How much does God love us?*
My latest internal conversation:
Does God love me so much that I am free to choose or NOT choose God?
...Or...
Does God love me so much that I'm free to be saved, regardless of my decisions?
This is the most important question I've asked myself in a long time. On the face of it they seem to be mutually exclusive. I don't know if my free will can exist within, or even after, God's final redemptive act.
I've always told myself that the greatest aspect of my creation (as I am made in the image of God) is the ability to choose. I am supposed to participate in God's creation as Adam did. Through my choices I can bring the Kingdom of God here or push it back. God doesn't want robots and all that. I'm a good Wesleyan... even my ability to choose is couched in God's great prevenient grace. I love because he first loved me. So, I am created in love, by love, and for love. Prevenient, justifying, and sanctifying grace.
But does that mean God loves me so much I can say “God, I don't want your salvation” and he's cool with that? And by cool with that I mean that I am so respected that God's will won't negate my will. Or does he love me so much his response is “Jack, it doesn't matter if you want your salvation because I do” (in which, God's will overtakes my own).
Grace is always a tricky proposition. As Jesus said, he didn't come for the righteous but for the condemned. Weird. It is not the healthy who need help but the sick.
And for this I can't help but think the flip side of the argument. If nothing can separate us from the love of God, does that mean that even I cannot separate myself from God's love?
Some would say that God's love is available for all who accept it. So while God sent his son for the world, the world must accept him to make that salvation complete. A lot of ink has been spilled explaining how one really accepts him. But still, it remains there.
Certainly repentance is necessary for salvation right? But does this turn into conditional love? The biggest “but” in the world: “God loves you, buuuuuut you have to accept that love yourself.”
Some would say God's love knows no “but” - it is unconditional. And the “but” is a HUGE conditional. God's love simply is. It cannot be spoiled by any condition – height, depth, angels, demons, life, or even death can separate us from God's love through Christ.
Certainly God's love never ends and is completely sufficient, right? But... does that mean there is no such thing as hell or that all my platitudes towards “free will” will simply be negated to “God's will”?
How much of a difference is there between a repentant sinner and an unrepentant sinner? Does God love them differently? When Jesus says he came for sinners, which kind of sinner was he referring to? Does the condition of the sinner change the unconditional love?
The obvious conclusion of this line of questioning results in two Jacks:
One Jack believes that God loves all to the point that we can reject him.
Another Jack believes that God loves all to the point that we cannot reject him (ultimately).
The bottom line is this: God's grace is sufficient. And I'm choosing God (or trying to), so I guess it doesn't really matter. Because I know he's already chosen me. Christ is counting on me, and I am counting on Christ. But if I didn't choose him? His grace would still be sufficient to bring me to that choice.
Yeah, that sounded as weird in my head as it did reading it.
*This post is not about whether or not God loves us. I take that as a forgone conclusion but it would make for an interesting post later. This post is simply to invite you into conversation regarding a Christian “splitting of the hairs” and my salvation or ministry does not hinge on this discussion. I would say that our approach to others (Christian and not) does hinge on such a conversation. But I would love your thoughts and you can help me be a better person. :)
Pastor as Cheerleader
Cheerleaders are relics of bygone era when there wasn't much going on (or much to see or hear) besides the actual game.
Think about it. Once upon a time, professional and collegiate football games were more like little league. There were no announcers, blimps, jumbo-trons. All you had were a pile of guys on a field and some folks standing around the fringes.
Enter, the cheerleader. They were not (at conception) strictly eye candy or exclusively female. The cheerleader's purpose was to help the team win by whipping the fans into a single encouraging voice.
We Americans must be entertained when we go to sporting games. It's not a bad thing. I LOVE the videos, fireworks, and there is rarely better music than an NHL Hockey game. This entertainment is sometimes for the team, but often it's to alter the experience of the observer (as opposed to the participant). It has always been fun, no doubt.
But have you ever been to a soccer game outside of the USA? The entire crowd will chant. Beat drums. Yell. It's nuts. I think the closest I've seen in the states to complete participation is ACC basketball. It's all for the team. Anything, whatever it takes, to let the team know we are behind them (or against them lol).
But even these cohesive, all-encompassing, pep-sessions are led by someone. Who does this? These are the cheerleaders. Nowadays it is the crazy guy in the front row who isn't wearing enough clothing. Mothers caught on the jumbo-tron make wonderful cheerleaders.
In the church, pastors should be natural cheerleaders. We are the ones who encourage people to remember the entire body of Christ is behind them in their spiritual walk. We are the ones who always know our team is "number 1" even when others don't think so. We are the ones who sometimes stand on the sidelines and let others be in the game. But we are always cheering them on.
Perhaps you need a cheerleader? No one has your back more than Jesus. No one wants your success more than God. You really can succeed at life. We have a team that (ultimately) will win at life. We all can. And if Jesus has your back, I've got your back.
Think about it. Once upon a time, professional and collegiate football games were more like little league. There were no announcers, blimps, jumbo-trons. All you had were a pile of guys on a field and some folks standing around the fringes.
Enter, the cheerleader. They were not (at conception) strictly eye candy or exclusively female. The cheerleader's purpose was to help the team win by whipping the fans into a single encouraging voice.
We Americans must be entertained when we go to sporting games. It's not a bad thing. I LOVE the videos, fireworks, and there is rarely better music than an NHL Hockey game. This entertainment is sometimes for the team, but often it's to alter the experience of the observer (as opposed to the participant). It has always been fun, no doubt.
But have you ever been to a soccer game outside of the USA? The entire crowd will chant. Beat drums. Yell. It's nuts. I think the closest I've seen in the states to complete participation is ACC basketball. It's all for the team. Anything, whatever it takes, to let the team know we are behind them (or against them lol).
But even these cohesive, all-encompassing, pep-sessions are led by someone. Who does this? These are the cheerleaders. Nowadays it is the crazy guy in the front row who isn't wearing enough clothing. Mothers caught on the jumbo-tron make wonderful cheerleaders.
In the church, pastors should be natural cheerleaders. We are the ones who encourage people to remember the entire body of Christ is behind them in their spiritual walk. We are the ones who always know our team is "number 1" even when others don't think so. We are the ones who sometimes stand on the sidelines and let others be in the game. But we are always cheering them on.
Perhaps you need a cheerleader? No one has your back more than Jesus. No one wants your success more than God. You really can succeed at life. We have a team that (ultimately) will win at life. We all can. And if Jesus has your back, I've got your back.
Silly conversation in my head...
"Why do we oppose abortion?"
"Because life is sacred and you shouldn't murder."
"So we oppose the death penalty?"
"Umm, no, that's okay."
"But why? I thought life was sacred and you shouldn't murder?"
"Life is only sacred when it is innocent or hasn't killed anybody"
"Crap. We are all going to hell, aren't we?"
"Not if someone considers murderers and cheats worth saving."
"Ah... like Jesus?"
"Yeah, like Jesus."
"Because life is sacred and you shouldn't murder."
"So we oppose the death penalty?"
"Umm, no, that's okay."
"But why? I thought life was sacred and you shouldn't murder?"
"Life is only sacred when it is innocent or hasn't killed anybody"
"Crap. We are all going to hell, aren't we?"
"Not if someone considers murderers and cheats worth saving."
"Ah... like Jesus?"
"Yeah, like Jesus."
Pastor as counselor
Ah Jesus... associated with pain, suffering, loneliness, and sadness.
Right?
Well, if you asked Isaiah 53 for a portrait of Jesus, you'd get a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief (your translation may vary).
This might not be the greatest thing to be associated with. In fact, Isaiah 53 even says that we would despise him. Perhaps he is just a little too associated with grief? Who enjoys a party-pooper anyway?
Pastors, sometimes, can be perceived as wet blankets. But the flip side of this is actually a wonderful reality: pastors can be wonderful counselors. Jesus was a wonderful counselor who met people where they were and loved them into better lives.
One aspect of my job that I enjoy is being able to help people work through tough places in life. Sometimes this is sad but sometimes it's just stressful. I've caught myself, more than once, asking, "why do I do this again?" And typically God responds in three ways:
First, it's not about me. It rarely is. I don't get to choose when I want to be a part of a congregant and when I don't. If I want the good times, I have to take the bad. And I'm not complaining - the best relationships are never about convenience but presence. And presence, for many people, is most important in the difficult times. Sure, we want to share the good times with everyone and hide the bad, but it's the bad times people remember you were there.
Second, it's an honor to be there for someone. I think to myself sometimes that as a pastor I must be privy to some really "shocking" things. I don't get some ego trip out of knowing this stuff - if anything its humbling to be that close of a friend. Look, to be honest, everyone has problems. Wait, let me change that: shameful problems. How cool is it when I'm trusted enough to meet someone in confession? It does do my heart good to be blessed with tough stuff. I hold this honor in such high esteem I don't even tell my wife about things that are entrusted to me. I try my best to be Christ incarnate for someone who needs Jesus very much. Who is safer with your secrets than the one who already knows them and loves you anyway? The de-facto starting point for a good Christian counselor is one of love expressed in complete inclusion. You can't find that everywhere, and you can't find that in every pastor (unfortunately). But I'd like to think you could find it with me.
Third, the pain is not for me. It's not my burden. That might sound harsh, but let me clarify. I can be Jesus for folks in some ways, but there are some ways that only Jesus can be Jesus. As a counselor, I'm channeling. I'm a go between. Protestant churches have always made a big deal about not having to go through a Priest to get to God because we worry that we are shortchanging God (or putting too much divine expectation into a pastor?). That's the same reason I'm going to pass the buck to my good friend Jesus when it really comes down to it. On one level, I can empathize with people. I can feel what they feel. I can experience their pain, anxiety, or uncertainty. But eventually, just like every person who has ever walked this earth, I have to give it to God.* Too many pastors have tried to carry the weight of an entire congregation on their shoulders only to crumple under the natural undulations of life. I'll be there for the person when they need me. I'll try my best to keep certain situations from destroying those entrusted to my care, but I won't be destroyed by these situations either. I can feel it, but I can pass it on to God.
----------
This is one aspect of my ministry that is so important to me. Maybe because I've had some wonderful counselors before myself. Maybe because when it gets down to it, God really works one-on-one. Whatever the reason, I don't mind being a man acquainted with grief. A man of sorrow.
Wow, I should get that on my next business card.
* - yes, that is so cliche but I don't care. When I say I give God other people's problems I think of two things. First, I pray for, care for, and love on that person as if it is that person's problem (and not my own) and second, I keep important boundaries between my personal self and the people I counsel. Controlled burning is a great way to thin the underbrush, but it would be a failure if the whole forest is lost.
Right?
Well, if you asked Isaiah 53 for a portrait of Jesus, you'd get a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief (your translation may vary).
This might not be the greatest thing to be associated with. In fact, Isaiah 53 even says that we would despise him. Perhaps he is just a little too associated with grief? Who enjoys a party-pooper anyway?
Pastors, sometimes, can be perceived as wet blankets. But the flip side of this is actually a wonderful reality: pastors can be wonderful counselors. Jesus was a wonderful counselor who met people where they were and loved them into better lives.
One aspect of my job that I enjoy is being able to help people work through tough places in life. Sometimes this is sad but sometimes it's just stressful. I've caught myself, more than once, asking, "why do I do this again?" And typically God responds in three ways:
First, it's not about me. It rarely is. I don't get to choose when I want to be a part of a congregant and when I don't. If I want the good times, I have to take the bad. And I'm not complaining - the best relationships are never about convenience but presence. And presence, for many people, is most important in the difficult times. Sure, we want to share the good times with everyone and hide the bad, but it's the bad times people remember you were there.
Second, it's an honor to be there for someone. I think to myself sometimes that as a pastor I must be privy to some really "shocking" things. I don't get some ego trip out of knowing this stuff - if anything its humbling to be that close of a friend. Look, to be honest, everyone has problems. Wait, let me change that: shameful problems. How cool is it when I'm trusted enough to meet someone in confession? It does do my heart good to be blessed with tough stuff. I hold this honor in such high esteem I don't even tell my wife about things that are entrusted to me. I try my best to be Christ incarnate for someone who needs Jesus very much. Who is safer with your secrets than the one who already knows them and loves you anyway? The de-facto starting point for a good Christian counselor is one of love expressed in complete inclusion. You can't find that everywhere, and you can't find that in every pastor (unfortunately). But I'd like to think you could find it with me.
Third, the pain is not for me. It's not my burden. That might sound harsh, but let me clarify. I can be Jesus for folks in some ways, but there are some ways that only Jesus can be Jesus. As a counselor, I'm channeling. I'm a go between. Protestant churches have always made a big deal about not having to go through a Priest to get to God because we worry that we are shortchanging God (or putting too much divine expectation into a pastor?). That's the same reason I'm going to pass the buck to my good friend Jesus when it really comes down to it. On one level, I can empathize with people. I can feel what they feel. I can experience their pain, anxiety, or uncertainty. But eventually, just like every person who has ever walked this earth, I have to give it to God.* Too many pastors have tried to carry the weight of an entire congregation on their shoulders only to crumple under the natural undulations of life. I'll be there for the person when they need me. I'll try my best to keep certain situations from destroying those entrusted to my care, but I won't be destroyed by these situations either. I can feel it, but I can pass it on to God.
----------
This is one aspect of my ministry that is so important to me. Maybe because I've had some wonderful counselors before myself. Maybe because when it gets down to it, God really works one-on-one. Whatever the reason, I don't mind being a man acquainted with grief. A man of sorrow.
Wow, I should get that on my next business card.
* - yes, that is so cliche but I don't care. When I say I give God other people's problems I think of two things. First, I pray for, care for, and love on that person as if it is that person's problem (and not my own) and second, I keep important boundaries between my personal self and the people I counsel. Controlled burning is a great way to thin the underbrush, but it would be a failure if the whole forest is lost.
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