A Radical Invitation

Has the first word of the biblical salvation message has been lost through disuse? Given the climate and message of today's evangelical church, one has to wonder. Jesus preached, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." The Apostles preached, "Repent!" Even when just counseling the woman caught in adultery Jesus said, "Go and sin no more." Let me ask you, is that the kind of thing you preach?

Where is the "REPENT!" in today's preaching? It just isn't part of the evangelical fabric that's in fashion these days. Have we become so afraid that people will not respond to that nasty little word that we have abandoned it and now depend on manipulation and marketing instead? When we rely on such measly human efforts that utilize enticement and stroke the flesh, what sacrifice is any respondent prepared to make?

The discipleship crisis the American church is in today starts with the message that initially enlists today's supposed disciples. Folks that enter thinking they don't have to turn, won't turn after they enter. I'm not a fan of fire and brimstone preaching--faith, not fear, is the only motivation that sustains a life of following Jesus--but to become a Christian a person must embrace their own death and trust Christ to raise them to a new (and better) life. People today, though all-modern-and-educated, must  still hear and respond to the call to repent and follow Jesus, as any disciple in any former age did.

Christianity is about a radical change in direction, a night and day difference in one's life. The result of a new birth cannot be the same old, same old, for birth means leaving an old way of life for a new one, or it's not birth at all. For those would who style themselves as radical and innovative preachers in this day and age, the message that actually matches that characterization starts with the word REPENT! Now that's a radical invitation that stands a shot at producing new life.

Grace and Obedience

When I was a kid, the sage advice I often received from my elders was to do what I was told. That may have been the role I was saddled with for that period in my life, but I didn't like it. It chafed against my willfulness and felt oppressive. No doubt, as an adult I have passed on that counsel to others (namely the five that share my surname and grew up in my house) many times over.

I was 20 when Christ became my Lord: too young to be completely past teen rebellion, too old to be treated like a kid. Yet, the scriptures clearly taught me, in regard to my newly found faith, I had to become as a child. Humility, submissiveness and obedience were to be the watchwords of my new existence. Let me tell you: it is no easier to accept such things from God all grown up than it was to accept them from earthly elders when I was a kid.

Americans, maybe humans in general, don't like those words when they're focused on them. We can see the need for someone else to abide by them, perhaps, but not so much ourselves. We want to make our own decisions, pursue our desires, and control our destiny. Meanwhile, the idealized image of the heavenly "Father" we have fabricated in our minds sits sensitively on the sidelines, cheerleading our drive and affirming our ambitions. Isn't that what it means that "God is for us" in the modern vernacular?

Christians, at least those who catch big air surfing the hypergrace wave, go into gag reflex when someone says that God should be obeyed and is not pleased when he isn't. I've seen the claim that God is just as pleased with a Christian who is not obeying him as he is with one who is! A cursory reading of the Letters to the Churches in the Apocalypse is sufficient to put that notion to rest! Whereas that metric could be applied to the concept of acceptance or salvation, it cannot be applied to the experience of relationship.

Obeying God, treating Jesus as if he actually is the Lord, is essential to a vital and productive relationship with him. That is the approach Jesus modeled for us as humans. He loved his Father and obeyed him, and that is why they had such a close relationship. Jesus asks us, "why do you call me Lord, and do not do the things I say?" When it comes to a dynamic experience of God's presence and fellowship in our lives, when it comes to revival, there's no avoiding the fact that we're just going to have to learn to do what we're told.

Anything less is not grace, it's garbage. 

A Letter to the Protestant Church, Part I

Zombies seem to be popular these days with just about everyone, but they don't hold much fascination with Jesus, at least as far as we can tell from his Letter to the Church at Sardis. There, Jesus excoriates the believers in that town for having the appearance of life but the reality of deadness. In other words, they were zombie Christians. Before their condition leads to their full and final expiration, he calls on the zombie Christians of Sardis to wake up, shake off the slumber of their hypnotic trance, and save what can be saved before all is lost.

Jesus' beef with the zombie Christians of Sardis is not founded upon mere conjecture. He's seen them in action, he's witnessed what they have done. They had a name, or reputation, for being a vibrant community of Christians, alive in God, but their actions did not measure up to their hype. It's not that they did nothing, they at least made a feint in following through with the works of God, but they stopped short and took a nap before they had pressed through to true fruitfulness (completeness) in God.

What the actual nature of their shortcomings was Jesus did not say. Conjecture and personal application is left to us; in my case, it reminds me of the Parable of the Sower. Rocky soil or weedy soil has the start of something good in reaction to the gospel, an appearance of life, but whatever the initially promising impact may have been, it is not followed through on with dedication and focus. What began to grow withers or remains fruitless (incomplete) as a result.

I look at this and wonder if Jesus could have been writing to the Protestant Church. The promise of a return to the Word and the reformation of what had become mere superstition, idolatry  and commercialism certainly gave the name of life to the Protestant Church. However, given her history and current state of affairs, what would Jesus say of her works? Protestants have fallen asleep in the light while whatever spiritual life and light they may have had has ebbed away. The promise of greatness for that body is all but past, now it would be sufficient if she just woke up, came to her senses, and bolstered what remained.

The Protestant Church is struck, in my opinion, with an overreactive fear of works. I am firmly in the sola camp, so I have no issue with the Reformation's protestation against depending on works for status, position, or merit with God. Works certainly cannot save us nor can they keep us saved. That is not the same, however, as acknowledging that what we do does matter to God, as the Old and New Testaments readily attest! The Protestant Church has, since the Reformation, offered a confusing, befuddled notion of what in the scriptures is the clearly communicated expectation of godly works.

The truth of the matter is that Jesus himself said that final judgment is correlated to works. James did in fact say (notwithstanding Luther's opinion of his epistle's canonicity) that faith without works is dead. That Christ reiterates the concept in the Apocalypse by relating deadness to unfinished or incomplete works should surprise no one. The truth is that there is a consistent emphasis in the New Testament on the works Christians do, and even the need for those to comport with the confession that Christ is the Lord.

Let there be no misunderstanding, we are saved by grace through faith; however, saving faith must be actual faith in order to save. Actual faith that Christ is the Lord motivates change in a person and inspires the one believing to do the works that God has prepared for them. It's not that anyone can be perfect in the sense that their works are nothing but good or that they are above being tempted to walk in their former works. Yet, if anyone has true faith, and any time at all to live in such, his or her life will evidence God-inspired works which demonstrate the reality of his or her faith in Christ.

Being a Protestant should never entail protesting that one is alive despite the lack of any recent works which demonstrate it. To have the name of life but the reality of death is a sham seen through entirely by Jesus Christ. If we are able, that is not incapacitated, it is perfectly fine for a Christian to look at his or her actions and wonder to themselves if they truly believe that Jesus is Lord (God certainly does). A person who truly believes is never undone by such an examination, even if they realize they have works to repent of and sins to confess.

Christ's works may be finished, but ours go on--not to gain salvation, but merely because we are truly saved. 

Is Yours the Gospel of the Born Again?

Technically, we could define gospel as the good news about Christ. Generally, that is what we focus upon as Evangelicals-- why not? Good News is in our name. I have begun to wonder if in doing so we have actually stripped the gospel of its power. We take it as a story, that if believed, results in a change of one's status before God from lost to found. We have pressed this line of theology hard since WWII, and it seems to me, we need to consider whether or not the fractured, frayed, weak condition of the Evangelical church is the result.

A noted internal study at Willow Creek a couple of years ago framed the issue quite well, for more than their own congregation, I think. Church-going Evangelicals look more and more indistinguishable from unchurced Harry and Mary everyday. Our approach to gospel isn't producing change in hearers lives. We have had, in fact, a fruitless season of harvest. I think we have entirely lost track of a simple verity: Jesus said we must be born again.

So then, what does it mean to be born again? Is it a Toyota moment? Not too many evangelicals would like the feeling of that! Is it just an idiomatic expression which refers to believing the story. If one believes, then our Cartesian soteriology assumes rebirth-- I believe, therefore I'm born again. We might not say it that way in our theological tomes, but I think that may be the practical reality of our approach to gospel. I don't think that's what Jesus had in mind, nor is it the picture the NT paints of the born again.

It seems to me that the born again should know they're born again, and that it should not be that hard for even the non-born again to perceive it. After all, there are effects on the mind and heart; there is an awakening of an intimate perception of the Father and the Son; there is the experience of change, akin to going from dry to wet when one jumps in a lake (not a very evangelistic image, I understand). Jesus spoke of such in crystal clear terms in regard to Zaccheus, though wee man that he was.

It's hard for the promoters of that story, such as myself, to resign ourselves to waiting upon the Lord to do that secret Spiritual thing in the soul of people that truly makes them born again. We want to know right now whether or not the hearers of that story buy the story, and we want those folk to respond right now to the telling of it. The result has been an at first slow, but now precipitating decay into methodology that delivers assent to the story while downplaying the true nature of being born again. Is it any wonder the church looks so much like the world around her?

The Charismatic Trigger

The Trigger

Those of us in the Pentecostal/Charismatic movement revere the "moving" of the Holy Spirit. Moments where God's presence is palpable, where signs and wonders arise unbidden and lives are transformed in a flash is the chocolate we crave. A chocoholic is not satisfied to wait with baited breath in hopes of the next chance to indulge her taste. She figures out how to ensure a ready supply of her desired confection.

There are all kinds of books, videos, conferences, and training schools advertising their ability to inculcate the necessary skills and understanding to replicate whatever example or model of Spirit visitation they're promoting. In fact, every time so much as a whiff of revival wafts on the air[waves], folk rush to the scent hoping to get a taste of the chocolate. If they're fortunate, they might just get some to take home with them.

Generally, what people learn from such things are techniques, or in other words, works. If they fast for so long or they pray so long, in concert with so many; if they confess all known sin and even the sins of others; if they clean up their acts to such and so a degree; if they begin to do this or that... you get the picture: Spiritual visitation comes in answer to works! What does the Bible say about such a construct? 

You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you? Before your very eyes Jesus Christ was clearly portrayed as crucified. I would like to learn just one thing from you: Did you receive the Spirit by observing the law, or by believing what you heard? Are you so foolish? After beginning with the Spirit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort? Have you suffered so much for nothing—if it really was for nothing? Does God give you his Spirit and work miracles among you because you observe the law, or because you believe what you heard?  Galatians 3:1-5

The Galatians didn't do anything in order to prime the pumps of the heavenly anointing. They just believed God's promise. That's the pattern of Abraham, it's the pattern of grace. We keep looking for that ever elusive, ever changing trigger that will launch the next Charismatic tidal wave, and we always end up looking at ourselves for the answer. The truth is that God wants to anoint us, wants to bless us, he promises to do so.

If the target is a new season of the Spirit moving among us, the only trigger that needs to be pulled is the trigger of faith.

The Trigger Finger

...eagerly desire spiritual gifts, especially the gift of prophecy   1 Corinthians 14:1

Christians have different opinions about what's really important in practice. No one could deny the centrality of love, for God, and for each other. Faith is absolutely essential, for whatever is not of faith is sin. Holiness cannot be done without, for without it, no one will see the Lord, (thankfully it's derivative). I wonder why we so rarely give "that which is of the Spirit" (πνευματικός) a seat at the table, despite what the Apostle Paul says about it in the verse above?

"Eager desire" is not even close to describing most Christians pursuit of spiritual things. At best their pursuit is hit and miss, completely negligent, or even purposeful avoidance. Given that, is it really perplexing that God doesn't move in his church the way he once did? Do we even want the Holy Spirit to move amongst us, really?

What is called for, at least according to the Word, is zealousness-- a roiling, boiling, heated passion to see and experience the things Holy Spirit can inspire.

We can't, and we're not meant to, do this alone, as singular entities. The scriptural pattern is zealousness in concert. There were 120 in the upper room, and the verse above is addressed to the church in Corinth. As much as God loves any of us individually, there are promises and experiences in the Holy Spirit he intends for us to realize together.

The expressions, the sensible exertions, the remarkable evidences of the Spirit's presence and activity are not going to rain down on the indifferent, nor drop on the doubtful, nor inspire the insipid. Religion is truly a vain, sickening spectacle. Are we satisfied to go through the motions, and rituals, and lifeless assemblies, when according to the plan, we're meant to experience and demonstrate the very presence of God. 

Faith embraces the promise of God-- not one of those hands on the shoulder dip inward facsimile hugs, but one of those bear hugs my old friend Demetrius used to lift me off the ground with. We have been promised in the Holy Spirit more than we have let ourselves be satisfied with. We have found comfort in the dull and unchallenging, we've been reticent to leave ourselves behind and launch out in trust in the Spirit. It's time for some passion.

And when faith puts its finger on the trigger, it's time to shoot.

Revival Jesus

I've written before about my growing lack of enthusiasm for what is promoted as revival. The recent pseudo-revival at Lakeland only serves to reinforce those thoughts. Now, there was a time when I thought revival was just what the doctor ordered for the ailing church, I mean I came to Christ in the midst of a revivalistic wave, for goodness sake.

State College, Pennsylvania was a truly happening place in the late 70's and early 80's. People were coming to Christ hand over fist. Miracles were occurring. God's presence was readily experienced, fellowship was sweet. I was too naive at the time to realize that what was happening then was revival on a small scale. I thought that, that was just how true Christianity was practiced. It was like the Bible was happening in life.

It was only the subsequent study of church history that made me realize what had actually occurred then in State College, and I ached to see it occur again.

I still have that longing, but I'm reticent to get on the revival bandwagon these days. Frankly, the record of revivals since WWI has been spotty at best... "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." They fall like a meteor, make a splash, but given just a short time, the waters go still with scarcely a ripple left to evidence that anything happened at all. Why? 

It seems to me, revival, as this generation knows it, tends to be about feelings of relief or emotional stirrings rather than about the person and majesty of Christ.

Folk lay in convulsing heaps bemoaning with loud sorrow their sinfulness longing for absolution, or fly around erratically like untied balloons in the joy of their spiritual experience. Either way, the emphasis is on the individual rather than Jesus, and eventually, such activity is bound to run out of steam when the self is tapped. Things then settle into a depressing, entropic sameness but lessness.

A few stalwart cowboys may try to rekindle the brands and restore the sizzle of flesh on fire, but their efforts tend to be more style than substance. Then the pining begins. All those folks want is to return to the experience, like addicts trying to catch that first rush again. I have to wonder why. Didn't they meet Jesus in the midst of all that experience? Wasn't he in himself sweeter than life? Didn't they joyously embark on a walk with him from then to eternity?

You see, I can't avoid the sneaking suspicion that what some of the revival hungry are really saying is that the Jesus thing doesn't truly work except in those special times. At all others, it produces substandard spirituality, with something missing, yielding no real satisfaction. The only Jesus worth experiencing is Revival Jesus. I've got to tell you, for me, that just does not compute. It's not what being a disciple, a brother, the redeemed is all about. It's not what is presented in the Bible.

It does not, and it never will get better than a personal, interactive fellowship with Christ. That is not revival, that is Christianity. I'll happily embrace, and longingly pray for a season of visitation and harvest, outpouring and filling for the church, but we need to keep our bearings straight. To love Revival Jesus better than Jesus everyday is to flirt with idolatry. For me, everyday Jesus, just as he is, is more than enough.

"I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ " Philippians 3:8

The Difference Between Show Business and Ministry

As the dust settles after the Lakeland fiasco, I take up the subject of flesh-inspired antics in charismatic ministry...

The realm of finance is presently teaching us what the realm of ministry has taught us over and over again: people are unwilling to call their superstars on their excesses. Success inexorably excuses excess. Despite red flags, warning sirens, and the inevitable recognition, after the fact, that we knew something was fishy, we look the other way if the party in question at least gives the appearance that he or she's getting it done. The Charismatic movement is in disarray because of that unfortunate trait.

Are there some simple principles that charismatics could use to assess the actual spirituality vs. fleshly embellishments of ministry, before the result is another boondoggle that embarrasses everyone who cherishes the gift of the Holy Spirit? Yes, I think there are...

• If Jesus didn't minister that way, neither should we
• If it was not envisioned by the scriptures, it's not of God
• Goofiness is not spiritual, it's just goofy
• Prestidigitators and illusionists need fanfares and distractions to perform their art, legitimate ministers of Christ do not
• No one is all that special
• In the Bible, only the megalomaniacal needed music to set the tone for ministry
• When they were slain in the Spirit in the Bible, they were carried outside and buried forthwith
• When Jesus took off his coat while ministering, he washed feet, not stoked up the crowd

More could be said, but the bottom line is: if a man or woman ministers outside these guidelines, he or she is fleshly at best and an out and out charlatan at worst. That may sound judgmental, but how many dog and pony shows are we going to be subjected to before we start exercising the discernment any Bible-believing, Spirit-filled person should be able to easily? Or, God forbid, are we so far out at sea that we cannot tell the difference between show business and ministry?

When Less Is More

What are the three best things anyone can do to aid evangelism?

1) Love (John 13:34-35; 1 John 4:7-8; Hebrews 10:24; 1 John 3:16-20; Galatians 6:10);

2) Demonstrate the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 2:4-5; Hebrews 2:4; 1 Thessalonians 1:4-5; Luke 24:46-49)

3) Be ready with your answer (1 Peter 3:15-16; John 9:24-38; Acts 26:1-29; 2 Timothy 1:8a; Luke 9:26).

We don't need to drink liquor with the world in order to win them, or to gyrate and grind with them at dance clubs, or to use vulgar language, or to entertain them, or to be entertained with them in order to have something to talk with them about around the water cooler. Evangelism is not offering the world more of what it already has, but that which is divinely different! Not different just for difference sake, nor different by artifice, but the difference that arises naturally, really supernaturally, when God is in the place.

If people will not heed the invitation to put their trust in Christ and walk with him now, when that invitation is accompanied by the demonstration of love, Holy Spirit power and personal testimony, then they don't need to be in God's company in eternity. Not because they are anymore wicked than any of us, but because they will not surrender to the will of God and the leadership of his Spirit. God alone is good, and if one can't agree with him, he or she needs to burn in hell! 

No one is fit for, nor could they possibly stay in heaven if they're not absolutely surrendered to God's will. Such surrender is the very stuff of faith, hope and love. It's what Jesus demonstrated during his earthly journey. So whatever Christians do in the name of evangelism, that whatever has to resolve in a call to the not yet surrendered to surrender unconditionally to Christ.

A church that accommodates human willfulness for the sake of evangelism, instead of confronting it, provides no service to anyone except Satan. Silencing the call for repentance, or expanding the tent of salvation to enclose sinful human perversity is not evangelism, nor even pre-evangelism. It's just participating in another's sin. If that is actually what it takes to grow the church in post-modern society, then growth is a diminishment which actually makes less more.

On the Road to Emmaus

In the Wizard of Oz, the dramatic tension breaks when Toto pulls back the curtain to reveal a rather stodgy old man behind all the pyrotechnics and bluster. None of it had been real. The shivering dread of the Wizard melted and immediately turned into recriminations, but after some explanations turned into familiar friendship. With no more curtain there was no more distance, no more show, no more uncertainty.

I fear too many Christians have a Wizard of Oz relationship with Christ. He's not a real figure to them-- if anything, maybe just a scary voice in their heads, perhaps projecting from a lifeless representation hanging on a cross screwed to a wall, assumed to be infused with ultimate, frightening, cosmic power (but really, who knows?). But what about the real Jesus, you know, that guy walking on the road to Emmaus with a couple of disciples on a Sunday afternoon? Or what about that fellow making breakfast for his buddies after a morning of fishing? Or the reality of the old hymn:

And He walks with me,
And He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own.
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known.

We presume a lot in the American church. We go to altars with tears and foreboding, confess all that's not right with us (at least in summary form), invite Jesus into our hearts, and then press cruise control and go on with life, eternal life insurance now safely in hand. I don't know how we convince ourselves that all this works, when the first time God gets a little too close and a little too real, we're scared witless and want to run away.

Let revival break out, let Ichabod be replaced by Ebenezer, and those who worship brass saviors on sticks will howl the loudest about emotionalism and excess. We have a real God, not a fake wizard. He was dead, but is no longer. Although we remember him until he comes again, he is not relegated to live only in our memories. We ought to be walking with him and talking with him now, actually.

Should we not be as excited as the first disciples were to see him alive again, to know that the passion wasn't the end, but only the beginning? I see no reason that we should not be as excited, enthused, and passionate about walking with Jesus and knowing him intimately as were they. Does knowing Jesus, the King of Glory thrill your heart and capture your imagination? If not, personal revival is sorely needed.

Thankfully, can be found somewhere along the road to Emmaus.

Sail in the Breath of God

The one thing most essential and yet most feared in revival is the Holy Spirit. People have been misinterpreting the indications and expressions of his presence from the beginning of the church age. His activity and influence are often seen as excessive, ecstatic, and irrational. That's not what's actually happening in revival, but why is the Holy Spirit's influence often mistakenly perceived as raw emotion or irrational foolishness?

One possible answer is that the Holy Spirit, moving among us, makes God tangibly real. That is a spooky, scary proposition for sinful mankind. We're more comfortable with some distance and some room for interpretation. That's been the case since the beginning of the human race. God walking in the garden wouldn't seem a frightful image, but sin distorts our perception and makes us cower in fear hidden away from what is actually a very approachable God.

Perhaps even more frightful is showing up in the camp in power. His presence, all too real, is overpowering, so we'd rather let someone else deal with him. We're comfortable at a distance, capable of ignoring him from our little corner, able to go on with life unaffected. Religion doesn't make one any less likely to adopt such an approach, if anything, religion is that approach, and the religious always fight revival. It is better in their minds to classify revival as emotional excess so that it can avoided proscriptively and dismissed out of hand if it should sneak past resistance and break out in some quarter. 

Another possible answer is the human desire for control. That, too, has been around since the beginning of sinful humankind. It's not consistent though-- folk will let anything and anyone lead them down the primrose path, as long as it's not God. When they do follow God, it tends to be the boxed variety, not the One who can meet us up close and personal and rock our world. There are real consequences to God being real, and some folk will avoid them at any cost.

Emotions can be difficult to control, if not impossible. That's why big boys (as I was told when I was young) and big girls (thanks Fergie and Frankie Valli for the info) don't cry. Cross the threshold of uncontrolled emotion and there's no telling where things might end. Don't open that Pandora's box! For the unwilling, all that is necessary is to equate revival with emotionalism and the rationale of suppression is turnkey ready.

To step past the cherubim and see God, to walk with him in the garden, we are going to have to humble ourselves and let God be God. That is a frightening prospect, I understand. But blast the consequences, God is beyond our control anyhow, whether up close and personal or not. Control is just an illusion that keeps us from being real with God and God from being real to us. So, hoist the main sail and let your ship ride on the wind!

Revival awaits some souls hungry for a visit with God, who cast off fleshly mooring lines that keep them bound to the manageable and mundane, and who, with faith in hand, set off unafraid to sail in the breath of God.

When Fellowship Grates

The interaction of Christians sometimes looks more like the chaos of an explosion at the fireworks plant than it does the choreographed wonder of a fireworks show. Nonetheless, Christians alive in the Spirit are vessels of fire, and God wants to put them on open display for the world to see. Revival is about the rekindling of that fire, but too often it ends up being about chaos. Why?

Let me suggest that in either the excitement of personal experience or the concern for collective purity we forget about the benefits of corporate fellowship. We forget that iron sharpens iron. Everything is NOT intended to go smoothly between us, but what does go between us should make us smoother. Let's look at some of the collateral processes that accompany fellowship and which work to bring out the best in us.

FRICTION
We grow by rubbing off on each other. In a three stranded cord there is some friction, yet in staying together, despite the rubbing, that rope's strength is multiplied. Friction is unavoidable, separation is not. Another believer's imperfections are never a reason for us to discard him or her, nor are ours reason to hide from him or her. In the words of Benjamin Franklin, “We must all hang together, or most assuredly we will all hang separately."

GRINDING
We cannot get any sharper without some grinding. To improve our edge, rust and grit, unevenness, and even notches have to be whetted down. The simple fact is, none of us can do that alone. It takes at least two hands and a little oil to get 'er done. We don't have the judgment to see our own flaws for one thing, and we don't have the capacity to sharpen ourselves for another. It takes another tool. We have to be willing to accept the Spirit directed benefit of someone else grinding on us and subject ourselves to it. All criticism from a friend can be constructive, if we keep our egos in check.

SHAVING
I can shave myself, most men can. Some of us find it relaxing, however, to let a barber apply a hot towel, brush up a good lather, and then skillfully wield a just honed straight razor to scrape off all that uncomfortable stubble that marks our manliness. To be honest, the thought of someone else holding a razor to my throat kinda freaks me out! However, if one is to experience the sharpening of appearance and the release of tension that a really close shave delivers, he is going to have to trust the man with the blade. Trusting another to improve your countenance through his or her sincere counsel leads to that refreshing splash of aftershave that says I'm ready for life.

In view of the benefits we get through the various ways fellowship can be grating, perhaps our response to the trimming should be, "Thanks, I needed that!"

Bring on the Wooden Spoon

It's humid today in Pennsylvania, downright soupy. In fact, the air's so thick, if God was minded to, he could drop a big wooden spoon out of the heavenlies and give everything a good stir. Maybe that's just what we need--a heavenly stirring! A whirling breeze exchanging the stale for the fresh, the energy of air on the move, roiling up the grace of new savors throughout the pot. As much as a change in the weather of wind and air would be nice, a change in the weather of Spirit would be even nicer.

Am I longing for revival? Perhaps, but there are some drawbacks that make me pause. Revivals have occurred frequently throughout the age of the church, so much so, that we can look at their characteristics and make some observations. There are some negatives!

Revivals fade. Generally speaking, they last for for about 3-6 years, and then, in about the same amount of time, whatever spiritual impact they've made on society has vanished, like the Titanic on the northern Atlantic. It might have been a big deal while it was afloat, but there wasn't even an oil slick marking it's passing shortly thereafter.

Revivals spoil the taste of their participants. Like candy does before a meal, revival makes everything else, even of substance, seem tasteless. The intensity and excitement of the revival experience hooks the desire of the participant like heroin does the addict. Afterwards ennui sets in, and the one revived becomes bored with, even critical of, the taste of life in the interregnum between revivals.

Revivals infect people with a self-centered spirituality. Participants become like kids in an amusement park. They bounce from one thing to the next looking for a bigger thrill. Experiences are compared on the basis of the thrill delivered. Preachers transform into carnival barkers, cheerleading about the rush to be felt at their meetings. Some turn into reverse-engineers trying to replicate and improve the thrill gotten at another venue. Spirituality riding on a roller coaster!

Revival displaces Jesus as the object of one's affections. Idolatry pure and simple: some of the "revived" relish revival more than they do friendship with Jesus! Their eyes on not fixed on the author and perfecter, but on the next possibility of revival.

Then, I look up from this soup, flicking my hands in frustration, spattering the world around me with sweat and tears, and realize just how badly we need a stirring. Our biggest thrill should be knowing the King of Glory personally, as a friend, rather than the gifts he lavishes on us, but we're thrilled with little if anything at all. Something's gotta change!

We could use some renewing:
A new start of obedience;
A fresh dedication to sharpening one another;
A new sensitivity to the Holy Spirit;
A new enthusiasm for knowing Christ personally;
A new hunger for making Him known to others.

All things being equal, I guess my hope is that God would bring out the big wooden spoon and stir up a revival.