JESUS

Please tell me why God allowed over 6000 innocent people to be murdered on September 11, 2001?

Answer?

I don’t know.

Where was God?

I don’t know.

When Leslie Weatherhead, a minister in London during the Second World War, was asked by a member in his congregation where God was when his son was killed in a bombing raid, Weatherhead replied, »I guess he was where he was when his son was killed.«

And where was that?

I don’t know.

Isn’t »I don’t know« too ambiguous? Isn’t »I don’t know« an unconvincing way to convince young people Christianity is true?

Actually, »I don’t know« confirms one critical truth about Christianity…it’s a mystery!

Jesus loves us, right?

Of course.

So if he loves us, he protects us, right?

If he loves us…he is with us.

Jesus can heal, can’t he? And perform miracles?

Of course. Just not very often.

Why?

I don’t know.

What about God’s will?

My youth director says we’re supposed to seek God’s will. There are lots of verses in the Bible that tell us to do God’s will, aren’t there? God does have a will, right?

Absolutely.

Trouble is God’s will is not like a to-do list. It’s more like an undecipherable code. The Bible definitely gives us some clues about the code of God’s will, which means we can figure out part of it; but, because it’s God, we will never crack the code.

Clues?

Yeah, like, follow me, serve me, love me, live by my commandments, point people to me.

That’s it? Just follow me, serve me, love me and trust me?

That’s about it.

What do you mean »that’s about it?«

You don’t want to know.

Yes I do.

We get a cross.

Cross????? What does that mean?

I don’t know.

But God does heal people, doesn’t he?

Certainly.

And miracles do happen, don’t they.

Right.

So we can count on God helping us, can’t we?

We can count on God being God.

Which means…??

I don’t know.

And what does that mean?

It means we can trust God if we lost someone in the WTC or if they survived.

It means we can trust God when we have cancer and when we’re healed.

We can trust God if we survive a natural disaster or if we don’t.

We can trust God when we get a glimpse of Divine will and when we don’t.

We can trust God in the answers and the questions, in the good and the bad, in the light and the dark, when we’re winning and when we’re losing.

We can trust God even when the Truth doesn’t answer all our questions or leaves us with even more questions.

And, most importantly, just beyond our »I don’t know’s,« Jesus is waiting with open arms to snuggle us in the mystery of his love.

What characterizes Christianity in the modern world is its odd-ness. Christianity is home for people who are out of step, unfashionable, unconventional and counter-cultural. As Peter says, »strangers and aliens.«

I pastor the slowest growing church in America. We started twelve years ago with 90 members and have un-grown to 30. We’re about as far as you can get from a »user friendly« church—not because our congregation is unfriendly, but because our services are unpredictable, unpolished and inconsistent.

We’re an »odd-friendly« church, attracting unique and different followers of Christ who make every service a surprise. We refuse to edit oddness and incompetence from our services. We believe our oddness matters. We want our service filled with mistakes and surprises, because life is full of mistakes and surprises.

One Sunday morning, during the time for prayer requests, a member began describing the critical illness of her father. Because she was close to her father, her request for prayer was frequently interrupted by tears. Those around her reached out a hand or nodded with sadness. Some found their eyes filling with tears as well. The woman finished her request as best as she could.

Seated in the front row was Sadie—a young woman with Down’s syndrome. Sadie stood and walked up the aisle until she saw the woman in the middle of her row. Stepping over the feet of other people in the aisle, Sadie reached the woman, bent down on her knees, laid her head on the woman’s lap, and cried with her.

Sadie »inconvenienced« an entire row of people, stepped on their shoes, and forced them to make room for her … but none of us will ever forget that moment. Sadie is still teaching the rest of us what the odd compassion of Christ’s church looks like.

Someone said »you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you odd.« Whoever made that statement understood what it means to be a follower of Christ. Followers of Christ are odd. Oddness is important because it’s the quality that adds color, texture, variety, and beauty to the human condition. Christ doesn’t make us the same. What He does is affirm our differentness.

Oddness is important because the most dangerous word in Western culture is »sameness.« Sameness is a virus that infects members of industrialized nations and causes an allergic reaction to anyone who’s different. This virus affects the decision-making part of our brain, resulting in an obsession with making the identical choices that everyone else is making.

Sameness is a disease with disastrous consequences—differences are ignored, uniqueness is not listened to, our gifts are cancelled out, and the place where life, passion, and joy reside are snuffed out.

Sameness is the result of sin. Sin does much more than infect us with lust and greed; it flattens the human race, franchises us, attempts to make us all homogenous. Sameness is the cemetery where our distinctiveness dies. In a sea of sameness, no one has an identity.

But Christians do have an identity. Aliens! We’re the odd ones, the strange ones, the misfits, the outsiders, the incompatibles. Oddness is a gift of God that sits dormant until God’s spirit gives it life and shape. Oddness is the consequence of following the One who made us unique, different … and in His image!

Do you have any friends? Really close friends? Friends for life?

I came to a startling revelation a few months ago. I don’t have any friends. I don’t. I have a lot of acquaintances but, other than my wife, I really have no close friends.

I’ve had some friends in the past, but not many. Eventually something happened—nothing sinister, just something—like moving, having a baby, changing jobs, building a home, going back to school, changing churches; nothing bad or wrong, just something that happened and, the next thing I knew, another friendship slowly eroded.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are half a dozen guys who I consider to be close, caring people and who I always look forward to being with. They are people with whom, on occasion, I have shared my guts...and I would again. They are people who know how to have fun, who accept me as I am—no pretense, no persona to maintain—just simple, meaningful relationships.

But a close friend? Nope. Not one.

You are probably wondering why. I have been wondering why for a long time. After some very painful soul-searching, I think I have discovered the reasons.

I am too busy. I am gone too much, travel too much, speak too much, and work too much. I have done an excellent job of convincing the people around me that I am too busy—too busy doing the very important work that I am doing—to have any time for friendships. In other words, I have »snowed« everyone around me. I have convinced them to buy into the myth of my busy-ness to such a degree that the possibility of my being their friend (or them being mine) never enters their mind. That’s what people like me do. We hide behind the walls of our busy-ness so that we don’t have to worry about anyone wanting to be our friend. You see, people don’t want to impose. They don’t want to rob my wife and me of the very few moments we have together, so they enable us by staying away from us so that we can be even busier.

This week I am speaking in England, next week New York, the week after that Hawaii, then Australia, then Dallas, then Vancouver. And then I come home for a few days...exhausted, jet lagged, useless to everyone around me while my body and mind adjust to the new and unfamiliar surroundings—my home. I spend a day with my wife and kids getting reacquainted, and all the while I’m anxious to get to the phone messages and correspondence that have fallen way behind. I’m home, but I’m not home. I am present, but I am not really present. And then one morning I wake up and realize that I am alone. Very alone. I realize I need to do something about all of this, then I race to catch the plane for my next trip and vow to change when I get home. But I never do.

When will it occur to those of us who are in the ministry, who are in the public eye, that we cannot keep doing this? We cannot keep hiding behind our busy schedules. We cannot keep acting like we have no choice because without us the world will fall apart.

Instead of the world falling apart, we fall apart...or our families, or our kids, or our congregations fall apart.

I’ll never forget a statement Janis Joplin once made after a big concert: »I’ve just made love to 25,000 people and I’m going home alone.«

Let me speak as bluntly as I possibly can to all of us, including myself: If we are too busy to have friends, we are much too busy. If we are too busy to have time for our families, kids, or neighbors, we are much too busy. Most of us in the ministry are lone rangers, isolated from everyone, separated by our »fame« and our giftedness. We have surrounded ourselves with employees whose job is to keep the peons away from us. No wonder so many ministers crack up. No wonder so many ministers end up having affairs, or end up using their churches as a place to pad their pocketbooks and/or build monuments to themselves.

Friendship is not an option for Christians.

Jesus’ disciples were friends, not groupies...even Judas.

Let’s get real. Let’s quit being so busy. Take a sabbatical. Take the time required to build the kind of friendships that will last. After all, that’s what Jesus did. He wasn’t so busy that He didn’t take time to make friends first, then disciples. He only had three years. Isn’t that one of the great parts of the Good News? The God of the Universe—Who should be fairly busy Himself—wants to be our friend.

Instead of building a ministry to thousands, maybe we ought to build a friendship with one. Instead of speaking 200 times a year, maybe we ought to listen to our children and our spouse. Maybe we should be known not for how many converts we make or radio stations we acquire or crusades we hold. Maybe we should be known as someone who knows how to have friends.

I have decided to make some friends.

It will mean I have to stay home. It will mean I have to spend time with someone doing absolutely nothing. It will mean I have to work at something that is not easy for me. But I am not worried. My friend Jesus is willing to help.

Please tell me why God allowed over 6000 innocent people to be murdered on September 11, 2001?

Answer?

I don’t know.

Where was God?

I don’t know.

When Leslie Weatherhead, a minister in London during the Second World War, was asked by a member in his congregation where God was when his son was killed in a bombing raid, Weatherhead replied, »I guess he was where he was when his son was killed.«

And where was that?

I don’t know.

Isn’t »I don’t know« too ambiguous? Isn’t »I don’t know« an unconvincing way to convince young people Christianity is true?

Actually, »I don’t know« confirms one critical truth about Christianity…it’s a mystery!

Jesus loves us, right?

Of course.

So if he loves us, he protects us, right?

If he loves us…he is with us.

Jesus can heal, can’t he? And perform miracles?

Of course. Just not very often.

Why?

I don’t know.

What about God’s will?

My youth director says we’re supposed to seek God’s will. There are lots of verses in the Bible that tell us to do God’s will, aren’t there? God does have a will, right?

Absolutely.

Trouble is God’s will is not like a to-do list. It’s more like an undecipherable code. The Bible definitely gives us some clues about the code of God’s will, which means we can figure out part of it; but, because it’s God, we will never crack the code.

Clues?

Yeah, like, follow me, serve me, love me, live by my commandments, point people to me.

That’s it? Just follow me, serve me, love me and trust me?

That’s about it.

What do you mean »that’s about it?«

You don’t want to know.

Yes I do.

We get a cross.

Cross????? What does that mean?

I don’t know.

But God does heal people, doesn’t he?

Certainly.

And miracles do happen, don’t they.

Right.

So we can count on God helping us, can’t we?

We can count on God being God.

Which means…??

I don’t know.

And what does that mean?

It means we can trust God if we lost someone in the WTC or if they survived.

It means we can trust God when we have cancer and when we’re healed.

We can trust God if we survive a natural disaster or if we don’t.

We can trust God when we get a glimpse of Divine will and when we don’t.

We can trust God in the answers and the questions, in the good and the bad, in the light and the dark, when we’re winning and when we’re losing.

We can trust God even when the Truth doesn’t answer all our questions or leaves us with even more questions.

And, most importantly, just beyond our »I don’t know’s,« Jesus is waiting with open arms to snuggle us in the mystery of his love.

God loved His initial human creation so much that He gave mankind freedom to make choices. [Genesis 2-3] This freedom involved the choice of saying »yes« or »no« to an obedient, yet personal relationship with God. The first two individuals He created both said »no« – a decision that subsequent generations of men and women have confirmed by their own choices.

The Bible teaches that evil originated from outside this world (2 Peter 2:4, Jude 6) and entered the human race through Adam, whose disobedience in turn affected all of creation. (Genesis 3:16-19) Because we are by nature social creatures, an individual’s activities are not limited to himself, but always affect others. Therefore, when we willfully choose to reject God and go our own selfish ways, others will necessarily suffer.

When Adam failed to trust Him, God could have begun all over with a new creation – one which did not have the option to accept or reject God, like robots. But, while He restricts evil, He has allowed evil to run its course so that individuals may voluntarily choose Him. The climax of this great antagonism is that evil shall not rule in the universe forever, but will be decisively and ultimately overcome by God’s power in the future. (1 Corinthians 15:24-28)

However, the key question is, »How will you use your free will?« or, stated another way, »What decision will you make regarding Jesus Christ and His claims towards you?«

Godly people don't often feel godly, and followers of Christ don't often feel like followers of Christ.

I was talking with a friend of mine this week. She talks to people about God. Every day she is talking, writing, reading, and counseling about Christianity and spirituality. She said to me, »I am sick of God, sick of religion, sick of talking to people about God. Even while I am talking to someone about their faith, even while I am listening to someone through their tears tell me how much I have helped them, all I can think about is getting out of here and watching mindless television.«

Is this person a hypocrite? A phony? I don’t think so.

There is the »seen self« and the »secret self.« Although the secret self in her is very real, she cannot reveal it to the people she ministers with.

My wife and I were watching a movie a few weeks ago. Truthfully, my wife was watching, and I was desperately trying to stay awake. When the movie was over, I immediately said, »Let’s go to bed.« Silence. I looked over and her face was covered with tears. She was an emotional basketcase. When she could find the words, she told me that the movie had moved her on so many levels she didn’t know where to begin. What was going on? My wife, obviously, had no idea.

Clearly, her secret self was responding to that movie.

One of the members of my family shocked everyone one night by saying something like, »I am so tired of everyone thinking I am so strong and independent. I am not strong. I am weak. I am afraid. I am alone. My independence is my hiding place so the real me can’t be seen.« This family member was talking about that part of them that had been kept a secret.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer is known for his martyrdom at the hands of SS during the Second World War. The author of The Cost Of Discipleship. Bonhoeffer is held up as a model of courage and spirituality. But was he as courageous as he appeared? He wrote a poem about that very question titled »Who Am I?«

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a Squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really that which
other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself
know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick,
like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though
hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colors, for flowers,
for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness,
for neighborliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends
at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying,
at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Apparently Bonhoeffer faced the same dilemma we face. There was the part of him that everyone saw and admired, and there was the secret part of him that only Bonhoeffer and God knew about. I believe all of us face that same dilemma. Whatever people believe about us, we all are cursed with a secret self—a self no one knows, a self who can only be revealed to the closest of friends, if even to them.

Somewhere in the side streets of the soul is a place where this secret self lives. It is a place where our fear and loneliness congregate, where our insecurities run wild.

It is the home of the exhausted self, the burnt-out self, the sick-and-tired self, the angry self, the hurt self, the abandoned self. It is the part of us that is so fresh, so current, so tentative, so fragile that we cannot allow that self to be seen, except by the most trusted of friends, because its raw reality is just too much for others to see. It is the alone part of us that is meant to be alone because it’s too fragile, too unstable. It is the self that is present when we don’t feel worthy to take communion, the self that visits in the midst of depression.

I have decided that the secret self is where Jesus is. Conversion does not get rid of the secret self; instead, Jesus becomes a friend to it. We can live fully and honestly in the presence of the real tension between both selves.

It is important to recognize this because, often, the Church tries to make us believe that real Christians don’t have secret selves, that genuine believers don’t have parts of them which disbelieve, that mature Christians never get angry at God or regret their decision to follow Christ, and that godly people don’t get sick of God.

None of this is true. Godly people don’t often feel godly, and followers of Christ don’t often feel like followers of Christ.

This is the glory of genuine faith: In the presence of doubts, we believe; taunted by our fears, we act fearlessly; surrounded by our weaknesses, we still stand; weary, burned-out, exhausted to the point of betrayal, we cling to faith.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, martyr, »restless, longing, sick, struggling for breath, trembling, weary and empty,« faces death with dignity and courage, strength and honor, and walks confidently into the open arms of his God who, it turns out, is a friend to Bonhoeffer’s secret self... as well as to the self everyone admired.