Filled With Grief and Gratitude

I was up late on Friday night. I'm not sure why, considering the incredible workload that this weekend entailed. My wife and I had our weekly date night, and she made me a Gin and tonic. She had gone to sleep, and I was still sipping at the G&T. I stared at the ceiling, and the lights became blurry. Something broke.

I began to speak with those phantom faces that have never left me.

“Dave, I am so sorry that I couldn’t save you. You were so excited for your life with Dana, starting a family, and growing in your faith. I wish I had followed up with you while I still had the chance.”

“Serpa, why didn’t you tell me you needed help? I would’ve traveled all night to see you, care for you, and talk you to about the past and future. Didn’t you realize how much your battle buddies would’ve done for you? How much they all miss you now?”

The faces faded, but in their wake, I was left with my tears and lonely thoughts.

I have friends--brothers and sisters in the Lord who have our back. On Saturday, one group of these friends manned a table at our Memorial Day Market, giving out free books and invitations to our Nature Camp to passersby. Another group, compiled in the nick of time, poured their time and sweat into building us a float for the Memorial Day parade. One couple spent 10 hours working on it on Saturday. Their diligence--without complaint--humbled me.

I traveled back and forth between the two groups. While at the market, I ran into a former marine. I asked him how he was doing. He was on 70% disability for injuries he sustained in the line of duty (hoping for 100%) and was grieving the loss of brothers in arms who had taken their own lives. Yet he was holding fast, getting the help he needed and growing with his wife, rather than turning on her. I let him know that I would be there for him day or night.

Toward the end of the day, I went back to our pastor's house to continue to work on the float alongside that tireless couple. As I primed a giant wooden frame, a neighbor saw my army shirt and continually thanked me for my service. At times, I find such comments embarrassing. But as I kept priming that wood, I thought "This man hasn't forgotten me, or the people we have lost."

On Sunday morning, we heard a wonderful sermon on Moses as he was told that he would never enter the Promise Land (Deut. 3). Instead, he would train up Joshua for the task. I cannot comprehend the grief of Moses in that moment, but was reminded of the surpassing greatness of the glory that awaited Moses. He labored for the earthly Promise Land, but he lived for the heavenly one. Oh, that God would grant me a similar heart!

This morning, I hosted a 5k run through my running club. I reminded all of the participants about those who no longer run, and the gratitude we should feel to have the freedom to run. I prayed for them, and I thanked the Lord in my heart.

I then joined our valiant volunteers in advertising our Nature Camp at the Memorial Day parade. I used my (declining, but still existent) energy to run from veteran to veteran in the crowd, offering them whatever I could in the way of love and support.

This afternoon, several of these tireless workers had my family over for a cookout (after all they had done for us!). We enjoyed conversations as my boy found his match in a (literally) punchy girl and my baby girl wailed over shoes that were too tight (that won't happen again).

Tonight, the old thought deluged my mind again. I watched the heartrending and encouraging video featuring Dana Lyon, widow of Dave (below). And I grieved...for Dave, for Serpa, and for every family that has an empty place at the table tonight. There are no "Thank you for your service" lines that will fill those seats.

I mentioned to my wife that I have felt the weight of this Memorial Day more than other since my deployment. She asked, matter-of-factly, "Isn't that because this town does more for it than you are used to?" She was right. I am reliving these memories because this town is honoring those memories.

I hold this community in my heat because they remember our soldiers. Now, I pray that they would remember our God who grants hope to us all through the live, death, and resurrection of His only beloved Son.

I feel grief and gratitude--in equal measure. I yearn for the day when the scales are tilted, the grief is gone, and the gratitude persists.

https://www.facebook.com/stephen.roberts.967

Thoughts from the Counselor's Chair

I should have anticipated the drama of this past drill weekend, as something both brutal and beautiful in equal measure. I had lined up visits to three separate units throughout the state in order to provide chapel services and conduct suicide prevention training. Thankfully, the Lord prepared and sustained me even if I hadn't adequately prepared myself!

The weekend began with a proper note of humility. I didn't get perfect scores on my PT (physical training test). I crushed the push-ups and sit-ups, but windy Wisconsin had 13-14mph winds in store for me at the track. I watched my pace dip from 6:30 on one side of the track to 7:15 on the other side of the track--the wind made my clothes feel like a parachute. I missed my perfect running score by a good 20 seconds. I was still the third runner across the line and I was able to keep from beating myself up by going back and retrieving the suffering runners behind me. On the way back to the unit, I consoled myself by blaming the wind. I then got on the scale and realized that my Wisconsin weight was to blame as much as the Wisconsin wind. I either need to lose 10 pounds or start wearing new clothes so that my faux baby weight doesn't show.

Here are some of the interactions I had this weekend:

Keeping the demons--not the Lord--at bay. On a weekend dealing with suicide prevention, it was appropriate that a soldier would approach me about suicidal "ideations" (thoughts). Ever since he deployed years ago, he has felt that the presence of God that he used to feel has departed from him. This feeling has grown as a number of his battle buddies have subsequently taken their own lives. Each time one of them goes down, he finds it harder and harder to come back up. He is seeing a secular counselor, but recognizes that a lot these issues are moral and existential. He needed soul care.

This appointment was long, difficult, and extensive. Yet there were a few recurring themes:

1) Neither the United States or the Middle East constitute the "real world"--they together give us a picture of that world. The truth is that this world is both broken and beautiful. We shouldn't ever truly feel like we belong to a given time and place because there are jarring realities with which we shouldn't be at peace. At the same time, we can't dismiss the beauty because of the brokenness. They must be held together, in tension. We must grieve as those with hope!

2) When we can't see our own intrinsic and value and worth, we must go to those who can see it. This soldier has a little boy not much older than my own. He loves the way his boy looks at him when he comes home. His boy adores him. I asked him to think about his boy looking upon his daddy's casket instead. That sickening thought underscores how much he is loved. I also told him to think about his mother's love for him. She birthed him, watched him grow, and would've done anything to protect her boy. He must understand her mommy-heart. Sometimes, our greatest understanding of our value comes through the love of others.

3) In order to understand these things, we must share our brokenness with those who love us. I suffered several bitter disappointments that made me feel like a failure. I don't like burdening my wife with my feelings, but she said "I do" for a reason. I need her to tend to my heart (as she needs me to do the same). In fact, she deserves all of me--not the superficial, smiley part. Absolutely privacy is a symptom of absolute pride. We are not meant to walk the valley of the shadow of death alone. God gives us family and friends exactly for this reason.

4) And walk through this valley we must. It's chill winds will send shivers down our spines. Our tears and fears are appropriate echoes to the brokenness of this world. Even Jesus--the Son of God--wept at the sin and death that had invaded the world created through Him! Yet, for those who belong to Jesus, His presence does not depart. God never turns a blind eye or deaf ear to our suffering. The blindness belongs to us whose eyes are clouded by tears! That is why He gives us His life-giving Word, which reminds us that He is with us--His rod and His staff, they comfort us. And nothing--even our own rebellious natures--can snatch us from His hand. The Bible preached and read, the sacraments, and prayer are all called means of grace for a reason. God communicates His grace to us through these means and breaks the stranglehold of Satan, sin, and suffering.

My baby is dead! The next morning, I drove through the beautiful hillscape of western Wisconsin to our unit in Onalaska (near LaCrosse). I started a suicide prevention briefing as I normally do, by telling the soldiers about myself, my upbringing, my deployment, and my struggles. I use my own painful vulnerability to encourage them to do the same with me and with others.

Partway through, a soldier raised his hand and as he tried to speak, his whole body convulsed with heartrending sobs. Just weeks before, his girlfriend gave birth to a dead baby. She is grieving bitterly, and he can't share his own grief with her because it feels overwhelming. As he spoke, several soldiers put their arms and hands on him. They already knew this information. His point in talking about it was to show how important it is to share these heartaches, and to express his gratitude to the unit, which sent his girlfriend flowers and a condolence note, and collected money to help them get by financially in the their time of grief. What a powerful example of how we are to care for one another in the context of community! That said, the loss of their baby is so hard. Please pray for them.

"Being Jesus" vs. Trusting Jesus. I had four counseling sessions recently dealing with sexual infidelities and their effects. One issue that often surfaces is pornographic addiction. For those who scoff or belittle this issue--note that even sexually permissive publications are ringing the alarm bell that this addiction is ruining lives and crippling society. Instead of checking this moral and psychological cancer at the door, we have allowed it to metastasize. I heard recently that some 70% of men struggle with porn. A few quick points of advice for those suffering from this addiction:

1) Employ the "cut off your hand" principle. This is a powerful addiction (more so than many drugs) and requires a powerful response. Put filters on all of your electronics. If you don't need them for something, leave them at home (or if you're at home, leave them at work).

2) Sexuality is not identity. Don't buy into the lie that you are what you do. If you are a follower of Jesus Christ, you belong to Him. He has the final word over you.

3) Jesus gives you wisdom through His Spirit as well as strength. Don't simply test your strength (and test the Lord) with each successive encounter. There is arrogance in that approach. The Lord gives us wisdom to stay out of such encounters in the first place. Avoid the battle in the first place!

4) Since Jesus has final word over you, don't let moral failure have the final word over your night. The Devil is great at condemning you after your sin and telling you that reading Scripture or praying would make you a hypocrite. Yet hypocrites may still approach the throne of grace with boldness and confidence, crying "Have mercy on me, the sinner!"

Several soldiers are also struggling with their own parent's infidelities and are often being asked to counsel and/or mediate between their parents! This is not only grossly inappropriate, but incredibly unfair and confusing for those caught in the middle. Such people stuck in those situations need to know that they can simultaneously be mad at a parent and still love them. Love doesn't mean pretending not to be hurt.

Also, the confusion resulting from these situations is only compounded by the confusion found throughout society regarding relationships nowadays. Parents give up their authority to be their kids' BFFs. They treat their spouses as partners rather than lovers. Emotional dependency and enmeshment seems to be everywhere. A husband and wife must be best friends with one another, not their kids. If a parent is single/divorce, he/she must find another emotional support other than a child. I met one soldier whose unfaithful dad confides in him about current relationships; his devastated mom relies upon him as her emotional support; his unstable sister had made him her lifeline.

I had to remind him--he isn't Jesus. Not only will he fail in his role of savior, but he will be crushed in the process. He must trust in his Savior, and trust his family to Him as well. He should draw boundaries with each of them, help them see their need for other human supports, and more importantly, the love, grace and conviction that only God can give.

When I led chapel services at the different locations, I drew upon a familiar and beloved passage of Scripture: The parable of the Prodigal Son. In that parable, we are powerfully reminded that our hearts drove us away from God. But in the same breath, we are poignantly shown that it is God's heart--and His heart alone--which can draw us back home.

For each of us--sinners, sufferers, some saved by grace and others in need of being saved by grace--may we find our home in Him.

Son, You Are Safe

The night before last, I heard my little boy scampering around his room long after we put him to bed. I walked across the hall, opened his door and light flooded into the hallway. He is not supposed to turn on the lights at night, but something seemed different at this late hour. Usually, when he is being naughty after going to bed, he races back to his bed and hides under the covers as soon as he hears us coming.

Not this time. He was lying on top of his covers, staring blankly across the room, almost shivering. Considering the late hour, I told my wife that I thought he had a bad dream. I turned out the lights, curled up with him, and whispered "Buddy, God loves you. Do you know what that means? It means you are safe."

We prayed "God keep [my boy] safe in the love of Jesus so that he won't be scared and help him to get a good night's sleep." I heard him whisper "Amen" after me. I kissed his head, got up, and went to bed.

The next morning, my wife found him sleeping with the lights on.

Disobedience? I don't think so. It takes an entire lifetime of being scared to learn about what it means to be safe in the love of God. That powerful lesson is just starting for him.

After my wife found our boy asleep with the lights on, I left for a conference and sat under two convicting seminars on remembering the past and repentance. In remembering the past, I am to reflect upon God's sovereign work in biblical history, church history, my denomination, my church, and my own life. In the process, I will naturally celebrate His goodness. Then comes repentance, and the need to honestly assess the health of my church and my own heart.

I was convicted that most every flaw I saw in the church is also in my own heart. I cannot ask those I help shepherd to grow and move forward if I am not willing to do so as well. For the first time in a long time, I felt the sting and sorrow of my own sin--that I have been demanding health from others when I have not been healthy. I equate busyness with holiness and have neglected the Great Physician and self-medicated with invigorating conversations. Lord, test my thoughts, see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way!

My wife and I enjoyed a good conversation with a female friend last night while her husband labored in the NICU as a nurse. She told us about a baby girl who was born with a genetic defect and would die within the week. The baby's mother couldn't bear the pain, so left the baby under the care of the nurses in the NICU. Our male friend held this precious baby an entire night, feeding her when she cried, and holding her while she slept. That precious baby died days later, but she had someone to hold her in the name of Jesus.

There is a difference between physical and spiritual safety. God does not promise His people the former, though Christ promises that not a hair will fall from our heads apart from His appointment. He also promises that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing can snatch us from the Good Shepherd's hand--on a deployment, in the NICU, under the weight of sin, or shuddering in the night from a nightmare.

This morning, as I was preparing to leave for the last part of the conference, my wife heard my boy in his room crying "My daddy, my daddy, my daddy." She grabbed him and brought him downstairs and I held him for a few minutes before I left, his head resting on my shoulder. He was safe. May I follow my son's example and heart-cry as I bring my sin and weakness to the safety of our true Daddy.

There is no unsafe place within the fold of God's grace.

What is your hope?

I saw an old, familiar friend at Sal's Pub last night.

Unlike our last encounter, my highly-medicated friend was not tight lipped about his life or his lifestyle. He was relaxed and willing to talk. In hindsight, I'm really glad the Lord guided me back to the bar late in the night to counsel him on that prior occasion. A rapport was established.

As we were initially joined randomly from an old friend at the Legion Bar, I opened with a fun question--"Are you what you do?" Neither of them really had an answer. The other guy stumbled around with our identities being the product of our choices, then concluded "You are whatever you want yourself to be." I tried to convey to them that we all have an intrinsic worth that transcends our circumstances. I even used raw, painful examples--when we saw footage of the bodies of Rwandan men, women, and children choking rivers, we weren't grieving because of what they did, but because of who they are. Both friends caught on...a bit.

The other guy left and I was left with my initial friend. We chatted casually for a few--he mentioned that he missed not having "official" gatherings of our group the past couple of months--and then he summed up his life since I last saw him in four words: My mom has cancer.

After expressing my initial grief at what he just told me, I started asking the "What?" questions: What type of cancer does she have? What comes next? Basic info. Next, the "Who?" questions: Who is still living with her? Who is going with her to her appointments? (I offered.) Who is supporting her? Who is supporting you? Finally, the "How?" questions: How is she doing? How are you doing?

Throughout this, I am trying to focus on listening to his answers and allowing to express himself fully. When I contribute, I try to do so by asking questions and affirming his grief. I use my prior knowledge of him--medications, disorders, etc.--to convey additional sympathy--"I know your life already seemed a bit out of control. I bet it feels like chaos to see one of your few pillars in life shaken like this..."

 At times like this, one has to choose what it is really important to say. The person next to you likely has very little bandwidth to comprehend anything you say, especially if it sounds trite. "So what is your hope in all of this?" I ask. "That the prognosis would be good and my mother would recover," he responded, matter-of-fact.

I realize my question is too vague and that assumes a religious conception of hope, which is increasingly rare to come by. "I hope she does as well, but with all due respect (and I switch to generalizations to keep from getting to personal), we all will die someday. In a since, we are each dying a bit every day. With your struggles, you know this as well as anybody. You know that I am a Christian and what my hope is when dealing with death. What is your hope is dealing with death?"

"My hope is that I will have friends to support me." At that point, I didn't press any further. These conversations are like relationships leading toward marriage--you don't push to quickly nor drag your feet. By God's grace, you try to use wisdom to discern the person and the situation.

I did find his response depressing. He as few loving relationships in his life, and love has been a pretty brutal concept for him over the course of his life. To invest his hopes concerning death in temporal friendships speaks more to his loneliness than his hope. My hope is that this unsettling topic drives to despair--not of life, but of himself. The questions now lay before him as a testimony: Will he take death seriously and seek out genuine hope where it may be found?

This question should never be treated lightly, for your life hinges upon it: What is your hope?

"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." (Romans 5:1-5)

Empty Gloves

This Toastmasters speech was drawn from an earlier blog post, and I brought along a set of Army gloves as my visual aid.)

I was a bit more nervous this time around, knowing my topic. I brought my Miller Light up to the podium with me and joked lightheartedly, "This is not simply an emotional crutch, but also a visual aid." Everyone gave a polite chuckle, and I picked up the gloves.

"These are not my gloves, though I have a pair like them. They belong to another soldier, and when I look at these gloves, I wonder certain things about both the gloves and the soldier.

I wonder he first wore these gloves. When I first met him, he was straight out of high school and arrive at drill in his "civvies," not yet having earned the uniform or these gloves. They are small gloves, like mine, reminding me of how this soldier was still a growing boy when I first met him.

Did he use these gloves to dig holes? I bet he used these gloves to carry his weapon, and though he wasn't supposed to, I might have used them to fire his weapon at the range.

When we went out the California desert for three weeks of training, I bet he used these gloves to keep his hands warn during those frigid nights. I remember one of those nights, when we talked into the early hours of the morning about his broken childhood and religious skepticism.

I am sure he wore these gloves when we deployed to Afghanistan together. It was often cooler in the northern part of the country, where he was stationed. He likely wore these gloves on convoys, and he likely took them off when he handled his pizza. He could take down an entire pie in one sitting.

These gloves came back with this soldier from Afghanistan. Again, they were likely useful against the unusual cold of North Fort Hood, Texas, where we reprocessed into the country. A half inch of snow fell on the ground that week.

This soldier and I both flew home first class to Dulles Airport, receiving an embarrassing and humbling round of applause when the passengers learned that we were coming home from Afghanistan.

When I arrived home, my wife and mother greeted me. This soldier may have used these gloves to pick up his baggage, taking it out to his waiting taxi. From there, he drove off into the darkness.

He never came back. Almost a year after that night, that soldier--without these gloves--took his own life.

When I look at these empty gloves, I see empty potential, empty dreams, empty promises. I see empty chairs and empty tables. When I look at these gloves, I see a poignant reminder that many of the soldiers who come home never truly come home.

I know I talk about the Christian faith quite a bit with you all, but this is where its truth shows its force. The only thing that can offer any true hope or solace for empty gloves, empty hearts, empty homes, and an empty world...is an empty tomb."

The older gentleman who critiqued my speech is a 45 year veteran of Toastmasters, but more importantly, a veteran of the Vietnam War. After offering some helpful critiques, he came up to me privately afterward and told me how much the speech resonated with him. "I often think that those who didn't come home are the lucky ones," he said.

No, the truly blessed ones are those who find their hope and home in Jesus Christ.

Who Am I?

I once knew someone with both medical and psychological training who tried to take his own life. There were many contributing factors to this (thankfully, unsuccessful) attempt, but there is one that stands out: An identity defined by circumstances.

In fact, this trait is inevitably found in every person I counsel. I recently spoke to a female soldier who lives for her kids and feels betrayed by her parents and past loves. Her life seems to hang in the balance between an identity rooted in her children and one rooted in her betrayal.

Whether we are proud, self-conscious, or somewhere in between, we all find our identity in all of the wrong places. We look to relationships, but all human love betrays in ways great and small. We look to achievements and experiences, but all of those are fleeting. Sometimes, we'll simply fall back on the crutch that we get to decide who we are and what we will become. But there will always be setbacks, and at such times, we who give meaning to ourselves can also take it away.

Cognitive psychology helps us by showing that we are not merely a set of behaviors that we do or a product of our experiences. It rightly shows us that behind every negative feeling is a negative thought process that can be altered in a positive direction. Yet alterations are always temporary because it relies on the same human faculties that get us in trouble in the first place.

We need an identity that stands beyond our circumstances--something I term an "extra-personal identity" (something that stands outside of oneself). If we have an identity that is rooted in something permanent and unchanging, then no circumstance can compromise our sense of self.

One soldier recently asked me where such an identity can be found. I sent this in response:

For you formed my inward parts;
    you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
    my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
    the days that were formed for me,
    when as yet there was none of them.

(Psalm 139:13-16)

Behind every psychological issue in this world is an identity issue. If you cannot answer the question "Who am I?" satisfactorily; If you are looking for your identity in the wrong places, then you will always be blown and tossed by the winds of circumstances and you will be lucky not to drown.

There is a reason why the fundamental proclamation of a pastor each Sunday is Christ and Christ crucified. It is where the identity question meets the heart of the Gospel. Is your life "hidden with Christ in God?" Each week, even as a follower of Christ, we struggle on a heart-level with our identity in Christ. We struggle to believe that such a God is so loving, and that such love is unchanging. Remember that the Good Shepherd says that none who belong to Him can be snatched from His hand. Do you believe that? The more you find your identity in Christ; The more you truly believe it--the more you will find the rest of your life changing by His grace.

Helping the Poor is Not Enough

I sat down on my bunk, across from another soldier, just after chow.

He was fairly new to our unit, and after asking him some basic questions, I learned that he is (1) incredibly intelligent, (2) entrepreneurial, and (3) financially comfortable.

Unlike many in such a position, he does not exult in his IQ or money. He loves engaging in philanthropy, and after many failed attempts at it, has found a pastor that is helping people people on the ground level in Asia.

Inevitably, I try to draw conversations toward one's faith and upbringing. These topics are harder to get at, but once there, they offer a wealth of insight into someone's basic beliefs and assumptions. This soldier grew up Roman Catholic but didn't reflect much on the teaching. He only became more serious about Christianity after a relationship fell apart to college and he started attending a Baptist church.

Even so, neither he nor his family currently attend church. He also doesn't have confidence in the truth of the central claims of the Gospel. So I tried to connect the dots between his lifestyle and priorities (family and philanthropy) and his need for the Gospel.

"You love to help needy people. Are you needy?" I asked.

He knew that I didn't specific what type of need. "That's a good question," he replied. "I don't know how to answer it."

"I really appreciate how generous you are with your money, but how are you able to relate to those you are helping? How can you empathize and identify with them if you are not needy?

The Bible says that even our good deeds are like filthy rags before the Lord. Don't you think that it's important to address your need before God, even as you are helping others?"

(By the way, one of the reasons why these hard-hitting questions are allowable and by God's grace occasionally effective is that I have tilled the ground with lots of questions and interest in other parts of peoples' lives first.)

The soldier acknowledged that it was time to start looking at these things again. He knew he should probably take his family to church regularly, and his wife is pushing him to do it. But he is wary the anti-intellectualism and attempts at relevance. "If you think it's true--just tell me," he said, referring to the church. "Don't try to make it easier with catchy songs or sayings. Stand on what you believe."

I agreed wholeheartedly. "Don't go because you want to check the box or think it might be useful. Go because it is true. If Jesus is who He says He is and did what we know He did, then it's a game-changer. And if your wife is pushing you to do this, why don't you heed her wisdom and step up for your family's sake?"

He told me that he will start looking for a church. I will follow up with him. Please keep him in prayer!

*"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 5:3)

Encouraging Signs

When I preached this past Friday night, two of my friends from Toastmasters came (a married couple who serve as leaders for the group). They normally attend a Unitarian Universalist church, and though I preached a sermon that dealt with mankind's hatred of God and sole hope in Jesus, they came away with glowing praise and told other folks at Toastmasters about the visit.

Speaking of Toastmasters, our next meeting was the following Monday. I gave a speech entitled "Is Christianity in Decline?" based on a blog post I wrote about that topic earlier in the week. After the meeting, I struck up a conversation with my waiter and we talked for about 30-40 minutes. He grew up in a legalistic church, went off to UW-Madison for college and left Christianity behind, and has since been struggling to put his life back together alongside his girlfriend. She is pregnant.

They are potentially looking for a church, but a place where they will not be judged and ridiculed. The faith of their youth continues to testify to the God of grace, but they doubt whether there is room in the heart or church of Christ for them. I had coffee with the young man today and tried to walk him back through the man-centered, works-oriented Christianity of his youth and redefine all he learned in light of Scripture. They will hopefully come to our church on Sunday. Please pray!

Yesterday, as I ordered a cup of coffee at a local bakery and awaited a dear brother in the faith to debate the issue of baptism, the woman at the counter looked at me and said "You're a pastor, right?" "Yup." "Could you see if anyone needs a part-time job in our bakery? We need somebody." "Sure, I'd love to get the word out."

"By the way, I'm having a hard time right now." "Why's that?" "I grew up Catholic and raised my first daughter in the church, but didn't raise my second daughter in the church and don't really go anymore. My parents are made at me. And now my younger daughter wants to know what I believe and why we're not going to church."

"Children often ask us the questions we really don't want to answer. Maybe it's time to think over these things and evaluate if this Christianity thing is actually true for your daughter's sake and yours. Why don't you come over for dinner some time and we'll ask you questions and help you think through the matter?" Let's hope we can get them over! (And if anybody needs a part-time, late night job in the Falls, let me know.)

After my coffee time with the young waiter this morning, I swung by Gents Barbershop on Main St. for my monthly high and tight from Nick Papageorgio. He's married to a woman who grew up in a Dutch Reformed church in Oostburg, but they no longer attend a church. We always have a good chat when I come in, and he cuts the hair of a lot of the friends I have made in the community. Today, he announced after my trim that the haircut was on the house. It's the small things. Awesome barber.

Tonight, we had dinner with our young neighbor friends and their little boy (a year older than ours). Our boy was wired and running around everywhere and casually rode a car down a stairwell, which ended with strewn car parts and a boy on his back at the bottom. Despite the distraction and stress that his antics caused, we had a surprisingly substantive conversation with our friends. We learned about their Lutheran and Catholic upbringings (largely cultural and nominal), and their subsequent interest in Christianity now (she is taking membership classes at a Lutheran church). They said that they were interested in reading the Bible, but didn't have one. My wife will make sure they get both a regular Bible and a children's Bible in short order.

By the way, I inquired about a leadership position with Toastmasters if there was need, and I got this response from one of the leaders: You are exactly the kind of person who exudes Toastmaster leadership, a generous spirit, a willingness to engage, and an overall aptitude for fun.

I sometimes feel like a blur of energy out in the community and am often second-guessing things I say and do. This bit of encouragement goes a long way, by God's grace.

Finally, a shout out concerning my lovely wifey: This past weekend, we hosted three couples for dinner on Good Friday before I preached. We also hosted two couples and a single lady for Easter dinner. Alongside preparing these meals, my wife cooked lamb for the first time, made carrot cake and coffee cake from scratch, painted our dining room (for fun!!!), mothered two children, and worked on several articles. She is crazy and I love her for it.

A Few Considerations Before You Vote

I am not in the habit of endorsing particular candidates or legislation on a blog that deals mainly with matters of the faith. It is important to me that you hear Christ, and Him crucified, first and foremost.

That said, I would encourage you to ask certain questions of yourself and bring certain considerations with you into the voting booth:

1) We are a nation of laws, not of men. Those who claim the mantle of men, but not the laws, will have nothing to bind them from trampling men. Those who claim the mantle of the laws (i.e. the Constitution) will be bound to also guard the rights of men.

2) Do not think about your vote solely in terms of the current race. Rather, consider your vote in relation to the presidency. Who do you trust to uphold our laws and nominate judges to the Supreme Court who will do the same? Who do you trust to act on principle, not on popularity? Who do you trust to guide our soldiers into harm's way?

3) Be both principled and practical. You want a leader who shares your values, but will also work hard to achieve the practical outworking of those principles alongside the legislative branch.

4) Examine records closely. You are not only looking for one who shares your values, but also one who has experience guarding them. Beware politicians whose words do not reflect their record. Be wary of politicians who have recently evolved as well. Such evolving is allowed in politics (we are always learning), but are the changes coming from a point of principle or are they sheer politics?

5) Who is willing to stand against the popular fads? Those who bellyache about the tyranny of traditional values are at the same time imposing a tyranny of values to their liking. A wall of separation is being erected between our passions and our reason, and the politically correct orthodoxy that ensues will bring no tangible benefit. Who is willing to be courageous--not angry and uncouth--but courageous in standing athwart these forces and yelling "Stop!"

Finally, once you have voted, rejoice! The Lord has graciously given us a political and economic system that both generally work to guard life and liberty. Sure, they don't work perfectly, but no human system will produce Heaven. And if, God forbid, we are denied life or liberty (and the two are bound), rejoice! For there is a King and Kingdom that stand over and above all earthly thrones, and a salvation wrought not by the blood of revolutionaries, but by the blood of a Savior.

Are there less Christians in America?

At some point in the past year, a poll came out with this starting conclusion: Between 2007 and 2014, the percentage of American Christians dropped from 78% to 70%. As the overall population of the United States grew, the population of Christians shrunk. Data found here: http://www.pewforum.org/2015/05/12/americas-changing-religious-landscape/.

Before you rejoice or lament over such a dramatic shift, perhaps you should ask: Is this actually true?

Some of the data can be validated in part: For example, we know through denominational statistics that the mainline Protestant denominations are shrinking. This should not surprise us because these denominations have generally exchanged the historic "other-worldly" message of Christianity for a more palatable "this-worldly" message. A church becomes irrelevant when it has lost touch with the transcendent.

But a larger point must be made here: The decline here is not necessarily in the number of actual Christians, but in the number of people who identify as Christians. This is the true flaw in the study. How can you ask people if they are something if you don't define what that something is? It is totally subjective. If you ask me if I am fast, you are asking me to also define "fast." I could define it by a certain pace over a certain distance, or in comparison with other runners. My answer, however, will not tell you how fast I am but how fast I think I am.

Words have meaning, not just interpretations. In order to conduct an effective study of Christianity in America, you must first come up with some sort of standard definition of Christianity--perhaps "One who believes in the person and work of Jesus Christ alone for his or her salvation." Of course, all of that language is broad and could be unpacked. You could also further drill down and try to get past "nominal" (name-only) Christianity and ask questions about prayer, Bible reading, and church attendance. But these things are echoes, not at the essence, of Christianity.

According to historian Thomas Kidd in his book God of Liberty, the number of actual Christians throughout American history is much smaller than we often suppose. Using some of the same criteria as mentioned above, historians have speculated that the population of Christians in America has generally hovered around 15% of the population. That number may also be declining, but there is no way to determine that through asking people for their opinion of what group they belong to.

Of course, this rebuttal of the findings doesn't change the fact that less people consider themselves to be Christians. Might we speculate on alternative interpretations of why this is the case?

If those who hold to the core message of Christianity--the Gospel--have generally only made up about 15% of the American population, why would the vast majority of Americans consider themselves Christian? Well, Christianity used to be much more popular in American society than it is now. Politicians had to assert their (nominal) Christian credentials and "good Christians" (as if such a thing exists) were considered staples of their communities. Christianity was also closely intertwined with Americanism--to the extent that the untrained could would barely be able to tell them apart.

In past generations, the Christian label brought with it certain social benefits. The same cannot be claimed today in most areas of the country. Either you claim to be a tolerant Christian and not one of those evangelical Christians, or you face a certain degree of stigma and scorn. Christianity in its true form is no longer fashionable and more and more, faith in Christ comes with a cost.

I would argue that the decline in self-identified Christians is not a reflection of the number of actual Christians, but a reflection of the increasing cost of being a Christian. And with the increase of soft persecution--suppression of speech, economic retaliation, etc.--I would expect the number of self-identified Christians to continue to decline dramatically.

On the bright side, as Christian "morals" are no longer considered by many to be indispensable to American society, and as they are treated more as a hindrance to society, people will be forced to look at Christianity in terms of truthfulness rather than usefulness. It doesn't matter what sort of effect Christianity has on society--Is it true? A useful belief does not sustain people when it is no longer deemed useful. A true belief will sustain people regardless of whether it is deemed useful--for the Truth is mightier than the hoard.

Political Religion and Death

I recently attended a political prayer breakfast and was honored to be asked to read a selection of Scripture of my choosing. For those of you who know me, you know that Colossians 3:1-4 is my passage for such occasions. It doesn't exactly rally the political troops, but does hopefully put their political causes in proper perspective. With the Easter season in mind, I wrote a post on this topic for a DC-based political site: http://www.politicalstorm.com/political-religion/.

Unfortunately, as you might expect from a political prayer breakfast, there was a clear confusion between their political mission and Christ's earthly mission. When speaking of unethical journalists and the smear campaigns against their candidates, one politician asked the gathering to pray for these journalists "for they know not what they do." This is the language of Christ, referring to those who were crucifying Him. No politician is being crucified. We have no right to claim the unique cause of Christ with our own. No one stood with Him on that day. We were those the Savior prayed for, not those doing the praying. These lines must be maintained!

A few days later, we had the first official gathering of our newly-named Meetup group, "The Real Happy Hour." A young man from our church and I were joined again by our unbelieving, married friends (referred to in past posts). After a very heavy conversation last time, this talk was more light-hearted. The notable exception was a brief discussion on death. The husband, a former Army Ranger, didn't believe that death was worth thinking about because we can't do anything about it. The wife saw value in thinking about it in order to mentally prepare for it.

A brief thought: If we can't change something--say, the inevitability of death--does that mean that we shouldn't think about it? Or should we think about it in order to better understand it, cope with it, and somehow, to overcome it? Death, as horrible as it is, prompts us to consider why death is a pervasive reality and search for a hope that transcends death. Let us not flee such thoughts or discussions!

Speaking of death (as I so often do), I spent three days this past week in Eau Claire training for casualty notifications (knocking on a loved one's door with a soldier dies). We watched realistic portrayals about what such notifications would look like. I won't describe them here, but my heart was persistently squeezed like a sponge. Like the many funeral duties I have performed, I find solace in such duties in my relationship with the One who has defeated death for us. On the lone, Spring-like day I was in Eau Claire, I ran through the city and over some of the many bridges that stretch across it's rivers. And on that run, I ran as one spared from death's sting and the grave's victory.

Last night, we had three young couples to our house for dinner. One couple only came to truly know the Lord in the last two years. I love spending time with those who so vividly remember what it is like to be drawn from death to life. After dinner, I preached our Good Friday service at church and was grateful to see a married couple from our local Toastmasters chapter--Unitarians--in the pews. I prayed that the Lord would make me clear in presenting the hard and wonderful truths of the Gospel, and I trust He enabled me to do so for the sake of these friends and the glory of His name.

Tomorrow, my family's Easter dinner will be open to any who do not have a place to go. So far, we have three people signed up and fervently hope for more. We will dine upon lamb whilst remembering the Lamb who was slain for our sin and now reigns on high. If Christ is indeed raised and if we are indeed raised with Him, then neither politics nor death have the final claim upon us. Our lives are hidden with Christ in God. You may not believe that yet. But when He appears, so will you also appear with Him in glory. You will know it then. Amen and amen.

Why Baptize Babies

As I have engaged a brother on this issue recently, I would like to put to you, the reader, my basic rationale for why God's Word commands us to baptize the children of a believing parent.

What is baptism? The Westminster Shorter Catechism reminds us that "Baptism is a sacrament, wherein the washing with water in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, doth signify and seal our ingrafting into Christ, and partaking of the benefits of the covenant of grace, and our engagement to be the Lord's" (#94). References: Acts 2:38-42; Rom. 6:3-4; Gal. 3:26-27, etc.

The key thing to remember is that baptism is a sign and seal of the covenant of grace--a covenant made with Abraham for the salvation of all of God's people through Jesus Christ (Gen. 15). So who should receive this sign and seal? All members of the covenant of grace. Who are members of the covenant of grace?

In Colossians, baptism is closely tied to circumcision, the Old Testament sign and seal of the covenant of grace: "In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, 12 having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead" (2:11-12).

So who received circumcision in the Old Testament? Well, Abraham, the recipient of the covenant of grace, for one: "He received the sign of circumcision as a seal of the righteousness that he had by faith while he was still uncircumcised. The purpose was to make him the father of all who believe without being circumcised, so that righteousness would be counted to them as well, and to make him the father of the circumcised who are not merely circumcised but who also walk in the footsteps of the faith that our father Abraham had before he was circumcised" (Rom. 4:11-12).

Abraham received the sign and seal of the covenant of grace because of the righteousness that he had by faith, but that sign and seal was not for Abraham only. In the same passage (Gen. 17), God commanded Abraham to circumcise all men in his household--even Ismael! They were not all believers as Abraham was, but they were members of the covenant of grace by virtue of their relationship to Abraham. As one would expect from a God who manifests his grace through a covenant, He considers those who come into the family of faith or born into the family of faith to be members of the covenant.

Thus, God likewise commanded Abraham to circumcise his son, Isaac, at eight days old (Gen. 21). And this was an abiding command throughout the Old Testament. The children, by virtue of their parent's faith, were considered part of God's covenant of grace. Their bloody circumcision was like a sermon cut into their bodies, reminding them that either they or a substitute would have to be cut off for their sin. The sermon in their flesh cried out for an echo of response--to circumcise their hearts.

Eventually, Christ would Himself be their circumcision, cut off for their sake and ours. But while Christ's fulfillment of the symbolism of circumcision may have changed the form of the sign and seal of the covenant of grace from circumcision to baptism (Matt. 28), He did not change the substance of the sacrament. Baptism was clearly to function as a sign and seal like circumcision, and it's initial use in Acts was tied to the promise made to Abraham (for you and your children after you).

The covenant of grace was fundamentally the same in the New Testament as the Old--sinners were saved by grace through faith in Christ. The key difference was that God's people were no longer looking at a hazy picture of Christ on the horizon, but the historical picture of Christ on the cross--communicated through the preaching of the Word and sacraments.

In the same way, it must be inferred that the signs and seals of the covenant of grace were substantially still the same and the recipients of them still the same. Children were members of the covenant in the Old Testament. Imagine the controversy if such a change had been made! We should expect a command from Christ to do away with something so fundamental. The burden of proof is upon those who would assert that Christ changed the covenant in this way.

But He did not. The command given to Abraham concerning his children abideth still. The numerous household baptisms in Acts can be presumed to be like the household circumcision under Abraham. Again, the burden of proof lies upon those who would contend that the meaning of household with regard to the sacrament had somehow changed between the Old Testament and New, that children would no longer be included in that concept. Rather, Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 7 that children are sanctified through a believing parent and are considered holy.

Like circumcision, baptism is a sermon written upon the flesh, reminding us that we will one day be submerged by the waters of death for our sin or another in our place. As with circumcision, this act and promise of God cries out for an echo: To embrace by grace and through faith the Christ who was submerged unto death. Every child of a believing parent--rightly considered a member of the covenant of grace--will have that sign and seal of baptism testify to them every day for the rest of their lives.

Paul compares baptism to the Exodus in 1 Corinthians 10. In the Exodus, men, women, and children passed through the waters of death with their mediator, Moses, at their head. The same waters swallowed up the Egyptians. In the same way, parents, send your children through the waters of baptism and regard them as holy (as our Lord does), knowing that such a powerful sermon written upon their flesh will likely reverberate into the echo of saving faith, and if not, will reverberate in their judgment for tasting of the Spirit's continual grace, yet rejecting it.

Should Your Church Be Diverse?

I participated in an urban ministry luncheon the other day at a Denny's in Milwaukee. In order to get there, I drove by a bustling bistro full of white people and past neighborhoods of detached homes with well-manicured lawns. Soon after passing under the highway, I was met by endless arrays of small apartment buildings and fast food restaurants. The luncheon took me from one side of the tracks to the other in what is reputed to be the most segregated city in the country.

Is this a problem? Don't most people naturally congregate with those who have the most culturally in common with them? If we took socio-economic factors out of the equation and the inner city was not the economically-ensnared hellhole that it has become, would the separation be that big of a deal?

For the church, it should be a big deal. The church is a culture primarily defined by Christ, not by race. We do not call people "brother" or "sister" because they share our race, but because they share our grace. We see in our diversity a foretaste of the heavenly wedding feast, where all tribes and tongues will have a place at the table. And we long to show a watching world that the Gospel is not a white man's religion (the fact that most Christians lives outside the West should attest to that).

At the same time, diversity should not be the primary focus of the Church. I have seen many a church lift up multi-racial hands of unity but not lift up the Lord and Savior of sinners. This is where we confuse our heavenly imagery. The tribes and tongues do not sit upon the throne, but before the throne. It is Jesus Christ, and Him alone, who draws sinners from every place unto Himself.

This is the tragedy of  most of what has been called "social justice" over the past couple of years. It has focused on horizontal reconciliation between men and not vertical reconciliation between man and God. The same Christ who reconciles man to God is the same Christ who then enables men to reconcile with one another!

As Christians, we should work to break down social barriers that have no place within the Church, where there is neither Greek nor Hebrew. Is should not be our governing cause, which is the glory of God in Christ, but it should be a cause nonetheless. This will not come through working in soup kitchen, where predominantly one race is behind the counter and one race on the side of the counter. This will not come through service projects that go to help needy blacks and Hispanics.

While such things are worthy tasks in and of themselves, they perpetuate the lie that one race is always on the giving end of grace and the others on the receiving end. The best thing we can do is initiate friendships, share table fellowship, and seek to learn rather than instruct. Love is not primarily material, but spiritual, and in that way, the most impoverished person has as much to give as the suburbanite. We are ALL needy for God's grace in Christ!

I met a 68 year old black pastor who has devoted much of the last 50 years of his life to ministering the Gospel in the worst neighborhood in Milwaukee. My theological education might be more robust than his and my doctrine a bit more precise, but I do not deserve to tie the man's shoes. All that I could teach about the Gospel are things already embedded heart-deep in this father in the faith.

If you are saved by God's grace through faith in Jesus Christ--if your heart's renewed desire is to see God glorified--then you will desire to see the Gospel drawing all peoples into your particular corner of His Church.

I remember leaving suburban California one summer for Malawi, Africa. In Escondido, I often felt like an alien. In Josophat Mwale Theological Institute, I felt like family. Few things will show you the grace and glory of God in this world more than how He draws the most diverse people into the most precious unity in Christ.

Hiding the Real You in the Smart You

What an encouraging week!

Amidst a wave of sicknesses that swept through our family (including my visiting in-laws), I received a lot of positive news on the professional front.

*I was appointed to the Menomonee Falls Library Board. I will now be working with a group of impassioned citizens to shape the direction of this venerable institution and social hub in the Falls.

*I am now regularly blogging for a new political website, which gives me an opportunity to channel my love for politics into something that doesn't interfere with the Lord's ministry at Falls Church.

*I have an interview tomorrow at the YMCA to discuss the possibility of leading a Boot Camp course. Like the library, the Y tends to be a social hub for the Falls.

In each of these things, the Lord has provided me with opportunities to use my meager gifts in His service, form greater contacts within the community, and earn more income for my family. It is amazing--the Lord's provision for our family has always been a provision in pieces. And such provision keeps us humble and grateful.

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I was running with another runner on our weekly Tuesday night run when he asked me about my other Meetup group, now named "The Real Happy Hour." I gave him the gist--a no-BS discussion group where we can talk about deep things. He told me that he grew up Roman Catholic and was thinking about returning to the church.

But, he said in a self-consoling manner, I still have faith and I think that's the most important thing. Naturally, we spent the last mile of our run talking about "faith in what?" Religion means nothing. For most of the world, religion is a system of belief built upon one's ability to do good and please God. Faith means nothing. For most of the world, faith is simply the belief in one's inner goodness and ability.

Faith in Jesus Christ is utterly distinct. Such faith recognizes that there is nothing in one's own heart worthy of trust or hope. It instead receives and recognizes Christ alone for salvation. And such faith is also a gift--the God-given instrument through which God grants sinners salvation (Eph. 2:8-9).

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A third runner was absent from these discussions, but joined me for a drink afterward to talk about the other Meetup group. We talked for a little while, but whenever I asked about his current relationship, he deferred. He said he likes talking religion and politics, but not personal things. I asked him if he uses topics like religion and politics to keep people from getting to know him.

I remember one guy who often came to our discussion Meetup in DC. He loved to debate religion (often obnoxiously), but refused to get personal. I would try to ask about his upbringing, his marriage, his children, but he would refuse. It's amazing that people are willing to talk about intellectual abstractions, but not let you near the personal experience that shapes their thinking!

My theory during that time was that the man was using his constant intellectual musings to deflect from anything personal. In a sense, he used his intellect as a barrier to keep him safe. And I think that we often do that. We use all manner of devices--from divulging almost everything about ourselves to constantly advancing meaningless intellectual arguments to emotional manipulation--all in the name of keeping people from seeing the real us.

The truth is that such deflections to make us look any prettier. And the nastiness we often think we're protecting is still nastiness that we love so much that we'll do anything to protect it. It is a perverse form of self-loathing self-love.

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That night concluded with several hours of good conversations with a brother from the church. He was going through a lot of hard circumstances and was often not handling them in the best ways. And he didn't hide any of it. He is a broken man, but he is God's broken man. Because he is broken--and he knows it--he can marvel every day at the grace of God and endeavor to do better. His failures teach him. When he sees his lack of grace, he sees God's abundance of grace. It's beautiful.

Like many of you, I struggle with my brokenness. I am ashamed of it and desire to cover it up. I want people to see a smart me, a strong me, a fake me--that is really no more attractive than the ugliness I hide. All of me belongs to Jesus. My life is hidden with Christ in God. He knows me, inside and out, and He loves me (Psalm 139). That means I can be who I am, because what I am is saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ.

The solution to our fear comes in knowing that we are always safe in Christ.

Deeper Than Belief

Last month's Army drill weekend consisted of three days of trudging through the mud in order to visit with hundreds of soldiers. This month's drill packed three chapel/church services, a birthday party, and Army physical training into a grueling 36 hour period.

On Saturday morning, I conducted a chapel service for soldiers here at our Milwaukee unit. Only a handful were able to attend, so I was able to answer questions as we worked our way through the Bible passage. One of the questions that kept coming us is one of the fundamental ones for whole Christian faith: If the people knew Jesus was righteous (they did), that He performed miracles (they did), and that He claimed to be God and did things that only God could do (they did), then why did they kill him? I'll leave this question open-ended, but know the answer is unsettling and cries out for a resolution.

I then went home over my lunch break to help host our little girl's first birthday party. From there, I drove three and half hours to Eau Claire in order to make it before our unit's closing formation. I socialized with soldiers for a little while before heading over to a ratty motel to watch election results, talk to my wife, and prepare for the next day.

Sunday morning got off to a bizarre start when a drunk man at the hotel thanked me for my service and then asked me for a ride for both him and his buddy. Leaving right away, I figured I could get them where they wanted to go and back to the unit just in time. I dropped them off at a laundromat where they were supposedly meeting up with a woman. Why? Don't know; don't care. All they'll remember amidst their hangover is that some Army chaplain cared for them.

I led an early, somewhat impromptu chapel in one of our company offices. Only one female soldier was able to make it, which enabled us to have a more personal time of interaction over the passage. The officer who worked in the office stayed in there during our informal chapel and remarked that he appreciated knowing more of the history and background behind Jesus' trial. I asked him about his religious background--his mom is Lutheran and his dad a Jehovah's witness. He was largely raised outside of the church.

He didn't believe much of Christianity, but liked to learn about the history. It was fascinating, like something for the History Channel. He just didn't give much credibility to the supernatural stuff since he had come to learn about Science (intentionally capitalized, since as usual the physical sciences are being given religious weight).

I told this young officer that the fact that is occurred in history is critical, but that we also can't rule out the supernatural component because of Science. I repeated my constant claim--our interpretation of the physical sciences--along with everything else---are rooted in a philosophy. In this case, most people root their view of the physical sciences in empiricism--the belief that truth can only be measured by the senses (as astonishing faith claim). He saw my point--not even clear and compelling logic can lead to truth if all truth has to be put under the microscope.

As with the questioning soldiers in Milwaukee, a common thread woven throughout the weekend is that we all need to understand why we believe what we believe. The best things to put under the microscope are our own hidden assumptions concerning the nature of God, man, the world, and how it is that we can know something.

The conversation had to be cut short as I needed to race off to a local OPC church plant to conduct their worship service (for the second day in a row, a pretty crazy lunch break). It was a wonderful and humbling experience as I got to proclaim God's Word to His people in a movie theater! I then enjoyed a brief bite of lunch with one of the families in the church.

I started off the afternoon by reading a recently-published brigade memorandum on suicide prevention to the unit and followed up by advertising our Army marriage retreats. These two things are closely tied together. Most suicides are not caused by hard circumstances, but by the process through which we interpret those circumstances and the lack of a relationships to help carry us through hard times. The most important thing we can do to prevent suicide is building stronger webs of relationships, including stronger marriages.

One hour later, I was on a nearby quarter-mile race track, running warm-up laps for a surprise diagnostic test of our physical fitness. This was not the test that they officially record, which will be in May and includes 2 minutes of push-ups, 2 minutes of sit-ups, and 2 mile run. Instead, this was a 1-1-1 to assess where we are at. I put on almost 10 pounds of Wisconsin weight in my first couple of months here, and only started to run again over the past month as my running group gained traction.

I did 53 sit-ups (tied for first), 70 push-ups (first), and ran a 6:45 mile (third--almost caught second). These numbers were promising, but not where I want them to be (except push-ups). I need to improve my sit-ups and run by our May test. I can, and by God's grace, I will. This is tied to my chaplain ministry--and both my performance yesterday and my care for soldiers throughout the diagnostic opened up conversations. A former Army Ranger walked with me the whole way back to the unit, asking me about the exact role of a chaplain.

The day ran late (as usual), and darkness quickly descended on my three and a half hour drive back. I stuffed my face with greasy fast food to replenish the calories I burned and felt disgusting. The duration of the drive after a workout also left me very sore and uncomfortable. I got home at 8:45pm, and though I'm a late night hawk, I went to bed within an hour.

A couple of lessons learned:

1) Don't do the long drive two days in a row. All driving and no talking make Stephen go crazy.
2) Workout + lots of fast food + hours of driving = Yuk.
3) Even drunk people in Wisconsin are very respectful toward soldiers.
4) The Lord will strengthen me for everything to which He calls me, but that doesn't mean I will feel strong before, during, or after.

The Power of Brokenness

A small group of us gathered at a local pub to talk about deep things and discuss what a regular group dedicated to such discussions would look like. Three of us were raised in the church, but really only came to own Christ later in life. Two others were raised in the church and had thoroughly rejected Jesus Christ. What a crazy dynamic--two people who had left the faith talking with three who had returned!

The two who had left the faith--a married couple--had left for different reasons. The husband had grown up in an anti-intellectual, charismatic church in rural Wisconsin. He came to doubt that Christianity could be sustained against the rigors of the intellect. His time in the Marines and as an Army Ranger seemed to confirm that the world was more complex than it is presented in Christianity. (By the way, this is the guy I talked with for three hours at Panera a few weeks ago.)

His wife was also raised in rural Wisconsin, but was raised in a more-mainstream religious Wisconsin home--one where church attendance was occasional and being a good person was mandatory. Her primary complaint with Christianity came with its teaching on sexuality. She didn't like it for the same reason as most people our age--it seems bigoted, judgmental, arbitrary, etc. And as her husband noted, she was more against Christianity than he was.

I could see that--when one of the guys started engaging her on the issue of sexuality, she was noticeably tense and stand-offish. I tried my normal neutralizer on the matter: Sexuality is important, but it doesn't define us. It is not fundamental. Our culture tells us that it is of fundamental importance, but what does it mean for someone who lacks part of their anatomy and can't be sexual? Are they still a person? In any case, I think that took some of the string from that issue and helped us to proceed.

For much of the next four hours, I engaged with my quick-witted counterpart and the other two guys conversed with his wife. This division actually worked really well, as it gave people more room to talk and be heard. My counterpart broke out a line of reasoning from our past conversation for why he didn't believe in God's justice--namely, that justice is a tool of those who have something to fear. If God is truly God, he argued, then he would not have fear and thus have no reason to judge man.

It's a weird argument to track--it feels like a variation of the common postmodern belief that truth is but a means to power. My point in bringing up the argument here is not to help others understand it (I barely do), but rather, to show the need to contest others' assumptions. Many very smart people to talk about principle issues as if they're peripheral. Here's what I mean: They argue that because "A" is such and such (justice is result of the fear), then logically, "B" is such and such (God wouldn't judge).

When smart people do this, they are deflecting you from their very questionable premise about the way things work and force you to engage their conclusion. It is important to stop them right there. "Woah woah woah," I stopped him. Feel free to keep going, but I want you to know that you are making some huge assumptions and built an entire system around them. At the heart of your religion is this belief that fear is central. Feel free to critique other views, but you need to recognize that your view is built on that assumption."

He acknowledge my remarks--whether they did much good is another matter. Bottom line: Don't let people assume their way into a position, which will often put you on the defensive. Always. Ask. Why.

Meanwhile, my two believing friends were much more gently engaging this man's wife. Her husband--like me--is a verbal steamroller. She, like the other two guys, tends to be a bit more measured. She was genuinely curious about why the three of us returned to the faith. I think our answers unnerved her a bit (in a good way) because they were all part-testimony, part-apologetic.

My heart glowed with what I heard or later heard explained from the other guys. One of these young men often gets tongue-tied, but because he wasn't constantly jumping in, the wife strained all the more to hear and understand him when he talked. And his testimony went straight at the heart of her critique of Christianity. He had engaged in a lot of regrettable behaviors, but it was Christ who granted him true acceptance.

Likewise, the other young man spoke of his years of being a dead-beat dad, or as he termed it, a "piece of s--t." He knew that he was that type of person. Yet the mother of his daughter, who he married his past year, loved him unconditionally. In her love, he saw a picture of how God could love a piece of s--t like him."

This last explanation caught the wife for a loss. She said that she hadn't her anything as moving as that in a long time. But what spoke to this woman? It would seem that it was the broken-hearted vulnerability of these two young men. She saw what they saw--the worst of sinners--and no attempt to cover it up. As a result, she got an incredible view of Christ's perfect patience toward sinners.

My buddy (the husband) has already emailed me, telling me that he has another friend who would like to come to the next Meetup. These conversations are life to me. Four hours on heaven and hell; Forever in heaven or hell always in view.

How We Turn Our Kids Into Spouses

While playing with his daughter, a man once overheard his wife tell another one of their children: He can only pay attention to one of us at a time, and he will always choose his children over me.

Never mind the effect that such a comment might have on a child, it also reveals one of the great marital and familial crises of our day: Emotional enmeshment between a parent and child.

Here's how it works:

1) Over time, for whatever reason, communication and affection break down within a marriage. This usually has something to do with the stereotypical problem of women over-communicating and men under-communicating. Men get overwhelmed and women feel ignored or shut down. It may also have something to do with emotional dependency. When one spouse constantly needs the other for emotional support, the other support spouse tends to get overwhelmed and often, less-responsive. In turn, the emotionally dependent spouse becomes more need and will work harder for support. The other spouse then becomes more resistant and unresponsive. It's a vicious cycle!

2) Marital bonds are more important than parental bonds, for this express reason: Our kids suffer the effects from the fraying of our marriages. This is not only because they see mommy and daddy poorly modeling love to them, but also because mommy and/or daddy begin investing their emotions and affection in their children rather than one another. Here are some examples:

*Talking with children about grown-up issues like a spouse's unemployment.
*Talking with children about a spouse, in the same way that spouse's typically talk about their children (i.e. "I just don't know what to do about your father's anger.").
*Expending all gestures of affection on children rather than the spouse. This is what the man's wife was talking about in the opening example: He plays and cuddles with his children; never her.
*Being friends with children, rather than an authority figure. Danger sign: Calling your child "best friend" rather than a spouse.

3) While such patterns are not obvious to those going through them, the effects are obvious to the outsider: A lack of love within a marriage and a parent who is emotionally enmeshed with his/her children. Such enmeshment causes jealousy and resentment in a marriage and does considerable damage to children. How might it damage a child:

*Instead of learning responsibility in accordance with the authority and rules given in a home, the child will be given undue responsibility for affairs way beyond his/her control. This is unhealthy for adult children, let alone those still developing. It causes anxiety, emotional co-dependency with a parent, and often, a lack of respect for the other parent.
*A child's marriage might feel like a divorce. Leaving and cleaving becomes extraordinarily difficult because in certain emotional respects, the child is always married to the parent. Both will feel abandoned and go through withdraw, and the newly formed marriage will be rocked by undue influence of the enmeshed parent.

Of course, there could be much more to say about this. I recognized my own struggle with this when my wife asked why I cuddled with our little girl more than her. Honestly, actively loving children is easier than actively loving a spouse. By God's grace, my wife's words were convicting and I am trying to be more affectionate toward my wife.

Remember, children are required to honor their father and mother in the Lord. As parents, we must prayerfully require obedience from our children and cultivate the heart behind that obedience. As spouses, we must prayerfully maintain our due affection for one another and not misplace it in our children.

In the same way, we are to honor God, our Father in Heaven, by rendering Him our obedience, as well as love Him who first loved us as His beloved spouse. What Christ has ordained with His own blood, let us none of us confuse or tear asunder!

Made to Look Like a Monkey

"My second trip to Malawi was supposed to be somewhat mundane," I began, addressing the Toastmasters. "I was going to teach fellow aspiring pastors about systematic theology and biblical exegesis. During the day, I would buy fruits and vegetables, and at night, I would eat nsima (corn paste) in the homes of the students."

"But the trip started with a monkey, and ended with a monkey, and ended up being anything but mundane.

On one of my first days there, a man walked his bicycle up to me with a monkey casually perched on the back, eating a cob of corn. 'You want monkey?' he asked. I thought about putting the monkey in a bathtub or closet, but thought the better of it. Before I could respond, he added "To eat" and to make clear what he meant, he chomped his teeth. 'No thanks,' I responded and in my mind added, 'I've reached my quota on monkey meals this year.'

Things were pretty routine from then on out, awakening in me a desire to have an African adventure before I left. I was told that no Westerner had climbed a certain mountain behind the village for some 20-30 years. It was not particularly tall or steep (no need for a hook, hammer, or rope), but was clearly not bushwhacked.

So on my final day in town, I decided to climb that mountain. I awoke early in the morning, walked the short span to the base of the mountain, and began my ascent as the arriving sun broke through the mist. Some places where relatively flat and I was able to tread through foliage, while on occasion, I would have to crawl over boulders on hands and knees. I even had to prop myself between boulders at times and try to carry myself up and over.

I had just climbed up and over one particularly large boulder, about three quarters of the way up, when I heard a heart-piercing snarl. I froze and couldn't move for what might have been the longest minute of my life. My mind raced with images of lions or other beasts. I had no easy way back down and had a backpack and a journal with which to defend myself.

I slowly turned, and saw about 40 yards away and 20 feet above me--across a small ravine--a baboon who was clearly not happy that I was in his territory. He didn't look particularly big, but I have been told by TV and by locals that these things can tear a person limb from limb. I slowly inched closer toward the rocky peak as his snarling intensified, hoping to just put more distance between me and him.

When I got to the peak, I spotted a cleft within two pressing boulders and climbed up and into the cleft. It was there that I prayed, let the Lord know that I was a bit shaken, and remembered the words of that famous hymn "Rock of ages, cleft for me--let me hide myself in Thee!"

I started to make my way back down the mountain when the snarling crept down my spine again. I looked over. The baboon was still 40 yards away, but was now eye level and looked to be eyeing a way across the small ravine. I gently stepped back toward the peak and then took off down the backside of the mountain. There was an old goat path cutting back and forth, but I cut through, jumped 5 or 6 feet at a time to try to create distance between me and the baboon.

Several minutes later, Malawian farmers watched as a mzungu (white man) appeared and quickly disappeared from their yard, likely for the first time. Now sprinting at full tilt, I attracted a crowd of village children who shouted and chased after me. By the time I slowed down, I was at the base on the other side of the mountain. I jogged the next hour or so until I arrived back at my village.

A few things I learned:

1) Always carry a stick. Probably wouldn't have helped against a baboon, but at least I would've felt prepared.

2) God creates us for community. We're not meant to go it alone. I could've used some other guys up there. We need other people. My wife needs me to help her speak up; I need her to help me shut up.

3) If I was vulnerable before that baboon, how much more vulnerable am I before the Creator of the universe? He has the power to crush me, but hasn't. Why? Because He sent His only beloved Son to this vulnerable world in order bear their sins, appease His wrath, and make peace between God and sinners. Because of Jesus Christ, the God who has the power to crush me does not terrify me like the baboon. Instead, he has become my cleft, my rock of ages. For that, I am grateful."

*****************************************************************************

After Toastmasters was over, I got into a discussion with a mother and daughter who were visiting the group. The mother is an evangelical Lutheran who loves the Lord. Her daughter still avows some of the basic truths of the faith, but has determined that she doesn't believe certain portions of the Bible--especially the ones dealing with sexuality. Surprise, surprise. Welcome to my generation.

She briefly mentioned that we can't really trust the Bible because there are so many translations. I told her that in seminary, we are trained to study the ancient Greek and Hebrew, derived from the many ancient manuscripts of Scripture, and no, the major translations have not deviated from the ancient manuscripts.

Next, she talked about the command in Leviticus concerning the stoning of homosexuals, and how some arbitrarily want to keep that law (very few would actually say that) while dismissing other Levitical laws. I told her that most people, including most evangelicals, butcher Leviticus. It's laws were not meant to be normative for all of humanity. They were meant for Israel, the one God-endorsed theocracy after Eden. That theocracy is over, and God is equipped the state as His agent of justice (Rom. 13) and the Church as his agent of saving mercy (Matt. 5).

And for the people of Israel, Leviticus was meant to show them the great gap between a holy God and unholy people. Every little thing that reflected the fallen nature of mankind, from a man's seed spilled upon the ground to a woman's menstruation, carried with it a penalty or time of purification in order to remind the people of the vast difference between them and God. It is no surprise then that at the heart of all these laws was the sacrificial system, which stressed the need for sin to be atoned for and picturing the coming Savior.

I told her about the reboot of our discussion Meetup in Menomonee Falls (now called "The Real Happy Hour") and what we hoped to accomplish with it (charitable discussions about deep and dirty issues). She loved the thought of people who are "pro-gay" and "anti-gay" having charitable discussions.

Again, I challenged her on her descriptions. Unlike what our culture tells us, we are not defined by our sexuality. The term "sexual orientation" didn't even come into existence until Freud used it about 150 years ago. Our culture may have collapsed the distinction between who we are and what we do and now defines us by our sexuality, but our identity goes much deeper than our behavior.

She understood what I was saying, because she earlier told me that she was struggling with her identity and the question: Who am I? I told her that before she asks that question, she needs to ask who has the right to define her identity? Is it her right, or that of her friends or family? Or is it God, who can hide our lives in Christ so that our identities are untouchable by the whims of this world?

She is now pumped for the Meetup group. And I simultaneously became friends with an evangelical mother and her wayward daughter. Speaking of which, I am excited that they were at Toastmasters together. Parents, what do you do about a wayward child? (1) Unconditionally love them. (2) Pray for them. (3) Don't equivocate on the Gospel. (4) Continue to enjoy life with them. (5) Never, ever give up hope.

One day, the Prodigal may be ready to come home--may they know that they have a home to come back to!