What to Do After Election Day

Two years ago I wrote an article on this blog entitled "After the Ballots Have Been Counted." It was my humble attempt to encourage Christians to thoughtfully prepare for the unknown outcome of a particularly momentous and tumultuous political contest.  

Now we’re on the eve of another especially significant Election Day and it’s difficult not to fret. Indeed, I’m gravely concerned about how our country will react tomorrow, no matter which party ends up controlling the House and the Senate. It’s very hard not to feel the heat of the political pot on the stove and wonder at what point will things boil over?

But part of my job as a Christian is to help turn down the heat, not increase it with anxious (or angry) predictions. The Bible tells me that the “fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by them who make peace.” (James 3:18) Now granted, part of the reason for the heat right now is because of the reaction of unrighteous people towards righteousness. And for that, I’m afraid the boiling water can’t be simmered. Even Jesus was demonized by unrighteous leaders for calling out their evil ways.

So no, we can’t stop sowing righteousness. But we can show the world how to sow that righteousness peacefully---just like Jesus did. Jesus didn’t just criticize the problems of the day; He lived the kingdom of God by bringing it to all He encountered (including those religious leaders like Nicodemus who had genuine openness to receive it). He loved his friends, His neighbors and His enemies. He engaged in conversations about the kingdom with those in the street as much as with those in the synagogue. 

Right now, probably the most significant thing we can do after Election Day is to show our communities what it means to be a Christian. What does it mean to be a Christian?  Check out Galatians 5:22-23, commonly known as the “Fruits of the Spirit”, for a good reminder. Then ask the Lord how you can be more loving, more joyful, more kind, etc. in how you interact with those around you. Oh, and by the way, that doesn’t get us out of calling out unrighteousness—after all, goodness is a fruit of the Spirit too. But it will help us engage the people in our lives in a way that shows them the fullness of the Gospel of the Christ we represent.  

With that said, here are a few bullet-point actions for you to consider implementing in the aftermath of this year’s mid-terms to help keep the political pot from boiling over:

• Thank God for the outcome of the election, even if you are unhappy about the results. Then commit to praying positively and regularly for each of your elected officials.

• Refrain from apocalyptic laments or disparaging gloats on social media about the election results. Commit to keeping political dialogue civil (either on social media or otherwise). And by the way, “civility” simply means being kind and polite. (Our first president had some rules about this topic that might be of some help).

• Extend good-will towards someone you know personally who voted differently from you.

• Prayerfully consider what you might do to be a help (no, really, I mean that) to your local government officials. Ask them what needs in your community you (or your church) could be involved in helping meet.

• Look for opportunities during the holidays to participate in activities that will put you in contact with people from your community, regardless of their political affiliation. We need reminders that people are people, and far more than the sum of their party affiliation. You may be surprised how much you might have in common.

Meantime, please make sure you get to the polls tomorrow and VOTE! It’s a privilege that we cannot afford NOT to use. 

Live in the Moment

I struggled with what to call this post. By “live in the moment,” I don’t mean to abandon planning or to ignore the consequences of today’s decisions, or pay no attention to what has happened in the past. What I mean by it is something along the lines of what Moses meant in his psalm. Yes, I did mean Moses.

Smack dab in the middle of songs written by David is this ancient, powerful text by Moses. Psalm 90 contrasts the infinite nature of God with the finite fragility of man. It is peppered with passages like these: “from everlasting to everlasting you are God,” “a thousand years in Your sight are like yesterday when it is past,” “You carry [our years] away like a flood,” and  “we finish our years like a sigh.” Then, in the middle of all this figurative wistfulness, comes this tangible observation and very practical request:

The days of our lives are seventy years: and if by reason of strength they are eighty years, yet their boast is only labor and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. Who knows the power of Your anger? For as the fear of You, so is Your wrath. So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Incredibly, millennia later, the average life expectancy remains 78.8 years. Our brief existence, compared to God’s infinite timeline, doesn’t even measure a micrometer. What’s more, the brevity of our life is a reminder that we live, as Moses did, in a world under God’s judgement. Man was not created to die—we were created to live forever. But sin altered that design, and we live with its consequence each moment, including a fixed lifetime.  Moses’ reaction to those hard facts is a humble plea that God teach us to “number” our days. The Hebrew word for  “number”  literally means “to count” or “ to reckon.” It provides the picture of a bookkeeper taking inventory of precious resources for a business. Life is the most important business there is, and time is the most precious of resources.

Now, I don’t mean to get all dour, especially on an occasion as joyful as Thanksgiving. So, let me try to turn the corner…by turning to the book of Ecclesiastes. “Sure, Joel,” you are thinking, “that will liven things right up!” As the Narnian marshwiggle Puddleglum would put it, Ecclesiastes will teach you to have a sober view of life more than any book will. But even it has this bright commentary to share:

I have seen the God-given task with which the sons of men are to be occupied. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end. I know that nothing is better for them than to rejoice, and to do good in their lives, and also that every man should eat and drink and enjoy the good of all his labor—it is the gift of God. (Ecclesiastes 3:10-13)

King Solomon, the Preacher of Ecclesiastes, arrives at the happy conclusion that even though life is short, life, and all that it encompasses, is a good gift from God. And even though our lives on this earth may be fixed, the essence of who we are as image bearers of an infinite God, keeps us mindful that we are in fact made for eternity. Earthly lives aren’t all that there is.

So how does this all come back to “live in the moment?” Ever since childhood, my tendency has been to fixate on what I deem to be the exciting times of life: weekends, vacations, birthdays and holidays. As an adult, I find that my childish fixation hasn’t changed much: I try to hurry the workday along to quitting time; I try to hurry the workweek along to Friday afternoon; I’ll even try to hurry these next 3 pesky filler days along to Thanksgiving Thursday! I tend to do the same thing with the seasons of life of my family, hurrying my toddler onto when he can be independent enough to put on his own clothes and ditch the diapers for the potty. I hurry my infant onto when she will sleep through the night and be able to communicate with us through more than just cries.

But in each scenario, I’m missing Moses’ humble request and Solomon’s happy conclusion. Each moment of my day, be it Monday or Saturday; each day of the year, be it Thanksgiving, an overcast day in February, or a dog day of summer; each season of my children’s lives, whether infancy, adolescence, or adulthood; all of them are a part of the beautiful, but limited, gift called life. I don’t want to blow past these God-ordained moments. I don’t want to hurry through the mundane in order to get to something merrier. I don’t want to be too overwhelmed  by all that I haven’t done and want to do, that I lose focus on what I’m presently doing. And I don’t want to miss out on precious moments with my children in each stage of their lives for what I imagine to be an easier stage in the future.

I want to learn to number my days, and then, with a heart of wisdom, enjoy each moment of every one, as God’s gift. That’s what I mean by living in the moment, and I’m hoping that maybe, just maybe, I’ll have learned how to do it by next Thanksgiving. 

Photo credit by Marco Verch in creative commons.

Good Work, Pre-planned, Just for Me

Each year, Americans celebrate the importance of work by taking a day off from it. Labor Day, as holidays go, is a bit of an odd-ball, and this post really wont’ help you understand why we have it. Check out this article if you want that backstory.

Whatever you know or may not know about Labor Day, the day itself is a reminder that  most Americans spend the majority of their lives laboring to survive. Paid work is a necessity for most of us, and work of any and all kinds is the reality for every American, whether we get a paycheck for it or not. Strange as it is, as much as we appreciate a day off from work now and then, we realize that its absence is harmful to every aspect of our humanity. We need to work because were made to work.

And speaking of work, I recently changed jobs, and in so doing, career fields. After several years in the legal profession, God has now placed me in the realm of education, as an administrator for a private Christian home school academy. I don’t blame you if you think that’s a little strange—I wouldn’t have believed it myself if you had told me 10 years ago what I’d be doing now. Ironically, it was about a decade ago that a mentor, after hearing me lay out my life-plans for the next several years, wryly advised me to be on my toes because God just might throw me a “curve ball.” Turns out, he was right. God has a beautiful way of pitching us curve balls by taking us directions we hadn’t anticipated. But He also masterfully prepares us for those unexpected curve balls, so that if we’re paying attention, we’ll still connect for a base hit.

The wonderful thing I’m learning as a Christian, now in my third decade of life, is that I don’t have to plot out my life’s vocational journey. I’ve often fretted over whether I’m on the proper rung of the professional ladder, given how old I am and the training I’ve received. But God is showing me more and more that I’ve really had it backwards. He’s the Planner for my professional life. In fact, He’s got a complete file on all the stuff He wants me to do for His Kingdom. How do I know that? He told me:

For [I am] His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that [I] should walk in them. - Ephesians 2:10

Long before I came into existence, God already knew that I would be. He knew I would be born a sinner, but that I would also be adopted into His family. And, as my adopted heavenly Father, He personally and perfectly prepared good works, His Work, for me to do.  This means that all of my work, professional or otherwise, has been specially chosen for me by a loving Overseer. It also means that it isn’t up to me to figure out how I’m going to make my mark on the world through my career, or scheme my way up the ladder of earthly success. My responsibility is to be faithful to do the work God has for me, right now, in this season of my life, until He brings me a new assignment.

Oh, and by the way, if you’re interested in a job, Dad says He’s always looking for new hires--He's got plenty of work for you to keep you busy.

Photo by Peter Miller in creative commons. 

Baseball, Fathers and Forgiveness

I recently finished reading my first John Grisham novel.  I suppose that’s a little surprising, seeing as I’m a legal professional who loves to read. But I’m not that big into “thrillers,” even legal ones. So, I guess it’s not surprising that my first Grisham would be his very non-legal, non-thriller short novel about baseball: Calico Joe.

Set in the 1970s, Calico Joe tells the fictionalized account of the events leading up to a fateful at-bat between two major league ballplayers: Joe Castle and Warren Tracey. Castle, a rookie for the Cubs with the hottest bat in baseball, faces off against Tracey, a veteran, but fading, pitcher for the New York Mets.  The story is narrated by Warren’s son, Paul Tracey, who was an avid 11-year- old baseball fan in the summer of 1973, the season of the notorious confrontation between his father and his idol.

Written from the vantage point of 30 years later, Paul recounts his childhood as the son of a professional baseball player, while giving the play-by-play of his present-day attempts to reconcile his father and Castle before Warren Tracey’s impending death of cancer. Warren is a hard man, arrogant and abusive, and his self-absorption destroys his relationships, particularly with Paul.  Warren’s not much different during Paul’s adulthood, though Warren’s cancer allows him the opportunity to finally voice his long-held regrets. In contrast, Joe Castle, or “Calico Joe,” is all a good sportsman should be: full of gentility and grace on and off the baseball diamond.

Paul’s boyish idolization of Castle puts him into a conflicted emotional state as Warren Tracey pitches to Castle in a Mets-Cubs game on August 24, 1973. Spoiler alert: in an act of sheer spite, Tracey “beans” Castle in the head, permanently injuring him and ending his professional baseball career. Thirty years later, Paul, who has since married and started a family, does his best to bring Tracey and Castle together for one sole purpose: to give his dad a chance to make at least one thing right in his life before he dies. Tracey and Castle do meet, and (spoiler alert), an apology is made by one and forgiveness is extended by the other.

Oddly enough, the character who gave me most cause for reflection by the novel’s end was the person telling it: Paul Tracey. There’s much to like about Paul. Though the product of a broken home, he’s caring, courageous, responsible, and a devoted family man. Paul is nothing like his father, something he takes pride in.  Much as the older brother viewed the prodigal in Jesus’ parable, Paul sees his father as the bad guy, the one who spoiled talent and relationships on a hedonistic existence. The reconciliation between Warren and Joe is, as far as Paul is concerned, an act of penance for Warren than an instance of restorative forgiveness. As for the chances of Warren Tracey trying to make things right with anyone else in his miserable life, Paul says “fat chance.” Ironically, while Paul can accept Joe Castle forgiving Warren Tracey for ruining Joe’s life, he will never forgive his father for ruining his.

Calico Joe ends with Paul satisfied with how things turned out between his father and Joe.  And despite the apparent resolution between Warren and Paul, it’s neither satisfactory nor really healing. Both men remain wounded and broken.

The most glaring unresolved relationship in the story, however, is the most important: that of each man with God. Warren never seeks God’s forgiveness, and ironically, just like his father, neither does Paul. Apparently secure in his own “good” life as an adult, a life without the mistakes of his father, Paul misses out on the forgiveness that could have redeemed and brought healing to them both. His own self-absorption in being the man who isn’t his father, makes him even more unlikely a candidate to find the forgiveness (and consequent healing) he desperately needs.

Calico Joe is a well-crafted tale, with substantive characters, and valuable insights, particularly on relationships between fathers and sons. But its most poignant lesson is that without Jesus, seeking, arranging, or even extending forgiveness is nothing more than another good, but empty, work. For without receiving the forgiveness of a just and holy God, each person’s at-bat on Judgment Day is sure to end in a strike-out. 

Photo credit by Matthew Stratton in creative commons. 

Build the Wall and Love the Immigrant?

“We have to protect our country from external threats.”

“We need to show compassion to those who are in need.”

If I asked the average American if he agreed with each of those statements, doubtless he’d say yes. But if I asked him if he agreed with either one of those statements in the context of our national immigration policy, he’d probably choose one or the other to summarize his views, and probably quite forcefully. And so it seems our American populace has done on the issue—one side forcefully arguing that national security is the guiding principle when it comes to immigration, the other also forcefully arguing that compassion should be so instead.  The two positions appear, in their raw, simplified explanations, to be mutually exclusive.

But are they?

Some years ago, a wise friend of mine explained that we often look at situations in terms of “either/or.” We think we have to choose either one thing or the other, elevating the one and excluding the other. But my friend pointed out that God usually doesn’t demand that kind of mutual exclusivity when it comes to real life. For example, God commands that we are to love Him with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength. But such paramount love for Him doesn’t mean our love stops there. The same God commands us to love our neighbors as ourselves (Mark 12:30-31). Instead of “either/or,” it’s a “both/and.” We love both God and our neighbor. Sure, God has the priority, but love for Him doesn’t exclude the need to love our neighbor—in fact, the one actually helps us to do the other one even better.

I recently heard Rev. Samuel Rodriguez, President of the National Hispanic Christian Leadership Conference, apply the paradigm of “both/and” to the immigration issue. He pointed out that both sides of the debate have legitimate concerns that should be factored into a workable, sensible, and Biblical immigration policy. Immigration law should be enforced to prevent illegal immigration, while at the same time, preservation of immigrant families should help guide that enforcement.

I heartily echo Dr. Rodriguez’s sentiments. In all the commotion surrounding how to address immigration, terrorism, and national security, we’ve rather forgotten that the concerns being raised aren’t contradictory. Let me give you a bit of word picture to help make the point.

Let’s say you’re a home owner who has a leaky roof and a broken furnace. You wouldn’t say you can’t fix the roof because you have to fix the furnace, or vice versa. One might have priority over the other, but both can be properly addressed in due time. And in so doing, you would want to have the appropriate person fix each respective problem: a roofer for the roof, an HVAC technician for the furnace.

So it is with our country. Last Tuesday night, President Trump declared to our Congress that he wasn’t President to represent the world; he was president to represent America.  Of course, he’s right. His responsibility, by order of the Constitution, is first and foremost to the United States. And the security of our nation ought to be at the top of his “to-do” list. Part of that security is enforcing our existing immigration laws and seeking, where necessary, additional policies that will keep, as the President has put it, “our communities safer for everyone.” In other words, he’s been hired to fix the leaky roof.

But what about refugees seeking safe haven from horrific persecution? What about people from other countries seeking to better their lives and the lives of their families? What obligation does President Trump owe them? No more than the roofer owes to the furnace. The President of the United States cannot place the concerns of non-Americans at the same level of priority as Americans. He wasn’t elected to do so. However that doesn’t mean we don’t address their plight, any more than the homeowner ignores his broken furnace.

Well-meaning Christians may lecture the President on the need to implement an immigration policy that prioritizes the Biblical principle of showing compassion to the alien. But this is asking the roofer to fix the furnace. It’s up to the HVAC technician to fix the furnace because he’s the person best equipped and most knowledgeable to do the job. Social welfare is best delivered through private means.  There is no better group of people than the Church of Jesus Christ, to reach out to the immigrants and refugees in our midst, and to help provide relief to refugees outside of our borders. That’s our job, by divine mandate, (James 2:15-17), just as it’s the government’s job, by divine mandate, to protect our nation from harm and to punish those who do it evil (Romans 13:1-5). Our tasks aren’t mutually exclusive; they can be done in tandem.

Remember, the government, including President Trump, isn’t the owner of this House we call the United States of America. We the People are. And if we remember whose job it is to fix the roof, and whose job it is to fix the furnace, we may just end up with a sturdy roof that weathers the fiercest storm, and a furnace that warms the house in double time. Yes, there will be occasions when the roofer and the HVAC technician might get in each other’s way. But when that happens, the homeowner can make the needed adjustment to see that both guys have the room they need to get their respective jobs done.

Photo Credit by qbac07 in creative commons

Christmastime is Here

“Christmas or Christmas Day is an annual festival commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ, observed most commonly on December 25 as a religious and cultural celebration among billions of people around the world.” So begins Wikipedia’s article about the holiday I love best.

I had the privilege of being brought up in a home that kept Christmas in all its fullness. Christmas in our household was filled with many delightful traditions: the keeping of Advent, baking stollen, decorating a Christmas tree, and eating German delicatessen on Christmas Eve. And in the midst of those traditions, my parents wonderfully connected them all to the centerpiece of the holiday: the birth of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

The blessing of that rich Christmas heritage is one of the biggest reasons it’s impossible for me to think of any aspect of Christmas apart from Jesus. Even Santa Clause, the supposed (and sometimes chosen) substitute of the Christ-child, is representative of the real-life Christ-follower who exemplified the compassion and generosity of his Lord.  While believers and nonbelievers alike have contributed to the holiday, it’s unmistakable that its purpose to “billions of people around the world,” as Wikipedia put it, is to remember Jesus’ birthday. As a believer myself, I see it as a great loss not to participate in Christmastime with the same intentionality with which I was raised. Why miss the opportunity to mark with great joy the coming of Immanuel, God with Us?

So, whether you are a longtime keeper of Christmas, a skeptical non-participant, or somewhere in the middle, I commend to you the following ways of passing this Yuletide.

Christmastime is for commemoration. God gave His people holidays to help them remember His great works on their behalf. Holidays like Passover (Exodus 12) reminded them of His protection and deliverance while holidays like The Feast of Booths (Leviticus 23:33-44) reminded them of His provision. In the same vein as those ancient holidays, there is no better time of the year than Christmas for Christians to commemorate God’s greatest work of all: the salvation of sinners through the incarnate Messiah.

Christmastime is for celebration. It’s appropriate that Christmas falls at a time of year when much of the world’s nighttime is at its longest. Darkness is representative of the condition that the world was in spiritually before the coming of Christ. It’s fitting that we mark with decorations, songs, food and mirth the advent of the Light of the World, the Victor over the darkness (John 1:1-14).

Christmastime is for reflection. Mary taught us from the very beginning that Christmas is a time for pondering (Luke 2:19). If you haven’t, think about the reasons Christ needed to come. What if He hadn’t come? What have you done with the fact of His coming? If you’ve received the Christ-child, how is He at work within your life today? What have you done to bring His light to those still in darkness?

Christmastime is for preparation. God’s people waited long for their Messiah’s coming, but when He finally arrived, only a few were actually prepared to receive Him. Simeon, Anna, and the Magi exemplify people who waited with active expectation for the birth of Christ. As a result, the day of His coming was one of incredible joy and fulfillment. We too are waiting for an advent, the Second Coming of Immanuel. We, like the Thessalonians, are waiting for God’s “Son from heaven, whom He raised from the dead, even Jesus who delivered us from the wrath to come.” (I Thess. 1:10) We might be waiting, but are we prepared, as those few at His first coming were, for His arrival? Indeed, I cannot think of any better reason for the celebration of the First Advent, then to prepare our hearts for the Second.

Photo by Chris Wolff, available in creative commons here

What to Do After Thanksgiving (Besides Eating Leftovers)

In case you forgot, Thanksgiving is this Thursday. That has already put me in a good mood for the week because Thanksgiving is the doorway to my most favorite time of the year: “The Holidays.” One of the reasons I love this season so much is that it lends itself to hopeful reflection. Both Thanksgiving and the Christmas season call us to remember what God has done and to look more intently at what He’s doing right now.  It makes us take a “time-out” to express our gratefulness for His goodness and grace in our lives.

But with the joyous celebration of the season, I also find a challenge. It’s easy to be thankful on Thanksgiving (and Christmas for that matter). Thanksgiving is a day of abundance: great food, time off work, fellowship with family and friends. Why shouldn’t we thank God for all His blessings when we’re holding tangible evidence of them on our dinner and dessert plates? But what about after the Thanksgiving leftovers have been polished off and the daily grind starts again on Monday morning?  Will the Day of Thanks translate into daily thankful living? It seems that’s when the real challenge to be thankful comes.

The Bible is replete with verses about gratitude, but I think no verse stresses the practical importance of giving thanks than I Thessalonians 5:18: “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”  And for those of us who like to use the “we don’t have to give thanks for all things, just in all things” loophole, God has given us Ephesians 5:20: “giving thanks always for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” There’s no wiggle room here; God’s will for Christians is that they be thankful people, in everything and for everything.

For me, a griper by nature, the simply-stated direction from God’s Word is wonderfully helpful. With the added benefit of the Holy Spirit’s guidance, I don’t have to look far to see where thankful living can be applied in my life. When my inner-whiner wants to ask why our toddler has to make so many messes, the Holy Spirit helps me see those messes as sweet reminders that we have a toddler to love and care for (and one day I’ll miss those messes to clean up). Where my inner-mumbler sees the 4-hour attempt at fixing the car CD player as a complete waste of time, the Holy Spirit helps me see that the same venture expanded my knowledge of automobile interiors and confirmed that the CD player really is broken and I can be thankful for it.

 So, in case you, like me, are suffering from a little lack of GTA (Giving Thanks Always), use this year’s Thanksgiving celebration as the catalyst for injecting practical gratitude into your daily routine.  You can start by thanking God for the dishwasher…because as every Thanksgiving dinner clean-up crew knows, you’re going to need it.  

The Comeback

I’m not from Chicago. I’ve never even been to Wrigley Field. But this last Wednesday, I was as die-hard a Chicago Cubs fan as they come. Yes, I stayed up until nearly 1 am listening  to World Series Game 7 (baseball is, I think, the best sport to be broadcast over the air waves), hoping against hope that the Cubbies could pull out one more victory against the Cleveland Indians. And they did, in one of the most dramatic World Series games baseball aficionados could have imagined.

So, why, if I’m not a true Cubs fan, did I sacrifice sleep (and stable nerves) to wish them onto victory? Because I love comebacks, especially those made by underdogs. With 108 years since their last championship title, the Cubs were due for winning the Big One. Down in the series 3-1, they fought their way through three more games, two in enemy territory, to make baseball history. The Cubs’ comeback appeals to me, and I think to most people, because it gives us hope that things can be different, that the odds can be beat, and the tables can be turned. That sort of sentiment extends beyond the baseball diamond.

On the eve of Election Day, we Americans feel a lot like the Cubs. Donald Trump’s campaign slogan “Make America Great Again” has resonated with a lot of voters for good reason. The average American, no matter what his political affiliation, would like things to be different. We’re hoping that somehow the next four years might bring, among other things,  economic growth, racial reconciliation, the defeat of ISIS, and restored international prominence for our country. In other words, we’d like an American comeback.

As a Christian, it’s especially difficult for me not to be discouraged at the state of my country. America’s condition is beyond a simple presidential prescription. The very soul of our nation is sick; it needs spiritual renewal as only God Himself can bring. But it’s not just the body politic that needs the boost. The American Church, faced with the consequences of decades of losing its savor and hiding its light, is facing hostility and apostasy simultaneously. We’re down 3-1 in the series, and it looks like we’re going to be playing the next couple games at Progressive Field, not at Wrigley. We need a spiritual comeback—a revival.

But as much as I hope and pray for these political and spiritual comebacks, it’s me that’s most often in need of a second wind.  I assess my life, with all its facets, and find slumps where I want to see progress.  I consider what needs to change about my game and find the necessary work daunting.  I want to be a World Series champ, but the stats say it’s been awhile since I’ve been a serious contender.

Thankfully, God has good news for me, as He does for America, and for the Church. “Have you not known?” asks the prophet Isaiah. “Have you not heard? The everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, neither faints nor is weary. He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall, but those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:28-31)

Comebacks are possible when we rely on God’s inexhaustible strength and trust in His never-failing care. Without that reliance and trust in Him, a true comeback won't ever happen. Some of the Cubs, I think, would suggest Isaiah’s playbook as the best comeback strategy. And as the 2016 World Series Champions, I think I’ll take their advice. 

After the Ballots Have Been Counted

Before you read any further, I need you to do two things (but promise to come back and finish reading after you do them). If you haven’t yet, check out my post about voting your conscience. I’d also commend this piece to you by Eric Metaxas (and just for context, this is the man who penned the definitive work on German hero Dietrich Bonhoeffer, gave a daring speech at the National Prayer Breakfast, and hosts an uplifting daily radio show about everything). I’m voting for Donald Trump for the same reasons Metaxas so ardently articulates. 

But whoever you are (or aren’t) voting for on November 8, think about what you’ll be doing on November 9 and beyond. No matter what the outcome the ballot boxes report, American Christians will have a lot of choices to make as we head into the next four years of the history of the United States. 

If Donald Trump is elected, many of us will breathe a sigh of relief—for a few moments. Unfortunately, if Trump takes residence in the White House, too many of us (i.e. conservative Christians) may do what we’ve done before: assume that a Republican presidency means we can coast for a while. Of course, the fact that the Republican president will be Trump is probably enough to keep a lot of us on our toes. But still, the tendency is to let our guard down when someone from our own side is the country's team captain. And besides the potential messes that Trump’s foibles might cause, we still have a hostile culture to deal with in the meantime. We still have to grapple with how to raise our children, how to boldly but winsomely practice our religious liberty, how to faithfully share the Gospel with our neighbors and acquaintances, and how to be practically involved in our communities.

And those questions become even more problematic if we get four years of another Clinton presidency—big time. Instead of an unpredictable friend, we will have a predictable opponent of the core principles that we as Christians hold dear.  

So, regardless of the election results nationally, regionally and locally, plan on doing the following things (even if you feel depressed) on the morning of November 9.

Pray. Praise God that He is sovereign, and thank Him that He has a good purpose for whoever He has placed in positions of authority.  Read Psalm 141:8: “But my eyes are upon You, O God the Lord; in You I take refuge…” Ask Him for wisdom for what to do in the days ahead.

Be faithful to do what God has called you to do. No matter who is elected, don't alter your current way of life because of what might happen if you don't. Take a cue from Daniel, who kept publicly worshiping God even after he knew it might put him in a lion's den (and it did!) Maybe we might have to do some things a little differently because it's prudent or more effective, but we can't operate out of fear. Follow the British morale poster from WWII: "Keep Calm and Carry On."

Be a voice of hope. No, really. Christians can always, always, always bring good news when there is bad news, light when there is darkness, hope when there is despair. The Gospel is still the Gospel. No matter who lives in the White House, Jesus is still the King of kings. He will put all to rights, and for those who are right with Him, the very best is yet to come. As the Apostle Peter put it:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith--more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire--may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. (I Peter 1:3-7 ESV)

Vote Your Conscience

Whatever you thought of Ted Cruz’s speech at the Republican National Convention in Cleveland, his exhortation to “vote your conscience” is one that the Christian voter should wholeheartedly follow. After all, the idea of freedom of conscience is a thoroughly Biblical one. If you’re in doubt, spend some time in the apostle Paul’s epistle to the Romans (chapter 14 to be exact). Or perhaps consider Martin Luther, who, with a little more weighing on his mind than who to vote for, said that “to go against conscience is neither right nor safe.” With that in mind, and the presidential election just two months away, Christians all over the country should be prayerfully preparing to enter the voting booth so that they can come out of it with their conscience intact. Of course, the looming question for many such believers is how in the world do they do that?

Two caveats are in order before I attempt to answer that question. First, this post is primarily directed to those of you who are considering a vote for Donald Trump or some candidate other than Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump. I know some of you might believe Hillary Clinton is the best option in this race; if you do, I’d challenge you to examine Secretary Clinton’s agenda and track record in light of both Christian morality and constitutional political policy, and then let me know how you think her presidency would promote either.  Second, this is the first time in my voting history that I will be casting my ballot for the Republican nominee (I voted third party in the last two presidential elections, so I know what it’s like to buck both big parties; for those of you considering it this time around, I feel your pain).

So, how do we do it? How do we vote our conscience in a presidential election that has left us with what many believe to be more dismal than the “lesser of two evils?” I’ll give you four maxims that might help you get there.

Remember that God is in charge. It can be cliché, but for the Christian, that truth changes everything. God’s sovereignty means that nothing is outside of His masterplan, and that we can fully trust His choice (and yes, I said choice) of who rules and who does not. We can confidently concur with the conclusion of one of the world’s most powerful kings, Nebuchadnezzar, that “the Most High God rules in the kingdom of men, and appoints over it whomever He chooses.” (Daniel 5:21)

Put the act of voting in the context of your larger responsibility as a Christian citizen. As Christians, our goal isn’t to take over the government in order to establish a literal “Christian nation” that perfectly implements righteous policy. That won’t happen until the return of King Jesus. Instead, our main priority is to be salt ( preserving life) and light (providing clarity) in our culture (Mathew 5:13-14), to be a blessing to our community and country (Jeremiah 29:7), and to seek to live peaceably according to the dictates of our conscience towards God (I Thess. 4:10-12). In considering the act of voting, those are the things that matter the most.  Look to the lives of Daniel, Esther, and Nehemiah as models for how to effectively impact political figures while never compromising your conscience. And check out this election series by a pastor who's worked with government officials for over 3 decades. 

Articulate your choice with respect for other voters’ consciences. The apostle Peter exhorts believers to be ready to explain to others (anyone, in fact) why we do the things we do as Christians. But he conditions that we do so with “gentleness and respect” (I Peter 3:15, ESV). I’ve heard a lot of “Never Trump” folks proclaim their stance with all the snobbishness of a condescending cat. They assume that those Christians supporting Trump are doing so thoughtlessly or as compromised wimps, not from thoughtful or morally-supportable positions. On the other side, pro-Trump Christians have marginalized those who aren’t supporting Trump as being pro-Hillary (i.e. political traitors), instead of respecting their genuine (and honorable) attempt not to violate their conscience. Wherever you may stand, just make sure that it really is principle, not pride, that is determining your conclusion. 

No matter who you decide to vote (or not vote for) in the presidential election, don’t stay home on election day. I’ll let Jayme Metzger from The Federalist dismantle any possible notion of "not voting" in this piece, still the best political commentary I've read on this election to date.

He Must Increase

One of my thorns in the flesh is ambition. And by ambition, I don’t mean motivation, goal-setting, or drive. All of those have positive aspects which help a person accomplish God’s good work and purpose in his life. By ambition, I mean a constant desire, subtle though it may be, for recognition, advancement and memorialization. Granted, my ambition has always been tied to good things: righteous causes, meaningful  work, and important relationships. But frequently, if I don’t receive recognition, if I don’t advance, and if I don’t have the sense that I’ll be remembered, then the cause seems less worth the effort, the work bitters, and the relationship disappoints. And that can make me a basket case.

The antidote to my thorn is the truth of God’s Word. Ephesians 2:10 tells me that I’ve been created for “good work,” ordained by God Himself. That truth alone puts things in perspective: my life isn’t about figuring out how to get the kudos of men, how to advance my career, or how to make it into the history books. It’s about faithfully doing the good work I’ve been given by God, even as He completes the good work He has begun in me (Phil. 1:6). The Bible also tells me that God’s good work for His children isn’t all in the limelight. 2 Timothy 2:20 (NIV) says that  in God’s “house,” some of us will be “articles…for special purposes”(i.e. fine china) and some of us will be “articles…for common use” (i.e. the Tupperware that holds the left-over sauerkraut), but each of us has a purpose, a necessary purpose in the Master’s mansion . Matthew 5:20 reminds me that my good works are to bring glory to God, not me, when they are observed by others.

But even though I know these truths, my thorn of ambition still gets under my skin. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so drawn to the guy that Jesus said was the greatest person ever born:  John the Baptist. (Matt. 11:11) If there was anyone who had a right to revel just a little in their life purpose, it was John. With a miraculous birth and divine calling, John the Baptist became the single greatest preacher of his era, perhaps of any era. Crowds went into the Judean desert to hear his powerful sermons. His followers transcended racial and socioeconomic barriers. He showed no fear of upsetting the apple carts of the political and religious establishments. And his popularity was so great among the people that even after his death, the religious elite couldn’t openly question that John’s ministry wasn’t ordained by God. (Matt. 21:25-27) Add baptizing the Christ, and being the “voice in the wilderness” preparing the way for the Messiah, and you’ve got a resume that’s pretty hard to beat.

With that kind of pedigree, purpose and popularity, John might have struggled with his ego, but if he did, he resoundingly put it in its place. As Jesus’ ministry launched and more and more people switched to following the Galilean Carpenter, John didn’t bemoan the loss: he welcomed it. As Christ’s forerunner, John pointed people to Jesus from the very beginning. He didn’t stop as the crowds diminished. When his own ministry faded, John explained that this was how it was supposed to work. “A man can receive nothing unless it has been given to him from heaven,” John explained to his followers. “You yourselves bear me witness, that I said, ‘I am not the Christ,’ but ‘I have been sent before Him’…Therefore this joy of mine is fulfilled. He must increase and I must decrease.”  (John 3:27-30) John’s words sum up the believer’s best ambition: to point others to Christ. And if the greatest prophet of all time learned to make that his ambition, maybe I can too.

 
So, to my thorn of ambition, I say “no matter where I am, or what I am doing, no matter if I win an award or my name is never etched in monumental stone, if my faithfulness in my God-given good work causes someone to see Jesus, than that is enough.”  Remarkably, that makes the prick of my thorn a lot less bothersome. If it’s pricking you too, I’d recommend John the Baptist’s cure. 

Simplifying Complexity

I recently saw a bumper sticker that read “Trillions to Wars; Pennies to the Poor.” Apparently the driver was advocating particular perspectives about governmental policies, but as catchy as the sticker sounds, its simplicity reduced some fairly complex issues (e.g. national defense, foreign relations, social welfare, government taxation and spending) to a fragmented sentence on the back of a car. At best, it’s a conversation starter, but not especially helpful for readers in making informed conclusions on those matters. Like most bumper stickers, it was a familiar example of something we human beings are experts at doing: simplifying complexity.

Since the time we were kids, we’ve had an innate desire to have things explained to us, and preferably, as simply as possible. I’ve noticed that we really don’t outgrow that childlike preference, even when we’ve gotten old enough to know that things are a little more complicated then we thought they were when we were 6. But it doesn’t keep us from still doing it as grown-ups. It's also not a trait that is limited to people of one particular political persuasion. Conservatives do it as much as liberals. And it’s not limited to political discussions. Take any area of interest: history, science, theology, politics, even technology—we gravitate to labels and stereotypes. It makes life easier and controversial issues more clear cut. And though simplification is not itself bad, the danger lies in reducing issues, events and even people down to slogans, cliff notes, or pejoratives. In our age of texts, tweets, and sound bites, that’s a problem.

 We don’t have to look far to see the negative effects of simplifying complexity. The current tension between police and minorities is viewed by some as overblown and by others as under-reported. For a white political conservative like me who grew up in the Pacific Northwest where racial conflict was rare, I gravitate towards siding with those who are asking “What’s the big deal?” I’m prone to suggest that those criticizing law enforcement are motivated more by a political agenda then a genuine concern about police brutality. Then I hear the personal testimony of Tim Scott, a Republican senator from South Carolina, and I realize that my experience can’t simplify the issue; racism is a real thing, and many still experience its ugly effects. But I also have friends who are police officers. Their perspective reminds me that most cops are good people, men and women trying to stop the bad guys while putting food on their families’ tables. Reducing the issues of police violence and violence to police to a simple us-versus-them mentality is demeaning to victims of racism as well as the members of the thin blue line. Ultimately, it is unhelpful to constructive dialogue that might bring a solution to a tragic social ill.

People, especially public figures, are frequently the target of negative simplification. From now until November 8, Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump will be two of the most demonized people in the world. Why? Because it’s far easier to vilify a person (and their supporters) who opposes your viewpoint than it is to thoughtfully contend with them on their positions. Humanizing political candidates we’d rather stereotype complicates things. It inconveniently pokes at our own humanity, reminds us that those folks are made in God’s image, and hints that they might be a bit more complex than the sum of their political stances.

Simplifying complexity can leave us in the sorry position of being unable to see an issue, a circumstance, or even a relationship from a bigger picture. That kind of unwillingness hinders our ability to contemplate a different perspective, a perspective that might lead to a better solution, a better understanding, and a better relationship.

Contemplating complexity doesn’t mean you won’t still reach a straightforward conclusion on a matter; it’s necessary that you do. But it does mean you’ve given consideration to more than just the bumper-sticker version of an issue. And by doing so, you’re actually reflecting the nature of your Creator.  He could simplify us, and our pathetic laments and complaints to Him, as nothing more than indicators of our finite, frail humanity. But instead, the One who is all-knowing and all-mighty “remembers that we are dust” and “forgives…heals…redeems…crowns…satisfies…[and] pities those who fear Him.” (Psalm 103:1-14). We should take our cue from Him, and start contemplating complexity instead of simplifying it. Maybe we can start with our bumper stickers.

A Visit to Two Houses

I enjoy comedy, particularly stand-up. I like laughing, and thankfully, it doesn’t take much to tickle my funny bone. In my free time, I’ll frequently peruse my favorite comedians’ YouTube channels, or see if I can find a new comic to give me some laughs.

The not-so-funny thing about comedy is that its positive effects don’t last. I might remember a bit of a hilarious routine a few days later, but eventually, I’ll forget that I ever watched the video or heard the joke. Comedy is, by nature, short-lived. Like a drug that relieves the sensation of pain, comedy can temporarily alleviate the suffering of the painful present, if only for a few hours. And that’s not a bad thing. Solomon tells us that merriment is a good medicine (Proverbs 15:13), and I can attest to the relief that humor can bring to a weary soul.

But the superficial nature of comedy is what makes it dangerous. If we consume nothing but mirth, it can become a substitute for the necessity of dealing with the nitty-gritty substance of real life. And that’s why the same inspired sage who advised laughter as a sort of emotional opiate, also advised that it’s “better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will take it to heart.” (Ecclesiastes 7:2)

Recently, Mikaela and I watched a dramatization of Charles Dickens’ Bleak House (for those of you who care, it was the BBC 2005 version starring Gillian Anderson, Anna Maxwell Martin and Charles Dance). Inasmuch as I enjoy comedy, I appreciate substantive, thought-provoking drama even more, even if it tends towards heaviness. Bleak House was certainly such fare, and though I knew it would be Dickens, I wasn’t prepared for the tragic fates of several of the main characters (spoiler alert!). Lady Deadlock chooses suicide rather than face the potential consequences of bad choices she made decades before. Richard Carstone pours the whole energies of his life into what is only a chance of wealth, instead of seeking a diligent means to provide and sustain what he already has. He dies young, consumed and broken when his chance vanishes. And Mr. Tulkinghorn, who lives his life manipulating, intimidating, and destroying others, is himself destroyed by a bullet to the heart. 

Bleak House isn’t all bleak; several protagonists see bright days after dark ones and reap the pleasant fruit of investing in the worthwhile. But it’s the dark days’ lessons that seem most poignant; lessons that though dark are yet divine. Lady Deadlock might have had a different end had she considered Mark 8:35: “For whosever will save his life shall lose it; but whosever shall lose his life for My sake and the Gospel’s, the same shall save it.” Richard Carstone ignored the question of his most beloved friends,“Will you set your eyes on that which is not? For riches certainly make themselves wings; they fly away like an eagle toward heaven.”(Proverbs 23:5). And perhaps Mr. Tulkinghorn might have lived a longer, less brutish life, had he paid heed to Solomon’s admonition that “He who digs a pit will fall into it, and whoever breaks through a wall will be bitten by a serpent.” (Ecclesiastes 10:8)

Stories like Bleak House are helpful if we want to have the wisdom of God deeply imprinted on our souls. For in reading (or watching) them, we visit the “house of mourning.” And the lessons we find there, unlike the short-lived effects of the "house of feasting," will stay with us for good, if we take them to heart.