Tim Clark’s Blog

There is a huge difference between a critical spirit and critical thinking.

A critical spirit will destroy you and others. It manifests in the kind of person who is petty, judgmental, and often bitter. It wants to tear other people down, regardless of their motivation. A person who is overly critical is frequently insecure, pessimistic and spiritually immature. They have a very hard time seeing the good in others, and think of themselves more highly than those they habitually criticize, which is the exact opposite of the attitude that God, in Scripture, calls us to have

Actually, people with a critical spirit are in partnership with the Devil, as he is called “the accuser of Christians” (Rev 12:10) and seeks to “kill, steal, and destroy” people (John 10:10). We are not to give the Devil any place in our lives; I think that goes for people who act as his agents.

On the other hand, I think engaging in critical thinking is really important. This is not in an effort to tear someone down; properly communicated critical thinking can have the opposite impact and actually build someone else up in love. Critical thinking is reflective regarding what is right and wrong, what is good and bad, what to do and not do. In it’s best sense, critical thinking is discernment, which is a mark of wisdom (Proverbs 10:13).

So can you be a critical thinker without having a critical spirit? Yes. But you have to be careful, because the more discerning you are about the ‘rightness’ or ‘wrongness’ of a situation or action, the easier it can be to judge the person performing that action. What allows for critical judgement without a judgmental and critical spirit is love—if you love someone you want to help them grow and mature; if you don’t love them you want to tear them down (or tear down their reputation behind their backs). True love helps us to understand when and how correction is beneficial and when and how it is hurtful and destructive.

“You, then, why do you judge your brother? Or why do you look down on your brother?…let us stop passing judgment on one another. Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in your brother’s way.” Romans 14:10 & 13

“The Philistines had mustered for battle at Lehi, where there was a field full of lentils. Israel fled before the Philistines, but Shammah took his stand at the center of the field, successfully defended it, and routed the Philistines. Another great victory for God!” (2 Samuel 23:11-12 The Message)

I used to read this passage and think that Shammah, one of David’s 3 mighty men, was also a lentil farmer; that it was his field, and everyone else could run away but he wasn’t going to let the Philistines get his land. Sounds like the Great American Western to me.

But lately, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think this was Shammah’s field at all. In fact (if he was anything like me) he may not have even known the difference between a lentil and a lima-bean. All we know is that the enemy was on the attack and this beanfield is where he happened to be when it went down. And we know that everyone else ran away, but that Shammah didn’t budge.

I wonder if, when he was fighting the Philistines (quite possibly hundreds of them), Shammah thought to himself, “This certainly isn’t where I planned to go out in a blaze of glory…I’m not even sure who owns this field”. Maybe not, but whatever he did think, whatever questions he might have had about how he got there, he was prepared to go down fighting for the place he discovered himself when the action got underway.

Perhaps you have found yourself in a place that isn’t of your own choosing. You thought (hoped?) you were going to have your defining moment somewhere very different than where you happen to be. And instead of a fortified city with plenty of weapons and your buddies supporting you, you are standing ankle-deep in mud…with a rusty sword…all alone.

Of course, you always have a choice. You can run away. That is exactly what plenty of people did that day. It’s probably even the smart thing to do. Nobody is going to blame you for living to fight another day. After all, it’s just a beanfield, right?

Or you can stand your ground. Who cares if the conditions aren’t perfect? Who cares if it isn’t your beanfield? Who cares if it’s un-glamourous? You’ve found yourself in the middle of something that needs to be done—so do it.

Sometimes, making that choice is the difference between the mighty and everybody else!

One more question: Was Shammah already one of David’s mighty men when he took his stand, or did he become known because he faithfully defended a beanfield that nobody else cared about? I think it’s the latter.

You don’t do mighty things when you become a mighty person, you become known as a mighty person because you do mighty things.

Even mighty things that nobody else (but God) may notice or care about!

2^nd Annual Tech Break

This is the second year of what I think will become a yearly habit: Personal vacation time also means vacation from a majority of my technology. Once again, since 3 weeks in July is vacation, I’m declaring all of July “freedom from internet-addiction month.” That means no Facebook, no Twitter, no blogging, no mindless web surfing and radically limited email use.

This gives me a month to unplug, quiet-down, reflect and listen to something other than the constant stream of input that comes from every side. I still think technology is a wonderful tool and a great gift when used right, but I want to fast from this resource regularly to remind myself that it serves me; I don’t serve it!

And I want to remember that not only don’t I serve it, I don’t really need it to engage the most important things in life. In fact sometimes technology can get in the way of those important things like focused and uninterrupted time with my kids, or my friends, or my wife…or my Lord.

So, goodbye! I’ll catch you all in August! And if the Internet does something really cool while I’m gone, someone call me; OK? I’ll probably still check my voicemail every once in a while! (LOL)

Last week I took my family to see the movie Toy Story 3. The kids (9, 7 and 3) loved it! My wife loved it, and it made her cry. I loved it and was grateful for the long credit sequence after the movie which gave me time to pull it together and wipe the tears away. In short, the Clark family gave the movie “two thumbs up”.

In the film one of the toy characters tells the other toys that they are nothing but a bunch of plastic and garbage destined to be thrown away. The toy believes this about the others because he believes it about himself. And he displays no value for anyone else, because, we discover, he feels totally valueless because of past pain and rejection.

Now switch gears with me: A few years ago the school I worked for was getting rid of an ugly, out-of-date, too-heavy furniture set that had regretfully been painted over with black lacker. It had been found abandoned in a basement of a downtown building that belongs to our denomination. Once it got to the College, it was evident that it wasn’t going to serve the purpose it was brought over for…so it was going to be tossed.

But it just so happened that I needed a desk. And my very handy, retired, and imaginative dad saw it and suggested it for my office. He said that he and my uncle (both amazing craftsmen) could work on it and make it look really nice. I was scared. I believed with everyone else that this thing was way beyond redemption, but I finally agreed to let Dad do it with the agreement that if it didn’t turn out, I didn’t have to use it (and an agreement with the College that if it did turn out, I could keep it after I left since it was going to be trashed anyways).

Three months later, my dad and uncle brought in one of the coolest and most gorgeous old-school, solid wood, leather top, desk, file cabinet and credenza I had ever seen. Now they are sitting in my study at home. Every day I’m blown away by the beauty and artistry of this stuff. And I intend to use it for the rest of my life as a reminder that what most people think is worthy only of discarding can be wonderfully used if the right artist gets their hands on it and restores it.

Now back to Toy Story 3. The toys were in peril because another toy was convinced none of them had value. We often treat others poorly because we ca’t see our own value. We look at ourselves and others and consider that our lives are unusable and fit only for the junkyard.

But that is not how the Savior sees us. He not only saves us from being delivered to destruction, but He painstakingly takes whatever time necessary to restore the true beauty that He created us with and knows is there. None of us is beyond redemption and restoration. That should influence the way we see ourselves and should impact the way we see others, too.

As I work with college students, one of the recurring issues I tend to deal with is initiative. As much as I may love an individual, I’ve discovered I can’t do much to develop a young adult who has little or no initiative. I’m just not built to be a hand-holder (some are, and thank God for them). For me, proper stewardship of my life dictates that I can help direct a moving vehicle, but I need to stay away from attempting to steer parked cars.

But even among those with initiative, I’ve found there is a nuanced difference in the type of initiative they show:

Reactive initiative happens when you realize there is something you want, or need, and you change course to take care of it on the spot. Someone showing reactive initiative may be driving along and see a person in a parking lot with whom they have been wanting to connect, so they make an instant decision to adjust their schedule, whip a U-Turn, park and jump out of the car to have a 10 minute conversation.

If that seems like a no-brainer to you, then you have at least some level of initiative. Many people would notice the person and just keep driving while making a mental note to email or call that person later (and then forget about it in 5 minutes.)

Proactive initiative, however, happens when that person knows they want to connect with an individual, and therefore writes it down on his or her to-do list and then takes time to set up a lunch appointment.

I’m not saying reactive initiative is always a bad thing—most of us react to things occasionally. But I do think the total lack of proactive initiative is something with which to be very concerned, because it usually implies a lack of discipline.

And while initiative is really important for a leader, discipline is non-negotiable. I work with a lot of twentysomethings who are self-motivated and highly creative, but without learning discipline they will never realize their full potential.

I have a little test I do with many of the students in my life (I’m giving away secrets now!): I get quite a few requests for discipleship meetings, and I often answer those requests by saying that I do my devotions at a particular Starbucks at 6:30 on a certain morning, and that they are welcome to join me—and then I never remind them.

While many take up that challenge and set themselves to be there, I’m always amazed at those who do not. No matter how much they protest that they really want to get together with me, they just can’t bring themselves to remember the time, or to pull themselves out of bed that early.

In a slightly different variation, when some see me at a service they try to set an appointment then and there. I always ask them to email or call me later in the week. I don’t do this because I can’t figure out my schedule when they ask, but I’m challenging them to develop a life of proactive initiative as opposed to simply reactive initiative. I get maybe 50% (at most) who follow through.

Initiative is good, but much like intention it must be driven by the engine of discipline, or it will produce very little impact in or through a person’s life.

Last week I wrote some thoughts about a respected Pastor, Tom Ferguson, who went to be with the Lord. Yesterday John Wooden, arguably the greatest college basketball coach of all time, died. I never had the opportunity to meet him, but as someone who wants to be a good ‘leader-coach’ and as a man who wants to be upright and godly, John Wooden’s life and work deeply inspired me.

The following words are taken from an article Rick Reilly wrote ten years ago in his Sports Illustrated column. Occasionally, I run across it in my files as I’m preparing for a sermon, and I re-read it, and weep. God bless you, John Wooden; thanks for the example!

On the 21st of the month, the best man I know will do what he always does on the 21st of the month. He’ll sit down and pen a love letter to his best girl. He’ll say how much he misses her and loves her and can’t wait to see her again.

Then he’ll fold it once, slide it in a little envelope and walk into his bedroom. He’ll go to the stack of love letters sitting there on her pillow, untie the yellow ribbon, place the new one on top and tie the ribbon again. The stack will be 180 letters high then, because the 21st will be 15 years to the day since Nellie, his beloved wife of 53 years, died.

In her memory, he sleeps only on his half of the bed, only on his pillow, only on top of the sheets, never between; with just the old bedspread they shared to keep him warm.

There has never been another coach like Wooden, quiet as an April snow and square as a game of checkers; loyal to one woman, one school, one way; walking around campus in his sensible shoes and Jimmy Stewart morals.

He’d spend a half hour the first day of practice teaching his men how to put on a sock. “Wrinkles can lead to blisters,” he’d warn. These huge players would sneak looks at one another and roll their eyes. Eventually, they’d do it right. “Good,” he’d say. “And now for the other foot.”

Of the 180 players who played for him, Wooden knows the whereabouts of 172. Of course, it’s not hard when most of them call, checking on his health, secretly hoping to hear some of his simple life lessons so that they can write them on the lunch bags of their kids, who will roll their eyes.

“Discipline yourself, and others won’t need to,” Coach would say. “Never lie, never cheat, never steal,” and “Earn the right to be proud and confident.”

If you played for him, you played by his rules: Never score without acknowledging a teammate. One word of profanity and you’re done for the day. Treat your opponent with respect.

He believed in hopelessly out-of-date stuff that never did anything but win championships. No dribbling behind the back or through the legs. “There’s no need,” he’d say.

No UCLA basketball number was retired under his watch. “What about the fellows who wore that number before? Didn’t they contribute to the team?” he’d say.

No long hair, no facial hair. “They take too long to dry, and you could catch cold leaving the gym,” he’d say. That one drove his players bonkers.

One day, All-America center Bill Walton showed up with a full beard.  “It’s my right,” he insisted. Wooden asked if he believed that strongly.  Walton said he did. “That’s good, Bill,” Coach said. “I admire people who have strong beliefs and stick by them, I really do. We’re going to miss you.” Walton shaved it right then and there. Now Walton calls once a week to tell Coach he loves him.

It’s always too soon when you have to leave the condo and go back out into the real world, where the rules are so much grayer and the teams so much worse.

As Wooden shows you to the door, you take one last look around. The framed report cards of his great-grandkids, the boxes of jellybeans peeking out from under the favorite wooden chair, the dozens of pictures of Nellie.

He’s almost 90 now. You think a little more hunched over than last time.  Steps a little smaller. You hope it’s not the last time you see him. He smiles. “I’m not afraid to die,” he says. “Death is my only chance to be with her again.”

Problem is, we still need him here.

I remember first meeting Tom Ferguson when I was 28 years old and getting ready to plant a church in Seattle. He was to be my District Supervisor, and we were getting to know one another since I was coming from out of the area. After talking and praying with him for an hour I recall that I had two distinct thoughts:

First, that he was a godly man. Here was a leader who didn’t just talk about praying, he prayed. When most of us see the encouragement to ‘pray without ceasing’, we somehow read it as slightly hyperbolic; Tom saw that, and lived it literally. There was a constant connection to the Source of his life and that connection was clear to those who knew him.

His humility was just as marked as his prayer life. Tom seemed to embody Romans 12:3—“Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you.” There wasn’t false-humility or heavy self-deprecation; he simply came across as unpretentious and solid.

Second, that he was a very authentic Christian leader. Though his life of prayer and devotion was evident, when I asked him what he liked to do with his time he said that he and his wife and friends loved to go see movies. I don’t know why that impressed me so much—it wasn’t about the movies as much as it was about the down-to-earth way he answered that question. It was just so apparent that he wasn’t trying to impress anyone; that he was a real guy who loved Jesus, loved his family and friends, and was faithful to fulfill whatever assignment God had given him.

In other words, his position of leadership (one of the highest positions of leadership a person can have in our denomination) didn’t change who he was. His role didn’t shape his reality. This was simply an assignment that he would steward well, but that didn’t cause him to forget his identity, either.

In subsequent interactions, I would realize that Tom was a very positive guy. I never heard him speak a negative or cynical word, and many others didn’t either. This was a man for whom hope was reality and that flavored the way he talked. One person said that “his vocabulary was always tied to the future”.

That was said last week at his funeral. Tom, who was only in his mid-60′s, died on May 20. A guy who could have had 20+ more years to encourage younger leaders to be godly and real and positive went to be with the Lord. I moved away from the Northwest and hadn’t connected with him for a few years, yet I will miss his influence. And the Foursquare Church I am a part of is poorer today because of our loss.

As I watched his funeral live, online, from 3,000 miles away, there was one more thing I learned about Tom, and it doesn’t surprise me. A friend of his said that Tom didn’t believe that structures or systems or organizations were anointed, but that he was convinced God takes delight in anointing people. I think that is easy to forget. But I want to be more concerned with the anointing on my and other’s lives than I am with the structures or systems we seek to build.

And, I want to be like Tom!

So, for the last few years I’ve been following the TV show LOST. I’m not a pastor who uses his favorite shows as the foundations for sermons—I think the Bible is the best place to start there—but I don’t mind posting a few thoughts about it in a personal blog. (WARNING: If you have not seen the finale and intend to watch it, the following does contain SPOILERS)

1. Mystery: This show has taken viewers through a massive mystery. What is the smoke monster? What is under the hatch? What brought everyone to the island? But if you’ve watched it you realize the answers to all of those mysteries (and more) was not a “what” but a “who”.

One of the tensions created by this show was that though the sci-fi and mythological mysteries didn’t all get answered, the character arcs did find conclusion. People who wanted satisfaction regarding all the ‘why’ questions didn’t get them (See this TED talk to better understand original LOST creator J.J. Abrams’ take on the importance of cultivating and keeping mystery in a story).

At the end of the day, I’m reminded that in real life we don’t always get the answers we seek about what is happening or why it happens; our real job is to focus on the, ‘who’. Who is it we need to worship? Who is in control? Who is it that we get to live our lives with? Who do we need to encourage and support? That leads me to my second thought.

2. Community: In the end, this show was really about the important connections that are made between people.

“Live together or die alone” was a common refrain for the survivors of flight 815. When they didn’t know what was going on they knew they had to stick together or they were done for. Though a theme that emerged is that every one of the individuals on this show was a deeply flawed and broken human, each of them could be accepted as part of the family, with a clean start, if they chose to join the community.

The touch and connection that came through community was a part of the path of redemption for these messed up characters. And this was the core of the deep spirituality found in LOST.

3. Death: Speaking of spirituality, although it was an extremely spiritual show, LOST only borrowed from Christian spirituality. Ultimately there were great theological flaws because it liberally picked from false spiritualities as well.

However, LOST was a great window into how our pluralistic culture may feel about certain spiritual issues, especially about death and what happens after death. As Jack’s dad told him in The End, “Everyone dies sometime, kiddo”; but usually our culture does not encourage people to look hard at what they believe happens after they die. As it wrapped up, one of the big themes of this show seemed to be that while we won’t get answers about why and how things like death happen, they are going to happen, and we’d better learn to prepare for the inevitable.

While LOST suggests that we prepare for the end through community, and reconciliation, and forgiveness, and redemption, and sacrifice, and selflessness, and right choices (all ideas that can be found in Christianity), it stops short of revealing relationship with a personal God as the doorway to these things. The message of the gospel is that humans are not good enough to earn redemption on our own but that we need a Savior, an unflawed Shepherd who will sacrifice Himself to purchase forgiveness and redemption for us.

That redeemer was Jesus Christ. And for a culture not used to really thinking much about what happens after they die, the finale of this show might have opened a window in our culutre for Christians to share the truth with others.

4. Good TV: Finally, we need more TV that is well written. Though I’ve admitted that I didn’t always agree with the worldview of LOST, it was written well and well produced. It was intelligent TV that made you think even if you didn’t like the answers, or non-answers, it provided. It inspired spirited conversation and encouraged communal experiences with groups of people getting together to watch, and then dissect, every show.

In fact, I won’t miss LOST as much as I will miss the small group of friends who gathered at our house every week to watch the show, eat popcorn, and share life together.

Because by next January, when we would normally be gathering on a Tuesday night to start a new season, someone else will be living in our house that just sold, and many in our group will be scattered all over the country due to new jobs and ministry assignments.

It’s even possible that this unique group of valued friends may never all get together in the same way again: Maybe, not even until we die.  But because we all know Jesus, the day will come when we can sit in the same room and enjoy our community once more…

…and maybe then we’ll even understand why Walt was so special!!!

Are you intentionally looking for people who will speak challenging truth into your life?

This is one of the most effective ways to grow: Cultivate real relationships with people you trust who will tell it to you the way it is. We need those who will say, “you really blew that and here is why”, or, “that was pretty good, but it wasn’t great…and this is how it could have been great”.

In the debrief meetings our church has after events and services, we always ask people to weigh in on what went well (the good), what could have gone better (the bad), and what was a potential train wreck (the ugly).  I’ve discovered that most ministry folks are good at talking about the good, and can even muster up the courage to acknowledge the truly ugly, but they seem to be pretty timid about bringing up the bad and have an even harder time communicating why the good could have been great.

Why is that? I think a big reason is our bent towards encouragement in the church. We want to build others up, not tear them down—and that’s good! But our understanding of the word encouragement is flawed.  Encouragement literally means to put courage into someone, and encouragement is only needed when there is a reason to be courageous.

It takes courage to recognize your weaknesses. It takes courage to see where things fell apart. And it takes courage to admit that you missed the mark. Then it takes courage to stand back up and try again!

Who is going to help you find that courage? Who is there to say, “this is not going well for you, but I believe in you, and think that by digging deep and making a few adjustments, this thing can turn around”?

If you don’t have a friend who will tell you the truth in love, start looking for one. He or she will make you a better, more effective person. And when you find that person, really listen, without defending yourself, and figure out where change is necessary. Then thank them for the honesty.

If you are a leader, one of your primary responsibilities is to be that person in other people’s lives. It may not feel good to correct or challenge people, but the alternative is to let them stagnate and never become all they are called and gifted to be.

Remember: Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses. (Proverbs 27:6)

The other day I had an honest conversation with a dear friend of mine. It was good—I was challenged in just the right places to think through some of my assumptions. I left without taking any offence whatsoever; if anything, I was encouraged to grow to be a better leader.

A few hours later he sent me an email asking my forgiveness for pressing so hard. While I honestly felt that there was nothing to forgive, I thought his response to his conscience was fantastic. Too often we feel what might be the conviction of the Holy Spirit, and we blow it off. We do this for many reasons, but one of the chief ones is that we think people will think we are just being overly sensitive.

Our biblical friend David faced a situation in which his conscience-sensitivity did not match that of his friends. In 1 Samuel 24, when David fell into a perfect opportunity to kill Saul (who, by the way, was trying to kill David), his men egged him on to do it. Instead of killing him, David secretly cut off a corner of his robe.

It seemed that David had every right to preemptively defend himself against Saul, and that taking a little souvenir was harmless. But he was conscience-stricken for doing even that and he subsequently rebuked his men for their insensitivity… then he went on to essentially expose his life before Saul.

I’m not sure his men ever understood why he did that, but this episode was just one in a life long series of events where David displayed a sensitive and soft heart before God.

Usually our sensitivity isn’t to the Lord, however, it is to our pride and our flesh.

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to a young man who feels called to leadership and he was sharing how he had felt wounded by something a more mature pastor had told him. As we unpacked the cause of this pain, it turned out that a godly elder had delivered a very appropriate word of loving correction and rebuke. But the young man was offended and hurt. He was more focused on his pride and flesh than he was on the opportunity to be trained and developed. I told him that unless that changed in his life, there was no healthy pathway to leadership available to him.

My refrain to developing leaders is this: “learn to develop a soft heart and a tough skin”. A soft heart maintains sensitivity to respond to the correction of the Spirit and of others. A tough skin doesn’t allow every instance of criticism by others—whether appropriate, misguided, or, more usually, somewhere in between—to destroy you.

It may be embarrassing to admit fault or receive correction, but it’s even more damaging to become insensitive to the Lord. On the other hand, if we cultivate sensitivity to our own pride, that will eventually take us down.

So let’s remember to be sensitive to the right things.

The story found in the first few chapters of 1 Samuel both encourages me and makes me ill every time I read it.

I’m encouraged because what happens to young Samuel has many parallels to my hopes and prayers for my own kids:

I pray that my children would “grow up in the presence of the Lord” (2:21); that they would “continue to grow in stature and in favor with the Lord and with men” (2:26); that they would learn to clearly hear and respond to the Lord’s voice (3:1-14); that they would become individuals who are known by God’s presence—that He would “let none of [their] words fall to the ground” (3:19) and, that God would continue to reveal Himself to them through His Word (3:21).

This story also makes me sick, however, because of what I see in Eli:

Here is a Priest of Israel who is not raising his children well. His boys, who Eli has installed into ministry, have no regard for the Lord. They are stealing from the offerings and sleeping with the women who serve at the tabernacle.

We know that Eli is aware of the grievous sins in which his sons are engaging, and that he fails to restrain them. The sons, in fact, end up championing the worst religion has to offer—they are leaders who know how to run the religious machine but who are totally in it for themselves, and worse, who do not even know the Lord.

As a pastor who is raising three kids I want my children to look like Samuel, not like Hophni & Phinehas.

I understand if I want them to reflect Samuel I must teach them to be ready to hear the Lord speak to them and train them to obediently respond to the revelation that comes through God’s word.

But how do I keep them from acting like Eli’s sons?

I’m not really sure.

As I read the story this last time, however, I saw something I hadn’t noticed before. It seems, like most parents, Eli cared about his kids (2:23-25 & 29), but I think He cared about the Ark of the Covenant even more.

It is telling that when both the Ark and his sons go off to battle that Eli sits at the side of the road worrying about the Ark…and the news that came regarding the death of his kids didn’t kill him, but the capture of the Ark did.

It turns out that the Ark would be OK (as we discover in chapters 5 and 6 God takes care of the Ark better than Eli could). But twice leading up to that event God castigates Eli for not raising his children right and for getting his priorities all mixed up.

It looks like he had religion (the Ark) first, his sons second, and God dead last.

In other words, he was enticed to sacrifice his family on the altar of ministry and leave God standing on the sidelines.

Why do I get the feeling that if Eli would have paid better attention to the Lord and taken responsibility to raise his kids, that the function he carried out as priest would have been much healthier, too?

I’m not suggesting that we can guarantee our kids will turn out righteous—each person makes their own choices in life. But I do think that putting ‘ministry’ (religion) above both God and family is always a disaster in the making, and that wrong priorities ultimately undercut the very thing that should be most important to us.

Are you excited?

I mean, like when-you-were-a-kid-and-you-knew-you-were-going-to-Disneyland-the-next-day excited?

About 2,000 years ago Jesus’ disciples were not excited. They were sad. Really sad. They were sitting in a house together with the doors locked wondering what had just happened.

But we have the benefit of 20/20 hindsight.

Tomorrow morning, Jesus is risen…INDEED!

Everything changes, indeed!

My sins are indeed forgiven, indeed!

I have entry into an eternal family and Kingdom, indeed!

Death has been defeated and I have no fear of it, indeed!

The power of the brokenness that has effected our world is broken, indeed!

Eternal life, indeed!

Of course I can’t sleep tonight…

INDEED!!!

Seeing the commercials for the ‘return of Jay Leno’ over the last couple of weeks has made me think…

Five years ago, NBC announced that half a decade later Conan would sit in Jay’s chair hosting the legacy Tonight Show. At the time I was impressed. Here was a network full of Baby Boomer executives that was actually doing some forward thinking regarding the upcoming generation. They were rightly concerned that a demographic sea change was on the horizon, and they were doing their best to get in front of it to ensure the continuance of current younger fan-base as well as to reach out to ones that didn’t yet exist.

Alas, it was all talk. Sure there was the actual switch, but you could tell that they were nervous from before it happened. Because they could not bring themselves to sell out to this generational transition, they hedged their bets and kept Jay on at 10— where nobody thought he would thrive, but where he was guaranteed to upstage the younger host. And they told Conan to change his presentation and personality so he could more respectfully reach the aging population who may not “get” him so much; in the process he lost the very thing that made him appeal to millions of younger viewers. Predictably NBC tanked in the ratings for both shows.

Now I don’t watch much late night TV anymore and I really don’t have anything invested in the goings-on at NBC. But, all week I have been wondering about the church leadership implications. In a time when denominational overseers talk a lot about restocking the shelves of pastoral leadership and reaching an emerging generation, I wonder if they are really committed to the follow-through without hedging their bets. I wonder if they are taking the long view and planning to place competent but younger pastors who can reenergize legacy churches to connect with an emerging generation. I wonder if they are willing to do this with the knowledge that if these new pastors are free to maintain their own personality and style, that they just might loose some of the older folks. And, I’ve wondered if successful pastors who have brought on younger leaders to wait in the wings for their retirement will ever truly be able to let go.

I’m not suggesting that the current aging generations (The Silent & Baby Boom Generations) are irrelevant and shouldn’t continue in leadership. Neither am I contending for younger pastors to irresponsibly alienate our valued elders. I am questioning whether, as humans get older, we have an inordinate need to go back to the way it was, while not investing everything in the way it will need to be—more than anything I question if we unconsciously but instinctively neglect the next generation of lost people in our most important leadership decisions.

I hope that I remember these lessons in 25 years when I am at retirement age. And I pray that I take a note from the life of Moses who was told to “commission Joshua and encourage and strengthen him, for he will lead this people across and will cause them to inherit the land that you will see” (Deuteronomy 3:28).

About 10 years ago I was struggling with staying in a pattern of daily time with Jesus and, though I loved His Word, staying in it habitually had become a bit of a challenge for me. That’s when someone introduced me to the Life Journal. Pastor Wayne Corderio assembled a tool that kept me, and many of my friends, in the Scriptures every day. For me, it worked better than any plan in which I had ever engaged.

One of the greatest things about Life Journaling was that I could gather a group of folks to spend time digging into God’s Word together. Two or three times a week I would meet at Starbucks and pour over passages of the Bible with others, listening together for what the Holy Spirit was saying to us. It was good times. I still often practice that delightful discipline with people, and it is consistently one of my favorite times of the week.

However, there has been a dark side to this. Like I said, most of my daily reading and reflection was done at Starbucks and done with others. I got used to the company, the crowd, the noise, the smells, and of course, the coffee. All of that became an integral part of what my personal time with Jesus looked like every day.

But I started missing something: The time crying out on my face before the Lord, or singing at the top of my lungs while hacking away on my guitar, or sitting before God in a chair in the silence of my office. These things didn’t happen as much…until eventually they rarely happened at all.  I slowly but certainly became spiritually one-dimensional.

I shouldn’t be OK with limiting the bulk of my time with Jesus to Starbucks or Life Journaling any more than I would be content to restrict my relationship with my wife primarily to the breakfast table. The reality of any deep relationship requires dynamics: Intimate moments, fun excursions, gatherings with many friends as well as quiet one-on-one connections.

Furthermore, I think we miss out on some important spiritual needs when we get so one-dimensional. Intercession, meditation, reflection, personal worship, spiritual warfare—these are all things that can be challenging to practice in a coffee shop.

So over the last season I’ve been rebuilding my relational dynamics with God. I haven’t given up my Life Journal, my gathering and digging in with others, and definitely not my Starbucks. But I am remembering to add back the truly private time…time where my knees and face find the floor and where my voice finds it’s full strength.

For while devotions in a café and prayer in a church service are great, all of us still need time with the Father behind closed doors where nobody else is around (Matthew 6:6).

Psalm 13—For the director of music: A Psalm of David

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look on me, and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,” and my foes will rejoice when I fall. But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me.

2009 was a bit of a tough year for me personally; and no, it wasn’t because I turned 40 (I was OK with that, really). It was just one of those seasons when everything sort-of went sideways. Perhaps you’ve had one of those years before: Maybe someone that you deeply love gets pretty sick; a job in which you are invested comes to an abrupt end; a dream that is long-held gets crushed; a relationship with a person you love is destroyed; some doors that seem wide open are slammed right before you walk through them; people who used to express a high opinion of you stop returning your emails and calls so quickly, or at all. I’m not saying those all reflect my life (though some certainly do), but it was the kind of year where surprises—and not the fun kind—met me around every corner. 

So often when you have a year like that you are thrilled to leave it behind and jump into the next one. January 1 comes and you hope for redemption; you can just smell it just around the corner. But when you hit mid-February and everything keeps rolling along like the New Year never happened, and you start getting even more tough news, discouragement can set in. I think a person can put up with just about anything for a year, but when year 2 or 3 kicks in, so can despair.

In Psalm 13 we find David, experiencing these kinds of emotions. Nobody knows exactly where he was when he wrote this lament, but I imagine he was on the run from Saul, leading a motley group of warriors who were tired of living in the desert, and who were just itching to take matters into their own hands. This David who had a great assignment as a general in Israel’s army, family position by virtue of marriage to the king’s daughter, and a bright future as the secretly anointed monarch, was now persona-non-grata among anyone who mattered during that time.

I like the way the Message paraphrases David’s opening thoughts: “Long enough, God—You’ve ignored me long enough.” Have you ever felt this way? You are not quite ready to identify with Job, but you can cry out with David, “Long enough, O LORD, will you forget me forever?” It’s when your prayers aren’t much more than utterances of questions, confusion and pain that you can understand what David must have been feeling here.

But I love the way he ends his Psalm: There’s hope! This isn’t empty hope either, but a rock-solid-trust in who he knows the Lord is. Though his emotions and circumstances tell him he’s been abandoned by God (and everyone else), David knows better. His God is the God of unfailing love and salvation. The LORD has been good to David, and He’s been good to us, too. Worship, and yes, even rejoicing, is a great, and appropriate response to a world that’s been rocked, because only He knows how it’s all going to turn out in the end.