Tag Archives: life

June 4, 2019

It’s All Relational Communication

By Howard Cassidy-Moffatt

feed my sheep

I was in my favorite local Mexican restaurant the other day…anticipating a fine repast after the morning’s worship service. We were seated and one of the servers came to the table. “Hola, mis amigos!” It’s the regular greeting from this young man who often attends to our lunch needs.

I, having just finished preaching to vast throngs (ok, a couple) of worshippers at the church, was entirely focused on “what’s for lunch.” Our friendly server, however, was more focused on updating us on his family situation: his son was turning one in a few days; he expressed some consternation over how much money to spend on the party (“An $80 pinata!” he said, chagrined that his wife wanted to spend so much); the reluctant acknowledgement of surrender to his wife’s fiscal plans for the baby’s birthday; and the requisite recent picture of the cute lad.

Meanwhile, back at the menu…which I was clearly brandishing in my hand and which was supposed to be signaling my strong desire for some, you know, food…I realized that I had fallen into the wrong conversational category–again.

Communication theorists like to tell us that there are different modes and manners of communication. There is, though, a bit of “art” in the attempt to parse the different kinds of communication (by the way, we’re talking between people here, not between people and their dogs or cats or other species of pet).

Two frequently noted types of communication are transactional and relational. Transactional communication is viewed as the simple, well, transaction of business. “I’d like an iced tea, please?” “Would you like sweet or unsweet?” “Sweet, of course, you dolt” (actually, that last phrase is best left unsaid–otherwise the transaction might go awry).

You get the idea–transactional communication is a short-term exchange of information to accomplish a set purpose. There is no sense that anything of personal impact is going on (unless, of course, you try to pass along some unsweet tea to this particular tea connoisseur). That doesn’t diminish the weight or content of a particular transaction, it is just to say that the point is usually the exchange itself.

Relational communication is deeper, personal, affective, and impactful. It is the mode of communication we use when we value our connections with people and are trying to enhance those connections. “I love you, Sweetie!” Some academics hold that relational communication is only happens between people with already close connections–I think they’re mistaken.

Of course, out here in the real world where theorists dare not tread, the lines between the communication categories are not so neatly drawn. Our communication patterns tend to float back and forth betwixt the two types and become entangled with each other such that it’s sometimes hard to tell where the emphasis lies.

As an example, the use of what may appear (on the surface) to be relational communication to accomplish a given task is just gussied up transactional communication. “I love you, Sweetie! Would you get me some sweet tea?” (Did you see the clever use of “sweet” variants there?)

Transactional communication is usually easy. It’s direct, operates with an economy of words, and requires minimal (usually no) investment of relational energy. And, I think we do this all the time. At the store; at the favored fast food joint; wherever we find ourselves, it is easy to default to transactional communication. This is particularly true if you find yourself on the introverted end of the personality profile assessment results.

I think though, as Christians, we miss the point of communication when we let ourselves fall into a habit of transactional communication. It lends itself to us thinking that others are just agents placed here to meet our personal needs.

I’ve scoured the Gospels and I cannot find a place where Jesus was merely transactional. Every word seems to have been packed with relational and redemptive purpose. Even those moments that may have seemed to be purely transactional (“Hey, go get me a donkey to ride into the city”) resulted in marvel at His wisdom and power and deepened people’s connection with Him.

Would that we would be so relationally purposeful in our communication. Our everyday interactions could be characterized by a deepened sense of purpose in connection as we look people in the eye and really see them.

Our responses to public issues could transcend pointed, twitter-sharpened communication and, instead, drip with winsomeness as we speak life into the culture.

The thing is, a focus on relational communication is not hard, it just takes a bit of time. Time that we often believe that we don’t have because we are too stinkin’ busy with our “important things.”

How can we measure the impact of our words and ensure those words genuinely reflect the love of Christ in our hearts? At every juncture we can pause to do basic relational things: we can find out people’s names; we can engage them with them by using their names; we can inquire about how things are going for them; we can pause to pray if that’s warranted (or at least commit to praying for them, lest we incur the wrath of those behind us in the express checkout lane). Simple? Yes. Regularly done even though simple? Not at all.

One of the most basic, yet frequently forgotten things I’ve found in my own Christian life is that every word I say to others has a relational component (contra those communication wise ones)–whether I act purposefully on that relational component or not.

If I’m purposeful and caring and loving, I can move someone a little further along in their journey toward Jesus (or, at least, not put a pothole in the road). If I am not purposeful and caring and loving, I will (at the least) miss an opportunity to briefly invest in someone’s life. I will (more often than not) be counted among those whose conversational interactions are characterized by mere transaction.

The Apostle Paul said, “Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone” (Galatians 4:5,6). I think he was onto something about relational communication long before the contemporary theorists arrived on the scene.

© 2019, All rights reserved. Scripture from the New International Version, Zondervan.

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June 19, 2018

In Order to Be Servers, We Have to Be Servers

By Howard Cassidy-Moffatt

I will inevitably misapply some technological terms in this post. I beg your indulgence.

We used to be servers (in the technology sense). We had built in capacity. We had memory–both working memory and storage. Arguably, we used a fairly significant portion of our brains actually holding onto data. We never reached capacity–and some stored more data than others–but we were servers. Our teachers asked us to remember stuff. The more we remembered, the better able we were to navigate–life, jobs, algebra, friendships, the world. We paid attention. We were intrigued by interesting ideas and, when we “looked something up,” it was to hold onto the information we acquired, not just briefly “fondle” it.

I know what you’re thinking: someone else piling onto the “we use technology too much” bandwagon.

But I am not–piling on–that is. At least not in the way you might think I am. I do bemoan my own readily acknowledged shortened attention span. I’ve noticed that I often don’t read articles all the way through any more. I skim them, pick up the information that made it into the first few paragraphs, and then discard the article  because I can “always look it up again later.” There is reputable research to suggest that we have become beholden to our devices (indeed, perhaps becoming one with those devices) and that our cognitive capacity is reduced as a result.

We used to be servers–holding onto data because we knew that acquisition and personal processing of information better prepared us to face the persons and ideas that came our way. But now we’re just peripheral devices. We go to the servers via our preferred search engines (Google, etc., those collections of ones and zeroes that someone else holds onto, out there, in the “cloud”) and acquire data for utility in the moment, and then we let it slip away–back to the cloud–which never forgets. Our Google search history will remind us, when go to look up the same data again, and again, and again.

Why does this matter for Christians? Because, in my view, we cannot be servers (in the biblical sense) if we’re not servers (data hosts) in the technological sense. Putting aside the cultural forces at play and generational transitions, the much researched and readily acknowledged decline in biblical worldview can, I think, be directly traced to a concomitant decline in personal storage of biblical information.

Accumulating Bible knowledge was (and is) never an end in itself. It is always information acquired for purposes: helping us recognize our need for Jesus; helping us better reflect His image; helping us better serve Him; helping us better serve the world around us; helping us better serve. The original languages of the Bible have words for acquiring knowledge. Both the Hebrew word and the Greek word imply knowledge gained with informed action in mind.

But we do not act on the truth from the Bible because we do not know it. When we run into a personal or cultural jam, we try to Google our way out of it–like lighting one match at a time to find our way out of a dark cave, finding just the right passage to support our idea of the moment. When we do that–find those passages, that is–we rip them from their context and apply them in foolish ways–handicapping our capacity to serve Jesus well.

We do not have a fully orbed Christian worldview because we do not have, in resident memory, the stuff from which that worldview is formed. We get trapped in conversations about particular issues–often finding ourselves at the end of a self-constructed mental cul-de-sac–because we do not know the larger context of the pertinent biblical teaching. We settle for ineptly crafted, fortune cookie “wisdom” when we could be offering full slices of the Bread of Life.

I believe that the steady accumulation of biblical data (returning to becoming “servers”) will incrementally and, perhaps even exponentially, enhance our capacity to serve this world in the ways that God would have us.

Exposure to the sweep of the Gospel will enable us to recognize injustice and respond with compassion. Ingesting and digesting the biblical data about love will make us better lovers of God and others and, yes, self. A steady diet of biblical truth will enable us to sort through the multi-channel waves of cultural and political upheaval to discern a way forward that honors God and lifts people up.

We must bask in the truth of the totality of God’s Word to discern the way forward with Him. Let’s become servers in order to be servers.

© 2018

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October 25, 2017

Uncommon Purpose

By Howard Cassidy-Moffatt

It started with the Swedish television show, Expedition Robinson, was perfected in Survivor, and applied to the corporate world in The Apprentice. It is the world of magnified and amplified competition, known somewhat disingenuously as “Reality TV.” While many aspects of these shows stray significantly from reality, what is real about them is their representation of the well-honed American competitive instinct.

The interesting thing about these shows is the deception of apparently shared purpose. In Survivor, sixteen wilderness castaways initially work together to make it in the rigors of a desert or remote jungle, each with his or her face set toward the same one prize. But that façade of commonality quickly falls away to reveal true purpose: individual gratification. Even the tightest of “alliances” eventually dissolves under the pressure of the “grand prize.” In Survivor, apparently common purpose is ultimately a set of conflicted purposes. In actuality, the show illustrates individual purpose that is ultimately at cross-purposes with common (shared) purpose.

Much of the contemporary talk about “my purpose” resonates with historic “rugged American individualism.” Indeed, this individualism has reached near perfection at the advent of the 21st Century. Even the U.S. Army bought into the notion for a while with its recruitment campaign for the “Army of One.” Frankly, the “Army of One” belies the reality of military purpose. Though the individual soldier is the key building block for effective application of military force, and individual acts of bravery often mark a successful military campaign–armies, by definition and necessity are never “of one”–they are “of many” who have married themselves to common, higher purpose–purpose that often demands the ultimate sacrifice of self-interest in the service of the larger cause.

There is, of course, a place for healthy expression of individual purpose. Indeed, a requisite for a fulfilled life is the focus and direction inherent to a well-rounded sense of personal purpose. Lack of focus is simply wasted time and, if we believe that each day is a gift from God, lack of purposeful living is just old-fashioned bad stewardship. So, each person ought to find what it is that makes his or her heart go “pitter patter” and pursue it with gusto.

However, as healthy as the purposeful life is, it can be deficient. Much of individual purpose can lead to a Maslowian self-actualization that is (most benignly) merely ignorant of others, or (more often) achieved at the expense of others and their purposes in a grand elimination contest where the fit survive and the others watch.   Survivor has only one million-dollar winner. And, at its worse, this individualistic purpose results in the canine cannibalism of the “dog eat dog” world; a world where “looking out for number one” has become so culturally ingrained that it provides the stage lighting for contemporary life.

But, even given the imperative of a focused life–a life grounded in a sense of forward movement and ultimate end–personal purpose cannot find ultimate expression in the kind of rugged individualism captured by Survivor and its ilk. We can get caught up in “my purpose” and miss out on the fullness of immersion in “our purpose.” I believe that personal purpose must be wrapped into higher, broader, common (in the sense of “shared”) purpose for humanity. I believe we need to reclaim a wider view of purpose–a view that is more broadly stated, understood, encouraged, and pursued. For durable success, my individual purpose must eventually mesh with others’ purposes in common endeavors, working toward common purpose.

This way to view purpose is, I believe, the Bible way, the Christian way. That way leans not so heavily in the direction of individual purpose, asking the question, “Am I fulfilled?” but leans in the direction of more complementary purpose, asking the question, “Are we fulfilling?” The former has as its end that definitive personal fulfillment ala Maslow–irrespective of the condition of humanity around us. The latter has as its end the fulfillment that comes with partnership for wider purpose. This may require temporary, sometimes even permanent sublimation of individual fulfillment for the greater cause.

Thus, healthy personal purpose ought to be secondary. It ought to fall behind a more grand sense of purpose–shared purpose–higher purpose, in Christian parlance, God’s purpose. My purpose should not have to conflict with your purpose, they should be able to operate in tandem (at least), or in complementary fashion (at best). I would contend that the most satisfying individual fulfillment comes in the context of complementary, not competitive, purpose. People can complement each other in the world to create an animated human mosaic, colored with individual outlook, but linked together to form a picture of God’s purpose for humanity. This then enables us to complement God’s own purpose as we partner with Him to advance His agenda for humanity.

For Christians, God’s purposes unfold in the Bible and biblical purpose is complementary. How can we know that biblical purpose is complementary? I think there are several ways, I will mention just a few.

First, much of the biblical language is corporate language–addressed to groups of people. Many of the “yous” sprinkled throughout the Bible are plural and speak to “the crowd” not the individual. When God worked in the life of Abraham, it was to establish a nation. When God speaks through the authors of the New Testament epistles, he most often speaks in the language of plurality. To be sure, there are many personal promises and examples of God working in and through individuals, but even a cursory scan of the Bible reveals a propensity toward community and larger purpose. God-followers, particularly Western ones, often read the Bible in terms of its individuality, missing that its flavor is plural, not singular.

Second, in addition to the corporate nature of much biblical language, the Bible has a thoroughgoing emphasis on wider circles of connection–a focus on other people, particularly the weak and defenseless. This emphasis speaks not just to the need for care of the downtrodden, but also to their inclusion in the corporate expression of the community of faith. In the Hebrew Bible, the Christian Old Testament, widows and orphans are held up as types of the most helpless in society. The followers of God, leaders in particular, are repeatedly admonished to make the wellbeing of these defenseless ones a prime concern of the gathered faithful–in a movement toward what the Pilgrims called a “commonwealth.”

Deuteronomy 10:17,18 says, “For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing.” The biblical Book of Isaiah opens with Isaiah’s vision “concerning Judah and Jerusalem” and includes this definition of learning “to do right: “Seek justice, encourage the oppressed. Defend the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow” (Isaiah 1:17). Clearly this is not individual purpose Survivor-style. It is full-orbed community purpose at work.

In the New Testament, the phrase “one another” dots the literary landscape. This phenomenon begins with Jesus’ admonition to “love one another” so that the validity of His message and the Christian faith will be self-evident (John 13:35). The “one anothers” continue throughout the New Testament in a way that makes it impossible to miss the wider purpose of the Christian community–a purpose that transcends individual ends and makes possible the common cause. “Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves” (Romans 12:10). “Serve one another in love” (Galatians 5:13). “Encourage one another and build each other up” (1 Thessalonians 5:11). “Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds” (Hebrews 10:24). “Clothe yourselves with humility toward one another” (1 Peter 5:5). This is a microcosm of the list. You cannot hear the “one anothers” and remain focused on purely personal purpose.

Finally, within the Bible, there are strong threads of a willingness to defer personal advancement and position in the service of a larger cause, God’s cause. Those threads are woven together in the work of Jesus Christ who models service to others in the face of the greatest personal cost possible. I remember being introduced to Abraham Maslow and his hierarchy of needs in an undergraduate psychology class. A fellow student asked the professor if she thought Jesus Christ was an example of a self-actualized person. She said, “Yes, of course.” That exchange stuck with me through the years. It was only after I studied the life of Christ that I realized that Jesus was the only truly “other” actualized person to ever walk the planet.

Jesus is the one who said, “the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). He is the one who said, “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). You cannot simultaneously lay down your life for your friends and be in pursuit of purely personal purpose.

This possibility of shared purpose is not confined to those who share a Christian worldview. Anyone can recognize the power of shared purpose packed into the Golden Rule: “In everything, do to others what you would have them do to you” (Matthew 7:12). That is a prescription for disaster in Survivor where all depends on individual actualization at the expense of others. It is, however, a prescription for success in pursuit of common purpose. In fact, I would contend that the Golden Rule is an excellent launching point for realization of shared purpose. All of the major world religions have their own expression of Golden Rule sentiment. Every person on the globe could engage every other person at the “do to others” level and begin to know the depth of fulfillment wrapped into shared purpose. Sadly, in my view, there is little emphasis on common purpose–little motivation for people to look beyond their own fulfillment and see the beauty of shared endeavor.

I have a picture on the wall of my study. It’s one of those souvenir pictures that capture “touristas” in the middle of a white-water rafting expedition. The picture is of my boat and the people with me on the Arkansas River in Colorado when several friends helped shepherd a church youth group on a rafting expedition. The only trouble with the picture is that, though it is of my boat, I am not among the thrill seekers captured by the camera that day.

My boat had eight people in it. Before our journey down the river, our guide gave us the mandatory safety briefing. During the briefing he said, “I’m certain no one will fall out of any of our boats. However, if you fall out, you need to remember several things. One of the most important things is to keep your feet pointed downstream. If your head is pointed downstream, your feet can get stuck between rocks and the force of the water will keep your head under water–you can easily drown–so keep your feet pointed downstream. But, I’m certain no one will fall out of any of our boats.” He then gave instructions about paddling in unison and making turns. Finally, he taught us how to retrieve someone who has fallen out of the boat, even though he was “certain no one will fall out of their boat.”

We were off on a wild ride after the briefing. The river was running fast and the white water splashed everywhere. We were already drenched when our boat entered a particularly rugged section of the river. The boat began to bounce. Up and down we went–dipping into deep-water pockets and cresting large waves. We hit the boat with a thud each time we came down. Our feet were carefully stuffed into the foot anchors in the boat, so the ups and downs were slightly unnerving but exhilarating. Just as the joy was sinking in, we went up with the boat again and we came down. But this time my descent did not end with the familiar slap of buttocks against rubber. Instead I felt the engulfing chill of the white water. I had, of course, fallen out of the boat. Three things began to work their way through my thoughts. The first was, “Hey, I could drown here!” The second was, “Why is the boat on top of my head?” The third was, “How in the world am I supposed to point my feet downstream with a boat on my head?”

Somehow, I tumbled from under the boat and my head bobbed above the water. My friend David, who had paid attention to the safety briefing, grabbed the straps on my life jacket, pushed me down into the water for buoyancy, and pulled me into the raft when I bounced back out of the river. I didn’t know until later (when they tried to sell us the photos from our ride) that I wasn’t in the boat when they took the picture, I was under the boat.

Life should be a little like that white-water ride. I should travel with a group of folks on an adventurous journey. I should have my own paddle, pull my own weight as best I can, and feel the struggle with the water personally. I should know the fulfillment packed into personal effort. But I should not paddle alone. I should paddle in tandem with others. We should be under the careful observation of a seasoned guide. We should have an agreed upon common direction and be aiming to get there together. We should work together to negotiate the ups and the downs. We should make our turns together. We should travel at a pace that enables everyone who climbed into the boat to reach the destination at the same time. And, when I fall overboard (we all fall in from time to time), I should be able to rest in the knowledge that someone from my group will work to pull me back in.

Personal purpose is second place purpose–even at its most noble. First place purpose is the wider, complementary purpose that actualizes when people link their lives, gifts, abilities, and passions and look outward and upward to more comprehensive ends. Unfortunately, shared purpose is all too uncommon. To be sure, there are pockets, perhaps whole communities of faith that have discovered the notion of shared purpose. Even there, however, Survivor’s shadow frequently darkens the view.

If, however, we can find the means to fit personal purpose into something more grand–if we can hear the voice of God calling us beyond ourselves–if that happens, we are no longer survivors with various levels of individual achievement; we are thrivers–together. And God smiles.

(c) 2017, All Rights Reserved

 

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September 4, 2014

Some Assembly Required

By Howard Cassidy-Moffatt

some-assembly-required-mainThere are word combinations in the English language that I love:  “Pepperoni, Sausage, Extra Cheese,” hovers near the top of the list. 

There are word combinations in the English language that I despise:  “While you are up, can you…?”  Note to readers…waiting until I am up to have me satisfy your whims is not adorable; it’s annoying.  But I stray from the topic at hand. 

Because there is one word combination in the English language that makes me want to heave (as in, you know, projectile vomiting).  I am not talking about the mildly upset stomach followed by the quasi-catch-in-the-throat-near-miss vomit.  No, I am talking about solar system departure trajectory, full on, don’t-get-in-the-way-or-you’ll-be-knocked-down-and-covered-with-gastric-juices-for-life vomit. 

What words, you ask (so as to never utter them in my presence), might generate such a depraved, visceral (literally) response?  Here they are…mark them down…do not say them to me:  “SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED.” 

Now, I know that there are genuine he men and she women whose day is made more delightful by put-it-together-yourself-because-they-were-too-lazy-to-do-it-at-the-factory projects.  My hat is off to them (actually, my hat was off anyway, but I needed a handy cliché). 

Seriously, I know some ace project people who are both genuinely good at what they do and whose hearts thump with delight at the mere prospect of such projects.  You probably know some people like that too.  You may even be one.  You know who you are…you are barely on step one of the current project and yet you have already cast your eye on the next project.  God bless you. 

But…I am not a “SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED” kind of person.  This whacked me again when I was beginning to put together a chair.  Why I was putting the chair together is a post for another day.  But there I was, through no fault of my own, taking the chair pieces out of the boxes so as to lay them out and have each piece handy for the assembly. 

Unpacking the pieces is what got me riled up.  The pieces were each heavily fortified with nuclear detonation proof plastic and then sealed with THAT KIND of tape.  The kind of tape that will not detape itself…until you have tried to cut it with every sharp object at hand…and then cut your hand…until the tape finally yields only to reveal the INNER PLASTIC and TAPE. 

And this was my thought in that moment:  wouldn’t it have been easier just to assemble the stinking chair?!?  I mean, rather than wrap each little piece in multiple shrouds of bomb proof tape and plastic, wouldn’t it be simpler to just assemble the stinking chair?!?  [I know, I have said “stinking” twice…it’s for, you know, emphasis.] 

Of course the mere unwrapping of all the pieces is followed by the preliminary reading of the assembly instructions.  You have seen these instructions.  They are cobbled together by people whose first language is, indeed, English, but who have such demented minds that they use Google Translate to render the instructions through the entire list of available languages in the app before re-rendering the instructions in English. 

That process takes a sentence like, “Identify the four hex nuts and lay them side-by-side,” and transmogrifies it into something like, “Put your left hand in, take your left hand out, put your left hand in and then you shake the nearest dog’s tail until the dog eats the turnips left over from the guillotine.”  [This is not hyperbole; you know it’s true.] 

You have to read the instructions so many times that you forget why you started reading them in the first place.  And then you remember:  SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED. 

I so loathe those words…unless, of course, unless…they are about me.  Because I know that I am a horrible mess of a work in progress and I am so very grateful that Jesus has decided to work in me (and sometimes…rarely, but sometimes, through me).  I thank God that His work in me is not dependent upon my ability to bring it about. 

Oh sure, I read the instructions (His are plain enough) and I do my best to follow along.  But then I remember that it is God who is at work in me to accomplish His purposes. 

And the very funny thing is…He delights in the project–He’s one of those project types.  The Master Carpenter who labored over His neighbors’ household needs, is now at work to perfect His strength right here…in the middle of me.  

I, of course, am very much more complicated than a chair that comes in a box.  Presuming that I slog my way through the instructions, stick with the project, find that runaway bolt that must have rolled into the heater vent (again!), and connect all the connections…the chair will be assembled.  It will stay that way; it won’t try to disassemble itself.  But I will…try to disassemble myself, that is. 

And Jesus starts again…with me…putting me back aright and pouring out His compassion while I am in the very process of self-disassembly.  Oh, great love!  Oh, great mercy!  Oh, great power!  Oh, great patience! 

“Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6).

 © All rights reserved.  Scripture quotations from the NIV.

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August 25, 2014

Learning to Count

By Howard Cassidy-Moffatt

2-plus-2

2 + 2 = ??

You know the answer to that math puzzle, don’t you? And yet you hesitate because you fear there is some bloggish mystery about the equation that will result in a case of the chagrins if you blurt a wrong answer. You’re still holding back, aren’t you? Even though you are alone, in front of your computer or tablet and there is NO ONE watching. You are afraid; you are very afraid. Hey! It’ll be OK…give it a whirl…

So, 2 + 2 = ??

2 + 2 = 4 (Tada!)

You knew the answer all along because you mastered basic math skills back when you were a wee lass or lad. Simple operations, like addition, came right after the primary math skill: counting.

Crawling, walking, talking, household pet aggravation, accurate aim in toileting (at least for boys), reading, writing, arithmetic…these are some of the skills people aspire to acquire as they grow up. These are also some of the skills that we hope our progeny develop as they grow up. And the last one, in particular, is a skill Christians need to master as we grow up.

We want kids to learn to count; God wants His kids to learn to count too. Why is that? Because Christianity is not all “get”; there is a great deal of “give.” Now, let me quickly add (Ha! Get it? Add?) that this is not a “give” to earn or buy but a “give” that is a response to the lavish love of God.

How do we know this is true? Why, the Bible. Jesus, in cautioning a burgeoning yet perhaps uninformed enthusiasm in Luke 14: 25-33, tries to make sure that His followers “get it”–that is, that they “get” that counting is a key element in Christ following.

In that Luke passage, Jesus cautions the crowds to beware that family connections might become casualties if those in the crowd choose Him. He cautions the crowds that their very lives might be forfeit if they choose to follow Him. Count, He says! For the sake of it all, count!

Jesus points to construction contractors who count to make sure they have the resources in place to finish their projects. In similar fashion, Jesus says, governmental leaders, intent on warfare, do their “battle damage estimates” before firing the first shot.

This counting is not, I believe, a call to hesitation–a discipleship “speed bump” if you will–it is rather a call to “eyes wide open” discipleship. Knowing that following Jesus has some associated risk makes for more determined disciples. This is not a “Wow, that’s going to cost way too much so I’m going to back off,” message. This is a “Wow, this is important enough to mean something,” message.

A hundred years ago Eleanor Porter wrote a book about how a cheerful girl changed the outlook of an entire town with her indefatigable optimism. In 1960, Walt Disney (ever the marketer of good feelings) made the novel into a film starring a teenaged Haley Mills. The book and movie: Pollyanna. By sheer force of cheer, Pollyanna rescues a town, a church, and her family from a distasteful tendency toward the dour. The film paved the way for a label that came to mean a disingenuous cheerfulness: Pollyannaism.

That label, unfortunately, describes many in the believing community. It is talked about as a matter of faith: “just believe” and, to be sure, there is the highly commended, scriptural faith essential. And…if we have to lean…we should undoubtedly lean in the faith direction.

But there is also this call to count…and I think it’s a call often ignored in the Christian community. Again, not the counting to avoid, but the counting to proceed with determination down the path Jesus has marked for us.

Friends may indeed abandon; family may wince and walk away; treasure may be given over; reputations may be tattered; lives may be surrendered. All of them happily ceded as a result of this very basic math skill: counting.

I believe Jesus wants His followers to have eyes wide open. If our eyes are not wide open, they cannot see the cost of the following. But neither can they see the joy of the following. This is a joy in the same “joy family” as Jesus’ “joy set before Him” in Hebrews 12:2. This joy came as a result of enduring the excruciating challenge of the cross and finding joy on the other side of a hard obedience. Our joy can come in a similar way; it can come on the other side of “eyes wide open” discipleship as we count the cost of following Him.

This joy is not mere relief that the endurance test has passed; it is the incomprehensible delight at the things that God has prepared for those who love Him (1 Corinthians 2:9). Eyes wide open indeed.

© All rights reserved.  Scripture quotations from the NIV.

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June 24, 2014

Circling for a Landing

By Howard Cassidy-Moffatt

Do all dogs do this?  All the ones I’ve ever had did.  They would approach their favorite landing spot…pillow…dog bed…my bed (sigh)…and they would begin the process.  They would circle and tramp and circle and tramp and circle and tramp until they finally plopped and curled into a compact and comfortable ball of fur.  They would then look up at you with “that look” (furtive, raised eyebrows)–the look that said, “I am comfortably ensconced now…DO.NOT.BOTHER.ME.  I will let you know when I need feeding or walking or other service from you.” 

The Doberman would exhale with a canine harrumph.  The Dalmatian would tuck her nose tightly under her foreleg.  The Dane would sprawl…legs cast about in random compass headings…occupying acreage that was the envy of small countries (This is true; I have the ambassadorial complaints on file).

It was clear to anyone who observed: the pooches had arrived at max comfort and would not move until some biological necessity or some rude human required such movement.

And I have to confess that part of me grew wistful as I observed this dogified pursuit of comfort…landing “just so” on a perfectly prepared perch…not a care in the world…the essence of serenity.  Makes me want to run out and get one of those deluxe doggie beds.  You know the kind…it’s advertised in the “mall in the sky” magazine that you browse when you fly.  Those doggone beds have comfort-dialed mattresses, separate dining rooms, and spare roll out doggie cots for when the in-laws visit.

Supreme comfort…the pinnacle of pup aspirations.  And, I am afraid, often the pinnacle of people’s aspirations as well.  There have been so many conversations with Christians who have punctuated the dialogue with a note about (or insistence upon) comfort.  “I’m just not comfortable with that,” or, “I’m looking for a place where I can be comfortable.”

My usual mental response:  “Well…the mattress store is just down the street, why don’t you try there?”  My preferred verbal response:  “Are you out of your EVER.LOVING.MIND?!?”  No, not really… 

My actual verbal response is usually something like this:  “I don’t think Christ followers are called to comfort; I think were called to radical obedience and I think that radical obedience often implies a decided lack of comfort.”  Then, upon completion of the mandatory and reflexive eye roll, my conversation partner will usually “ease on down the road”–often muttering something about me needing to get a grip on reality.

To be sure, the Bible mandates the giving and receiving of comfort on the part of God’s people (see Isaiah 40:1 or listen to Handel’s rendering of same).

But the Bible’s comfort is not a pursuit of the pain-free, cushioned, doggie-bed life–nor is it a ministerial call to provide such for God’s people.  The Bible’s comfort is all about experiencing the fullness of the God’s presence in the middle of the hard stuff of life. 

Paul was most eloquent in this regard in 2 Corinthians, Chapter 1.  He says that we who have struggled are called to reach out and comfort those who have had a life struggle that resembles ours…by dispensing the comfort we ourselves received from the very hand of God.  This is not a “making my life easy” proposition; this is a full immersion in the fabric of life that Jesus called “abundant” but which is not usually marked by luxury or an absence of challenging personal circumstances.  Sadly, advocacy for this is near quixotic in our day and time.

My experience (for what it’s worth):  the most growth, the most fulfilling times of life and ministry, the deepest relationships forged, were all in the midst (don’t you love it when I speak KJV?) of the most decidedly “uncomfortable” times. 

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. 7 And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort” 

(2 Corinthians 1:3-7).

© All rights reserved.  Scripture quotations from the NIV.

 

 

 

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April 17, 2014

2D Lives in a 3D World

By Howard Cassidy-Moffatt

I don’t remember the first 3D movie I saw.  It may have been Avatar with its floating and iridescent “Seeds of the Sacred Tree.”  It may have been another film; memory fails.

I do remember the last 3D movie I saw:  Captain America: Winter Soldier.  It was, in a couple of words, great fun (in a “you’re an adult you should have outgrown it by now” Marvel Comics kind of way).  Swashbuckling of the 21st Century sort, complete with high flight action and down to earth yet over-the-top, nobody could do that, 3D hand-to-hand combat.  An elevator car as a mixed martial arts arena, who knew?  And, yes, I still have my specially branded Captain America 3D glasses.  

I have also seen movies in 2D that had corresponding 3D releases and I can distinctly recall saying to myself, “This must be way better in 3D.”  You can, if you’re carefully observant, spot scenes in a 2D movie where 3D can make the difference between “ho hum” and “wow!” 

In order to see a 3D movie, you have to wear the glasses.  You have to put on the device intended to make the movie come alive; otherwise you get blurred and indistinct action.  You miss the depth, movement, life, and reach.  You miss the movements behind the movements.  You miss intricacy in the life layering.  You miss what the creator of the film intends; you just miss. 

This is Maundy Thursday–from the Latin “mandatum”–a command to remember.  The day in the Christian calendar set aside to honor Jesus’ words by remembering His last celebration of the Passover meal until He returns to gather His people–His Kingdom people–and take them home to be with Him. 

The week for Jesus and His disciples had been a whirl: Exuberant response to Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem, tossed money tables and wisdom-drenched teaching in the Temple. Then on to this day which would turn so quickly from the intimacy of Paschal dinner to arrest, “mockery” trials, conviction, and rejection by a frenzied crowd (whirled into its death chants by “leaders” clinging to positional prerogative).  Whips, scourging, thorns, nails, a cross, death–hideous death. 

Everybody missed what Jesus was up to that week.  Certainly the disciples reveled in the early acclamation.  But this?  Death? 

They were living 2D lives in God’s 3D world.  They had not “put on” the device intended to make them see the 3D depth and distinctiveness of this world as Jesus had made it.  Sure, they had the Scriptures, but in a 2D way, they had only seen what they had wanted to see: a Savior who would powerfully show the Romans to the exit and make way for a new era of Israelite glory.  They missed the death, the man of sorrows who takes up our infirmities; they had missed; they couldn’t see properly. 

Then Jesus clears their vision with His loved-fueled, 3D move.  He compels them to see every dimension of the Scriptures’ teaching about Him and His mission by acting it out–there on a hill, in that 3D, blood dripping down a cross way.  God loves us; he reaches to us in our 2D limitations and draws Himself to us with this repulsive, redemptive act: He dies for us. 

We must need “put on” Christ now (Romans 13:14).  If we have any chance of seeing things in ourselves or things in this world the way they were intended to be seen, we must embrace this horrific act–this cross–this death–this life given that we might live.  We must know Him in order to see life as it is designed to be: “life to the full.” 

To be sure, even if we put on Christ and get our 3D glasses, they will inevitably be smudged and scratched by our profligacy in sin.  Even in our 3D glasses fit for this world, we see “dimly” a “poor reflection” (1 Corinthians 13:12). 

But think of the wonder of this: living a life seeing as God intends for us to see.  Seeing ourselves as much loved creations of the King of the Universe.  Seeing our daily need for empowerment by the very Spirit of Christ to make our way in this world.  Seeing our capacity to invite our friends and acquaintances to shed the blurry vagueness of the 2D life and trade it for the vibrancy of the 3D life. 

Wouldn’t you rather be done with bumping and blundering in 2D fashion?  Wouldn’t you rather live a 3D life? 

© All rights reserved.  Scripture from the NIV, Zondervan. 

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