, after all). When Jesus returns, he will personally confront those who resist his legitimate authority, those who love their rebellion more than their coming King. Participation in God's kingdom as citizen sons is voluntary, however, and all those who foolishly opt out of God's new creation project will eventually have their decision ratified for all eternity. God values and even honors human volition, but he won't allow these dissenters to wreak havoc in his new creation. Sin spreads like cancer. The only perfect human, he who was obedient to God unto death—even death on a cross—will stand in judgment of their defiance. He will banish them from God's restored universe. “There are only two kinds of people in the end,” says Lewis, “those who say to God, 'Thy will be done,' and those to whom God says, in the end, 'Thy will be done.'” Their subsequent existence, forever separated from the Author of Life, is described in Scripture as a “second death.” Jesus, himself, compares this eternal quarantine to being locked out of the city, thrown on a burning heap of decaying filth, or set adrift in a lake of perpetual fire. He passionately warns whoever will listen that this tragic fate is to be avoided at all costs.

However, forgiveness of sins is never an end in itself. The popular afterlife pitch frequently divorces Jesus' debt-canceling work on the cross from God's ultimate purpose of restoring the original human vocation. In a truncated gospel, the “why?” behind the cross is often answered with, “...so we can go to heaven after we die.” While it's certainly true that God knows and loves each and every one of us (and his ambitious new creation project naturally involves our individual repentance and willing submission to his Christ), it's a mistake to view our “personal salvation” apart from the good news of God's kingdom (Even Jesus' well known conversation with Nicodemus, in which he articulates an individual's desperate need to become “born again,” takes place within the context of his larger kingdom message – John 3:3). Ultimately, we're made clean as a prerequisite for service. Our great offense is mercifully removed on the cross so that we're finally able to get back to that for which we were originally created. Scripture frequently ties forgiveness of sins to reinstatement in God's service (Titus 2:11-14, Ephesians 2:8-10, Hebrews 9:14). God's reason for releasing Abraham's descendants from the bondage of Egypt, for example, was so they would be free to “serve” him (Exodus 4:22-23). Keep in mind, it's exceedingly good to be in his service. He means to make us kings and queens. Ultimately, a heart of stone has no interest in fulfilling the original human vocation (which is why the strictly punishment-avoidance-pitch is very popular), but a restored heart of flesh leaps with indescribable gratitude at the opportunity to be reinstated as a priest in God's temple. Many of our notions of heaven, salvation, and God's endgame need to be rethought in light of Jesus' kingdom message.

When we lose sight of the larger narrative, we'll often view sanctification (i.e. becoming like Jesus) as an add-on to the gospel instead of the point of it all. Growing into the image of Christ isn't merely a private endeavor that we undertake for our own personal edification (i.e. approaching the fruit of the Spirit as a self-help buffet that promises to unlock our best life now). Our personal transformation is an integral part of his wide-scale terraforming project. He's making ready a now-inhospitable environment for his glorious, unveiled presence. He's bringing all things under the lordship of Jesus, and incrementally answering the Lord's Prayer for heaven to be reunited with earth. As we submit to the indwelling Spirit of Christ, we become kingdom-pockets of heaven on earth. There are still many areas of his world—many corners of our own hearts—that haven't yet fully submitted to his reign. There's much work to be done, but fortunately his kingdom will continually increase (Isaiah 9:7). Jesus claims he is “making all things new.” If we truly are “new creations” in Christ, then we should see the obvious continuity between what he is now doing in us and the final restoration of all things at the eschaton (described most vividly in Revelation chapters 21 and 22).

I know a brother-in-Christ who ministers in his hometown of Machilipatnam, India. He's used mightily by God to clothe the naked and feed the hungry, to sometimes rescue women and children from sex-trafficking rings run by murderous gangsters. I've heard stories of children sold into prostitution for a bag of rice, whole families that have laid down together on train tracks in a time of total desperation. Some of the children have witnessed their own father savagely murder their mother before their eyes, while others have been intentionally maimed by organized crime syndicates that use them as professional beggars (little ones that have seen evil so cruel they're still unable to even speak it). To anyone paying attention, the world is still obviously full of profound brokenness. And yet the darkness is passing away (1 John 2:8). One of my sister-in-laws works as an advocate for victims of human trafficking. She could tell you that in virtually every city across the US there are image-bearers of God being exploited by other image-bearers in numerous, horrific and dehumanizing ways (some of whom you and I have almost definitely met in passing without even knowing). And yet the Light has come. Even among our own communities and churches, those who are being transformed into the image of Christ, ministers of the gospel, our friends and family, may succumb to hidden sexual sin, vile hypocrisy, corruption, greed, racism, addictions, emotional and physical abuse... and yet... a new Day is dawning. As I look within, I've felt at times defeated and ashamed at what my own mouth has said, the lies my sin-stricken heart has believed, and the evil my hands have done. But we mustn't lose heart; our King is on the move. “For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves” (Colossians 1:13).

It takes faith to believe that God, even now in the midst of our broken world, is actively bringing all things under the lordship of King Jesus. Likewise, it takes faith to trust Jesus when he assures us that “all authority in heaven and on earth” has been given to him. And it takes faith to know that when his massive restoration project is complete—a rebel world returned to its Creator—he'll one day present the kingdom to his proud Father. The Creator will then dwell among us on a restored earth. We'll see his face, he'll be our God, and we'll be his people. This is his incredible endgame. This is the story the Bible is telling. And it's into this exciting endeavor that he's inviting “whosoever” to join him.

“For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved.” - Romans 8:19-24a


“To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood, and has made us to be a kingdom and priests to serve his God and Father—to him be glory and power for ever and ever! Amen.” - Revelation 1:5b-6

“Then the end will come, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father after he has destroyed all dominion, authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” - 1 Corinthians 15:24-26

Man Up

In the ongoing societal debate over authentic masculinity, we're typically asked to choose between two polarized archetypes: There's the hyper-sensitive, sobbing, modern mess of a man in the one corner and the tough as nails, apathetic cowboy, who knows how to “man up” and get things done in the other. The first man, who is introspective to a fault and tragically indecisive (He'd rather passively “Netflix and chill,” for example, than clearly declare his intentions), has his origins in the notion that masculinity and patriarchy are at the root of the world's woes (i.e. He's not impotent by accident). The second man has been around since the dawn of time. He's mostly the product of broken masculinity and a misguided fantasy of ideal manhood (something like James Bond or Dirty Harry). He's made more noise as of late, though, in lashing back against the societal forces that are aggressively seeking to silence or eradicate him. He's brash, bold, a man of action, eager to throw his weight around, and unencumbered by empathy or compassion (as these “feminine weaknesses” are seen as liabilities). He speaks his mind and takes what he wants. He's center stage in the recent rise of pseudo-masculine politics, a movement that is more enthralled with breaking eggs than actually making an omelet, as a direct rebuke to what is seen as a neutered or feminized approach to important societal issues (i.e. an approach that is viewed as overly concerned with political correctness, emotionality, endless deliberation, and passivity). Men who embody this brand of “masculine strength” are viewed by many (both men and women) as what society now “desperately needs.” But neither of these stereotypical men accurately describe the only truly perfect man to ever walk the earth. And as such they are a distortion and a distraction from God's actual intentions for authentic masculinity.

In my last post, I referred to C.S. Lewis' observation that it's the things which initially have the highest potential for good that, when corrupted, can cause the greatest harm. The feminist critics are unfortunately correct in noting the havoc broken masculinity has wreaked on the earth. The vast majority of sexual assaults and other heinous violent crimes, for example, are overwhelmingly carried out by men. Not to mention the numerous instances of oppression, exploitation, and endless bloody wars that have been fought through the ages in an effort to satisfy some misguided masculine ambition, appetite, or false sense of honor. Too often men find their identity in their status, net worth, profession, ability to “avenge” themselves or others, sexual prowess, and emotional detachment. Things have certainly gone wrong, but let's not be so quick to throw the proverbial baby out with the bathwater. It's only because God's divine plan for men is so lofty—our potential so remarkable—that our perverted, post-Eden masculinity is now causing such devastation. Our understanding of true manhood is broken, to be sure, but it's not beyond the reach of Jesus' redemptive kingdom ministry.

1. A New Way to View Status/Position: 

 

James and John infamously had their mom (that's right, their mom) ask Jesus for two ridiculously prestigious positions in his kingdom. This example of self-serving ambition from guys who were already within Jesus' inner circle just goes to show how we can easily seek this stereotypical source of masculine identity even within a “spiritual” context. There's nothing wrong with titles, status, and positions of honor, per se, but these things shouldn't become our identity. Jesus explains, “whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:26-28).

Becoming the least, the last, and the lowliest isn't just a kingdom-hack for actually—wink, wink—fast tracking to the front of the line (and if we're looking for ways to fast track to the front of the line, then we're still not thinking like the Son of Man). This is simply the way his backwards and upside down kingdom works. Jesus wasn't putting on an act. He wasn't pretending to be humble and more concerned with the needs of others in an effort to demonstrate servant leadership, etc. He was being himself. He was revealing the Father to us.

Fortunately, John seemed to get it later in life. I love how he humbly penned his gospel: He's not “John the Apostle,” “Bishop of Ephesus,” “Son of Thunder,” and the only male disciple to be at the foot of the cross. He didn't waste a lot of time making sure we all know what a big deal he is. He instead brought us his extraordinary eyewitness biography of the God-man (almost anonymously) as simply a disciple “whom Jesus loved.” And this seemed to be more than enough for him.

2. A New Way to Utilize Money/Resources:

Society often weighs a man’s worth by his bank account. Many of our current President’s advocates and admirers, for example, point solely to his net worth as definitive proof that he's qualified to lead. Accumulation of wealth, then, becomes a deep seated source of masculine identity.

Matthew, before becoming one of Jesus’ Twelve, was initially diverted from his divine vocation by his thirst for money. If “Levi” was his given name, as Mark and Luke’s gospels seem to indicate, then he was probably born into the priestly tribe that was charged with tending to the Temple (meaning he was set apart by God for full-time vocational ministry). In becoming a tax collector, he effectively rejected his birthright, turned his back on God, and sold out his family and community. Jesus walked right up to this greedy collaborator (while he was at work, no less) and offered him something more valuable than what he was currently chasing (There’s tremendous poetic beauty in how Jesus, the true Temple, reclaimed Levi for what he was originally intended).

Matthew’s outlook on his earthly assets was instantly transformed. After meeting Jesus, he hosted a massive party in his home so all his greedy friends could meet Jesus, too, and hear about his better kingdom (and I imagine he didn’t skimp on the caterer or the party favors). He’d found the “pearl of great value” (mentioned exclusively in his gospel), the unmatched treasure buried in a field, and he was ready to sell everything he had to pursue it (no matter how financially reckless or insane he appeared to onlookers).

3. A New Perspective of Profession: 
 

I thought about working this point into the section on status/position (There's certainly a lot of crossover). But I think finding our masculine identity in our profession (i.e. “I'm a firefighter, lawyer, teacher, mechanic,” etc.) is a bit different than finding our identity in our status or position (i.e. “I'm the Senior Branch Manager, Shift Supervisor, Lead Elder, or Head Pastor”), and, as such, it seems to warrant separate consideration.

“What do you do?” is usually the first thing men ask each other upon meeting. Our job often defines us (for better or worse), and potentially gives us a deep sense of masculine worth. It's no accident that men put such emphasis on their work. We were meant to be workers, to labor alongside our Father (Genesis 2:5, John 5:17). God has implemented healthy rhythms of both work and rest. Paul even condemns a lazy man who refuses to provide for his family as “worse than an unbeliever” (1 Timothy 5:8). But we're not meant to find our identity solely in our work, and we're not meant exclusively for the sort of work we tend to give ourselves over to.

I love how Jesus transitioned Peter from viewing himself as a fisherman to a “fisher of men.” He exchanged simple profession for kingdom vocation. We have examples of Peter fishing during and after Jesus' public ministry. Paul and Aquila made tents to pay the bills, Simon was a tanner, and Cornelius was a career officer. But after meeting Jesus, these men no longer sought identity in these professions. Their professions became the means by which they could pursue their true vocations as disciple makers and Gospel declarers and demonstrators.

If we have likewise succumbed to the all-encompassing good news of God's better kingdom then we should now also view ourselves in light of our true identity and vocation in Christ: We're now “ministers of reconciliation” who drive buses, “priests” who teach high school math, “ambassadors” who appraise property, and “evangelists” who make blended frappuccinos with extra whipped cream.

4. A New Way to Pursue Justice:

The 1st Century Roman occupiers of Jesus’ day were at times brutal, emasculating, and unjust. Roman soldiers were legally allowed to grab a random Jew off the street and force them to carry their gear for up to a mile (hence Jesus’ controversial command for his followers to joyfully go an “extra mile”). They were also known to flippantly crucify innocent people of occupied territories as a show of raw force or to make a political point.

Simon (not Peter or the tanner—turns out there were a lot of guys named “Simon”... and “James”... and “Judas”), who was apparently a Zealot, may have initially belonged to a group of Hebrew nationalists who couldn't sit idly by in the face of such injustice. Simon likely hated his Roman oppressors with every fiber of his being. He was probably willing to die—to kill—to actively resist them. A man’s strong sense of justice and subsequent need to “do something about it” is undoubtedly from God (we’re made in his image, after all, and originally meant to be caretakers of creation). However, it’s easy to see (easy to see in others anyway) that our sense of justice is often skewed (and most frequently awakened by personal injury to our pride, more so than from a genuine zeal for God’s perspective of things).

Jesus gives Simon new purpose as a reconciler, a new way to pursue justice, and a willingness to leave vengeance to God. We don’t know much about Simon’s life, but tradition has most of the Apostles being martyred in far off lands as they faithfully carried out the Great Commission. This means that Simon, who had at this point bought into another kingdom, would’ve missed the epic Jewish-Roman wars of the early second half of the 1st Century (in which a violent Zionist uprising visited upon the Romans their own brand of brutality and temporarily restored political sovereignty over Judea to the Jewish people). Before meeting Jesus, this once in a lifetime opportunity to finally strike back at the invincible Roman Empire would’ve probably been the unreachable height of Simon’s youthful aspirations. After meeting Jesus, however, Simon simply had better things to do.

5. A New Way to View Women:

Jesus' masculinity wasn't threatened by women. He didn't exploit or exclude them (two common, polarized male responses to femininity that ironically result from the same fears and insecurities). He received them as “sisters,” fellow image-bearers, and partners in his kingdom ministry. He didn't condescend to them with sermons laced with lighthearted, yet demeaning, gender stereotypes that subtly let them know they should leave the spiritual heavy lifting to the men (a stark contrast to many of our modern well-intentioned but at times patronizing “women's ministries” that often consist of little more than tea parties, crafting, and bake sales). There were many women who traveled with Jesus and were even among his inner circle (Luke 8:1-3). Mary, sister of Martha and Lazarus, was said to have “sat at Jesus' feet” (Luke 10:39). This was a Hebrew idiom describing a disciple and rabbi relationship. He equipped and commissioned these women to be world-changers. Jesus' scandalous practice of including and elevating women in his ministry was unprecedented in Jewish culture (It would've even been foreign to Roman and Greek culture in the 1st Century).

Jesus' straightforward confidence in his interaction with women was offensive to some and startling to most. After his one-on-one conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well, for example, his male disciples seemed to be quietly on edge at Jesus' social impropriety (John chapter 4). “What could he possibly want with this woman,” was their burning unspoken question? They must have projected their own broken masculinity onto Jesus, as the Pharisees did, wrongly assuming his perspective of women was the same as theirs (in which case, his motives couldn't possibly be perceived as pure). It certainly didn't help Jesus' shaky standing with his conservative critics when ex-prostitutes interrupted swanky V.I.P. dinner parties to weep over and kiss his feet. But he didn't seem to lose any sleep over his critics' conjectures. His conscience was clear (John 8:46), and his identity was secure (John 8:14).

No doubt God has unique roles for men and women (both within families and within his church, which is to operate as a family), but this biblical truth has too often been used to excuse subtle injustices (women being under utilized, excluded, or marginalized within the family of God—given less honor and compensation while being asked to fulfill similar roles as their male counterparts, etc.) and even outright misogyny. Authentic masculinity, the kind Jesus displayed, doesn't objectify women by viewing them as merely a pleasure to be exploited, a conquest to achieve, or a danger to be ostracized or contained. True masculinity sees women as equal image-bearers (Genesis 1:27), the other half of a whole, and co-heirs to the kingdom.

6. A New Way to Exercise Power/Authority:

Power and authority also play heavily into status and position. I wanted to deal with these separately, however, in order to discuss status/position purely as a source of masculine identity and then handle the way men typically exercise physical and authoritative force—the mechanics of power—as its own topic.

God is not, as the serpent would have our first parents believe, a megalomaniac. His comfort with the delegation of his authority is remarkably humble. He doesn't need assistance of any kind. Yet he creates angelic beings that do his bidding and physical creatures made in his image who he generously entrusts with overseeing his world. He's not lazy or incapable. He engineered the whole universe from scratch and brought it into existence with a Word. His multi-tiered system of power (which includes rebellious angels, broken human leaders, and corrupt governments) coupled with his reluctance to micro-manage, then, can only be seen as a quiet and abiding confidence in his own sovereignty. It's those who are insecure about what little power they have, in fact, who are most likely to obsess over it and to hoard it from others.

Jesus, at one point, expressed his zeal for God's “house” by flipping over tables and driving out the money changers with his homemade whip. And, of course, there's an Egyptian army entombed at the bottom of the Red Sea that made the fatal mistake of crossing Israel's patient-yet-powerful Avenger. Physical force and violence are clearly in God's toolkit (just ask Ananias and Sapphira). But if we read his redemptive story from Genesis to Revelation and walk away seeing the “Slain Lamb” as some sort of macho, kick-ass, Rambo character then we've completely missed the heart of God and the grandeur of the narrative. God's greatness, his strength, is seen most clearly in his inexplicable restraint. He can and does at times destroy his enemies, but he also goes to great lengths as he demonstrates unfathomable grace and humility in painstakingly transforming them into friends. It's his mercy and power of persuasion that sets him apart from us. Violence we understand. An expression of infinite power in fragile flesh, however, is baffling and disarming. And a servant King who is paradoxically “lifted up” as he lays his life down for his rebel subjects is world changing.

7. A New Way to Approach Emotional Vulnerability:

Boys from a young age are often taught that emotional attachments are “unmanly.” They're teased when they kiss their mothers goodbye, for example, and soon learn to stop if they want to be taken seriously by their peers. Men are chided by each other when they publicly express affection to their girlfriends and wives, as well. Many parents won't even let their young boys model what are seen as “feminine” nurturing behaviors at play (like tending to baby dolls). They may be encouraged to “man up” if they express too much empathy or sadness. The societal message is clear: Emotional vulnerability is a “weakness” that strong men cannot afford. We must learn to be distant, detached, and apathetic if we're to align with popular notions of masculinity (with an emotionally disengaged character like James Bond, who proudly never gives his heart to any of the numerous women he beds, being considered the ideal man among men).

God is the most powerful Being in existence, and he humbly wears his heart on his sleeve. His willingness to become emotionally vulnerable (and physically vulnerable—even mortal—in the incarnation) is at the heart of the Gospel. He's strong enough to engage, to open himself up to the hurt that comes from caring for others, to risk the pain of clearly declaring his affection for fickle creatures who often reject him. And his Son is no different.

Jesus allows himself to feel things deeply (regularly moved by “compassion,” intensely “angered” over hypocrisy and injustice, and mourns over human suffering), but he's not overrun or crippled by his emotions. He weeps, anguishes, and pleads with his Father in Gethsemane for hours, allowing all of the terror and despair to wash over him, and then courageously stands up to meet his tormentors with a fixed resolve (looking forward to the joy that waits for him in the outcome).

That historic night was full of the typical sort of men (Annas, Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin, Herod, Pilate, Judas, and Peter), who leap into action, who set aside compassion to do “what needs to be done,” to bring about the “greater good,” by exerting force and leveraging power (there were also, of course, the cowardly kind who were paralyzed by fear). For all their best intentions, all their “manly” effort, they once again came up empty (just as all the men who came before them have, who’ve striven in the same way since the dawn of time). But Jesus accomplished more in his deliberate act of passive resistance (refusing to defend himself, refusing to fight back, willingly being brutalized, bravely embracing vulnerability)—by becoming a lightning rod for humanity’s evil, absorbing all of it into himself, and allowing it to crush him—than any man who came before or after him. He wasn't the sort of manly messiah they wanted (or even the manly messiah we still want, judging from the popularity of those who preach a macho Jesus who conforms to typical one dimensional notions of masculinity), not like the militant “messiahs” who came before and after (like John of Gischala or Simon bar Giora, who led armed uprisings during the Jewish-Roman wars that ended in the obliteration of Jerusalem, a tragic outcome that Jesus had previously foreseen and wept over).

Time to Man Up

It’s not that Jesus was “effeminate,” cowardly, or passive—that he wasn’t/isn’t a fighter (He's the manliest man to ever walk the earth); It’s that he redefines the fight and how we’re to effectively engage (not being overcome by evil but, instead, overcoming evil with good). Jesus redefined what it is to be human and, more specifically, what it is to be a man. We must reject the two archetypal hollow men (the “impotent” and the “apathetic”) that society is eager to spoon feed to us. Jesus is the third option. As the prototype, he demonstrated a better way to view our masculine identity and purpose, and, by way of his life, death, and resurrection, he's graciously made this revolutionary “new man” accessible to us.

Only one question remains: Are we man enough to follow him?

Good News for the Gender Confused and Sexually Perverse

 

It’s no secret that Jesus was often criticized for the scandalous company he kept. “It is not the healthy who need a doctor,” he would say “...but the sick” (Mark 2:17). At the heart of his naysayers’ agitation was the still-popular notion that the world can be neatly divided into two types of people: “generally decent folks” and “reprobates.” Jesus was, of course, being chided for apparently not knowing the difference. But he doesn't at this point rail against his critics' self-righteous presumption (though he certainly does elsewhere). He instead clearly identifies who he came to save. So it's up to us, then, to answer the simple spiritual triage question: Do we see ourselves among the “not too bad” crowd, as the Pharisees did? Perhaps, in our estimation, we're needing a band-aid on our skinned knee, a lollipop, and not much else. Jesus doesn't have time for this sort. He didn't come for skinned knees. Or do we rightly identify with the filthy band of reprobates, deplorables, perverts, hemorrhaging, and hopelessly broken people that Jesus did come to rescue and restore? It’s no use simply paying lip service to the answer we know we should give—the answer we learned in Sunday School. He sees right through our false humility and empty piety. The truth is, we're all tremendously broken. Humanity's universal rebellion, along with the death and decay that follows, comes early on in the redemptive story that God is telling. The cancerous and debilitating effects of the fall permeate every aspect of our being. It's especially helpful to keep this in mind when we're discussing the highly emotionally charged topics of gender and sexuality. Though our brokenness will inevitably manifest in a myriad of different ways, we're all undoubtedly sexually perverse and gender confused individuals who are desperately in need of a Savior

Human beings, both male and female, were created in God's image. The first couple was charged with overseeing creation as his representatives and producing enough multi-generational offspring to eventually fill the whole earth (Not a bad gig). God gifts this man and woman with sex as a sign of their life-long partnership (as two individuals literally and figuratively become “one flesh”), the necessary means by which they could carry out their divine mandate (along with a generous sampling of God's creative power), and an unparalleled source of shared pleasure. They are described as two halves of a whole, with neither being able to fulfill their unique roles apart from the cooperative assistance of the other. We find that the Gospel is also woven into this union: The husband and wife are meant to beautifully illustrate the unbreakable bond between Christ and his Church. This first couple is completely and selflessly vulnerable with each other and unashamed. Of course, as already mentioned, things famously take a turn for the worse when these prototypical image-bearers foolishly reject the Tree of Life in favor of a lie that promises them what they already had from the start. Instead of becoming more like their Creator, they spiral down into chaos. All of creation, including every aspect of the human body and psyche, is in some way corrupted by this tragic event. As a result, most of our initial preferences and proclivities are now in direct rebellion to God's original design (So Lady Gaga is correct in saying we're “born this way,” but we certainly weren't created “this way”).

Forgive the brief detour, but I think we'll need to address a common theological misconception regarding the body and the physical world that further muddies these already culturally clouded waters. Unfortunately, many Christians have unknowingly embraced a very Gnostic understanding of things (i.e. the physical world is irredeemable and meant to be supplanted by a superior spiritual world) that incorrectly sees the physical body as merely incidental to the immortal soul, or simply a vehicle for “who I really am” underneath. This idea that our bodies are something like an afterthought, a disposable accessory for our non-corporeal soul, is completely at odds with the historic, Christian Faith. “God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also,” is what Scripture says (1 Corinthians 6:14). Likewise, Job adds, “after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes—I, and not another” (from Job 19:26-27). A future resurrection (which is, by definition, a physical event) and the eventual restoration of creation is at the heart of the original story (a controversial proposition, to be sure, even in the 1st Century). God loves the physical world and the physical creatures he made to inhabit it. You might remember how he once deemed it all “very good.” The story of the Bible, then, is about how far he'll go to rescue his rebel world, to put it all back to the way he originally intended (so the story can finally proceed in the right direction). Our physical bodies are certainly corrupted by the fall and, as such, are in need of redemption and restoration, but they're also—by God's design—an integral part of who we are as humans. He's intentionally crafted our bodies (along with our specific biological distinctions) with particular care and divine purpose.

I believe it was C.S. Lewis who once made the point that it's the things with the greatest initial potential for good which, when corrupted, do the greatest harm. He explains how a cow, for example, has very little capacity to do much good or bad; but a human, on the other hand, can do both to greater extent; and an angelic being, gifted with extreme power and insight, certainly even more so. Likewise, the immense God-given potential of sex; as a source of life, pleasure, oneness and intimacy, and a beautiful metaphor of the fellowship we can have with our Maker; can inversely, when corrupted by human rebellion, become a boundless source of exploitation, oppression, violence, isolation (ironically), obsession, and numerous other profoundly destructive and dehumanizing attitudes and behaviors.

It's not enough to assume that God's plan for sexuality is automatically satisfied in a life-long monogamous sexual relationship between a man and a woman (although anything less than this would, of course, be falling short of his definition of divinely-sanctioned physical intimacy). And most of our understanding of gender comes from arbitrary cultural constructs (In other words, we can't assume that because our boys love baseball and BB guns and our girls exclusively play with Barbie dolls that we've got it right). He clearly has more in mind. Therefore, humility and biblical accuracy require us to have a more precise understanding of God's intent (and, inversely, a broader definition of sexual perversion and gender confusion) than we currently seem to have. Don't get me wrong, It's appropriate to passionately advocate for the Creator's original good design. But, in doing so, I think we inevitably tend to aggressively harp on the forms of perversion that are most foreign to our own experience (and therefore more offensive to our individual and collective biases) while at the same time overlooking the many harmful deviations with which we more closely identify (contributing to a hypocritical inconsistency in our “moral outrage” and the development of a pharisaical “us” and “them” perspective). Same-sex sexuality, for example, is a clear deviation from God's plan, but, then, so is the more garden variety human tendency toward voyeurism (and a multi-billion dollar porn industry has resulted from the decisively greater prevalence of the latter perversion). Only we usually don't boycott, picket, or even recognize voyeurism as a perversion of God's plan for human sexuality (particularly in the more subtle examples of voyeuristic themed marketing and entertainment that regularly invite us to objectify people, especially women, in exchange for our attention as they pitch us some “new-and-improved” toothpaste, sitcom, or charbroiled burger). At the darker end of the same swamp, millions of people—mostly girls and women—are enslaved (psychologically and physically), trafficked, and raped in an ongoing effort to meet the insatiable demand of ravenous voyeurs, who have convinced themselves that this perverse arrangement they have with the human commodity on the other side of their screen is both harmless and equitable.

We could certainly spend a lot of time debating the various degrees of perversion (i.e. how far off from God's original design is each behavior, orientation, and so forth, in relationship to the others), but this doesn't seem very productive. I imagine our “unbiased” analysis would largely be compromised by our own particular taste for sin anyway. While I think we'd be right to conclude that a pedophile or a sadistic rapist's sexual brokenness is manifesting in a more dangerous way than, say, a necrophiliac (to use some extreme examples); How can we say that a typical lesbian, for instance, is definitively more perverse than a heterosexual “playboy,” like Hugh Hefner (or the millions of men who envy him)? The one who views sex as a conquest and people as trophies is blasphemously (and probably unwittingly) invoking the divinely crafted, physical language of life-long covenant—again and again and again—flippantly with each subsequent partner (1 Corinthians 6:15-16). Just because a particular form of sexual perversion is more prevalent than another does not mean that it is somehow more “natural” (in terms of God's original intent for humans). Does a transgendered or transvestite image-bearer have more or less confusion about God's plan for gender than a traditionally masculine man with misogynistic tendencies (especially in light of our unconventional Founder who scandalously discipled women and elevated them to previously unheard of places of honor and influence within his upside down kingdom)? Have we done a better job of raising our all-American boy, who conforms to traditional male expectations (including a learned apathy that was produced by systemic societal shaming of God-given, yet somehow “unmanly,” attributes like gentleness, compassion, and emotional vulnerability), than the neighbor did raising his son who now wants to wear dresses and be called by a conventionally female name? And is a monogamous, married, heterosexual couple whose twisted perspective of sex is rooted in pride, power, punishment, or currency more closely aligned with the Creator's intent than, say, a polyamorous trio? Rather than arguing about who is the most deviant, it seems we should concede that we're all to some extent filthy and instead focus our energy on the more pressing question of how to get clean.

In regard to the so called “culture wars,” in which conservative Christians seem to be constantly and passionately engaged, we’re regularly picking the wrong battles (holiday coffee cups, restroom access, and baked goods) and employing the wrong tactics once the ridiculous battle lines have been drawn. And the Christian celebrity speakers, musicians, and denominations that are “reinterpreting” their biblical understanding of brokenness, despite their best intentions, are equally unhelpful (not to mention brazen beyond words, considering the stern warning Jesus gave to a 1st Century church that allowed sexual sin to continue in their midst unchallenged—Revelation 2:20-23). In short, I believe the unattended brokenness within the Family of God is causing far more damage than the brokenness without. The sexual immorality, high rates of divorce, and addiction to pornography running rampant within the American Church, even among our shepherds and teachers, is nothing short of tragic. As Peter says, “it is time for judgement to begin with God's household” (1 Peter 4:17a). And Jesus warns that “if the salt loses its saltiness... it is no longer good for anything” (Matthew 5:13). We're called to be a “city on a hill,” a beacon of light amidst the brokenness of Babylon, not a hypocritical pack of political pundits, lobbyists, and picketers. “What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church?” asks Paul. “Are you not to judge those inside?” Rest assured, “God will judge those outside” (1 Corinthians 5:12-13a).

Our sexuality and gender, though significant aspects of our being, were never meant to completely define us. It's misguided and idolatrous for us to seek our identity in these things. Sometimes even the church elevates sex and marriage to unhealthy degrees (when, ironically, Jesus lived his whole life here on earth as a single, celibate man—saving himself for the next life, for his true Bride). Paul, who had a high regard for God's plan for sex and marriage, also touted the benefits of serving Jesus as a single person (1 Corinthians 7:8, 32-35). The disciple of Jesus who feels an intense same-sex attraction, as an example, yet denies himself or herself in obedience to God's creative order, has genuine camaraderie with the heterosexual brother or sister who never marries and likewise regularly denies themselves in their pursuit of Christ (1 Corinthians 10:13). Regardless of the nature of our particular brokenness, though, we'll be required to regularly deny ourselves in both large and small ways. Marriage is not, as many think, “the remedy” to our numerous sexual perversions. For many, it will only compound the damage caused by their untended, preexisting wounds and misconceptions. But fortunately we're not, as the naturalist would have us believe, merely “intelligent animals” who are forever bound to our primal instincts. We're made in the image of God, and, in Christ, we no longer have to be slaves to our urges. The freedom that Jesus offers in this arena is truly good news.

As we become more aware of our own sexual brokenness and misconceptions about gender, we'll likely also grow in compassion for our fellow image-bearers, especially toward those whose brokenness may manifest differently than our own. Ultimately, the only thing that separates “perverse reprobates” from “redeemed and in-the-process-of-being-restored followers of Christ” is a willingness to repent and to trust solely in Jesus' counterintuitive method for making us whole again (which is really saying the same thing two different ways). To “repent” is to change our mind, to swallow our pride and agree with God that he's right and we're wrong. It's to abandon our rebellion and to instead, through the power of his Spirit, adopt his kingdom rule over every aspect of our lives. Jesus appropriately describes this process as “dying,” as even daily embracing the instrument of our torturous demise, so that he can paradoxically give us new life, his “abundant life”—real LIFE. And repentance is not a one time event. It's a regular rhythm of the true disciple's everyday existence. If we're going to experience the new life that Jesus offers, then we'll need to turn everything that we have, everything that we are (our hopes and dreams, our identity, ideologies, sexuality, and notions of gender—all of it!) over to him. There's no going forward until we do. Porn addicts, prostitutes, playboys, and pious Christians, alike, must all travel the same humble Road if we're to be healed of our sexual perversion and misconceptions. But if we're willing, he's more than able to deliver.

“Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor men who have sex with men nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.”

“And that is what some of you were.”

“But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God” (1 Corinthians 6:9b-11).

The House that Jesus Built (is Building)

 

 

If you grew up in church culture like I did, chances are you had a moment in which you were instilled with awe for “God's house.” Maybe it was when you were maniacally running through the “sanctuary” (not really sure why we call it that, by the way) or “worship center.” Perhaps you were gently instructed to show proper respect for “the house of the Lord.” My family and I would “go to church” every Sunday morning and at various other times throughout the week for midweek Bible studies, youth group, potlucks, game nights, Awana, VBS, rummage sales and so on. God loved having people over. If you knew someone who needed to meet Jesus, you would bring them to church too. Of course I understood through Biblical teaching that God was everywhere and lived in my heart, but it was also strongly implied through our behavior that the building was where we were the church and where all important church stuff took place. Don't misunderstand me; I'm not a bitter ex-church kid. I loved hanging out at “God's house.” I think there are a lot of good things going on—genuinely redemptive activities—in the typical, building-centric, church model. As I look through Scripture, though, I can't help but wonder if there could be another model that more closely embodies Jesus' intent for His Church.

“You are not the one to build me a house to dwell in,” was God's response to King David's well-intentioned offer to build Him a sweet pad (1 Chronicles 17:4b). Ever since the tragedy of Eden, God has given us glimpses of His endgame to once again dwell among humanity. He symbolically represented His presence among His people, for example, with various structures and artifacts. The first God-house was designed by Him to be extremely mobile. He is a God on the go, after all. By the time of David's reign, the people of Israel had been in the promised land for generations. It seemed like the perfect time to go all out with an upgrade to God's house. After God politely declined David's offer, He made the shepherd king a significant counter-offer. “I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, one of your own sons, and I will establish his kingdom. He is the one who will build a house for me, and I will establish his throne forever. I will be his father, and he will be my son” (1 Chronicles 17:11b-13a). On the one hand God is apparently giving the green light for David's son Solomon to build the proposed structure, but there is also a sense in which God is looking through Solomon to another “Son of David” and to another “house” to be built. Solomon himself seemed to recognize the limitations of the beautiful building he constructed. “The heavens, even the highest heavens, cannot contain you,” he says to God, “How much less this temple I have built!” (2 Chronicles 6:18b).

Centuries after Solomon's death, David's other Son arrived on the scene ready to get to work. In the second chapter of John's gospel, Jesus referred to His own body as the true temple of God. “For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form” (Colossians 2:9). And when His disciples commented on how beautiful the man-made building appeared, He was quick to remind them that its days were now numbered. It had become obsolete, as the “shadow” is supplanted by the “substance” (Colossians 2:17). Jesus elaborated in a conversation with a Samaritan woman in John chapter 4. He had just described the new Spirit-filled life, which is made possible by His good news. She asks Him to clarify where she should go to worship God. She presupposes that His answer will be one of two possible locations. He, of course, chooses neither. Instead He says, “A time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks” (John 4:21, 23).

The author of Hebrews explains, “Jesus has been found worthy of greater honor than Moses, just as the builder of a house has greater honor than the house itself...Christ is faithful as the Son over God’s house. And,” get this, “we are his house” (Hebrews 3:3, 6a). Peter says it like this, “As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 2:4-5). And Paul adds, “You are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit” (Ephesians 2:19-22). We get a prophetic look at Jesus' completed structure, made from “living stones,” in His revelation to John. “Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb,” says John's angelic escort, “And he carried me away in the Spirit to a mountain great and high, and showed me the Holy City, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God” (Revelation 21:9b-10). “And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God’” (Revelation 21:3).

So what does all this talk about the structure Jesus is assembling have to do with our church buildings and the emphasis we typically place on them? Well, the key ideas that I take away from these passages are as follows: First off, God wants to dwell among His people, the Church! How awesome is that?! Secondly, and this is obvious but hugely important, Jesus builds the Church. Thirdly, the Church is not a brick and mortar building. It is comprised of “living stones,” who are pulled from the rubble and made suitable by the finished work of the Cornerstone. Jesus is the true temple, and it is only by the grace of God that we participate in the structure as an extension of His body. And finally, Jesus' Church is not confined to a building or tied to a geographic location. He means for us to fill the earth with His glory as we collectively declare and demonstrate His Gospel in everyday life. Yet the building-centric model of church often corrals and occupies the Church with its perpetual onsite programs and extensive overhead (measured in both time and resources). I've heard it rightly said that our buildings say “come” while our Jesus tells us to “go.”

I'm not saying the Church shouldn't gather. It's imperative that we do. I'm not even saying that churches shouldn't build worship centers. There is no biblical mandate or prohibition either way. It is documented that the First Century Church met in homes and public spaces, but, in fairness to the current model, there was nothing else available to them. And while he was in Ephesus, Paul seemed to have rented or borrowed a lecture hall for ministry purposes (Acts 19:9). Ultimately, if we become dogmatic about gathering exclusively in living rooms and coffee shops over traditional church buildings we have completely missed the point. Where we worship isn't the issue (to paraphrase Jesus' comments to the woman at the well). Furthermore, I would never want to jeopardize the positive elements currently found in the prevalent model with a mass exodus to nothing. There is a growing counter movement to the building-centric model, for example, that casts off all submission and structure in favor of an undefined and individualistic Christian anarchy of sorts. This is not the “progress” that I am suggesting. Whatever model we embrace, the Church is to be a family, a community, with accompanying obligations of accountability, submission, and service. Given some of the alternate models, I can understand why many Christians passionately defend a continued reliance on our church buildings and their accompanying programs. It's all many of us have known. Numerous people who pass through our doors meet Jesus, are often discipled, and can become genuine followers of Christ. And I certainly don't mean to disparage the numerous hours, resources, blood, sweat, and tears that untold American Christ-followers have poured into the current centralized model. It pains me to think that the questions I’m raising are often seen as most threatening and hurtful to those who are very invested in the current model—faithful brothers and sisters who love and serve Jesus’ Church with all that they are. But if we aim to be faithful representatives of our incarnational King, then we must be brave enough to question some of our arbitrary traditions. More than this, we must be willing to die to our preferences and preconceptions if need be.

The American Church is increasingly living in a post-Christian culture. Statistics show the number of our friends, co-workers, and neighbors who will never set foot in our buildings—regardless of how “current” or “relevant” we make them—is growing exponentially. We need to figure out how to take everything that's going right in the current model (declaration and demonstration of the Gospel: confession/repentance, baptisms, celebrating the last supper together, worship, teaching, discipleship/modeling) and move it into our neighborhoods, common areas, and places of business. It seems that most American Christians believe that faithfully attending and contributing to the weekly gathering(s) encompasses all or most of what it is to be an active member of a church. Our frustrated and exhausted pastors and elders may be preaching “go,” “love,” and “serve,” but the prevalent building-centric model is silently contradicting them with “come,” “sit,” and “spectate.” Or at best, “come and participate in all that goes into our Sunday gathering and midweek programs so that others can come, sit, and spectate.” The less than 10% of church members that typically answer the second invitation and dedicate more than 90% of the time and resources required to maintain the building and programs are often left with so little time or energy that they are unlikely to invite their Muslim neighbors over for dinner or to join a bowling league or book club with Gospel intentions. We have in many ways unintentionally crafted a system that leaves no time or energy for what we most want—what God most wants—to see: That is redemption and restoration, up close and in everyday life, in our neighborhoods and workplaces through the Gospel of Jesus Christ. If only we could place less emphasis on our gatherings and put more energy into our goings. We are not called to congregate in “sacred spaces.” We are called to be a sacred people who, like Jesus, bring the good news of the kingdom of God into the midst of a hurting and broken world. This is the nature and function of the house that Jesus built and is building. This is the sort of house that God will dwell in.

Love your Neighbor

 So the last few years I've been trying something new—new for me, anyway. It started with a neighbor, or at least I think it did. It's sometimes hard to put your finger on the beginnings of the often long process of God's patient attempts to shift our hearts toward His. Perhaps there were many other moments He intended me to take note of, but I remember this one. We had a neighbor, a young single guy, who for three to four years lived right next door to us in our apartment complex. His door was literally a few feet from ours. I don't know his name. We would greet each other politely when we passed. One day on my way out the door, I saw him loading his furniture into a moving van. I think I stopped and asked the obvious, “are you moving?” I didn't really have much to say after that beyond a generic “good luck.” I didn't know him. I remember feeling like I had completely wasted the years that I had lived in such close proximity to this guy. I wasn't a good steward of the time or the space we shared or, most importantly, of the Gospel with which I had been entrusted. The whisper of the Spirit was not condemning, though. God was instead welcoming me to view my neighbors the way He does. He was inviting me to follow him into the terrifying and exciting realm of actively loving my neighbors, seeking to bless them however I could, and pursuing them the way He pursues me.

I quickly realized that before I could love my neighbors I would have to first meet them. This obvious initial step can be an Everest of an undertaking for an introvert such as myself. How exactly does one meet one's neighbors anyway? I had to think on it for awhile. Our first attempt to meet the neighbors came about near Halloween. I had been conspiring with the Holy Spirit for a few weeks to devise a plan to meet everyone in our complex. Finally, He gave me the idea of doing what we ended up calling “reverse trick-or-treating.” We bought a bunch of candy, dressed our seven-month old up in her cute little Disney's Stitch costume, had a quick family prayer, and off we went. I gotta tell you, it was terrifying. Just knocking on doors and talking to strangers is really tough for me. Having an adorable baby as your wingman definitely helps, though. Family, and particularly kids, can be awesome ice breakers. We introduced ourselves, passed out some candy, and let people know where we lived. No big deal. These initial introductions eventually lead to a weekly neighborhood BBQ and a growing community within our previously guarded apartment complex.

I wish I could tell you it was all an easy ride from anonymity to instant community—that we didn't have any obstacles or heartaches. Getting to know people, earning the right to peer into their lives, and becoming vulnerable by welcoming them into your life can be a messy business. There really isn't any other way to go about it, though. The good news of Jesus' incarnation is best delivered incarnate, face to face. If He can leave Heaven to become Immanuel, “God with us,” then we can cross the hall to love the folks in the next apartment. The first door that opened to us belonged to an older woman who was desperately afraid to leave her apartment. She was addicted to painkillers and had burned all bridges to her remaining family. It was into this darkness and despair that Jesus invited us to shine His light. She eventually came with us to our weekly church gatherings, and we gave her rides to the grocery store and her doctor's appointments. She had some profound emotional/psychological wounds. Sometimes she loved us, and sometimes she was inexplicably angry with us. To be frank, it was often an extremely taxing relationship. Even so, I am grateful that He trusted us with her.

There were many encouraging moments, new friends, and redemptive glimpses of the kingdom of God breaking through. One notable highpoint of our time at the apartment complex was meeting a young family who later became our good friends and ministry partners. They were really great at inviting people and helping us put on our neighborhood BBQ every week. They were kind of shy like us, introverts set in motion by the power of the Gospel. Just like God to intentionally use our weaknesses to emphasize His strength. They opened doors to a bunch of Spanish speaking and Filipino neighbors with whom they already had ties (their kids being in school activities together and such). I remember the husband later telling me that he had been crying out to God to show up in his life, to offer some hope, a way out of his addiction and depression. He saw our knock at the door as God's answer to his prayer. As he spoke, I remembered back to when God was stirring in my heart and calling me out of my comfort zone. It's a beautiful thing when He gives us a brief peek into the bigger picture.

I'd say the biggest factor in this whole journey toward loving my neighbor thing was the new perspective that God gave me. Instead of simply “doing my laundry,” for example, I started actively looking to meet people and start conversations in the communal laundry room. In my previous life, I had learned exactly how long the machines took at each stage of the process, and I would drop my clothes off only to return briefly when I needed to move them to the next machine. With my new outlook, however, I started bringing a book, so I could stay in the shared space and visit with some of my neighbors if the opportunity arose. Going to get the mail became a trek across my mission field, greeting neighbors by name, and learning to notice the heartbeat of the neighborhood. Just being outside where you can be seen and become known by your neighbors is a huge part of the process. I would often play with our daughter on a shared patch of grass outside our apartment where we had our BBQs. We went for a lot of walks around the complex and to nearby shops. Our everyday tasks, stuff we are already doing, have the potential to be conduits of the Gospel. These are mundane activities that can be utilized by God if we are willing to seek His kingdom first in all things—even while washing a load of smelly socks.

I'm excited about this next chapter in our new neighborhood. We've been renting a house for a little over a year now, and we're eager to get to know everyone. We've especially been praying about and on the lookout for some other believers living in our neighborhood who would be interested in partnering with us. We try to use holidays and hospitality to foster the initial introductions. We've had an awesome neighborhood Memorial Day BBQ and a Halloween costume party. My wife made some great banana bread for Christmas that we recently passed out as a family. I've also been frequenting a local coffee shop within walking distance of our place. Whenever I meet one of my neighbors, I write their name down in my notebook (my memory is pretty pathetic). My goal is to pray for them and hopefully remember their name the next time I see them. Even doing yard work can be a kingdom activity. While I'm raking the leaves or cutting the lawn I'm also observing the neighborhood and praying for the families I've met and asking God to facilitate introductions to those I've yet to meet. I've already met a few neighbors while working in the yard. If we set out to merely rake the leaves, then odds are that's all we'll accomplish.

Ultimately, meeting the neighbors and seeking to bless them is about more than just expanding our social circle. We currently have all the friends a couple of introverts could ever want. However, the heart of God compels us out of ourselves. He is a perfectly content community within Himself, and yet He makes space at His table and welcomes us wandering orphans into His family. This missional DNA is transmitted to His adopted children. Play-dates, Superbowl parties (even if you don't like football), BBQs, and neighborhood game nights become the highway on which the Gospel can be delivered. As His ambassadors, we are to both declare and demonstrate the good news of God's kingdom. So I try to learn the story of God well—to know what He is up to in the world and in my neighborhood. I'm convinced that the declaration happens best in our living rooms or over coffee, and the demonstration happens most effectively and authentically in our Gospel-centric, everyday lives. Community is the unassuming and organic means by which God frequently advances His kingdom, so we seek community with Gospel intentions. I wouldn't want the reader to conclude that we're even close to proficient at this exciting endeavor. We're still awkwardly trying to figure this new way of life out, but I'm happy to report that it's a genuine pleasure to love our neighbors. My longing to see redemption in our neighborhood and city—for His kingdom to come—has been an incremental gift from God. Furthermore, I find that my commitment to God's global mission grows in direct relationship to my commitment to the folks living next door to me. I'm inspired by good friends who have left the comfort of the U.S. to make their home in Thailand (They also gifted us with their BBQ before they left!). They pursue their Thai neighbors with the love of Jesus in simple and profound ways, faithfully obeying the command to love neighbor as self in a cross-cultural context. Wherever you live, I can assure you that there is profound brokenness behind every door on your street. Our innate hunger for Christ manifests in a myriad of different fallen ways that end in death. Depression, addiction, abuse, empty pursuits of pleasure and things, hurting and broken families dwell in darkness behind white picket fences and nicely manicured lawns, awaiting the good news that has miraculously found us on its way to them.

“For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: 'Love your neighbor as yourself'” (Galatians 5:14).