For the seventh year in a row I was the emcee for the Bible Bee at our congregation’s school, Green Park Lutheran. The Bible Bee is always a little nerve-wracking for me because it means I make children cry when I tell them they’re wrong. “That is incorrect. Sit down. Next.” In front of the whole school, they are asked questions like, “How many books are in the New Testament?” (27). “Which biblical book has the longest chapter?” (Psalms, with chapter 119) “Where did God use Elijah to contest the prophets of Baal?” (Mt. Carmel, which probably served as inspiration for the game Candyland.)
I always preface the Bible Bee with a thought about what it means to “know” stuff in the Bible. It’s possible to know, but not really know something. In other words, you can know a lot about a person, but do you really know the person? Facts and information are vital. In any relationship, you need to know the details. Yet beyond knowing “the stuff,” there are also the intangibles of intimate knowledge. Do you know the essence, the character, and the core of the person? The information contained in the Bible contains deeper meaning than quiz questions about the age of Methuselah (969 years old). Scripture gives us God’s track record, his history of dealing with people. We know who he is - really know - by what he does. One of my reoccurring observations about Christians is that we often treat Jesus as a proposition and not a person. Forgive me if you’ve heard my soapbox before. It’s a danger to believe in Jesus as a thing, a collection of ideas, or a system of beliefs. But the Christian faith is about more than information. It’s personal. You may believe all the things about Jesus, but do you believe him? Do you trust him? Do you love him? Aaron won the Bible Bee today. He was one of the shorter contestants. He strained to put his mouth in range of the microphone. He knew the answers. But I also know that he knows the person.
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"Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again." I'm writing my first book. Not a theology book. Not a novel. Not a homiletics textbook. I'm writing a children's book, a collection of fables from a land called Kabekona. Right now I'm working with a talented young illustrator to capture the essence of the characters and scenes.
I've been telling stories to my children nearly every night for at least 6 years. My best guess is that I've told over 1,200 stories. In the minds of my children, I've created an entire world consisting of two children and a cast of remarkable, odd, and eccentric characters. Someone once told me that my imagination must be induced by some illegal substance, which is not true. I'm just naturally weird. The Kabekona adventures are other-worldly, but I always inbed some element of truth in the narrative. I find that it's effective to teach with stories. As parents, we do a lot of "explaining." Stories have the ability to "show." The lore around C.S. Lewis's conversion is that he was deeply influenced by late night conversations with some close friends, including J.R. Tolkien (Lord of the Rings). Reflecting on his conversion experience, Lewis observed a revelation: that Christianity is "the myth that is true." Much of Lewis's writing was "fairy tale" in genre, yet so much more. As adults, we tend to lose the meaning of story in our lives. Grown ups reduce life to bald realities. We mark with severity the minutes of the day and the dollars made and spent. Life consists of goals, objectives, and action items. Our existence seems determined by our ability or inability to achieve and produce. Lost is a sense of meaning that's bigger than the daily routine, the "return on investment," or the check-list that is crossed off. When we look for deeper significance in the endless workweek cycle, and when we wonder what we have to show at the end of a 60 hour work week, we get "old enough to start reading fairy tales again." I'll let you know when the book is out. William Falk of The Week writes in a January 18th editorial: "The last time I saw my doctor for a physical, I asked him what he thought of the latest study on diets. 'I don't pay much attention to studies,' he said gruffly, 'until at least five years pass.'" His point is that thousands of studies come out every year. Every researcher is trying to be ground-breaking. Something new. Something fresh. Some provocative discovery. But what they told us was "good for us" last year is now toxic, and what was declared unhealthy is now beneficial. Beyond the medical field, I believe we've lost the art of waiting. Give something time to prove itself. Allow time for reflection and processing. We have a penchant for fads and trends. But what will outlast the trends? We are capable of having things and having things now. Credit cards and mobile technology allow us to consume quickly and immediately. But are you sure you want to consume everything? "I will wait for your name, for it is good." Psalm 52:9 Bob was a young farmer, renting some land from old Willy Winters. One month Bob was short on cash. He came to Willy and stated that he couldn't make a full payment that month. Willy smoked Pall Malls and the smoke curled up around his wrinkled face. After a pause, he asked, "You worried about this, Bob?"
"Well, yes, I'm worried about it," Bob admitted. "Good. Then I'm not because the right guy is." Responsibility means being "the right guy," the one who takes care of it, the one who gets it done. Will you take responsibility for what you've been given? Will you follow through on your promises? Will you be be good to your word, and handle your commitments? Taking responsibility is a key characteristic of manhood (and womanhood, but I'm ranting about men now). Taking a cultural pulse, I sense that the modern man struggles with responsibility. In fact, some men celebrate or brag when they have worked themselves out of responsibility. Movies about bumbling, slacker guys are funny, but they represent a sad reality. How long can I mooch off others, play video games, and avoid any sacrifice? Should our model for manhood be Homer Simpson or a character from any Seth Rogen film? Bob made good on all his debts. In fact, he's still making good on his word today. My father-in-law raised an exceptional daughter. I experience the blessing of his responsibility. Having godly models of manhood in a father and a father-in-law, I pick up my duties with honor. I'm "the right guy" for for the responsibilities I've been given. I came across some excerpts from a book called Habits of the Heart by Robert Bellah in which he talks about "expressive individualism." He observes that Americans have created a culture where individual choice and expression have become so valued that there is no longer any shared life, no commanding truths that tie us together. He writes:
"We are moving to an ever greater validation of the sacredness of the individual person, but our capacity to imagine a social fabric that would hold individuals together is vanishing . . . The sacredness of the individual is not balanced by any sense of the whole or concern for the common good." Personal freedom, choice, and happiness have taken god-like qualities that trump all other values. So you do "what makes you happy." Or you make choices based on what will make you successful. Or "If it feels good, it must be right." Credit cards and fast food are examples of how we have tailored life to gratify the "individual person." This may all sound fine to you, and you might be thinking I'm being a prude. But I have a hard time finding "freedom of choice," "individual expression," and "being happy" in the Bible. Instead, Biblical faith trends toward the communal instead of the individual. It points to faithfulness and righteousness over "being happy." "Loving your neighbor as yourself" won't always make you happy, but you will be fulfilled. So one more word from Bellah. He proposes a return to "the idea of work as a contribution to the good of all and not merely as a means to one's own advancement." In this New Year, in what direction are your endeavors oriented? Financial success? Personal happiness? Career advancement? Or is your work directed outward, "a contribution to the good of all"? O Lord, there has been much work done in the past year. May last year’s work not be in vain, but bear fruit into other new years. May last year’s labor be a foundation for the coming year’s work. We know that we work in the corner of a much larger house, a house that is being constructed year after year. A house whose completion date is not known to us, but only to You, the Master Foreman, as you work all things for good.
O Lord, let not this past year be wasted. May our work mean something for future times. It’s not that we did something that You couldn’t - only that You said we could. And we are grateful You let us participate in Your work. O Lord, may last year’s work prove faithful and true, not because we are exceptionally extraordinary, but because your grace allowed us to be. The grace that made our labor true is the same grace that set us to work in the first place. And it’s the same grace that drew us into the house to begin with. By this grace we labor on into another year. And may this coming year’s work not be in vain. Amen. |
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