What is the Opposite of Faith?

I have my own answer to this question, but I really want to hear what you think. So what is the opposite of faith? Is it apathy? Is it confidence in self? How would you answer this question?

Two Insights from Becoming a New Father

The arrival of my daughter Elliette has caused a great deal of self-reflection, priority setting, appreciation and wonder. I want to be the best dad I can be and that requires that I be honest with myself about areas of my own life that need improvement and growth, but what I have been thinking about a great deal the past few days is this:

1. How on earth can anyone do the job of parenting alone? My mom raised my sister and I completely by herself - no support, financial or otherwise, from my MIA “dad” - and I have always appreciated everything that she has done for us. But now I am in complete awe of what she did. I can’t imagine raising a child alone … amazing!

2. How on earth can anyone look into the eyes of a newborn baby and stand on the sidelines … or worse yet … walk away? I don’t understand it. Fathers tend to get a bad rap in our culture today, but fathers aren’t the problem … our problem is with men who act like boys and run from the responsibility of being the spiritual leaders, protectors, and fathers in their homes.

Please join me in praying for all of the single parents out there who are doing the impossible each and every day and for all of the MIA fathers in our culture - that they would stop living for themselves and begin living to serve God, their wives, and the children God has blessed them with.

Musical Cross

I think I’ll keep my iPod.

The Controversial Organ

I wrote a little about the early controversy surrounding the use of the organ in the church a few months ago (see Would Calvin Have Pushed Our Church Organ Out the Sanctuary Doors?). Below Dan Kimball at Vintage Faith tackles the issue and raises a similar point: that the people who protest the removal of the organ from the church today use the same arguments that were used to in the past to keep it out of the early church. Regardless of how highly regarded the church organ is today, it was brought into the church for one reason and on reason only … personal preference. It was the upcoming instrument of the day at one time and so there was a push, by some, to bring it into the church. Dare I say, we have the organ today because it appealed to masses who found it entertaining. Check it out Dan Kimball’s post below:

I love tracing origins of how things developed and why we do or think the things we do today. I have taught a class on worship at 2 different seminaries and when I was preparing for those, I did a study on the origin of various instruments used in worship. It turned out that the organ was quite a controversial instrument in it’s time.

Christians in the early church originally protested the bringing in of the organ into the church saying it was a “worldly” instrument. The organ at that time was used to signal praise in the emperor’s court, like trumpets are used when someone of royalty was formally entering. Around 500 AD the church began to adopt the usage of the organ from culture and used it to signal the entering of the Pope. So there was protest from Christians who felt there was compromise happening and that the church was allowing a worldly instrument into the church.

As time went on, there remained a high suspicion of the organ in the church. They would only limit it to sounding off the pitch for the church singing of chant. So only a single note was allowed to be played because of it’s worldy association. Eventually, they weren’t as scared of the organ and began using it like we use it today. It’s so ironic that in more recent culture, the organ was so associated with what church music sounds like - that there are arguments when the organ is removed by people who are used to it. So there was an argument to get it into the church, and arguments to get it out of the church.

Continue reading “The controversial organ ” »

HT: Dan Kimball

Are Presbyterians Emerging? Nope, the PC(USA) is just blowing in the wind.

Over at Beliefnet there’s post about how Presbyterians (well, sort of) are embracing the so-called Emergent movement. The question is posed, “Are Presbyterians emerging?” I’ll answer, “No.” The PC (USA), who abandoned Presbyterian theology (i.e., reformed theology) long ago in an effort to be more inclusive, may be “emerging,” but good old Calvinism is alive and doing quite well within the Presbyterian Church and has been for a long, long time. Oh no, our thumb is not stuck in the air to gauge which way the emerging wind is blowing.

Below is Beliefnet.com post. I’ve highlighted a few interesting comments … I wish we could get those on the liberal side of the political fence to apply that last idea to government policy.

Earlier this week, Bruce Reyes-Chow was elected moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA). This is great news, for various reasons. First of all, Bruce is a great guy and I count him as a friend (even a real friend, not just a Facebook friend!). There’s been a lot made (at least in Presby circles) that Bruce was unique among the four candidates for several reasons: he was the only non-white, the only one not to wear a tie, and the youngest.

And, the word “emergent” has been thrown around a lot, too.

Bruce is, indeed, emergent. He pastors a church that he planted in the Mission Bay neighborhood of San Francisco, a church that he planted. He’s a part of the Emergent Village cohort there, and he affiliates with Presbymergent. I had the pleasure of speaking at an emergent event with him at his church last year.

Bruce offers great promise to the PC(USA) in his two-year term - and, let it be said, the PC(USA) has been about the most interested in emergent ideas of any denomination. Bruce will push the organization in a missional direction, he’ll open doors for younger people, and he’s just got a great, warm, and inviting personality. On our West Coast leg of the Roadshow, younger Presbyterians repeatedly told us how excited they are about Bruce’s election. Bruce is to the PC(USA) what Tiger Woods was to golf and Barack Obama is to politics.

But here’s my big caveat: the PC(USA) is a huge, hegemonic, and possibly intractable bureaucracy. Bureaucracies are really excellent at only one thing: self-sustenance. They mitigate against significant change and they chew up and spit out entrepreneurs. Bruce may be able to provoke a two percent change, or even a five percent change, in his two year term, but will that be enough? And who will succeed him? Will the next moderator continue Bruce’s agenda?

All this, of course, remains to be seen. Regardless, I’m looking forward with great anticipation to see what Bruce can accomplish.

HT: Beliefnet

Matthew 7:3-5

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

The Room By Joshua Harris

May the beauty of salvation embrace you, may your need for Christ capture you, and may the power of the Cross overwhelm you. For information on the authorship of “The Room” please click here. To download PDF, click here.

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the mysterious array of black filing cabinets. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “Girls I Have Liked.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.

And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match.

A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named “Friends” was next to one marked “Friends I Have Betrayed.”

The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “Books I Have Read,” “Lies I Have Told,” “Comfort I Have Given,” “Jokes I Have Laughed At.” Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “Things I’ve Yelled at My Brothers.” Others I couldn’t laugh at: “Things I Have Done in My Anger,” “Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents.” I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped.

I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked “Songs I Have Listened To,” I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked “Lust,” I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.

An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: “No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!” In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it. The title bore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.” The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus.

I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn’t bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one?

Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn’t anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn’t say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

“No!” I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood.

He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, “It is finished.”

I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

By Joshua Harris. Orginally published in New Attitude Magazine © Copyright New Attitude 1995. You have permission to reprint this in any form. We only ask that you include the appropriate copyright byline. To download PDF version, click here.

Freedom in Christ

O Lord, truly I am your servant

you have freed me from my chains.

~ Psalms 116:16

As we celebrate our nation’s independence this weekend, let us also remember the freedom we have been given through Christ. The Fourth of July not only serves as a reminder of the freedom we enjoy as a country, but also as a reminder that Christ, who suffered, died, and rose again, set all of those who have put their faith and trust in Him alone free from their sin for all of eternity.

I am thankful for this Biblical truth - that we are no longer slaves, dead in our sin (Rom 8:1-2), but have been set free and given new life through faith alone, in Christ alone. We have the freedom of speech to witness for Christ (Matt 28:19-20), the freedom to become everything that we have been created to be (Eph 2:10), and for the beauty of true life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness through Christ Jesus (John 10:10).

Christ is the way, the life and the TRUTH … and the truth has set us free.