If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part,  but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.  When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.  Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

The last couple of weeks, no matter how hard I try to ignore it, I’ve come to terms with the fact that

Seriously, I can’t get away.

Over the last year or so, I’ve stretched myself theologically on so many levels. I’ve called into question many things I’ve believed wholeheartedly my entire life. I’ve bent my beliefs to the point of nearly breaking them. But by the Grace of God, I am only more in love with Jesus and the Scriptures.

But that A.W. Tozer quote puts so succinctly what Paul was getting at in 1 Corinthians 13: that knowledge and understanding, by themselves, are completely meaningless.

Am I, or have I been, completely spiritually empty? No. Have I been close? Of course. There has been some shaking of my spiritual life and community in general that has factored into this spiritual emptiness—this disconnected feeling—and I have been working towards healing and making those situations right. But beyond that, its just been too heavy of a focus on learning ABOUT God, and less of a focus on abiding IN God. Spending time WITH Him.

Do I believe theology and doctrine are unimportant? Not by any means. But I do believe there needs to be a perfect balance, and God has been tipping my scales in the right direction.

In the last few weeks, God has been doing a work in me. He has rekindled the experiential side of my faith. He has given me a new passion for walking with Him. He has, in a way, made me a little bored with theology for the time being. He has been more clearly and loudly showing His presence as the third (well, first) member of my wife and I’s “marital trinity”. I’m feeling less and less inclined to argue a theological point that, in light of the bigger picture, is more than likely near-meaningless anyway. I’m feeling less and less cynical. I’m feeling emotional again.

Best of all, I’m rediscovering Jesus for WHO HE IS, not for who I think He is. And I’m falling in love with Him all over again.

My son Rowan is almost two. He has discovered that he loves being outside, and he loves going for walks. All I have to do is say “do you want to go for a walk?” Once I say that sentence, he will stop at nothing to get out the door.

Generally, when we go for a walk, it ends up being a simple around-the-block, which adds up to about four total blocks. This is how that walk normally looks:

We leave the house. Rowan is excited and runs strong for the first block-and-a-half or so. He stops here and there—to pick up a rock, look at a dog, or try to open someone’s car door—but all it usually takes is me saying “let’s go, buddy” and gently pushing him along for him to start running again.

Around the halfway point, he gets worn out. He literally will just stop out of nowhere and sit down on the sidewalk. He just looks at up me, content as ever. In his head, he’s tired, he’s done walking, so our walk is done. This obviously isn’t true, but he also obviously doesn’t understand that. So I pick him up, and say, “alright, let’s go.” We start walking again, Rowan in my arms. He’s fine for 20 feet or so. Then he starts pushing me, wiggling, and saying “down, please!”

I set him down, he starts running again, and another 20 feet later, he sits down again.

So I pick him up again. He pushes me away again. I set him down again. This pattern goes on for the last two blocks of our walk.

And then we get about two houses away from ours. He sees our house, demands to be put down, and sprints to the steps. He climbs up the steps, and excitedly waits for me to open the door to that wonderful, safe, loving place that he couldn’t wait to leave a half hour earlier.

Think about it.

I totally understand what Israel said. To boil it down, generally, if you are a Christian who was raised in America, you have dealt with fear, guilt, homophobia, hatred of other religions and those not like you, etc. Many of us have discovered God’s wonderful, beautiful grace in the midst of this, and are “recovering fundamentalists” as Israel put it. This is a grace that is sufficient. This is a grace that knows that the Way of Love is the true way to live. The real Gospel.

And he proposes that we might be better off because of this. Our upbringing, our Christian culture, is what led us to this beautiful grace and mercy. We have been hungry for the true Gospel, and It’s been out of our reach, because of all the bullshit holding us back. I get that. And do I think that hunger is somewhat amplified by American religious Christianity? Sure. Are we better off because of being raised that way? This is where I disagree.

Maybe I’m thinking this way because I am a father. I have two beautiful boys. I would gladly take a bullet for each of them. There is nothing in me that wants to see them experience heartbreak or true, deep suffering. When I think about my Christian roots—first in the Reformed/Calivinist church, and then in the Baptist church, then in and out of non-denominational churches, capped off with a Pentecostal church—I think of all the times I felt guilty, not good enough, unable to measure up to some standard, and on top of that, seeing what was obvious hypocrisy in those teaching me how to be “a follower of Christ”. Was I hungry for grace, hope, and love after that? Oh yeah. But at the same time, I think there is a measure of deep heart-and-mind-suffering that I went through—and I don’t think I needed to.

Our hearts long for peace, hope, and love. We long for this beautiful gift of Grace. It’s what our hearts are MADE for. Why not just let that longing take charge? I really think that if we raised our children in grace, hope, and love—the true Way of Jesus—from the start, and didn’t instill this sense of religion, this owning up, this guilty, shameful existence, that longing would grab hold and exponentially grow. Imagine if you were raised from the get-go knowing who you ARE, who you ARE made to be, who you ARE made in the image of, rather than who you should be, or what you aren’t. We would have a lot more joy, I think. And a lot less sinning. And a much better public image as a faith movement.

I know there are still religious Christians. I would venture to say more than there aren’t. I know my sons will have to deal with it at some point. But it is my prayer and hope that they be raised with a true sense of what grace is. What love is. What hope is. What peace is. So that they can be a witness of the true Gospel to Christians and non-Christians alike. A witness to the abundant life that can only be found in the Way of walking in love.

And I’m sure going to  try.

I believe I am redeemed by Gods grace and blood. I have no qualms saying that, it’s taken me a long time to realize and accept that. But I also wonder if I would have come to that point of realizing or even caring about it if I hadn’t been overwhelmed with the sinful mindsets I was instilled with. The hate I felt for muslims, gays and democrats (recovering fundamentalist) and the guilt I carried around for the millions of wounds I afflicted on Christ were things that drove my eyes to the cross and Christ’s sacrifice. Was it in the end, good to be riddled with those atrocities? Would I have looked for hope and grace if I was raised away from the warped mindset of earning your salvation (or repenting every 5 minutes)?

I don’t write this with any condemnation, merely regret and repentance. In the last few years I’ve denied, wrestled with & accepted (wash,rinse,repeat) the grace my god has bestowed unconditionally over and over. Through hundreds of conversations and dialogues I’ve come to amazing restoration for those parties mentioned but still have heaps of things on my spiritual ‘to-do’ list. I also have tremendous hope for the path before me as I transition from Romero-ish zombie to a less dead creature of mercy. I’m reminded of the stories of God constantly making good from the horrible things we do (even in God’s name). This is testament to the God of restoration.

EA=Evangelical Approved

ER=Evangelical Rejected

Superman- Superman represents the ultimate Christ figure in pop culture. He came from above to save humanity. He flies, he rescues, he hears prayers and never looks through girls clothes with his x-ray vision. the ‘S’ is for savior. EA

Spider-man- Spidey is a pretty standard protestant. Peter Parker is the archetypal boy-next-door so he probably goes to church every now and then and prays when he needs a raise at the Daily Bugle. But being religious and not talking about it with anyone or wearing christian T-shirts puts you in the lukewarm category. Sorry web-head, better start passing out tracts. ER

Batman- Though dark and brooding, his ends justify his means including bending social ethics. If it’s for the greater good, it can be rationalized whether its invading civilian privacy or beating the crap out of people for information. Dick Cheney would LOVE this guy.  Also, he tends to brutalize fruity guys dressed in purple. EA

X-men- While Wolverine represents as much of a ‘mans man’ Mark Driscoll could ever want to be, he is Canadian which is one point against him. However, the unforgivable sin of promoting evolution and mutation as means for their origins is a bottomless pit even the über-religious Nightcrawler can’t teleport out of. ER

Ironman- Tony Stark’s job is a weapons dealer and he fights bullies in Iraq. If that’s not a just-cause war, I don’t know what is, plus he fights alongside a guy named War Machine. War-mongering and keeping the arms-race running at full steam are his ace in the hole. EA!

Hulk- Evangelicals love the Hulk, and hate his alter-ego Bruce Banner. So when Bruce can’t figure something out with his cold, secular intellect he has to harness the power of his primal rage like the ark of the covenant killing pagan philistines. Factoring in the wussy alter-ego and the fact that he’s green (liberal agenda): Hulk in, Banner out. ER

Punisher- Punisher is the 2nd Amendment spokesman. File this one next to the picture of Jesus holding a rifle. EA with a bullet

Daredevil- C’mon. He promotes satanism with his moniker, fights big business (Kingpin) and practices social justice by being a non-profit lawyer? Glenn Beck would throw a fit. ER

Hellboy- Hellboy on the other hand promotes fear of Hell & eternal punishment with his name alone. Oh, he’s a demon? It’s ok, its for the greater good. Welcome to the flock, Red. EA

Resurrection day.

I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve been to many churches, been a part of many denominations. One thing all these churches agree on is the Resurrected Christ. That’s a good thing. But the view of the Resurrected Christ that I’ve taken part in my whole life goes something like this:

The tomb opens. It’s empty. The angels say “don’t be scared.” Then the disciples see Jesus wearing a blue sash with holes in his hands, and a smile on his face that says, somewhat sarcastically, “What were you worried about? Everything’s alright, baby!” And then we all say “Aww yay! Jesus is risen!” And go on with our lives Monday morning, eating leftover candy the Easter Bunny left in his eggs (seriously, am I the only one who doesn’t get that? Bunnies laying eggs?).

I may be exaggerating a little. I am. But you get it. We all know what our American culture has painted the Easter story to be. And believe me, I do think that some of that story is good. I kind of like it in a way. But the Resurrection is so much deeper than this.

This year, I am trying to really look deeper into Jesus’ eyes when I run into Him post-empty tomb. I am really trying to understand the depth and beauty of what taking part in His Resurrection means. And the deeper I go, the more unsettled I get.

Not a bad unsettled, necessarily. It’s more just realizing how big of a deal it is. And how much of the idea I still don’t really get.

It’s the miracle-of-all-miracles. It changed the world forever. It subverted the empirical system at the time, and continues to subvert any system we could ever think of. It didn’t cheat death, it defeated it. Most importantly, the Resurrection ushered in God’s mercy and grace to ALL OF US. Jesus leveled the playing field.

Before being nailed to the cross, Jesus knew more suffering than most of humanity knows. In that suffering, beyond atonement, God showed how much He loves us and identifies with our pain and suffering. And on the cross, Jesus was even worried. He felt forsaken. He seemed sure, yet unsure, that all of this was going to work. Jesus’ fully human side came out in full force during his last few moments on the cross. Jesus was fully with us, in a way that we could understand.

And yet, three days later, the tomb is empty. Jesus was victorious over death. We get to see the one place where we truly find life—in the Resurrected Christ.

In becoming human, giving himself to death, and then in defeating that death, God has shown us not the good news, but the best news: that EVERYONE has hope for victory because of the fact that HE IS RISEN.

Here is a short piece that I did for an event at our church that further illustrates this idea:

Don’t get me wrong, I love reason. I love logic. I love science. I absolutely love reading and learning. As a kid, I used to read encyclopedias for fun. And now, I still find myself getting sucked into 45-minute Wikipedia binges.

But the adverse of that, my faith is strong. My faith is real. I have had some real, unexplainable-by-reason-or-logic experiences with the Most High. I have seen the Father work in ways in my life that just can’t be explained by conventional ideas or coincidence. And to me, that’s alright.

The balance has been off lately. I’ve been deconstructing my faith for no other reason than deconstructing it. I’ve been pursuing knowledge far above the equally as (if not more) important experience.

Through prayer and listening, I feel like God has shown me tons of grace for this deconstruction, but He has given me a better blueprint for it.

I’m calling it “constructive deconstruction.”

My brother Evan is a bike mechanic. A damn good one, at that. I was thinking the other day about how he learned so much about bikes and how they work. He learned about them the same way other boys learn about mechanics and electronics and things: taking them apart. Deconstruction, not for the sake of breaking something, but for the sake of learning more about it, and possibly even improving on it. What are the core parts? How do they function? What is their purpose? What can I remove without losing that function or purpose?

I’m sure you can see where I’m going here. We can strip our faith down to it’s very core, learn more about what we really believe, and maybe improve on it by adding a little logic and reason to it all.

What does every bike have? A frame, a chain, pedals, handlebars, a seat, and wheels. Other things such as multiple gears, brakes, reflectors, water bottle holders, and splash guards definitely are good things. They serve their purpose. But they aren’t necessary to the function of the bike, right?

As a Christian, I have my orthodoxy. I have my Apostles’ and Nicene creeds. I have the very core, functional things of my faith: a triune creator-God, authority of Scriptures, salvation by grace through the resurrection of Jesus, a promise of hope and peace for the future, a community of brothers and sisters to stand with—you get the point. I can add other theologies and doctrines and lifestyle choices and other things on top of this that are all good and purposeful, but not essential. Just like a bike, we always benefit from learning more about it’s function and removing the unneeded things, to make our ride as light and efficient as possible. Not saying it’s easy—you will know what I mean if you’ve ever taken a fixed-gear bike for a ride.

I’ll take the analogy one step farther, which is God, through his grace, meeting us where we are at. My brother has a room full of bike parts: frames, wheels, gears, handlebars, shocks, and the like. He can custom-build a multitude of bikes for any occasion, any terrain. If he is going to be riding in the mountains or in the woods, he’ll throw some extra gears on, use a stronger frame, and use fat, knobby tires. If he’s going to be tooling around the city, chances are he’ll have nothing but thin road tires and a single, fixed gear. The bike is different, but it still has the same core parts, and still serves the same purpose: riding. Some people need certain types of theology, certain types of doctrine, certain takes on the Gospel in order to really “get” it. Some people need nothing more than the basics. Some people need some bells and whistles to help them move forward. But at it’s core, there’s still only one unchanging Gospel. One Gospel that serves one purpose.

For me, adding knowledge helps me find the beauty in the Gospel. I am constantly learning. Learning new stuff about the history of the Bible, the historical Jesus, the different cultures that the scriptures were written in—sometimes taking it to the point of questioning some core elements of my faith. But when I step back and look at it, I think to myself: “I know that I still need that wheel. I know I still need those handlebars.” That’s what keeps me pressing on towards Jesus. I know that He is real, and I still believe in the core doctrines and purpose of this faith I hold so dearly.

Lately, the scale has been tipped too far in the knowledge direction. I don’t want to become a gnostic. I don’t want to make knowledge my god, I want knowledge to compliment my God.  Sometimes I just need to remember what’s important.

Sometimes I need to replace the inner-tube on the tire to keep it inflated.

Sometimes I need to grease the chain up to keep the ride smooth.

And I thank God everyday for keeping me on the bike.

⁶So when they had come together, they were asking Him, saying, “Lord, is it at this time You are restoring the kingdom to Israel?” ⁷He said to them, “It is not for you to know times or epochs which the Father has fixed by His own authority; ⁸but you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be My witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and even to the remotest part of the earth.”

The thing that popped out to me as I read it this time is the question before the verse 8 bomb. “is it at this time you are restoring the kingdom to Israel”. They were asking a very specific question regarding their own desires, probably to be out from the rule of the Romans. Jesus comes back and says ‘none of your business guys, BUT you’re going to be a part of this restoration you asked about through the power the Holy Spirit and the world will see it’.

With new perspective comes new understanding.

I see this as less of a ‘go, tell everyone you know about Jesus’ and more of an invitation and foretelling of the world they were about to change by ushering in the Kingdom of heaven to earth, not the other way around. In our culture there seems to be a lot of emphasis on spreading the good news to get people to heaven while leaving the earth in a trash heap which I obviously think is the infection of our society on the Gospel. That’s not to say that we are not to evangelize, but as the last thing Jesus said on earth I think it’s important to realize we are part of His kingdom and our world just happens to be the playing field. We are to be witnesses, but through the different lenses.

~Israel