What do you do when your pastor says really stupid things?

It’s not that I have to apologize for my pastor. I’m thankful that I don’t; but, frankly, I suspect that a lot of friends have had to apologize for me.

If you ever visit the Key Life building, you should note a cartoon that hangs on the wall in the lobby. It’s a picture of a pastor standing in front of a shocked congregation…their eyes wide, their hair standing on end and incredulity all over their faces.

The caption reads, “Now Steve didn’t really mean what you thought he meant.”

When Obama vigorously disavows the comments of his pastor, I think of the “eat the frog syndrome.” That’s when someone seems sane, balanced and rational, and just when you are about to join the club…a frog hops across the floor and the formerly sane, balanced and rational man or woman picks it up and eats it.

Rev. Wright ate a big, juicy frog and Obama has to explain it.

Obama said that his pastor told him about Jesus and taught him about his obligation to love others, to care for the sick, to feed the hungry and to help the poor. I’m sure that all of Rev. Wright’s sermons weren’t as divisive, hate-filled and wrong-headed as the ones we’ve seen and heard in the media. I know that black anger isn’t totally without reason and that preachers get caught up in the excitement of the moment and…well…uh…say stuff that might cause them to wince when they have an attack of sanity.

Okay. But there’s still the frog.

As you know, I wasn’t going to vote for Obama anyway, so I don’t have a horse in this race. But I do like Obama and wish him well in trying to explain the unexplainable and defend the indefensible. That’s a hard place to be…especially with a beloved friend or pastor.

And then, I do feel constrained to say something about Rev. Wright. If I knew Rev. Wright, I would say this to him and not about him:

I know, I know. I’m a preacher and have said some really stupid things in my day and probably will again. But good heavens, man! What were you thinking? Are you out of your mind? You’re a pastor and you’re supposed to help this love thing along…not bury it in a pile of hateful manure.

I know about justified anger and I think I somewhat understand the black/white thing…but you’re about Jesus. Okay? He did the cross in the face of this stuff. You made an obscene gesture.

I’m not your mother. But if I were you, I’d repent.

If you don’t repent, Jesus will still love you.

I’ll try too.

But a bunch of Democrats and Republicans might not.

Wait!

That’s a lie!

It’s generally said by people who either 1) don’t have political opinions or convictions, 2) don’t want to offend and/or 3) suffer from the malady of perfectionism. I’m opinionated, offensive and, given my proclivity to screw things up, it would be insane for me to be a perfectionist.

So, I’m going to vote Republican. Okay? I’m going to pull the lever for McCain. I may have to hold my nose, ask God’s forgiveness and let the Devil take the hindmost, but that’s what I’m going to do.

When I go down the issue list, I find more about John McCain with which I agree than disagree and I can’t even say that about my mother. So, he gets my vote.

But let me tell you who I would like to vote for.

I would like to vote for Barack Obama. Frankly, I like him a lot better than I like John McCain. I like the way he talks…and, even better, I like the way he talks about God. I find his call for us to “come together” quite appealing because I’m tired of the hatred and demonizing. Not only that, I think it would be wonderful to have an African American in the White House and, to boot, a person who can talk.

(I think that George Bush has been a great president and that history will render that judgment on his presidency. But he can’t talk. Drives me nuts. I just wish he could take one of my communication classes. But I digress.)

One of the women on The View said that Obama reminded her of a boy one dates and, the next morning, wonders why she took her clothes off. That’s rather crass and I, of course, wouldn’t say anything like that. But the point is well taken.

There are a bunch of people I would enjoy (if I drank beer) having a beer with, but I wouldn’t want to be President of the United States. There is a long list of people I genuinely like, but it would be insane to let them even near the “hot button” on an atomic bomb. There is a great difference between having a commanding presence and being commander-in-chief of the most powerful military in the world.

But with all of that being said, I like the man. I’m glad I do, because he may be the next president and it helps to like the person, if you’re a Republican as I am, who screws everything up. It’s kind of like your favorite uncle…the crazy one.

You know something? If you’re a Democrat and a Republican is elected president, you’ll probably survive and the nation will too. And if Obama is elected, I’ll survive and the nation will too. Do you know why? Because the ability of the head of state to change the state of the world is vastly overstated.

Ask Woodrow Wilson.

When Hillary Clinton was in Detroit, she said that she was glad to be there because she had been born there.

One of her supporters said, “Yeah, and Obama was born in a stable.”

No, he wasn’t…and that’s a good thing to remember. As I understand it, there is a limit of only one Messiah per universe. We already have ours. He’s the King that nobody elected and nobody will depose.

As I understand it, he’s still in charge of this mess.

When I think of that, I feel better about both Obama and McCain.

I was glad that nobody was around to see it. I’m a guy, okay? Guys only cry at football games and funerals…and certainly not over a rich, spoiled, celebrity brat.

As a mother, Brittney Spears makes Joan Crawford look like Olivia Walton. She represents the worst of America’s celebrity fixation and is the answer to why one shouldn’t give a bottle of whiskey and the car keys to a teenager. She is incredibly shallow and narcissistic, without her make-up looks like the witch of Endor, and when she planted a passionate kiss on Madonna on national television, it was ugly-on-ugly.

Nevertheless, I thought about her and cried.

I asked Jesus about it, knowing that he is the Great Physician and could heal my emotional breakdown.

That’s when he told me it wasn’t me…it was him.

There was probably never a time when tears were more puzzling than when Jesus came to Jerusalem. Talk about a city filled with people who make Brittney Spears look like a saint. Self-righteous, arrogant, power-hungry killers. As Jesus entered that city, he knew that he was, as it were, going to leave it “in a box.” He understood the anger and hatred of the city directed at him and, and not only that, he had the power to do something about it.

But he didn’t. He wept.

Luke says, And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it.

Maybe those who hang out with Jesus, who see things through his eyes and feel what he felt, will cry more than condemn. Maybe the truth of lostness, pain and confusion should solicit tears. Maybe the tears are as much a sign of God’s Spirit as the doctrine.

Then, again, maybe not.

At any rate, I’m not going to make a habit out of it. And if you tell anybody I cried over Brittney Spears, I’ll say you lied.

I just finished my regular physical. I have one every ten years whether I need it or not. I went through all the tests…including a colonoscopy. (I would rather go to the dentist. He only sticks things in my mouth.)

My doctor checked my blood pressure and it was very good.

His went up.

Greg, my doctor and friend, loves me and wants to save my life, but he can’t find anything wrong. I smoke a pipe, eat what I like and exercise only sporadically. Besides, I’m older than dirt and probably should be dead. It drives Greg nuts.

Kind of makes me wonder too.

I really shouldn’t be this healthy.

But come to think of it, there are a lot of things I shouldn’t be.

I shouldn’t be forgiven. If I were God and someone like me came to me as much as I have to him, I would eventually say, “You’ve got to be kidding. Get out of my sight. Sorry isn’t enough.”

I shouldn’t be loved. I know I can be quite irritating. I like to think that I irritate by accident…but, of late, I find myself doing it on purpose. God is my Father, but sometimes he must blush. Love is a cool thing, but you can kill it if you work at killing it.

I shouldn’t be saved either. While I don’t believe that one can lose one’s salvation, if you could, I would have already. When people say to me, “After all that Jesus has done for you…” I act like it doesn’t bother me, but I do wince. I have no idea why I’m still his.

But I’m forgiven, I’m loved and I’m saved.

I’m also healthy.

Of course, none of the above precludes my getting run over by the Welcome Wagon, getting hit by lightning or being shot by some crazy nut I’ve offended.

Should that happen, do your best to think fondly of me.

If you were “listening” the last time I wrote here, you know that I was going through my normal, self-centered, anal questions about me.

We all know it’s about me.

I told you that God laughed at me…and that, in his laughter, I felt released from my obsessiveness and started laughing at myself.

Then I told you that I would tell you what I told my concerned friend and myself as I questioned where I believe I’m supposed to go, what I’m supposed to say and what I’m supposed to do.

Okay. Here it is.

I don’t have the foggiest!

Just kidding.

The following is some of what I wrote to my concerned friend…

…and to myself.

I really do understand where you’re coming from. You are a warrior and I think the battle is over. And, even if it isn’t, winning it is way above my pay level. In fact, I believe that the concentration on winning is the reason there is no victory.

I just don’t have the gasoline (never have, by the way) to be more than what I always have been. I am constantly amazed that you think I’ve changed, speak of God in a more flippant way, and say things that I haven’t said before and for most of my ministry.

But that road is not helpful…it becomes “You’ve changed” / “No, I haven’t changed” back and forth and it goes nowhere.

Yes, we probably agree on who God is, the fallen nature of man, a definition of sin, the necessity of repentance, and the hope and call for faithfulness, holiness and obedience. Every Pharisee with whom Jesus spoke would agree on all of that. Those, in the propositional sense, aren’t even the issues.

With Jack Miller, I think that I’m a lot worse than I ever dreamed I was. And I teach, preach and speak from that context.

I honestly don’t think a lot of people believe that is true with them. Therefore, they are offended by grace because they define grace as a “sell-out,” a compromise, and a sign of not having convictions and being faithful to them.

Don’t get me wrong. Most Christians I know…know they’re sinners. They know that grace is vitally important and that salvation comes from him and him only. They just have a far higher belief in possibilities and far more hope about themselves and others than I do.

In fact, they may be right. I don’t think so, but maybe they are.

I just can’t go there and be faithful to what I believe, experience and see in almost everyone. People who go down the path of obsessive obedience and faithfulness almost always hit a wall and go through horrible disappointment, darkness and pain. Once they’ve been there and failed…

…they often don’t come back.

I honestly believe in radical freedom that comes from God’s unconditional and unbelievable mercy and grace, and the imputation of Christ’s righteousness. That freedom sometimes offends others, sometimes it increases sin for a season, and sometimes it looks skewed and out of the box. But those who know it…

…always come back.

I can’t help the infectious joy thing. With Mercy in Pilgrim’s Progress, I find myself laughing out loud. I’m not laughing because I’m right, because I’m smart or because I’m pure. I’m laughing because I’m his and he is really fond of me. Those who know that always laugh and…

…always come back.

And then there’s the surprising faithfulness thing. It happens. It’s not the issue, but it really does happen. I’m still here, aren’t I? I still believe what I’ve always believed and done what I’ve always done, and I’m still teaching the Bible and telling people about Jesus. But even if I wasn’t faithful, he would still love me and people who know that sometimes surprise themselves with their faithfulness and…

…always come back.

Those who are “constrained by Christ’s love” and who have come to see “Abba” as the defining attribute of God, may screw up, sound flippant and lack convictions. But I’ve noticed (and I’ve been doing this a very long time) that they really do come back.

Dan Allender said at our pastor’s conference that grace was so radical that most congregations and believers can’t handle it. “So,” he said to the pastors, “you have to give it out in small doses until you get the kids through college.”

My kids are through college. I’ve listened to and weathered a whole lot of criticism, anger and condemnation. I’m not looking for a bigger church and for more PR, and I don’t care much if anybody agrees with me. I’m free to say what I believe needs to be said and I’m going to continue to do that.

So, while I appreciate your concern, I’m going to continue doing what I do and believe I have been called to do. You, on the other hand, are going to continue to be often shocked…and sometimes offended. And we are going to have to agree to love each other anyway.

I doubt that my friend feels a lot better.

I do.

And we all know it’s about me.

Actually, it’s not about me at all. It’s about him and that is why I was so relieved when he laughed at me.

Nevertheless, there it was. I didn't ask for it, I didn't want it, and it scares the spit out of me.

This morning I spent considerable time defending what I do to a dear friend who is “disturbed” and “concerned” about me, the directions in which I'm going in ministry, and the things I'm saying and the changes that have taken place. My friend says that a lot of people listen to me, believe me and will follow me, and that I had better say the right things, believe the truth and go in the right direction.

Ordinarily I would tell him to get in line and to join the “disturbed and concerned” Sunday school class, or I would write, “You may be right…but you're probably wrong. Sincerely, Steve.”

But this is a very old and dear friend. And now I've become disturbed and concerned.

The questions are not only my friend's questions. Those same questions haunt me sometimes. Once you start looking at those demons, they'll chase you down, keep you awake at night and haunt your waking hours.

Have I changed?
Am I screwing people up?
Have I become flippant about a holy God?
Am I encouraging sin?
Am I antinomian?
Have I sold out to the culture?
Do I have a mean streak and enjoy offending people?
Do I not care about the church and its purity?
Do I lack conviction?
Am I making “excuses” for my own sin?
What about holiness and obedience?
Am I hanging out with political and theological “enemies”?
Am I on the wrong side of the line Jesus drew in the sand?

I asked God. And do you know what he said?

He said, “Probably.”

What's with that?

That's when he laughed. No, it wasn't derisive laughter, or the laughter of scorn or dismissal. He didn't laugh at my pain or even at my questions. That would have been expected.

He laughed a free and joyous laughter. The laughter, if you will, of a father who knows that the pain his child is feeling is temporary and who, in his laughter, makes it better.

You know what happened? Laughter is infectious and I started laughing too.

I'm not sure why I was laughing. I think it was because I realized that my questions didn't matter as much as I thought they did, that running the universe was way above my pay level, and that being a peon—aren't we all when we stand before God?—has its advantages.

I don't have time here…but the next time I blog, I'm going to tell you what I told my concerned friend and, in telling him, what I told myself.

Meanwhile let me say that I haven't changed and I'm not going to change. I want to…but it's not in me. I really am a lot worse than I thought I was…

…and God's grace really is a whole lot bigger than I thought it was.

So?

It’s primary day in Florida. Given that I’m a good citizen, a committed Christian, want to set a good example and think that voting is important, later today I’m going to go and vote.

If you know me, I’m probably the most opinionated person you know. If there is an issue, I have a conviction about it. It’s my nature. I’ve always known who I would vote for weeks in advance and have, on occasion, done everything I could to get my candidate elected.

But this time I’m sitting here and I still don’t know who I’m going to vote for…and it’s driving me nuts.

Everywhere I go, I see people wearing that stupid sticker with the American flag. It reads: “I voted!” I want one of those stickers. It’s a fairly easy place to feel self-righteous and there is a lot to be said for self-righteousness.

The problem is that I just haven’t decided.

Then I got this idea.

You know what I’m going to do?

I’m going to go to the polling place, enter the voting booth, mark nothing on the ballot and then come out smiling. Who’s to know?

They’ll give me the stupid sticker. It’s called self-righteousness without the righteousness.

Everybody will notice and will know that I’m a good citizen and a committed Christian, and have done my duty.

That’s when Jesus screwed up my idea by telling me that I wear a lot of stickers.

I figured that one more place couldn’t hurt. Right?

Okay, okay. I’m out of here and I’m going to vote.

But after I vote I’m not accepting the sticker. Do you know why? Because I’m humble, that’s why!

Then I can feel self-righteous about my humility and the fact that I’m not wearing the sticker that all those self-righteous people are wearing.

Is that cool or what?

(Erik just came in and told me who I should vote for. I asked him if he was voting and he said he’s a registered Independent and couldn’t vote in the primary. Now that ticks me off. He gets to be self-righteous without voting, without a sticker, and without being humble like me and rejecting the sticker. SPIT!)

I don’t care if this helps you or not. What follows isn’t for you. It’s for me and, if I don’t say something, I’m going to go nuts.

You were chosen.

I’m mad as…well, really ticked…and I’m not going to take it anymore!

Do you know what I’ve been doing for hours? I’ve been dealing with idiots!

Uh…Jesus just told me that I couldn’t say that because they are idiots for whom he died.

Okay. Let’s start over.

I’ve been dealing with bureaucrats (a.k.a. idiots) whose purpose in life is screwing up the world.

Let me explain.

It started with Steve Brown, Etc., our nationally syndicated talk show where we use “bumper music.” The music we wanted to use was licensed by two companies, BMI and ASCAP. They regularly give licenses (for a reasonable fee) to radio stations for the use of the music. Because the program is live streamed on the Net, distributed as a podcast and then aired later on radio stations, we figured that there wouldn’t be a problem.

We would get a license. That’s reasonably easy. Right?

Wrong.

They don’t grant licenses for podcasts. Doesn’t matter how much you’re willing to pay, doesn’t matter who you are, doesn’t matter if you’re “religious,” doesn’t matter if this is increasingly the way people hear audio.

It’s a policy.

Erik told me the problems he was having and I thought he was exaggerating. He wasn’t. In fact it was worse than he said.

Do you know how I found out? I tried to get permission to use short partial lyrics from two of Michael Kelly Blanchard’s songs. My publisher, Howard/Simon & Schuster, is republishing a book I wrote years ago (Approaching God) in which I had used those quotes and gotten permission with a proper footnote.

Seems that the original permission doesn’t last forever.

I already got permission the first time. Michael is a good friend. The quotes should help me sell some more of his music. The copyright people will make a few bucks. I’ll have good illustrative material.

No problem. Right?

Wrong.

I wrote Michael to ask him and he told me that he didn’t “own” the lyrics and gave me the name of a person to call. Turned out that that person was only the beginning…and he gave me the number of the person who grants permission. I called that person and she gave me another number of someone else—they owned only 75% of the lyric and the other company owned 25%. So I called that company to be told the hoops through which I would have to jump in order to get permission there.

That’s when I gave up. But I don’t ever quietly “go into the night” and said to the anonymous voice on the other end of the line, “I know you don’t run this company, but you need to know that you work for crazy people. I’m trying to help a friend with his music, have an illustration in my book and even make a little money for your company. And you won’t let me. It’s no skin off my nose because I will just take the lyric out of the text, but you need to know that your company is run by idiots.”

Wait. There’s more. If you listen to Key Life, you know that I mentioned on the air that I was doing this book on prayer and if people would send me their “prayer stories” they might be included in the book. Subsequently, we decided to use some 30 of those stories in the book. I figured the fact that they sent me their stories for the express purpose of the book meant that that was permission enough to use them. Right?

Wrong.

Now we have to get formal, legal permission forms filled out for all 30 of the stories. It has required hours and hours of work by Robin at Key Life. She is as frustrated as I am…

(Will Rogers used to say that he grew up in the country where they didn’t have legal birth certificates for proof of birth. “Seemed to us the fact that you were there proved that you had been born.” I felt that a letter or email with a story that was sent because it would be used in a book was permission enough. Not even close.)

Wait, there’s more.

Not too long ago, I was invited by a graduate school to teach a week-long course on communicating to post-moderns. That’s easy and I enjoyed teaching the course. It’s what I do. No problem. Right?

Wrong.

Weeks after teaching the course, I received forms that I needed to sign. The bureaucratic lawyers and auditors got involved. They get paid for screwing up the world and, the more they screw it up, the more money they get.

I had to read the institution’s policy on fraud, on IT users and on a conflict of interest…fairly long, detailed documents. And then I was required to sign a form about each of those, affirming that I wasn’t a fraud.

What? If I was a fraud, I would sign the documents! Why? Because that’s what a fraud does, dummy. What? Do you think I would send the documents back and say, “I can’t sign these…I’m a fraud”? But I had to sign them because some bureaucrats (a.k.a. idiots) with time on their hands and their underwear too tight need to get a life, that’s why.

I have a lot more—a whole lot more—to say on this subject, but Jesus told me to stop and repent of what I wrote.

Okay. I repent.

Besides, I don’t have time to write anymore. I have this new employee policy I have to write for Key Life (the parent company for Steve Brown, Etc.) so that when people here tell me I can’t say what I just said because it will be offensive and cause people to get angry…

I’ll say, “Sorry. I can’t change it. It’s policy.”

It’s a good thing to be the boss and to write policy.

God writes policy too, doesn’t he? (I need to say something religious.)

You will find one of his policy statements in a document titled “The Ten Commandments.” The cool thing about God is that he doesn’t live by his policy. He deals with us as people and he knows our failure to live up to the policy. So he makes allowances (at considerable cost to himself, to wit, his son dying on a cross) so that the policy won’t kill us. The cross and the imputation of Christ’s righteousness, you could say, is God’s most recent policy meant to abrogate all previous policies.

When I write my critical letters to the people mentioned above (oh yes, I’m not finished yet), I’m going to say, “You don’t run the world. God does. Do it God’s way or he might give you the hives!”

Won’t do any good. They’re bureaucrats! The difference between bureaucrats and God is that God doesn’t think he’s a bureaucrat. Bureaucrats, on the other hand…

I feel that way about the presidential campaign. I want to say, “Just do it and get it over with and save us all the trouble.”

Politics is sort of like smoking my pipe, to wit, they’re both addictions.

There is, of course, a major difference. Smoking my pipe keeps me from becoming a serial killer and politics turns me into one.

People are always asking me if I’ve picked a candidate yet. Just so you know, I haven’t…

…but I will.

I understand those people who say that they’re just not going to vote this time around. However, if you don’t vote, you have to shut up for the next four years. It will be hot in a cold place before I say nothing about politics for four years. I’m constitutionally incapable of remaining silent. I’m going to vote if not for any other reason than I want to be able to yell about what happens over the four years of whoever is president.

Okay, what about the candidates?!

Clinton? She reminds me of a third grade teacher I didn’t like.

Edwards? Rich malpractice lawyers scare me when they want to help.

Giuliani? His next wife (before he marries her) may live in the White House.

Huckabee? I remember Jimmy Carter…he was born again and a Baptist too.

Kucinich? You’ve got to be kidding. Only his mother likes him and she’s not sure.

McCain? Good heavens! He’s older than I am and I’m older than dirt.

Obama? Kind of like “Time Magazine”…I wish they would get some adults.

Paul? He says what he means…but, then, so did Hitler.

Romney? I wish he would get drunk and drop some food on his tie.

Thompson? Someone should wake him up because he really doesn’t care.

Man! It’s a hard decision. They’re all flawed!

Um…me too!

You too!

So we have flawed voters voting for flawed politicians. We’re all in trouble. But then, we always were and if it weren’t for the King nobody elected and nobody will depose, the situation would be hopeless.

I haven’t picked a candidate yet, but I think I’ll wait until one of them says he or she is screwed up. My pastor friend, Ray Cortese, when he was ordaining new elders for his church said, “These guys aren’t elders because they are better than you. Some of them are a lot worse. They are elders because they know they aren’t any better than you and/or worse.”

A little authenticity would solicit my vote.

Well…except for…

Never mind.

That question makes an assumption that there is a disconnect between being a Christian and participating and supporting a war. There is a sense in which that is true. But there is also a disingenuous side to that disconnect.

The peace that Jesus gives is, first, existential. When Jesus says that he gives us his peace, he is talking about a reality for those who walk with him. However, it is possible for a soldier fighting for a just cause to sense that peace on the battlefield. One must be very careful not to miss the difference between a personal promise and ethic and a national promise and ethic.

I’m attracted to pacifism and that is primarily because of Jesus. I believe that human beings (me included) are radically and pervasively infected with depravity (“There is none righteous, no not one”) and, understanding that, war is always problematic for the Christian.

However, I do not believe in moral equivalency. For instance, Churchill and Hitler were both sinners, of course, but to be so blind as to miss the difference is shallow. In a dark world there is real evil and real good even if both are tainted with the other. In this kind of world, there is a necessity for hard choices and, therefore, the necessity for police, courts and armies. That is necessary because we don’t live in a perfect world and Christ has not yet established his kingdom.

I have a biblical and moral obligation to protect the innocent, those who can’t protect themselves, and my family, and to do that by whatever means are necessary.

I realize that a Christian owning a gun (or even a bow and arrow, for that matter) is a moral dilemma and that the “macrocosm” of that “microcosm” (i.e. war) is an even greater dilemma, but it is so important that Christians think through the issues and that they do it without clichés and without a superficial understanding of what the Scriptures really teach.

Now, when one gets into the specifics of which war to fight, how to go about obtaining justice, what kind of force should be used and how in particular one should protect the innocent, the way gets kind of muddy. (“The devil is in the details.”) Someone has said that simplicity on this side of complexity isn’t worth dink, but that simplicity on the other side of complexity is incredibly valuable. I sometimes fear that Christians (both pacifist Christians and “kill the enemy for Jesus” Christians) have never taken the time to go through the complexity. Jesus said that we were to be “as wise as serpents and as innocent as doves.”

That’s not an easy thing to do and, if it seems to be, we haven’t understood.

Last week I was channel surfing and came across Monk. I don’t often watch that program because I’m more neurotic than Monk is and watching him makes me feel uncomfortable. But I paused because Monk had a gun pointing right at Santa Claus. Then…

…Monk shot Santa Claus!

Cool!

That’s when I got the Christmas spirit.

(Well, maybe it wasn’t that, but I did feel all “warm and fuzzy” inside. From what other people tell me, that is what the Christmas spirit feels like.)

In fact, I think I’m going to start an Orlando fan club for Monk.

I’m more religious than you are—I’m the most religious person you know—and, because I am, you may be preparing yourself for the normal stuff that religious people say about Christmas this time of year.

“The pagans have declared war on Christmas.”

“Jesus is the reason for the season.”

“In America at Christmas we celebrate celebration because we have turned from the real reason for Christmas.”

“The commercialization of Christmas is blasphemous.”

“Keep Christ in Christmas.”

No, I’m not bringing that stuff up.

I’m not showing for the war. I’m reasonably pleased when unbelievers enjoy themselves even if they don’t understand why. I certainly understand that merchants need to make a living. I know and you know that Jesus is the reason for the season, but I don’t have to force everybody else into knowing it.

And what in the world do we mean by “keeping Christ in Christmas”?

(Erik says that instead of “keeping Christ in Christmas,” he thinks we should let him out.)

Keep Jesus in Christmas? What? Jesus is Lord and you can’t keep him out of anything where he wants to participate. He goes where he wants, does what he wants and says what he wants.

That’s what kings do!

Steve, you’re bad. I’m not even sure you’re saved!

I’m not as bad as I sound. Christmas Eve is my favorite time of the year. It’s too late to get the present or send the card. There is a quiet joy when I think about how eternity intersected our time and space…and how even an old scrooge is accepted, forgiven and loved.

That’s even better than Monk shooting Santa Claus.

If you’re not a believer, you have a Merry Christmas anyway.

If you are a believer, have a Merry Christmas because you’re his.

If you’re in doubt, have a Merry Christmas and pretend it’s true.

It is and someday you’ll know.

And for all of you, thanks for hanging out with us on this site.

I’m at home.

Do you know why I’m at home?

Because my stupid car won’t start! It isn’t the battery, I don’t think, but the readout on the dash says it’s something electrical.

Last night at choir practice it wouldn’t start at first. But I played with it for a bit and finally got it going. It seemed to be fine and I decided I'd take it to the dealer sometime in the near future to tell them what had happened.

But I didn’t mean this morning! Boy, I didn’t mean this morning.

I know the Bible says that I’m to “Give God thanks for all things.” But Paul didn’t have a car. I’m sure, if he had… he would have said, “Give God thanks for all things… except when your stupid car breaks down at the beginning of a busy day.”

I know he would.

At any rate, now I've got to go get this thing fixed. You guys have a great day. And even if it isn't… it will be better than mine.

Christmas! That means I have to get out the tree and the decorations. If I had known that this was coming around so fast, I would have never taken them down from last year. It would be like not making up the bed in the morning because you're going to have to unmake it in the evening.

Christmas means that sad people will be sadder, joyful people more joyful, busy people busier, religious people more religious…

…and it means war.

Yeah, war!

The "Prince of Peace" calls every Christian to man the ramparts and to prepare for battle against the forces of evil who would reduce "Merry Christmas" to "Happy Holidays" and remove any reference to Christ in the public square beginning with Christmas.

It's called the "War on Christmas" and John Gibson's book, The War on Christmas: How the Liberal Plot to Ban the Sacred Christian Holiday is Worse Than You Thought, gives the horrifying details. He, of course, is right.

Annie Gaylor, co-founder of the Freedom From Religion Foundation says that the "real" reason for the season is winter solstice. They have a plaque that reads: "At this season of the winter solstice may reason prevail. There are no gods, no devils, no angels, no heaven or hell. There is only our natural world. Religion is but myth and superstition that hardens hearts and enslaves minds."

A couple of years ago, Tom Piatak, wrote in The American Conservative: "The result of sanitizing Christmas is now within sight: an undistinguished, uninspiring public celebration, devoid of religious or cultural significance or indeed of beauty, with nothing left but multiculturalists pap and tawdry commercialism."

Do you know how I feel about all of that?

I don't care!

I'm not anybody's mother and, frankly, I don't care what unbelievers do about Christmas. I'm not their boss, their judge or their leader. They can dance naked around a fire celebrating winter solstice if they want to, say "Happy Holidays" to their hearts' content and ignore God whenever they want. I just don't care. I don't even know their names.

My not caring may be because I'm tired; it could have something to do with being old; it could be just my "default" cynicism directed at pagans who are offended by the name of Christ and also at those who sell books and get ratings faking anger directed at pagans who are offended by the name of Christ.

But I really think my not caring has to do with Jesus who said, "Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God" (Luke 9:60).

When I said I don't care, that's not exactly true.

The Christmas season is a grand and glorious time to offend a pagan. I take perverse delight in saying "Merry Christmas" to pagans, in asking Target store managers why they are offended by the Salvation Army, and in handing out "Jesus is the Reason for the Season" bumper stickers to my humanist friends. That's not because I'm a "Christian solider." It's because…well…um…I just like to irritate.

Now that I think about it, there's another reason it isn't exactly true for me to say that I don't care. I think I just don't get upset with "an ant crawling up an elephant's leg with murder on his mind." It's sort of like the fly, sitting on the cow's tail, that said, "I'm leaving you now," to which the cow replied, "Oh, really, I didn't even know you were there."

Paul said in 1 Timothy that Jesus Christ is "the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords" (6:15) and to the Philippians he wrote that the time was coming when "every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (2:10-11).

Take Jesus out of Christmas? Are you crazy?

The King goes wherever he wants and does whatever he wants whenever and however he wants. The Freedom From Religion Foundation folks are dreaming. There is nothing sillier than the growl of a toothless tiger…except for maybe powerless people pontificating and not even knowing how powerless they are. They don't know it, but they really don't get a vote and I find it hard to get my underwear in knots over toothless tigers or powerless people.

As I've written the above, I've found myself with another feeling too. I'm sort of surprised because what I wrote was about all that I had planned to say.

Do you know what else I'm feeling? I'm feeling a profound sadness. Maybe that's one of the reasons I'm such a Scrooge at Christmas (it's a real disconnect, by the way, if a Scrooge like me looks like Santa Claus). When I listen to, as it were, toothless tigers growl, there is something so heartrending and depressing about it that I can hardly stand it.

Do you remember what C.S. Lewis said about Narnia in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe? He said that Narnia, under the power of the White Witch, Jadis, was a place where it was "always winter and never Christmas." In fact, Lewis had an alternative title for The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. He was going to title it The Hundred Year Winter.

A hundred years with snow, ice, dark and cold…and no Christmas.

Is that sad or what?

That's the profound pathos of those who want Christ out of Christmas. Without him, there is no Christmas. There is just the cold, hollow, empty silence of meaninglessness and hopelessness.

Think what it would be like to be guilty and have no one to forgive you, to be thankful and have no one to thank, to be afraid and have no one to go to, to be lost in the universe with no reality but your lostness, and to be mortal and have nothing to which to look forward except the grave. How heartbreaking to have no flag to follow, no King to whom to pay homage but yourself, and no reason for the life that you've been given.

If there's no God, there's no value. If there's no value, there's no meaning. If there's no meaning, then you're a turnip to eventually return to the soil from which you came.

Turnip types don't celebrate Christmas. And because their state is so incredibly sad, they don't want anyone else to either.

The old hymn lyrics come to mind:

Let those refuse to sing who never knew our God;
but children of the heavenly King may speak their joys abroad.

In other words, don't get angry. You don't have to fight in a war that's been over for two thousand years. Shed a tear and say a prayer.

Then, in the name of Christ, get down! Celebrate, party, sing, rejoice and laugh because…

"The Word became flesh and dwelt among us!"

It's because we have so much and know that, if we got what we deserved, we would have nothing.

The rich in general and film/rock stars in particular have that problem too. That's why they say such dumb things and support so many crazy causes. They're surprised that they have so much and they're afraid people will find out that they just "lucked out" and are not as wise and as gifted as people think they are. And then they live in constant fear that their stuff will be taken away. So they try to make up.

It's called guilt.

I understand that for unbelievers who have so much and don't deserve it. They have a problem in a lot of areas–they don't have anybody to thank, they are afraid that it will all be taken away, they feel guilty about it, and they think that self-righteousness and throwing money at problems will justify their elite position and balance the books or, even if it doesn't, it will make them feel better about their stuff.

But it is less understandable for Christians.

Our guilt robs us of the joy of a Thanksgiving party. With every bite of the turkey, there is this knowing that we didn't deserve it. Our laugher is sometimes forced and our guilt is often (though not always) mirrored in the prayer before the meal: "Lord, thank you for this day and all your blessings. As we enjoy the blessings, keep us ever mindful of those who are less fortunate than we are."

"Eat your food…There are people in the world who are starving."

"Name one!"

Okay. It's a good prayer and a true one. There really are those (and a lot of them) who are less fortunate than we are. And, of course, we should be mindful of them and actively compassionate toward them…as long as we can "name them." Not only that. Jesus said that when we are compassionate to them, we are compassionate to him (Matthew 25).

That goes without saying.

The problem is our guilt isn't that much different than the guilt of unbelievers…and that is kind of sad.

Paul wrote to the Philippians from jail: "I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need" (Philippians 4:11-12). Then, later, he writes, "And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. To our God and Father be glory forever and ever" (Philippians 4:19-20).

Because we're so neurotic, we always read what Paul wrote as a way to deal with deprivation. After all, he was writing from prison.

But that isn't all Paul was saying. Don't miss the "abundance" and the "abounding" part. Paul said that he was contented when everything was right, when he had stuff and when he wasn't in jail. He was affirming true Thanksgiving for whatever a good God gave.

The Thanksgiving of the Christian is different than the Thanksgiving of unbelievers and it's more than just the fact that we have Someone to thank.

First, Christians are not only thankful to God, we are thankful to a good, wise and gracious God who likes us and gives us good stuff.

Benjamin Franklin said, "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." Without making an editorial comment on the beer part of that, the attitude is quite Biblical and suggests the real reason Christians can enjoy a Thanksgiving without guilt.

Martin Luther said, "Blessings at times come to us through our labors and at times without our labors, but never because of our labors. God always gives them because of His undeserved mercy."

But there is more than that to a Christian Thanksgiving. We are thankful because God owns it all and he delights in our using his stuff.

Right after Hurricane Andrew when we lost our house, were conned out of thousands of dollars from a dishonest contractor and had thousands of dollars in liens on what we had left, I came out of our small rented one-room apartment and noticed that someone had stolen our car.

(That surprised me. A tree had fallen on the car and it had a big gash in the side. So, there is no accounting for the taste of thieves.)

Do you know what I did? I started laughing. Yeah, laughing. I then went back into the apartment and said to Anna, "Someone just stole God's car."

What happened? I had learned (and often forget) that stuff was stuff and that God owned it all and could do with any of it as he pleased. Not only did I not feel sad about the thieves who had stolen his car (a month before, I would have gotten my gun and gone looking for them!), when I finally got another one (and a better one), I didn't feel guilty about driving that one either.

There is great freedom in realizing the sovereignty of God in every circumstance. It allows one to rest and to have peace in the bad and to really rejoice in the good. Both are from his loving hand.

When I was a young pastor at a church in the Boston area, we sponsored an annual "Bobby Burns Day" dinner honoring the 18th century Scottish poet. For that event, I memorized the Robert Burns blessing. I don't think he was a Christian (or, if he was, not a "red hot" one), but his blessing and the attitude of it was quite Biblical.

Some hae meat an' canna eat
An' some wad eat that want it.
But we hae meat an' we can eat
And sae the Lord be thankit.

(For those of you who need a translation: "Some have meat and can't eat it. Others cannot eat who want it. But we have meat and we can eat. Let the Lord be thanked.")

There is an old common saying that I'm told was often said to soldiers during a break, to wit, "Smoke 'em if you've got 'em."

Let me wish you a wonderful Thanksgiving Day. If you've got it, enjoy it…and be thankful.

The next morning in the office, I told Erik Guzman–our audio/video/Internet/talk show/blog guy–what happened the previous night. I thought Erik would think I was out of my mind. He listened and–can you believe this?–said, "You, too?!"

Erik went on to say that he had been thinking the same things I had said to the group at the seminary. He told me that, while driving to work, he was saying to God, "God, I want to hang out with the cool kids." Then he said that God started defining the "cool kids" in a way that made him (and me) a bit uncomfortable.

Erik then told me about a book he was reading, The Holy Longing by Ronald Rolheiser. I haven't read it, but Erik said Rolheiser said that, "…to be connected to the church is to be associated with scoundrels, warmongers, fakes, child-molesters, murderers, adulterers, and hypocrites of every description. It also, at the same time, identifies you with saints and the finest persons of heroic soul within every time, country, race, and gender…because the church always looks exactly as it looked at the original crucifixion, God hung among thieves."

Okay, now let me tell you what I said at the seminary the other night. You will remember that I was unprepared. I started by saying, "I love the church. No, I mean I really love the church and I don't have the faintest idea why." Then I said, "Maybe it's because she's His bride. She's an ugly bride; but she is, after all, His bride. And I can't help it, but I love her."

That was okay and defensible from my theological purity. It was what followed that surprised me. Let me summarize the essence of what I remember saying.

I love Rick McKinley, Gabe Lyons, Shane Claiborne and Tony Campolo…but I love Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson too. They "R" us. That's the church and I love the church. I don't know why. I just do.

I think that John Piper's Christian hedonism can become a new kind of legalism if we aren't careful and John McArthur sometimes drives me nuts, but I love both of them because they "R" us and they are the church.

I love Joel Osteen who I wish would stop smiling and whose teaching sometimes is "Christian lite" and I love Michael Horton, who can come off as being self-righteous at times (and I'm even more self-righteous than he is in saying that!). Horton is the professor from Westminster who was so dismissive of Osteen on 60 Minutes as a fruitcake. They "R" us and they are the church.

That's the church I love. That's family.

That evening I talked about loving Augustine "but not for the reasons you think." I've often told the story of the incident that happened after Augustine's conversion when he met his former mistress in the streets of the town where he resided. She ran up to him and he ran from her. She shouted, "Augustine, Augustine, it is I."

He shouted back over his shoulder, "Yes, but it is not I."

Cool…or at any rate, it was until I heard the rest of the story, to wit, Augustine's mistress wasn't asking for sex; she was asking for food and acknowledgment of the son who Augustine had fathered. When Augustine gave us his famous Confessions, he mentioned stealing apples when he wasn't hungry…but he never mentioned his son.

What's with that?

But I love Augustine, what he wrote and the impact he had. I can't help it. Augustine "R" us. That's the bride of Christ. It's our family.

And then there is Ted Haggard. (You'll remember that he was the president of the National Association of Evangelicals when he was accused of…um…an inappropriate relationship with another man and doing pharmaceuticals that weren't prescribed.) And then there are Jim and Jim (Bakker and Swaggart), David (combining murder with adultery), Abraham (who lied about his wife so the Pharaoh could sleep with her), Esther (who seduced the king) and Peter (who was a hypocrite).

They "R" us. That's the church for which Christ died. They're family.

I love the believers who call themselves the "Third Way" who are really liberals pretending to be something else…and the Christian Right who are sometimes hysterical about gays and do that sometimes, I suspect, to raise funds. I love Jim Wallis, Mel White, the Pentecostals and the Roman Catholics. I love contemporary worship done by people who like the noise and the show more than the worship and the traditionalists who, in their desire to be proper and right, forget about the God who calls us to the dance.

They "R" us. They're family.

I love all the new efforts to show compassion to those in great need in Africa and to reach out in the AIDS crisis there as well as the "old" missionaries who were there before those who have developed a concern were even born. I like the vision of Christians for the world…and those who always had that vision and a long time ago were building hospitals and schools before it was "cool." I love Bruce Wilkinson and all he has done for the kingdom and his vision for Africa…until it blew up in his face and he said that he was "done with Swaziland, done with Africa and done with Dream for Africa." I love the church and the missionaries who stayed and the ones who just couldn't do it anymore.

They "R" us. It's the church and, God help me, I love the church.

I love a bunch of gays and a bunch of people who are very uncomfortable with gays. I love liberals who don't like conservatives like me who think the liberals are crazy. I love Ann Lamott who cusses like a sailor and Beth Moore who doesn't know how to cuss. I love…

…well, you get the idea. It went on and on.

Does all I've written above and said at that meeting mean that we shouldn't have convictions? Are you kidding? I have convictions about the color of the church pews and the absolute authority of Scripture…and everything in between. Does it mean that we shouldn't speak truth to power, correct when it is needed and even have discipline? Of course not.

It just means that this thing is a lot bigger than I thought it was–a whole lot bigger–and as Wesley said, "Everybody who belongs to Jesus belongs to everybody who belongs to Jesus."

I don't know why I love the church in all its forms. Maybe it's because He does.

And maybe it's because He loves me and I'm more screwed up than anybody I've written about here.

And you're not that hot yourself.