The problem I have with Twitter

Well, I don't really have a problem with Twitter per se. I just said that to get your attention. What I have a problem with is slogans. Especially when the slogans are Christian. And when the slogan-er thinks that by dropping a cute little saying or quoting a Bible verse or famous person he or she has just done a slam-dunk, given the last word, and solved the problem.

I tweet, and I read other people's tweets. But I wonder what culture we are creating with our new adroitness at 140-character sayings. Christians seem the best at it. I've done it myself. "Jesus is all you need." "God is good all the time; all the time God is good." "Let go and let God." "God works all things together for good." "Hate the sin but love the sinner." "Christianity is not a religion, it's a relationship." And the worst offender? I saw it again just the other day on a bumper sticker: "Try God."

It's not that there's not truth in each of these cliches. (Well, except that last one.) And I know what Ecclesiastes 5:2 says: "Let your words be few." But God himself took 66 books to tell us what we need to know. If it's evangelism we're after, I suspect what non-believers are really looking for these days is conversation - the chance to ask us questions and get reasoned, thoughtful answers. Not one-liners. Not Thomas Kinkade-ish pearls of "wisdom."

What got me thinking about this today is Rosaria Butterfield's excellent book, The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert. In that book the author chronicles her journey out of lesbianism and atheism to Jesus. She credits her conversion not to slogans, Scripture references on football players' eye black, a quick presentation of the Romans Road, a tract, or even a dramatic evangelistic sermon, but to a long, patient relationship with a Reformed pastor, his wife, and several members of their local church. These Christians embraced her, welcomed her into their homes, and cultivated extended conversations that eventually led to her asking THE question: "What must I do to be saved?"

Butterfield writes that when she came to faith, she began to devour the Bible - "huge chunks at a time." But soon she observed that even seasoned believers liked to pull a few words of Scripture out of their context and display them on placards. To her, this made Scripture verses seem "like sneaky little raids, quick and insulated targets into culture, with no sense that a worldview of care lay behind them."

I know that we don't always have time for the kind of relationship-building that brought Rosaria Butterfield to the Savior. (Hmm, could that be the real problem?) I also realize that some of Jesus' teachings were tweet-like. He was a master at packing profound truth into bite-size pieces. "The first will be last and the last, first." "It is more blessed to give than to receive." "I am the Bread of life," etc. But these sayings were not intended to be printed on bumper stickers or Precious Moments figurines. They were most often said in the context of extended dialogues with disciples, inquirers, and foes. Besides, Jesus is...well, God.

I'll keep tweeting. Twitter serves a purpose. But let's invest time in words and in people, that the culture we leave the next generation is an intelligent one.

My book proposal

I've started writing a book! Well, not really. I'm just developing the proposal. But I've talked with an agent at Credo Communications, attended a workshop on "How to Get Published," talked extensively with an author-friend, and gotten words of encouragement from my church. This summer I'll take a four-week study leave to (hopefully) knock out a good bit of work on the book.

So what's my book about?

Here's the way I've pitched it to my agent:

Being a pastor is sort of like living on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi or Louisiana. There's always the danger of a ministry-killing catastrophe. Churches are often unsafe places for ministers. Churches are filled with sinners - just like me! Many pastors walk into a church with a naivete about the danger of what they do every day. They are vulnerable to difficult people, unresolved conflict, incompatible visions, hidden agendas, and sin - their own and that of others.

I endured five years of conflict and crisis in a church. I went into that church naive and unprepared. I should have asked harder questions. I should have taken more time to build trust. I should have been more careful about introducing change. Fellow leaders should have been more cooperative and forgiving. It was, in short, a perfect storm, a Category 5 hurricane in the making. When the catastrophe happened, I should have been more prayerful, less accommodating to the wishes of others, move loving, patient, and honest. The conflict eventually exploded in a "planned split" that devastated my family and me and many other people. It threatened to end my career as a pastor and seriously damage my marriage.

But through that catastrophe, I learned valuable lessons. I moved on, recovered a love for the church, and eventually returned to the role of lead pastor elsewhere. In my book I will reflect on my experience and share the lessons learned. I hope to redeem the experience by helping other pastors recognize, negotiate, and redeem their own ministry hurricanes. I will also share anecdotes I collect from other pastors. Unfortunately, there are many stories out there to share.

(By the way, if you're in ministry and you've gone through a ministry catastrophe -- or have a friend who has -- I would appreciate getting the story in writing. Or I can interview you over the phone. I plan to keep all stories anonymous and will change the names of people and places.)

Obviously, my book will be aimed at pastors, but people in a variety of ministry settings will be able to relate to my story. My goal is to help people in ministry recognize the signs of an impending catastrophe, limit its damage, learn its lessons, and live with gospel optimism for the future.

Mud

Mud is the name of a new movie starring Matthew McConaughey, Reese Witherspoon, Sam Shepard, and two teens who put in an amazing performance: Tye Sheridan (also in Tree of Life) and Jacob Lofland. Mud is directed by Jeff Nichols (Take Shelter, Shotgun Stories). It's a really good movie, not only from the acting and cinematography angles but also for the values it highlights: family, friendship, loyalty, and forgiveness.

Sheridan and Lofland play the roles of Ellis and Neckbone, respectively, two boys growing up on an Arkansas river and learning something about love in an adult world filled with disappointment.

I usually dislike Matthew McConaughey movies. This one's an exception. He is Mud, a mysterious, grimy, gutsy guy who can't quite be figured out. Is he a hero or a fool? Is he to be trusted or feared? He wins the boys' help in tracking down a lost love, Juniper, played by Witherspoon in an understated role. Along the way, young Ellis has to deal with the break-up of his parents and the rejection of a girlfriend. Despite it all, he becomes the real hero as he seeks to pull Mud out of the mud he's made of his life.

In this movie, everybody's broken and everybody needs help. Help comes from unlikely sources. While Mud has been wounded by life, in him we catch a glimpse of Jesus, who like the prophet Hosea doggedly pursues his adulterous bride. Mud understands there's a devil out there who steals, kills, and destroys. Mud risks his life to rescue Ellis from death. He himself is rescued by a father who lost hope but finds it again. In the end, the many risks of love are proven worthwhile.

The Christian view of life holds that this world is messy, just like Mud. Investing your hope in people, places, and pursuits will leave you high and dry - just like the boat Mud lives in that's stuck up in a tree. The best of
human loves disappoint. Only Jesus can come to you in your helpless state, lift you out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire, set your feet on a rock and give you a firm place to stand (Psalm 40:2).

Why I did it

As many of my readers know, I recently decided to step aside from being the senior pastor of University Presbyterian Church, and "trade places" with my able associate pastor Matt Ryman, pictured here on the right. It's not really official until we're installed in our new positions, but the transition has already begun. My new title will be Pastor of Discipleship. It's a move that was about seven months in the making, requiring the support of my elders and staff, numerous meetings, tons of communication, and the approval of 4/5 of the congregation.

Many people have asked me why I did it. Some have credited me with humility. But I assure you, as God knows quite well, "humble" is not one of my attributes. No, I was motivated by two simple desires -- to focus on what I love most, and to see God glorified at UPC.

My journey began when I gave serious thought to the fact that in less than a year I will be sixty years old. I took some time to ask myself some probing questions:

• What’s my “sweet spot”? 
• When am I at my best?
• Where can I make my most significant contribution in my last “third” of life?
• How can I simplify my life in order to be at my peak for the Lord?
• What should I focus on now?
• How can I maximize my value to UPC and the kingdom of God? 

I read the book Halftime, by Bob Buford. I also read From Success to Significance, by Lloyd Reeb. These books gave me more questions to consider. I filled out the Strengths Finder assessment and took the Birkman Method. I reviewed my Myers-Briggs profile. These things were very helpful in my journey. And of course I prayed and talked with people whose counsel I value. I sensed that God was encouraging me to make adjustments in my life so as to finish well. I don't mean to sound morbid, but the fact is I don't have tons of time left. I certainly don't want to wait another five or ten years before I figure out what "finishing well" looks like. I need to be proactive.

So last summer I came to several key conclusions. Among them were the following:

1. I'm a relational guy. I enjoy working directly with people and helping them grow.
2. The role that brings me the greatest satisfaction and, I think, the greatest blessing to others is that of shepherd. Shepherding includes teaching and preaching, but also spending unhurried time with people, counseling, visiting, practicing hospitality, ministering to the grieving, leading small groups, working with children, leading task teams, training leaders, and the like. 
3. Less energizing are the tasks associated with top-level, organizational leadership: i.e., leading on the “macro” level, motivating, analyzing problems, coming up with new and visionary plans, managing staff, leading the elders, etc. Those are things I've done for over twenty-five years. I'm ready for something different.

I didn't know quite what to do with these thoughts until I attended a seminar at the PCA General Assembly in July, 2012. It was a seminar for senior pastors my age. The speaker encouraged us to explore alternatives to retiring or switching churches. He said something like this: "If your people trust you, and if you have an associate pastor who respects you and whom you love, you ought to think about making a 'lateral move' instead of simply leaving. You ought to hand the baton off to that younger colleague, and stay in your church in a new role."

That's the kind of direction I was looking for. I spoke with my associate pastor and he was immediately captured by the idea. I spoke with my elders and they voiced support as well. Then it became a matter of figuring out how best to present the concept to the congregation.

I wrote a letter to the church and read it aloud in a meeting last November. I told the people what I'm writing here. Many members voiced their support. But as expected, others had questions and reservations. We formed an Advisory Team to lead the transition process, always aware that the decision to change pastoral calls rests finally with the congregation. We created means of getting people's input and had several meetings. Finally, in late February of this year, the congregation voted in favor of the pastoral transition. My younger colleague would take the helm as senior pastor of UPC, and I would become an associate pastor focusing on discipleship and shepherding.

I'm truly excited about my new role, especially the opportunity to rethink our small groups program. But I'm excited not just because I will be doing the things I love most. Above I said that I had a second motivating desire -- to see God glorified at UPC.

I have an obligation to help younger leaders reach their full potential. That’s what other people did for me thirty years ago. It is vital (not to mention Biblical) that we who are older pass the baton to those who are younger. (See this excellent article by George Barna.) Not only that -- we HAVE to change if we are going to stay ahead of the game and be culturally relevant to new generations of men and women. You may have seen the statistics. Vast numbers of young people are leaving the church during their college years, and many never come back. Thirty percent of American adults under the age of 30 have no religious affiliation. The US church is aging. In many places it is dying. Today, of about 350,000 churches in America, four out of five are either plateaued or declining. It is time for creative risk and a new venture if we are going to reverse these trends.

"Always reforming" needs to be more than just a slogan. As churches make necessary adjustments in order to be contextually relevant -- while never compromising the gospel -- the kingdom advances. My decision to "trade places" was not an effort to work less (frankly I'll be working just as much as ever!). Nor was it a response to stress or disappointment or ministry burn-out. It was, I hope, a way of letting God surprise us with all sorts of new and unexpected gifts of grace. I'm also hoping my church can provide a model of succession for other pastors and other churches.

Leo Tolstoy said, "Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself." If change was going to happen at UPC, I knew it needed to start with me.

When praying, words matter

In previous posts, I railed about some common grammatical errors people (including me) make. The following is not really a grammar thing, but it does have to do with words improperly used.

It's very common for people, when they pray in public especially, to say, "Lord, we pray that you would... (you fill in the blank)." I'll never forget what one of my seminary professors (the venerable and late Dr. Robert G. Rayburn) did one time. He asked a student to pray at the start of class. And so this student started praying a very nice prayer. He used the well-known and very proper A-C-T-S pattern that every Christian knows we're supposed to use. And when he got to the S part of the prayer ("supplication"), he said something like, "And Lord, we pray that you would use this class in our lives to make us more like Jesus." But before he could finish that sentence the professor interrupted him (gasp!).

Dr. Rayburn said, "You must not pray that way. Don't say, 'Father would you do this or that,' say 'Father, will you do this or that'!"

What Professor Rayburn was getting at was that the word "would" is not the language of a child speaking confidently and shamelessly to his Father. A little child does not usually say to her father, "Daddy, would you read a book to me?" If she does, she apparently is none too confident that daddy wants to read her a book. Instead she says, "Daddy, Daddy! Will you read a book to me?" She expects to be heard and she expects to be gratified. Similarly, God wants to know what we want. He wants us to ask for what we want, not tentatively but confidently.  When we pray, we should talk as though we believe what Jesus said one time: "Ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you" (John 15:7). Sure, God can, and often does, say "No" to our requests. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't ask for what we want.

So the way that student should have prayed is, "Lord, we pray that you will use this class in our lives to make us more like Jesus."

Ever since Dr. Rayburn shared that little secret, I have tried to pray, "Lord, I pray that you WILL...(whatever)." Try it and see if using the word "will" instead of "would" helps you pray with more boldness and childlike honesty.

Not a Norman Rockwell Christmas

If Norman Rockwell had dropped by the Osborne home over Christmas 2012, he would not have painted one of his happy holiday paintings. Because this is what he would have seen and heard...

• babies crying at all hours of the day and night
• young and old alike doubled over with fever, headaches, and stomach viruses
• people running to the bathroom to throw up
• people running to the bathroom to... you know
• people cleaning up baby messes
• wrapping paper, dirty dishes, leftovers, and dog hair everywhere
• families leaving sooner than planned because they didn't want to stay in our petri dish of a house

My computer will show zero photos from this year's family "celebration." There was simply nothing photogenic about Christmas 2012!

But then...

I will always cherish watching my adult kids deal graciously with trial and being great parents and friends in spite of it all.

I will never forget my special all-day time (at Monkey Joe's, McDonalds, Bright Light Books, Wreck-It Ralph, pet store, and Subway) with my three oldest grandkids, because we didn't want to hang out with the sickies.

I grew yet another ton in admiration for my amazing wife Suzy, who knows how to give Jesus-love to people when they are sick and unhappy.

And of course I will enjoy my new Kindle Fire HD!

I also thought...

If Norman Rockwell had happened by the manger of Bethlehem 2,000 years ago, he would not have painted one of his happy paintings of the first Christmas. He would have seen and heard a baby crying at all hours of the day and night...filth, chaos, and confusion...and a family leaving sooner than planned because of the brokenness of this world.

So I suppose it was a pretty cool Christmas for my family and me after all.

Never alone

During my junior year of high school I was on the wrestling team. I had the bright idea that if I lost 15 pounds I could wrestle in the 145-lb. class and have a better chance of beating my opponents. So I practically starved myself for a few weeks, worked out in a rubber suit, and made weight - just barely - for our first big meet against our rivals from Woodruff High School. After weigh-in, I downed two Hershey chocolate bars for energy. I felt good. I knew I'd win. My opponent didn't look very strong. When it was time for my match, I strode confidently out on the mat and got in position.

It took about ten seconds to find out I had nothing to give.

I had no strength. Since I hadn't eaten for several weeks, I was Silly Putty in my opponent's hands. He threw me around like I was his little four-year old brother. All I could do is keep one of my shoulder blades off the mat. I managed to survive all three periods of the match, but the entire time I was on my back, trying not be pinned. When at last the ref's whistle signaled the end of the match, I was a goner. I could hardly stand up. I hobbled off the mat and dragged myself into the locker room, where I promptly threw up those two Hershey bars. I lay down on the locker room floor and prayed it had all been a bad dream.

And then I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard a voice asking me if I was OK. I looked up, and saw my Dad.

Dad helped me off the floor and onto a table, where I lay for a long time trying to recover. Dad stayed by my side. He didn't say much, but I remember he told me he was proud of me. Then he helped me into the showers, where I sat under the comforting stream of hot water and cried. Dad waited on a bench. Then he helped me get dressed and walked with me back into the gym, where the wrestling meet had just ended. He stood by me while I faced my coach and teammates. He was there as everyone stared and a few chuckled. He walked with me out to the car and drove me home.

It was a humiliating night. But Dad was there the whole time. He was for me. He was with me. I was not alone.

Through the years, that experience has been a reminder to me of God's promise to be with us no matter what. And that's what Christmas is all about - God with us. Jesus Christ, the second Person of the Trinity, left heaven and came into our world of sin, misery, failure, and shame to be our Rescuer. As theologians put it, Christ left his pre-incarnate state and entered a state of humiliation. He chose squalor for his birthplace, a disreputable village as his hometown, and a couple of poor unknowns to be his parents. He quickly became familiar with suffering and acquainted with grief. He was tempted in every way, just as we are. He was a friend of sinners and tax collectors, but he hung out with anyone willing to listen. He showed the world what God was like. And then, three years into his ministry, he was arrested, tried, condemned, and crucified. It was God's way of taking the blame and paying the price for our sin. Three days after he died, Jesus rose again, ascended to heaven, and sent his Spirit to live inside us.

And he has never left us, not for a minute. He's lived up to his name - "Immanuel," God with us.

No matter who you are, what you've done, how you've failed, or where you've run, if you've put your trust in Jesus Christ you can know he is with you all the time. You are never alone. The One born in the manger of Bethlehem also died on a cross outside Jerusalem. And if he did that, you can count on it that he will never leave you or forsake you.

Son of Rambow

Son of Rambow (2007) is a touching, funny little British film about two young boys who make a movie together and become best friends. I recommend the movie highly. It's rated PG-13 but it's not a film for children, due to some bad language and what the rating industry calls "reckless behavior."

The acting of these young kids is amazing, especially that of Will Poulter, who plays the bully Lee Carter (below in the photo). Lee forcibly takes shy Will Proudfoot under wing and makes him be his stunt man in a movie that eventually becomes "Son of Rambow." By the end of the film, Lee has experienced the stubborn love of a friend and Will has tamed Lee's wild self-centeredness.

There's a note of suppressed sadness in Will's life. His father died some time ago from a brain aneurysm. Will often breaks his mom's rule and visits an old shack behind their house, where some of his dad's things are stored. To bring peace to his broken heart, Will retreats into the world of his amazing drawings. He invents stories that become part of his and Lee's movie. Lee grows to appreciate the talents of his young apprentice.

The Bible celebrates friendship like the one portrayed in Son of Rambow. "Two are better than one," says the writer of Ecclesiastes. "Pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up." Jesus, of course, is the best of friends. At one point in the movie, Will says to Lee, "Good morning, Lee Carter. I'm here to help you." Without knowing the truth of his words, Lee replies, "Jesus Christ!"

Will and his family are devout Christians on a journey to understand God in a broken world. I love the prayer they pray at bedtime: "O my God, I've come to say thank you for your love today. Thank you for my family and all the friends you give to me. Guard me in the dark of night, and in the morning, send your light. Amen."

Amen. See this movie.

Cloud Atlas

Cloud Atlas is the strangest, most confusing big-budget movie I've seen in a long while - maybe ever. It stars Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Hugh Grant, Susan Sarandon, and several others, each of whom play as many as seven different characters from the past, present, and future. It's directed by the Wachowski  siblings (the Matrix trilogy) and Tom Tykwer (Run Lola Run). Rather than try to tell you the story (er, stories), I'll refer you here and you can read for yourself, but beware of numerous spoilers.

Cloud Atlas deserves its R rating. There's plenty of bad language, skin, and bloody violence in it. And for those and other reasons, I don't recommend this movie.

For one thing, it's long (172 minutes). An hour in, I congratulated myself that I didn't shell out money for it, as I used a Regal reward to get in for free. But that tells you that I wasn't liking Cloud Atlas very much - until another hour or so had passed. Then it finally started to grow on me. By the end, I thought that to do it justice, I really should see it again. But...no, I'm not going to do that. For several reasons.

Much of the acting is just not that good. Halle Berry in particular looks like she's in a high school play. And for me, Tom Hanks is totally out of place - in every iteration. The weird language his and Berry's characters speak in post-apocalyptic Hawaii is just silly. I can imagine Tom and Halle must have burst out laughing in take after take. In order to play five, six, or seven different people, all the actors had to have amazing makeovers. The prosthetics and wardrobe budgets alone had to be ginormous. In a way, it's kind of fun trying to identify who's who. But after a while, I was wondering if it was really all that necessary to make the same people play all those different parts. Obviously, the point was to show that people are connected over time and space. But still.

One actor who is really great in this movie is Jim Broadbent. In one of his five roles (as Timothy Cavendish) he is hilarious. Cavendish is a publisher who owes some thugs a bunch of money and ends up "imprisoned" in a nursing home. His escape with three other "inmates" becomes a really funny misadventure.

Another fine and haunting performance is turned in by Hugh Weaving (of Agent Smith fame). In one of the film's stories, he plays a devil-like character. I had a new image of Satan tempting Jesus in the wilderness.

Along the way, Cloud Atlas manages to preach against Big Oil, nuclear power, capitalism, homophobia, and of course Christianity. However, there is a redeeming element that I should mention. The film ennobles self-sacrifice for the good of others. A refrain heard throughout the movie is, "Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future." That's true, so far as it goes. But John Calvin (1509-1564) had a more God-centered philosophy:

We are not our own: let not our reason nor our will, therefore, sway our plans and deeds. We are not our own: let us therefore not set it as our goal to seek what is expedient for us according to the flesh. We are not our own: insofar as we can, let us therefore forget ourselves and all that is ours. Conversely, we are God's: let us therefore live for him and die for him. We are God's: let his wisdom and will therefore rule all our actions. We are God's: let all the parts of our life accordingly strive toward him as our only lawful goal.