Where are the men?

In the past couple months, I’ve been thinking a little bit more about manhood. What separates boys from men? Nobody likes being called a boy, but a lot of the males that I’ve come across don’t want to assume the responsibilities of manhood. Just look at how many unmarried guys sleep around; they want the benefits of manhood without the responsibilities.

This topic has come up for me because I fear that I am becoming domesticated. Instead of being a real risk-taking and courageous man, I live vicariously through movies about superheroes or play videogames where I can feel masculine by killing things. I fear that I’m becoming subdued and settling for a comfortable life with no real work or difficulties. I am averse to sweating and working hard and getting my hands dirty. And while this may feel good temporarily, it is destructive in the long run. It creates a passionless, watered-down, and mediocre life of compromise. I don’t want to settle for that. I want to run hard and be able to look back and say that “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”

I was reminded of this again when I picked up Darren Patrick’s Church Planter. The preface alone was keenly insightful and devastatingly convicting. In it, he talks about how our culture has created a niche for boys who don’t want to become men. “Why bother with a wife and a mortgage when you can live in your parents’ basement, play video games all day, participate in adult sports leagues at night, and barhop every weekend?”

I suspect that this book will be a great read. But even more than simply thinking about it theoretically, I need other men (and boys who want to be real men) who can help motivate and inspire me anew, and to whom I can do the same. Who’s in?

What discourages us?

“How is your present disappointment, discouragement, or grief a window on what has actually captured your heart?” -Paul Tripp

I’m a pretty introspective person. And as a result I can sometimes be more aware of my sins and failures than other people. This can be both a good thing and a bad thing. It’s good because I’m aware of my need for a savior and quicker to admit it than others; it’s bad because I can often fall into despair and self-condemnation from focusing on my own shortcomings and wickedness.

One good thing that has come out of this though was my re-discovery of the gospel. I remember wondering how Christianity could possibly be good news if it constantly makes me feel guilty for my sins and inability to measure up to the standard. I came to realize the sweetness of the cross and what it means that our sins are imputed onto him and his righteousness onto us. And yet, I am also realizing that it is not enough to have come to faith some time long ago; we must daily turn from our own righteousness and works, turn from trusting in our own abilities, and daily turn to Christ and find rest in his finished work.

The reason I say we must daily remind ourselves and preach to ourselves the good news of God’s redeeming love is because we can so easily and quickly lose sight of the truth. As long as we are marred by our sinful nature, we are prone to leave the God we love. Just recently, I remember giving into some sins again.. and while sitting in my despair I felt a similar question (as Tripp’s) being asked. “What brings me greater joy: when I don’t ‘sin’ or when I remember the cross?”

I think that’s what Tripp was trying to point out. Are you more grieved when you (or other people) see your sins or when God sees your sins? Are you more encouraged by you (or other people) thinking you are a good person or when you remember that God sent Christ to make you a good person?

As long as we are still focused on our own sins rather than on the cross that perfectly dealt with those sins, we are still lacking faith. To be sure, we need to deal with sins and work towards holiness and sanctification, but even that is accomplished by focusing on Christ, not by focusing on our external behavior (Col. 2:20-3:5).

Desperation

I was listening to a sermon a couple weeks ago wherein the pastor confessed that he is not desperate for God. The lack of intense and devoted prayer in his life was a pretty good indication, he remarked, that he was not desperate for God; he felt secure in his own ability. This made me think more about how desperate I really am for Christ. How much of the things I endeavor in actually require God to show up and move (making me depend on him more)? Or do the things I engage in require only a nominal dependence on God?

I was reminded of these musings the other day when I was talking with some friends regarding the overturning of Prop 8. Though she still disagreed with the decision, it was quickly apparent that my friend was far more concerned with people than activist judges or our political rights being denied. As she wept in front of me, lamenting over the hurting people feeling attacked by the church and the sorry state of the church — much talk but little action — I think I glimpsed the heart of God.

And I realized how far I am from it. It’s easy for me to sit in my high chair and decry the liberal agenda sweeping the nation, but when was the last time my heart broke for those who do not know Truth? It’s easy to talk about the gospel and the implications of the gospel, but when was the last time I actually befriended and tangibly displayed the love of Christ?

I realized that I am too easily satisfied with simply thinking about God and Christianity. But where are the works (the fruits) of a true, saving faith? God, make us desperate.

Community

A theme that I have been learning more about this past summer is the need for and importance of community. As an introvert (or as an American), sometimes I am tempted to believe that I just need to pray in my closet more or do my daily devotionals in order to mature spiritually. And while not wanting to discredit the more private spiritual disciplines, I am realizing that this is not enough. We actually need each other.

There are lots of reasons why community is necessary, but I’ll share two:
1. Negatively, I am aware of how harmful isolation is. Whether it is the temptations we face alone or the guilt we endure alone, there is (almost) nothing that will harm us more than being isolated. We are such weak and fickle creatures, and to think that we can survive alone is to think of ourselves more highly than we ought.
2. Positively, I am aware of how good it is to be in community. The moments in which I am unmotivated to seek the Lord’s face or tempted to turn my gaze from Jesus to myself or faced with any other forms of weakness, my brothers and sisters can speak the truth in love. The moments in which I see my brothers or sisters struggling, I can offer a word of hope and encouragement and be a source of blessing to them. We need the perspective of others.
Even the difficult moments where we are faced with our/others’ brokenness can be good. Anybody can love people who are lovable. But the genuineness of our faith is tested by our ability to love those who are unlovable. When we deal with people, we are forced to look again and again to Him who first loved us and gave himself for us; only in Christ can we be empowered to love those who hurt us and mock us.

Clearly Communicating

As of late I have begun to appreciate more and more the importance of clear communication. There is very little as frustrating as not being able to articulate the ideas that are in my head. Or when the ideas that are in my head are misinterpreted because of my inability to craft words in such a way that will be understood correctly.

For example, in my last post after having reflected on the topic some more, I realized what I was trying to say was not so much about convicting or encouraging. It was about what I chose to use in order to motivate my brothers and sisters. Namely, did I motivate them with guilt or grace? And, unfortunately, more often than not I have opted to guilt-trip people into doing the “right” “christian” things. Rather than being concerned with the fundamental issue of whether people understand the depth of God’s amazing grace, I am more easily satisfied with seeing individuals externally conform to the law. But that must not be the case. Our motivation for holiness is love; this love is only be produced by first seeing God’s infinite and initiating love for us. My job then (as a staff, as a christian, as a brother) is to point others to this love, not to their failure to uphold the moral law.

But clear communication is more important than just using the right jargon in my blog. It is important because people hear what you say, not what you mean to say. Although this may seem pretty obvious, it only struck me when I was recently talking with one of our graduating seniors. This friend had gone from the core of our fellowship as one of the student leaders during her sophomore year to an outcast shunned by those on the inside. My initial approach was to point out that she was the one who had chosen to leave. After all, it was her preference to live such a sensual, careless, and godless life. She had left community because it was more convenient to live without the guilt. But I quickly realized what I was doing (preaching law rather than gospel) and tried to shift instead to sharing the good news of Jesus. I began to speak loftily of the hope that we had in Jesus’ perfect and sufficient atoning sacrifice. It was not about what we had to do; it was about what Jesus had already done. Imagine my horror, then, when after having shared the gospel for some while, she told me she felt like I was lecturing her! I was trying to share the hope of redemption, not suffocate her with my discipline. I was trying to produce life, not death.

And in that moment, I realized that I had not been communicating in such a way that could be understood by my audience (in this case, my friend). It did not matter if I used the right big words. It was not being understood correctly and therefore my communication was flawed. I decided to contextualize the gospel, essentially saying the same thing with different words. Here then is that gospel:

Friend, I guess what I have been trying to say so far is this: you fucked up. And not only did you fuck up, but you are a fuck up. And it’s not just you. I fuck up all the time too. And I’m not just talking about bad feelings or not living up to your potential. No, we fucked up so bad that we were going to be tortured forever. That’s some deep shit. But the good news is that for some reason God still loves us. I don’t know why he loves losers like us but for some reason he does. And because he does, he sent Jesus to come and save us. It’s only through Jesus taking the punishment we deserved and being resurrected that we are welcomed into God’s family. We don’t have to live with all the guilt and shame; he’s already forgiven us. It’s not about how good of a person you have to be in order for him to accept you; it’s about how God already made the way for us in Jesus even when we were such fuck ups.

Imagine my delight when my friend afterward commented: “I think this is why I was supposed to talk to you today.” Although she and I still have our respective issues to deal with, the path to Christian maturity is not primarily in trying harder to be good. It is only by hearing, meditating, convincing ourselves over and over again how much God loves us in Christ Jesus. And that is what needs to be clearly communicated–in word and in deed–daily in our lives.

Ministry Philosophy?

Somebody once asked me what my “ministry philosophy” was. At the time, I was not even sure what the term meant and what it referred to. Even though he explained what he was meant by it, it was really late at night and I cannot seem to recall what it was. I still do not know what it means (I should have googled it..), but there is a question that has been on my mind more and more. It has to do with what I am guessing constitutes a ministry philosophy.

Namely, do I aim toward encouraging/exhorting the flock or should I attempt to convict/rebuke?

I think, unfortunately, my default mode (without any conscious decision) has leaned toward the convict/rebuke side. I say unfortunately because I fear that this may be arising more from my pharisaical religious mindset rather than any deep love I have found in God’s grace. I see people not doing the things that I think they should be doing (or doing the things I do not think they should be doing), and I use my religious fundamentalism to slam them. “Do you truly believe you are living in a manner worthy of the calling, of the gospel?” “How is your faith setting you apart from others who have no saving faith in our Lord?” “Stop wasting your life.”

And while these things may sound well and good, I recently read an article in which the author stated that the goal of a pastor or shepherd was to encourage the flock. But does not my approach produce reproach and despair rather than hope in Christ’s all-sufficient sacrifice? Is it possible that I am projecting my works-based salvation mindset onto the students I am supposed to be sharing the hope of Christ to? The religious part of me wants to rear its head and justify itself. “It is senseless to encourage those who are lukewarm about their faith. We would essentially be telling them to continue living out a dead faith.” “Encouragement is for those who are already living out their faith. It is not for those who are not following Jesus. After all, isn’t this what produced contentment within nominal Christians? They were encouraged to believe everything was ‘alright’, even when the Word and their consciences said otherwise.”

Granted, I believe that there is a time and a place for both. But the question at hand is regarding the mindset we carry most often. Do I seek constantly to point people to the hope we have in Christ, or do I point out the weakness (or deadness) of the faith of individuals, in hopes of producing in them a conviction (or death) only Christ can cure?

Mount Hermon among other things

It has been too long since I have updated this blog. And it has never been the case that I update this regularly. I would usually make the case that there are plenty of other blogs on the blogosphere by well-known pastors and theologians, and as a result it was unnecessary that I should offer my own Christian reflections. But I feel more and more that that is a lame excuse and that I should begin to write regularly for my own sake, even if not for the few who would be blessed by it.

With that said, this past weekend I was up at a family retreat with Central Presbyterian Church up in Mount Hermon (Santa Cruz, CA). The camp site was beautiful and getting away to fellowship with the body, after such a hectic and frustrating week, was very relaxing. The speaker for the weekend was Dr. Mark D. Roberts and he shared with us from the first couple chapters of Ephesus.

Just to share some of the highlights:
1. Growing up in the Korean immigrant church, it was a rare thing to see multiple generations retreating together in the mountains to worship God and fellowship together. Perhaps this is why it warms my heart when I am able to meet older folk and hear their wise counsel, on top of seeing younger children and making funny faces.

2. More and more I am appreciating faithful expositors who diligently teach the word of God. The brief sermon series was titled “God’s Grand Plan and Your Glorious Purpose.” God’s grand plan (as seen from all the rich imagery of “the riches of God’s grace,” or the way things were done “according to the will of Him who..”, “to the good pleasure of his will”, etc.) for the fullness of time was namely to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. We see this throughout the epistle where Paul talks about Christ’s resurrection, exaltation, and glorification ultimately bringing glory to God. It is his grand plan. Not simply to save people or to restore fallen creation; it is so much more: it is to have all things united in Christ Jesus.

Our glorious purpose comes in response. It is that we — those of us who have obtained an inheritance, who have been predestined to be saved, who are among those to have hope in Christ — are to be (or to live) for the praise of His glory. We, as the church, are called to display the manifold wisdom of God, to bring glory to God, and to enjoy Him forever.

Dr. Roberts also offered some practical points, but I think the question he posed works best: if everything non-believers knew about the triune God were only based on their interactions with you, what conclusions would they come to?