More Popular Than Jesus

I'll admit it. I bought Beatles Rock Band the day it came out. I've been a big Beatles fan since high school when I discovered my Mom's old, original vinyl album of Rubber Soul tucked away in our stereo console. I eventually acquired most of their albums on vinyl (not easy to do in the mid-eighties). I read biographies about the Beatles, watched their movies, listened to their songs, learned a few of their chords on guitar, and studies their lyrics. One year I even dressed as Paul McCartney for Halloween.

Given the Beatles renewed popularity, I've been listening to their songs once again. And I still love them. Most of the non-drug-induced songs stand the test of time. But I've also been reading a Christian book by Francis Chan entitled Crazy Love. The book is a call for people to experience God's crazy love for us...and for us to have the same for Him. Somehow on one of my recent runs, thoughts from these two subjects got mingled.

On March 4, 1966, John Lennon was quoted in the London Evening Standard:

Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. I needn't argue with that; I'm right and I will be proved right. We're more popular than Jesus now; I don't know which will go first - rock 'n' roll or Christianity. Jesus was all right but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It's them twisting it that ruins it for me.

This statement caused an incredible backlash -- especially in the United States, and especially in the "Bible Belt." Christians were offended and responded negatively. They banned Beatles' songs from radio stations; they held parties to trample and burn Beatles' albums and memorabilia; some even made threats against the life of John Lennon.

A few months later on August 11, 1966, the Beatles held a press conference to address the growing furor.

Lennon: I suppose if I had said television was more popular than Jesus, I would have gotten away with it, but I just happened to be talking to a friend and I used the words "Beatles" as a remote thing, not as what I think - as Beatles, as those other Beatles like other people see us. I just said "they" are having more influence on kids and things than anything else, including Jesus. But I said it in that way which is the wrong way.

Reporter: Some teenagers have repeated your statements - "I like the Beatles more than Jesus Christ." What do you think about that?

Lennon: Well, originally I pointed out that fact in reference to England. That we meant more to kids than Jesus did, or religion at that time. I wasn't knocking it or putting it down. I was just saying it as a fact and it's true more for England than here. I'm not saying that we're better or greater, or comparing us with Jesus Christ as a person or God as a thing or whatever it is. I just said what I said and it was wrong. Or it was taken wrong. And now it's all this.

What was the point of what John said? He was commenting on the sorry state of Christianity (as he saw it). Look at it from his perspective. In 1966, everywhere he went he was mobbed by screaming young girls. Every concert the Beatles played was packed by a mob of ardent admirers. Lennon saw a passionate fervor in his fans, a passion he found lacking in the "Christians" that he met. Was he really that far off?

In 2009, are Hanna Montana or the Jonas Brothers more popular than Jesus? What would a tween or teen say? Lennon suggested that if he had said "television" was more popular than Jesus instead of the "Beatles" then he would have gotten away with it. What if, instead, we inserted "college football" or "video games" or "golf" or "shopping" or whatever? How many things are we passionate about? How many things are we more passionate about than God? Would we drive several hours just to be with 90,000 other people for a 3 hour church service? Would we yell and scream and really show our passion? Would we take our entire family to a magic kingdom where we served God instead of ourselves? Would our joy come through? Would we put as much effort into worship as we do into having fun?

Now, I'm not saying we can't enjoy college football or Disney World. But reading Crazy Love, I find myself to be "thick and ordinary." I lose my focus. My sense of priority gets distorted. I need to be more aware of what is important to me. I need to -- as they say -- keep the main thing the main thing. I need to ask myself these questions: "What do others see as my passion? Is there anything to me more popular than Jesus?"

This Is Your Life

I awoke on Saturday morning in my hometown of Lynchburg, Virginia with the anticipation of the day ahead. It wasn’t just that it was my birthday; it wasn’t even the fact that was turning 40 (that’s a subject for a different blog). Specifically, I was looking forward to my morning run. I’ve just begun training for a marathon in November, and this was to be my first official “long” run. Earlier in the week, I mapped out my route on Google. I picked my route according to what would be safe and flat. But as it turns out, I was to encounter much more.

My wife, Tracy, joined me on the early morning run. It was cool and sunny and perfect. As we glided down the sidewalks, I began to point out some sites and the significance each held for me.

We passed a small realty office that used to be a barbershop run by a friend and tennis partner of my Mom, Bill Worley. Bill had an infectious smile and a lively cackle of a laugh. He was very nice to me as a kid.

Almost next door to the barbershop was the home of Paul Litaker, a grade school friend, where I spent many an afternoon playing in the creek and the woods. We used to dig up clay from the creek and play Star Wars in the woods.

Soon, we came to the church my family attended during middle school and high school. It is a small Methodist church. I had some of my first spiritual experiences here: candlelight services on Christmas Eve, playing handbells, following along with the liturgy. In my head, I replayed scenes from youth group. I recalled weddings that I had seen and in which I had sung. On we ran.

Across the golf course recently closed due to the recession, we saw the home of my high school friend, Belinda Washington Anderson. It is a big, beautiful white house. I spent many evenings there with high school friends watching movies and playing games. My college roommate, John, and I once snuck into their backyard to go swimming while they were out of town.

Not too much farther along was Virginia Baptist Hospital. As we ran by, I commented to Tracy that I had been born there 40 years, 4 hours, and 20 minutes earlier. Neil Armstrong and his crew were halfway to the moon. How fitting on my birthday to pass my birthplace.

As we continued on our run, we greeted the other runners and walkers. We savored the cool air and brightening sky. We talked and laughed.

Next we came across the road to the apartment where my family lived when I was born. I don’t remember it: we moved when I was 1 or 2. But apparently we had a Saint Bernard named Mooch. He liked to eat cottage cheese.

A few hundred yards later, we came to the road leading to the home of our family friends, Steve and Susan Cox. Steve was my high school choir director. He taught me almost everything I know about music. He got the most out of my mediocre singing voice. Susan is a very good friend of my Mom who has been there in the bad times. I am thankful for Steve and Susan.

It was almost time to turn around and run back. But I had one more stop on my tour. Just before reaching the downtown area was the road to the house of my old baby-sitter, Eloise (pronounced “E-Lois”). Eloise was a second mom to me from infancy to kindergarten. She took care of several children in her home. She taught me (made me) eat vegetables. She and her husband, Wilfred, taught me to play chess. That’s right, chess. Wilfred introduced me to comic books – the Hulk and Fantastic Four and Thor. I recall drawing superheroes at the dining room table. I recall a wooden paddle wrapped in tape. But most of all, I recall being loved.

As the last of these memories flashed across the screen of my mind, the halfway point had been reached. I was ready to return and contemplate all these remembrances again. But instead, I felt more focused on the present and the future. I wanted to get back to my Mom’s house to see our kids. I wanted to celebrate my birthday. I was looking forward to the trip ahead.

It is useful to understand where you have been and to comprehend how you arrived at your current location and situation. It imparts perspective. But perspective is only truly useful if it is used to look forward.

I wonder what lies ahead in the next 40 years.

Sweet Spot

My family and I are at the beach enjoying the sun and sun and free time. One of the greatest pleasures of a beach vacation is ample free time to read for pleasure. I don't have to read medical journals. I'm not cramming preparation for the Sunday School lesson into the last 30 minutes before I go to sleep. I can just stop and read. I began a spy novel by John le Carré entitled Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. By all accounts, he is a good writer. In fact, I could tell he was a good writer; I simply could not get into the book. So, I stopped reading it. Just threw it aside. I thought to myself, "I only have so much free time this week. I want to enjoy it. I NEED to enjoy it. I don't want to struggle through something. I want to use my time effectively."

Okay, so I didn't actually say ALL of that to myself. I'm paraphrasing my internal monologue. But the point is this: I recognize that I have a finite amount of time in this place. I need to use that time to my greastest advantage. So, I started a different book: The World is Flat, by Thomas L. Friedman. I had just now reached the section on blogging which reminded me that it was time for me to write again. So here I am.

The new book is intriguing as it explains how the world has become more interconnected. I'm trying to stay on board this moving train: e-mail, texting, Facebook, blogging. Though it is against my nature, I'm trying to stay connected to the world around me through the modern devices. I suppose I would have used the telegraph in its day.

But, back to my earlier point. I have reached a point in my life (40 apporaches!) where I have many things that I want to do and many things I am asked to do. I want to volunteer in a free clinic, so I clear as many Wednesday afternoons off my schedule as I can. I want to teach Sunday School, so I make preparation and attendance a priority. I want to go back to China, so I bought Rosetta Stone to learn Chinese. Each of these things takes time, but they are investments with hopes of a larger return. Just recently, I stepped down from a committee that required monthly meetings and fundraising. Now, the purpose of this group is very important, and I support it wholeheartedly. But, I discovered that I was not being used effectively. I did not "fit" the group. I was not serving this group with the sweet spot of my time and talents.

Do not misunderstand me: there are times when we are called to serve in areas outside of our expertise and comfort. But given the choice, I would argue that we are most effective if we can find those outlets about which we are passionate, areas where we can use our talents effectively.

In the past, I wanted to do everything. Age and experience have taught me to focus on pursuits where I can make the biggest difference. Life is too short to read a book that doesn't suit you.

Confession...one of many

I'm a hypocrite.

For some of you who know me, you may be shocked by that statement. Others may be somewhat surprised (either by my admission or my candor). Still others may be thinking to themselves, "I knew it!"

I was driving home from the lake a couple of weekends ago when I came to this unpleasant conclusion. It was not a total surprise to me, but I had a poignant moment of self-realization along the way. It was a beautiful morning. The sun had shaken off the cover of the clouds. On the radio, Garrison Keillor was telling tales of oblivious turkeys and dead squirrels on "A Prairie Home Companion." I was lost in the experience of driving and listening and singing and laughing. All was peaceful and right with the world until some jerk in a luxury sedan blew past me in the left lane. "Idiot," I thought to myself (not daring to say the word aloud...and lacking anyone to hear it). "He must be doing at least 80 in a 55 zone," I continued in my head. "Maybe he'll get pulled over by a cop," I thought wishfully.

I looked down to find myself doing 62 mph in that very same 55 mph zone.

So, there it was: my hypocrisy. Of course, I tried to explain it away at first. "He's driving much faster than me. Everyone else is driving this fast. I'm a good driver." Yet still, I was left with the fact that we were both breaking the law. I slowed down. A little.

It seems to me that there are two kinds of hypocrisy: (1) the "I am not as bad as you" type, and (2) the "I am better than you" version. I suffer from both.

In high school, I was a rabid not-as-bad-as-you person. I didn't smoke. I didn't drink. I didn't try drugs or sleep around. I was not bad; therefore, I was good. Or more to the point, the people that did those things were bad; therefore, I was good. But what about my other failings? My self-centeredness? My emotional immaturity that ended up hurting friends? My failure to reach out to those around me?

High school also saw the development of my better-than-you tendencies (which I battle to this day). Laurels such as grades and awards eventually gave way to salary and position. But the temptation is the same: to declare myself better than so-and-so. I've gotten really good at confining these thoughts inside my head. I hold my tongue. I take no action. But still the thoughts fly in like an afternoon thunderstorm. Every now and then I get knocked down a notch or two. As painful as it is, I'm almost grateful for the perspective it brings.

So what's the point of all this? Self-flagellation? No. It's confession and commiseration. Surely I'm not the only one who struggles with pride? Surely I'm not the only one who's a hypocrite? So, how then can I (we) battle this formidable foe? Here's what I've decided to try:

1. Perspective -- There are plenty of people who are "better" than I am. They make more money. They give more time to charity work. They hold positions of far greater influence. They'e just plain more important than me.
2. Self-awareness -- I've got plenty of junk in my closet. You know, the stuff in the back you don't want anyone else to see. We've all got it. Some people deal with their junk better than others. It's easier to avoid concentrating on the speck of dirt on someone else's shirt, when I am fully aware of the smudge on my own.
   
3. Service -- If I ever get too full of myself, it's a good time to stop and serve someone else. To consider another person better than myself is therapeutic. Acting as servant (instead of master) tends to rake the sand trap of my life -- it smooths out the rough spots making things beautiful again.
4. Love -- To love someone is to want the best for them rather than yourself, to put their needs above your own. Love does not find fault nor does it look down upon. Love is the great equalizer.

So, what now? When I hear of a someone in the midst of an affair, I'll remember that I am capable of lust. When I read of a crime, I'll recall my capacity for greed and anger. When I meet someone who has made a bad decision in their life, I'll try to reach out in service and love. The sad part is that I know I will fail. I will, at some point, look down my nose at someone. But, admitting I'm a hypocrite is half the battle. Just don't judge me too harshly...

Compassion

Two weekends ago, I had the pleasure of attending the Dawson Men's Retreat. It's a great time to enjoy some fellowship, have some fun, eat some good food, and hear some ideas about how to be better men/brothers/friends/husbands/fathers. The guest speaker at this year's event was Tom Davis. Tom is the President of Children's Hopechest, a mission organization bringing God's hope and love to orphans around the world. Many men's programs focus on getting back to the wild and rugged nature that men have lost in today's modern society. Tom had quite a different message for us (although in the end, it turned out to be the same).

Sympathy - A feeling or an expression of pity or sorrow for the distress of another

Empathy - Identification with and understanding of another's situation, feelings, and motives

Compassion - Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it

Tom's main goal for the weekend was to demonstrate the need for compassion in our world, to show us exactly how and why we are called to be compassionate, and to show us some outlets for that discovered (or re-discovered) compassion. He reminded us of James 1:27:

• "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."
  

Through pictures, video clips, and personal accounts, Tom described the desperate state of the orphans he sees in Africa and Russia. Hunger, HIV, abuse, and prostitution are the overwhelming forces in lives of these children. Some of the stories and images were disturbing; many were depressing; all were moving in some way. Did Tom show us these things to make us sad? Or to make us feel guilty? Maybe. But mostly I think he wanted to jar us out of our complacency and inaction.

Compassion is a fire that burns only when fueled by love and action. Love for orphans unaccompanied by action is mere sympathy. Action in the name of widows without love is a fleeting gesture. But combined...combined they are powerful enough to chase away the darkness of this life. My fire was stoked several years ago by my good friend, Chad Stubbs. He invited me and others in our church to join him on a mission trip to Honduras to serve with FCM: Forgotten Children Ministries. It was an eye-opening experience: my first time on a foreign mission and my first time in a Third World country. By helping rescue kids off the streets of Honduras from a life of drugs and violence, I finally understood what people were talking about. I understood the importance of loving and giving and serving. Love and action. Love AND action.

Tom instilled and renewed in us a sense of purpose. Several of us at the retreat have been to Honduras to serve with FCM; several others have been to the Ukraine to serve in an orphanage there. Tom presented us with a challenge: to live out Matthew 25:34-36:

• "Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.' "

So we have the responsibility, as those who have been given much, to give back to those in need. I fight this battle daily. My heart does not bleed easily. It must be continually pricked so that I am reminded of the task before me. Look around: who are the hungry and thirsty in your world? Who are the homeless? Who the needy? The sick? Imprisoned?

Love

and

Action.

Lessons from a Goose

One of the reasons I enjoy running is that it gives me a chance to stop what I'm doing and think. I am constantly trying to fill my day: working, checking e-mail or Facebook, reading for pleasure, preparing a Sunday School lesson, studying Chinese or Spanish...and now writing a blog. I find it difficult to be still. But running gives me an opportunity to get away from all that. Isn't that funny? That by "running" I find "rest"? Often I will listen to music: sometimes praise music, sometimes rock and roll, sometimes instrumental. Other times I will listen to a podcast of language learning or an interesting sermon. And occasionally I'll get really crazy and not listen to anything. Just me alone with my thoughts. That's when things get interesting. I start to see and hear things around me that I would otherwise have missed.

Recently I was running along my favorite trail which is alongside a creek near my house. It's one of the places that wildlife can congregate in my suburban neighborhood. As I left my car and walked to the beginning of the trail, I saw some geese (not quite a gaggle) along the creek bank. Walking closer, I noticed that there were two "families" next to one another.

In the first family, the mother and father sat close together with their four goslings in between them. As I passed by, the mother spread one of her wings over her offspring while the father kept a watchful eye on me.


I walked down the path to the next family passing another mother and father with several goslings. But here the arrangement was different. The mother sat beneath one tree, the father beneath another about twenty feet away. Between them played their children, exploring and honking happily. The mother and father watched me with one eye and their goslings with the other. But they never moved.

It didn't dawn on me until I was a mile into my run what I had just seen: a metaphor for parenting styles. Some parents, in an effort to protect their kids, hover over them. The parents hem in their kids so tightly that they have no room to explore, to make mistakes, to grow. They are safe, true, but will they be ready to "fly" when the time comes? Other parents stand back and watch as their kids get dirty on the playground of life. Mom and Dad are poised to help...but only when needed. My wife, Tracy, was given by her mother a book called The Blessing of a Skinned Knee by Wendy Mogel. As is obvious from the title, the author advocates allowing children to experience the real world and to suffer the occasional consequence. Of course, I'm not suggesting subjecting our children to danger or allowing them to live their lives without direction. But a tree will only grow to the size of the space in the forest around it; so, too, will our children grow.

So, watch your children. Keep them safe. Encourage them to explore. Let them know you love them. Be prepared to bandage the skinned knee instead of always preventing it.

Foray into Unknown Territory

Well, I've decided to start blogging.

I had been thinking about it for quite some time. "Should I do it? Should I not do it? What will people think? Will anyone read it anyway?" I had been very much on the fence for several months. This past weekend, I attended the Dawson Men's Retreat. The guest speaker was Tom Davis (more on him later). One of his admonitions (and he did a lot of admonishing) was to blog. He had answered my question.

So, here I am...blogging. What to write? It will probably be a little bit of this and and a little bit of that. I will try to spare you the mundane (I'll save that for Facebook!). I'll share with you things that I learn, mistakes that I make, people I meet, and beauty that I see and hear. I will try (try!) to be creative.

The title of my blog is Redundant Contradictions. What is the significance of that? In high school, I loved to play with interesting words and word combinations. I used to make lists and lists of them. I came up with redundant contradictions...probably after some confusing homework assignment. I decided that if I ever became a rock star, this would be the title of my first album. Well, I think I can safely say, as I press on toward my 40th birthday, that I will NOT become a rock star; therefore, I will NOT have a first album. This blog is as close as I will get.

I hope to make this a somewhat interesting journey. It's unknown territory. But you are welcome to join me along the way.