Christmas is for Waiting

"Can I open it?" 

(2 minutes later) 

"Now, can I open it?" 

(30 seconds later) 

"I open my gift now?"

Conversations like this have become a regular institution in my household since my wife and I became foster parents to an amazing five year old several months ago. The new experience has taught me a lot. And maybe now, with interactions like the above those lessons are being tailored for Christmas.

Just as my kid doesn't like waiting to open his presents, I don't like the waiting inherent to the Christmas story as well. But Christmas, at the deepest level, is about expectant waiting.

There's the relational arc: Waiting to see friends and family after long separation.

There's the consumerist arc: Waiting for deals and Amazon boxes.

There's the fictional arc: Waiting for a jolly man to commit some reverse B&E to your home.

But, there's also a divine arc of waiting. 

The first half of the Christmas story is about waiting for an arrival. It starts millennia before a manger in Bethlehem when a promise was set forth in Genesis 3 that a Rescuer would one day undo the work of the serpent and heal the enmity between man and God and all creation. Clues about the identity and work of this Rescuer were given throughout the centuries and God's people waiting for this Person to come. For generation after generation after generation, people lived and died looking forward and believing that God would one day send Someone who would undo all that was evil and broken in the world. Finally, this culminated in the arrival of Jesus in an inconspicuous city. He was born to a young girl, fled as a refugee, and raised in a backwater area no one believed to be of any consequence. But this was it, the end of the waiting. The Rescuer had come and he indeed did work rescue.

The second half of the Christmas story, where we find ourselves today, is about waiting for a return. From the point of Jesus' ascension onward, His followers have been waiting for this Rescuer to arrive once again. He promised that though he was leaving that one day he would appear and set all things right. That he would wipe every tear away from our eyes and make an end to all war and death and oppression. He promised that we would see him face to face and be in his presence. His return is to bring with it fulfillment of every good thing, an answer to our every cry of pain, despair, and hurt. Christmas is about remembering the waiting of others and engaging in waiting of our own, waiting for this God to come and live with us.

I don't know about you, but 2017 was hard for me. The dignity of my community and worth of my neighbors was assaulted from the most powerful officials in our nation. On a weekly basis, I held a crying child in the middle of the night to assure him it would be alright (not knowing if I could ever truly protect him from those fears). I saw lives torn apart again and again and again by sin, systems, and choices. I saw friends reach incredible triumphs only to have their whole foundation crumble under their feet. And I had to digest all that into my own psyche and ask, "What is there to hope in?"

So, this Christmas, what are we waiting for? 

The great hymn "O Holy Night" gives us one glimpse. In the third verse the song proclaims, thinking of the coming of this great Rescuer, "And in his name all oppression shall cease." This Christmas, our waiting can be embedded into this lyric. Whatever it is that you are waiting for, the Coming King stands ready to answer. We put our hope and our waiting in him, even if we don't know when it is that he will answer.

We can sing, "And in his name all depression shall cease."

We can sing, "And in his name all chronic pain shall cease."

We can sing, "And in his name all defamation of the Image of God shall cease."

We can sing, "And in his name all sin and consequence shall cease."

At Christmas, we wait. At Christmas, I invite you to fill in the blank. We remind ourselves that millions of our brothers and sisters sat in expectancy for lifetimes and one day saw the fulfillment of the coming Rescuer, so we too can have the strength to put our hope in him.

For we know that he has come, we know that he lives still, and we know that he is with us in our waiting. His second arrival is promised and while we wait we can call upon his name.

Come Lord Jesus.

The Cross and the Arch

Above is the cover from the upcoming issue of the New Yorker. It is poignant. It is well crafted. It is all too true. Not just of St. Louis and our current challenges, but true all across the nation. When I first saw it posted on Twitter, I enlarge the picture and stared at it for a few seconds (which in Twitter-time is the equivalent to hours). I appreciated it and I was saddened by its accuracy.

Below is a revised version of the picture I saw the next day. I reacted similarly to it.

When viewing this image, there are a couple of possible reactions.

One is the view the picture and want to dismiss it as trite and overly simplistic. I think this is false.

The cross of Jesus Christ isn’t a mere symbol of religious devotion or Polyanna, kum-ba-yah optimism. The cross is an instrument of death. It is a tool of capital punishment. It is an artifact of the actual, historical killing of Jesus of Nazareth.

The Cross isn’t weak or trite, it is costly. Specifically the cost of death and shed blood.

The Cross, in its brutality, in its savagery, in its torturous death-bearing, is about much more than convenient “solutions” and upbeat worship songs. It’s about much more than man being brought close to God (though this is essential!). It’s even about much more than the fact that, as Tim Keller puts it, I’m far worse than I’d ever imagined and far more loved than I ever dared hoped.

The Cross is about the tearing down of walls. The tearing down of the wall of separation between man and God. The tearing down of the wall of our guilty status before a righteous God. The tearing down of the wall of hurt and pain and brokenness from our past. And the tearing down of the walls between ethnic and racial groups.

Hear Paul in Ephesians 2:11-22:

Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called “the uncircumcision” by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands—remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For He himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that He might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.

Without launching into a full exegesis that would fill dozens (hundreds?) of pages, I can say this, the Cross is about healing ethic and racial divides.

Is that all it is about? No.

But that is exactly and primarily what the above text is talking about. Two groups of people. Separated ethnically, culturally, religiously, and socially being brought together under the headship of and by the blood of Jesus Christ to become one, unified people.

A humanity that strives together. That mourns together. That prays together. That worships together. That considers the other better than oneself. That sacrifices for one another. That listens to one another.

The Cross is the answer. The costly Cross where Jesus died so that the dividing wall of hostility would be torn down.

But there’s one other way this image could be interpreted. Another way to interpret it is indeed simplistic. Too simplistic. It looks at the bridge of the Cross and it relates, “Yes! Jesus is the answer. Now let’s host a joint worship service with a church that doesn’t look like ours. Let’s get lunch with someone of another race once a month and pursue genuine friendship. Let’s buy Lecrae’s latest album.”

And you should do ALL of those things. All of them. Seriously, go do them!

But, as you do them, don’t believe that will “fix” it. In Divided By Faith, a book I have discussed extensively here, the authors refer to a belief many Christians cite that the authors call “the miracle motif”, which simply is that if everyone became a Christian, all racial and ethnic problems would cease.

Once again, to limit this to paragraphs rather than dozens (hundreds?) of pages, I will only touch on the main points here, but personal relationships and church fellowships won’t erase the problem. The problem didn’t develop overnight, nor will it be healed overnight.

There are hundreds of years of history to reckon with first. There is the reality of systemic injustice to be wrestled with and ultimately deconstructed. There is the fact that the relationships and friendships I recommended above are really, really hard.

The solution isn’t just around the corner, but it is present with us. Jesus Christ cares about injustice. Jesus Christ cares about tension. Jesus Christ cares about division.

And He died to heal it.

Grace Bombing #9

At the cross, Jesus became dead to sin. At the Resurrection, He rose again, neither the penalty of sin nor the power of sin had any claim on Him. We are in Christ, meaning we have been united in His death to sin and resurrection to new life. We have been fully forgiven of sin's penalty, but also fully freed of sin's power. Just as we must not add to the finished work of justification, nor should we add to the finished work of emancipation. The old man has no claim on you! None! Let us live in the finished work of the Savior.

Sources: The meat of this argument is found in Romans chapters 6-8 consider 6:2, 4-14, 7:24-8:4, 8:9-11,13-15. Further, Colossians 2:12, 3:3-10, Galatians 2:20, 5:24. 6:14, 1 Peter 2:24, 2 Peter 1:3,4,9.

Take It Personal Part 3: Family

This is the third in a series of five-ish posts, entitled Take It Personally examining what true faith is and what it is not.  In general, I started with three premises. All people have faith in something, whether it be a job, a worldview, a nation, or another object. It is not faith that is important, but the object in which that faith is placed. Second, Christians frequently fail to place their true faith in Christ but instead rely on other things. And third, while these things usually are good they must be differentiated from personal faith in Jesus that will intrude on our lives, choices, and views, ultimately leading to unstoppable transformation.

More than any other part of our life our family and upbringing shapes who we become. Because of this, our family identity can often serve as the surrogate that faith is placed in rather than Christ.

This surrogate can look like this, "I grew up as a Jones, Jones go to church, therefore I am a Christian."  Or perhaps its slightly higher-achieving cousin, "My dad is a pastor, I am his son, therefore I am a Christian."

While, of course, no one's actual, sound theology would allow them to speak such a statement aloud, in an unspoken sense this sentiment abounds.  Why are Christians so surprised when a fellow church member's child goes "off the rails"? For no other reason, but the underlying assumption that family must instill some level of faith commitment.

On the other side, I've heard people use the phrase "My wife handles the religious matters" or seen entire family lines that are trusting Grandma Ethel's faithfulness to bring along the remaining generations.

These are two manifestations of the same error.

While your family is the single greatest influence on who you are today (whether that be forming you into who you want to be OR into who you don't want to be), their faith doesn't determine or count for yours.

Instead, each person individually must own or disown the faith of her or his family.  This owning (or disowning) is going to happen at a time and a place and by volition.  We aren't simply born into it like we are with class, race, and most other major religions.

For someone raised within a Christian tradition, this means he or she has a decision and a choice to make, not their momma.

For the outsider of Christian tradition, this difference is key for he or she needs to know that Christian faith has nothing to do with a genetic code or an inherited knowledge. Rather true faith is marked by personal, transforming commitment and nothing less.

In fact, the Christian religion is inseparable from an experience of conversion. This experience need not follow a formula. It doesn't need to be at a church. It doesn't need to be immediately followed (or preceded) by baptism. It doesn't require praying a prayer or walking down an aisle. These are mostly cultural expressions of what conversion looks like. Yet, a Christian commitment requires a conversion nonetheless.

And a conversion is nothing more than saying, "I was something else, now I am this."

Biblically, it is to say one has "crossed over from life to death" (John 5:24). Or to say, "Formerly, you did not know God . . . but now you know God" (Galatians 4:8-9). Or to say, "You were dead in your transgressions . . . but because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ" (Ephesians 2:1-5).

Or as the hymn that even the most non-religious person in America knows proclaims, "I once was blind, but now I see."

A Christian, by necessity, is someone who has gone from being one thing, to being another (or mre simply, has converted). No one was born into it. No one inherited it from their parents. No one can look to their "religious" relative (you know, the first one who comes to mind to do the readings at family weddings) as the one who will stand before God for the family.

True faith is inseparable from a personal, crossing-over commitment.

But, there's better news!

While it is true, that each and every one of us will stand before God and each and every one of us will give account for our life. It is possible for that account to be very short. In fact, I intend my account to consist of three words: "Yes, but Jesus . . . "

For those who have crossed over, their explanation will not require a single justification, nor any appeal to mitigating circumstances, nor a bit of anxiety, fear, or doubt (and if you are in Christ and experience those feelings, I'd encourage you to reject them because they're lies). Instead, the woman or man who is in Christ, will give an account not of their own deeds, but of the deeds of Jesus. For it is his right choices, thoughts, courage, and even his faithfulness that will be credited to our account.

For those in Christ, His faithfulness and goodness will be ours.

You need not appeal to your actions.

You need not appeal to your good intentions.

You need not appeal to your best efforts.

You need not appeal to your politics or your family history either.

The only answer that is necessary and in fact, the only answer that is possible is a simple, "Yes, those things are true, but Jesus . . . "

Christianity calls to conversion. Christianity calls to a personal commitment. It's not about your family. It's about Him.

Take it personally, take him personally.

Lavished

Brennan Manning died this weekend. I paged through his most well-known work, The Ragamuffin Gospel, late Saturday night and was reminded how hugely influential this man was on my faith early on.

The book shows marks of wear. My copy is stained, water-damaged, and marked up on every page. Mostly because I carried it around in my backpack for the better part of a year in college. Not because it took me a long time to read it (I devoured it), but because I wanted to always have the book on hand to share, encourage, and remind myself of the message.

Brennan was my earliest teacher of the nature of the Christian life. Namely, that we grow by realizing God's greatness and holiness is far greater than we ever dared imagine and that our sinfulness and depravity is far worse than we ever feared, but that His grace and love has made the way. And further, that this way is not just a door we walk through or a prayer we pray, but it is the way and the path we are called to pursue with our entire life.

Brennan imagined a situation where we might flippantly come before Jesus, thinking we know the answers, and ask him to "Lay a new word on me. I know the old one.":

And God answers, That's what you don't know. You don't know how much I love you. The moment you think you understand is the moment you do not understand. I am God, not man. You tell others about Me--that I am a loving God. Your words are glib. My words are written in the blood of My only Son. The next time you preach about My love with such obnoxious familiarity, I may come and blow your whole prayer meeting apart. When you come at Me with studied professionalism, I will expose you as a rank amateur. When you try to convince others that you understand what you are talking about, I will tell you to shut up and fall flat on your face. You claim you know I love you.
Did you know that every time you tell Me you love Me, I say thank you?
When your son comes to you asking, "Do you like Susan more 'cause she skates better and she's a girl?" are you grieved and saddened over your child's lack of trust? Do you know that you do the same thing to Me?
Do you claim to know what we shared when Jesus withdrew to a deserted place or spent the night on a hillside alone with Me? Do you know from where the inspiration to wash the feet of the Twelve came? Do you understand that, motivated by love alone, your God became your slave in the Upper Room?
Were you grieved by the divine command to Abraham that he slay his only begotten Isaac on Mount Moriah? Were you relieved when the angel intervened, Abraham's hand was stayed, and the sacrifice was not carried out? Have you forgotten that on Good Friday no angel intervened? That sacrifice was carried out, and it was My heart that was broken.
Are you aware that I had to raise Jesus from the dead on Easter morning because My love is everlasting? Are you serenely confident that I will raise you, too, My adopted child?

Ephesians 1:7-8
In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.

1 John 3:1
How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!

Praise God that our brother Brennan is right now in the very presence of Christ, fully experiencing his adoption, security, and belonging to his Father in a way that far surpassed any experienced of this lavished love he knew here. Praise God for a life redeemed. I pray that we would press in and experience ever-deeper this God who is unspeakably, head-over-heels in love with these created beings who can't do anything to fix our estate.

Stuck

I ran into a neighbor I hadn't seen in awhile today.

As he told me about life, a theme kept popping up.

In his story, he was the object of every sentence. Never the subject. Life is done to him . . . or against him. He does nothing by his own free will.

Two and a half years ago, the Department of Children and Families came to check on his two sons. They asked him questions. Every answer lead to him looking bad. DCF dug him in a hole and if he tried to answer it only got worse. They took the kids.

Two years ago, the police came with questions. They told him of accusations and words from other people. They arrested him while admitting to him the accusations were probably lies, but protocol had to be followed.

The public defender was distracted, disinterested, and presumed his guilt. A trial was a foregone conclusion, if anything the lawyer got him more time in jail rather than less.

The county released him a couple months ago.

I asked if he is allowed to try to get his kids back: "I can try, but they aren't going to listen to me."

* * *

When the World Bank interviewed over 60,000 people worldwide about what it means to be in poverty, they mentioned a lack of material things. They mentioned a lack of food. They mentioned unemployment. But, more than that, the poor described poverty in terms of hopelessness, voicelessness, and isolation.

To be poor is to be stuck. To be poor is to be powerless. To be poor is to be left out.

My neighbor feels this. He feels stuck. He's the object of the actions of others.

And honestly, if you were in his shoes, would you feel any different?

So, what do we do? 

1. Don't increase feelings of powerlessness. I would argue much of domestic and international "services" to the poor, only serve to reinforce this message. They teach, "Let us do this for you . . . (because you can't)." This creates poverty, not alleviates it.

2. Preach pull yourself up by your bootstraps even if you don't believe it. I know a lot of statistics. I don't share those with the kids. You know what I tell them? "Try hard!" "You can do it!" "You are a leader for your community!" This mindset is only possible if I . . .

3. Remember Sovereignty is bigger than poverty. Jesus is King. Jesus is on his throne. Jesus can do anything. Jesus loves my neighborhood more than I ever will.

He's not just the boss, he's the King. And the King always gets his way.

Okayness

"Where do you get your sense of okayness from?"

A few months ago a friend of mine challenged me to answer that question.

What is it that if you had it, achieved it, or attained it, you could look at your self and say, "I'm ok. I'm alright.  I'm acceptable."?

I believe we all have a myriad of possible answers to this question and that they will all fail to satisfy. Daily I'm confronted with the false fronts and hopes I'm placing my acceptability in, but I can tell you one clear path I've discerned.

Here's one surefire place of okayness.

In Mark 1, Jesus gets baptized. As he is coming out of the water a voice from heaven declares, "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased."

Again, the voice says, "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased."

Now, other Scriptures will tell us that those who put faith in Christ have been adopted by God (read: made his sons and daughters) and fancy theological words will tell us that those who put faith in Christ are looked at by God the Father in exactly the same way He looks upon Christ, God the Son.

So, when the Father beams at the Son and declares "You are family. I love you. I am thrilled with you." . . . those words can apply to you.  And me.

I know a lot of things that will fail to make me OK.

But I also know that the more this voice can be internalized, and the more this voice can speak into my mind and heart, the more truly OK I will actually feel and experience life.

"You are my child. I love you. I am well pleased with you."

Take It Personal: Part 2: Civil Religion

This is the second in a series of posts entitled, “Take It Personal.”  My goal is to examine the multitude of ways that “faith” is (mis)represented in this current cultural, geographical moment in particular, but I believe the underlying principles are eternal and apply to all cultures and time frames.  I also hope that this series will help expose that within the Church which is not lined up with true faith and give a correct representation of what Christianity really is to those who would consider themselves outsiders.

  

So for this post, personal faith is not civil nor political.

Civil religion can come in subtle forms . . . 

The tagline on my license plate reads “Sunshine State”, I intentionally choose that one instead of the one that reads “In God We Trust.”  Hopefully by the end of this post you’ll understand why I did that.

As someone who studied politics for four years, I tell you this, your most cynical suspicions are probably only half as suspicious as they should be.  Both because you may be holding cynicism about “the other guy”, but not “your guy” (which is deluding yourself) or because the truth is often even worse than what we believe.  It’s a very, very dirty game.

Yet, at the same point that I, a professing Christian, am saying this about our political system, God is EVERYWHERE in it.  Every speech ends with “God bless America”, if the country goes into crisis the President is expected to encourage the whole country to pray, and religious rhetoric finds its way onto our coins and license plates.

. . . and more tacky ones.

While I’d agree with those who say America is heading into a post-Christian age, I don’t doubt for a minute that American civil religion will still be going strong 100 years from now.  Why? Because civil religion isn’t about Christ, it’s about politics, elections, and polarization (and admitting that this is what civil religion is really all about it a step in the right direction).

But, civil religion is not personal.  Adherents to civil religion are no more connected to Jesus or the truths of Christianity than a delicious (and inanimate) Waffle House waffle is. 

The clearest example of this comes when the media covers the moral failure of some prominent politician . . . and the fact that they love it all the more when that politician was a family-values, prayer-in-schools-proclaiming swindler.  They love it.  And the ratings and sales would suggest we love it too.

Now, this isn’t to discount that some of these examples may have made legitimate mistakes for which they are truly repentant for and have changed, but I’d suggest that more often than not what we have here is proof that civil religion does not equal personal faith.

When that politician falls it’s not a failure of Christianity to transform a rebellious soul, it’s the failure of powerless Americanianity to transform a rebellious soul.  I’d suggest that this person has never truly made a commitment to Christ, that their religious platitudes could all be translated to mean one thing: “Vote for me.”

That isn’t Christianity.  In fact, it’s an affront to Christianity.  It’s an attempt to use Christianity as a tool, but Jesus Christ will be no one’s flag.  

He will be no one’s flag.

Political affiliation, license plates, and keeping “under God” in the Pledge of Allegiance have no more effect on your eternal destiny or your adoption as a Son or Daughter of God than the amount of syrup I put on my delicious Waffle House waffle does (Can you tell I haven’t been to WH in awhile?)

No, instead, for faith to be real, it must be personal.  There must be a volitional commitment.  It must lead to a relationship of transformation.

We all place our faith in things, those who place their faith in an American god (or a Turkish god or a Chinese god, don’t think we’re alone in this problem) are still far from the Truth.  The only place true Christianity ever has (or ever will) teach that our faith can be placed is in a Person.

Jesus Christ isn’t going to protect the Constitution, He isn’t going to lower your taxes, and He’s not going to grow the economy, His concern is much greater.  His administration will last much longer than 2-4-6 years, and all his promises will come true.

Better yet, his work is already complete.  Our greatest problem is not political, it’s both much smaller and much larger, it’s personal and it’s cosmic.  We’ve chosen to reject and turn away from God, but in His abounding, inestimable love He sent his Son to come back and get us, and when we turn to Him in repentance and faith (a faith that is personal and relational) He calls us Daughter.  He calls us Son.

And though, he will be no one’s flag, he invites us to live under a banner that reads “It is finished” because everything that needed to be done or will ever need to be done to secure our place in his family has been accomplished.  And all his promises come true.

Take It Personal: Part 1

Have you met God personally?

Intriguing question.

This isn't an exercise is evangelical lexical jargon, rather it is a call to examination.  One that I think the non-believer and the professing Christian are equally in need of taking up.

Despite what MJ's older brother says, please DO.

So, over the next five-ish posts I plan to dive into this subject: Have you met God personally? Have you made your faith personal?  Or does your faith rest on something other than Christ and Christ alone?

A couple of notes as we dive into this:

1. As with much of my thinking, this writing was sparked by something I heard Tim Keller say.  Keller is a pastor in New York City and I have an unabashed ministry man-crush on him.  So, though most of this is my original thoughts, if there's anything that seems particularly helpful or insightful, please go ahead and attribute it to Keller.

2. I am somewhat hesitant to address this topic because the focus on the individual and extensive use of the word "personal" risks furthering a worldview that is both false and selfish: narcissistic Western individualism.  So, hear me say this, "Yes, you are important, you are precious, and you are loved more than even your most narcissistic fantasies would suggest, but this world isn't about you.  Your decisions aren't supreme.  Jesus is not going to bow down to you, but one day you will to him."

So, with that out of the way.  Faith. We put our faith in things all the time.  I have faith that the sun will rise tomorrow (proven by the fact I have made plans for this week).  I have faith that our police force is functional (proven by the fact I don't speed past cop cars on the highway).  I have faith that some sort of right and wrong exists (proven by the fact I do not routinely kill or rob banks).

We all have faith.  We may put our faith in science or our own religiosity or in some type of utilitarian hedonism or in the Gospel or a thousand other things.  Everyone has faith in something.

We also put our faith in all kinds of surrogates.

I think Christians are the worst at this.  Christians (or it may be more apt to say "Christians") are suspect to say and confess faith in one thing (Christ), but in actuality place their faith in something else.  This false faith is seen in a number of realms that I plan to investigate: the group, the civil, the family, the intellectual, and the cultural.

All of these can serve as surrogates, but in reality, faith can only be legitimately and efficaciously be placed in a person.  The person of Jesus Christ.  Effective faith must be in this Person and must be personal or it is not real faith.

By personal, I mean that this faith is based on an individual decision that you made for yourself (not that someone else made for you) and that leads to a relationship with the person, Christ.

For any relationship to be real, however, the other person must be able to intrude on your life.  The marriage where the husband runs over his wife in every instance is not a real relationship. That’s not love, it’s a control idol.  The employer who abuses her workers isn’t in relationship with them, she has a power idol.  The wife or the workers will not be in a real relationship until each has the ability to intrude on the other’s life in some way (same for the husband and boss too).

In the same way, if I have met God personally He must be able to intrude upon my life.  There must be things I want to do but do not do because of that relationship.  There must be things I don't want to do, yet I do them because of that relationship.  

There must be things I’d like to think or believe that I don’t because God says, “Nope.”

If I’m in a true relationship with Him (and He is God!) He must have the ability to intrude on my life (and if He never intrudes on my life, that suggests I’m merely following a “god” of my own creation, not a true, righteous God, but rather a projection of my own desires).1

Further, if I think that I can have a relationship with God, but have to freedom to ignore His commands and pick and choose His attributes . . . that's not a real relationship, that's a god of my own creation as well.

(From Keller: Imagine if I met you and said, “I'd like to develop a relationship with you” and then next told you, "Oh, but I'd like to think of you as being domineering and controlling, OK?"  We would never expect or let another person treat us in that manner, yet we ask to do so with God.)

So, have you met God personally?  Is He allowed to intrude on your life?  Are there things you would prefer to do, that you won't do because He says so?  Are there things about Him that feel unsettling or tough to reason with, but you’ll believe them anyways?2

To be real, faith must be personal.  It must allow for intrusion.  And it leads to a lifelong change.

I hope that as we look into this, if you consider yourself a follower of Christ, you will be able to ask some real questions (Where is my hope? Where is my faith? What relationship, thing, or idea if I lost it would cause me to want to give up on life?) and consider “Is my faith personal?”

If you wouldn't consider yourself a follower of Christ, I'd ask you to consider those above questions, but also I would hope this could allow you to see a true view of Christianity.  One that isn't defined by a political party, a cultural moment, a family you’re born into, or having enough information, but that Christianity is about a Person.

Jesus Christ is alive.  He is God.  He is man.  He is asking us to seek Him right now.  Let's take it personally.

Two Notes: 1. You may ask, “If this is a real relationship, when am I allowed to intrude on God?”  I’m glad you asked, we’ll get to that, if not here, I’ll write a whole separate post on that.  2. This is not to discount the role of wrestling and struggling with God.  There is something beautiful about the honesty we see in the Psalms and other places in Scripture, where God’s people express their confusion, doubts, and despair, when we don’t understand God or are having trouble accepting something about Him or in His Word, part of having a relationship means we can come to him with our understanding (or lack thereof), doubts, troubles, and even counterarguments (Warning from experience: He always wins the fight).

The Bible is Not a Roadmap

As I wrap up this series, Your Bible is Wrong, I want to remind us of the main premise of the past five posts.  We, as modern (mostly) Western people, bring many cultural, societal, and personal influences into our daily lens and in particular into our view of the Bible.  The truth of the matter is that the Bible is not a book about us, nor is it a rulebook.  We are also mistaken if we believe it will make us better or serve as a solid source of role models.

In fact, the Bible is primarily one grand narrative about God and more specifically it is the story of how God is redeeming a people for Himself through the redemptive work of Jesus.  That's it.

The whole thing.

Don't get it twisted.

So as we look at this, one final reminder is this: The Bible is not a roadmap.  This could be considered a side-point from the idea "the Bible is not about you," but requires some more nuance.

Many well meaning people view the Bible as "the answer source", exhorting others to dive into "the Word" in seeking direction and discernment.  Other folks may view the Bible more along the line of my first post (as a good luck charm) and turn to it at times of need, where a crossroads has been reached and a decision needs to be made.

But there's a problem with all this.  And I've said it before.

The Bible wasn't written to you!  It's not about you!

So don't read yourself into it!

If I look to the Bible with important questions such as . . .

Should I take that job in Baltimore?


Should I marry Jenny Miller?


Should I buy this house in this or that neighborhood?


 . . . I do the Bible a disservice.  The Bible does not answer any of those questions.  It does not intend to either.

How do I know?  Because the words Baltimore, Miller, and neighborhood never appear in the Bible  (I just checked, so trust me on that).

Does God care about the important decisions in your life?

Absolutely.

Should you seek His council and will in those?

Absolutely.*

But please don't turn to Scripture and seek for it to justify what you're looking for, because (say it with me) the Bible isn't about you!

The Bible is the story of a God who is hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with people who can't do anything to help themselves.  But this God, reaches out to those people and sends his Son and accomplishes for them the full requirements of everything necessary for those people to stand before this God fully forgiven, fully redeemed, and complete in Him.

This is the story.

This is what the Bible is about.

And I'd venture to say, this too, is what all of life is about.  It's not about you.  It's about Him.

Every last portion, iota, and story.

As is usually the case Tim Keller (one of my all-time favorite humans) has nailed this topic.  So, I'll let him do the talking.



*And of course, the Bible is our greatest, clearest indicator of who God is, but my point is that we should never confuse our decisions with the overall, grand direction of Scripture.

The Bible is Not a Source of Role Models

There's a graphic that's been floating around the internet over the past couple months that actually served as my motivation to start this series of posts.  This is the fifth in a series of six blogs in Your Bible is Wrong, where I've been exploring varying ways that people in our cultural moment so often misread, misinterpret, and misconstrue the Scriptures.

The graphic seen to the left cleverly organizes figurines to represent different Biblical "portrayals" of marriage and the first time I saw it had the sardonic caption, "Why can't we just go back to traditional marriages like in the Bible?" as it seeks to make a point about same-sex marriage.

I get it.

But, to me, even more so, the graphic reveals an interesting misconception that I think I spent most of my life believing: The Bible is a book full of role models and examples to follow.  A belief the the actions of Biblical character are prescriptive to the followers of God.

This is blatantly false.

The Bible is not a book of role models.

The Bible is a book of utter, catastrophic failures and a God who somehow, for some crazy reason loves them, uses them for purposes greater than themselves, and redeems them.  The Bible is about a God who is recklessly in love with a humanity who is recklessly depraved and disobedient.  It's a story of grace.

Let's name some Bible "heroes" and see how this plays out.

Jacob: His name is a Hebrew figure of speech for "he deceives" so that's too easy.

Moses: Murderer.

Samson: Best thing he ever did was die.

David: Adulterer and Murderer

Jonah: Lazy, disobedient bigot.

Peter: Racist and impulsive.

James and John: Try to manipulate Jesus into better seats in Heaven.

Paul: Chief Persecutor of the Church.

These are the pillars of faith.  But when we read the Bible, we certainly are not to take their example as our blueprint for right living.  And I can't make this point enough, this is because, right living is not the point!  No one does it.  No one ever has.  No one ever will.

In fact, I would argue that these Biblical characters flaws and failures are actually a divinely ordained example for us.  Not an example of what we should do, but rather an example of the type of God we can know and live for.

He is a God of grace.  He does not give us what we deserve, but rather he chooses to take messed up, broken sinners and use them for His greater purposes.

He takes an adulterer and murderer and gives him the title "Man After My Own Heart", he takes a murder and talks to him "as a man speaks with his friend", he takes the primary opponent of Christianity and lovingly turns him into the primary proponent of Christianity.

He's a God of grace, not of works.  If he was a God of works, he would never use these screw-ups.  If he was a God of works, He'd focus on the top of the moral class, the clean cut, and the virtuous.  But, because he's a God of grace and redemption, he goes after those who need him the most and who know it.

Those are the types he loves to work in and through.

The Bible is not a book about man.  It is not a book about morals.  It is a book about God.

And God wants you to know him. He wants you to know that, you're not "too far gone" for Him.  He wants you to know that nothing you do could cause him to love you less.  And he wants to prove that by using people who were unlovable and too far gone for his greater purposes.

The more I look at myself the more I see how I'm like Jonah or John, but the more I look at God, the more I know he's in the business of using restoring, redeeming, and rescuing Jonahs and Johns.

"When Satan tells me that I am a sinner, he comforts me immeasurably, since Christ died for sinners." -Luther

The Bible is not a book of role models, whose example we are to follow.  It is a book about God, who loves and redeems screw-ups.

The Bible Will Not Make a Better You

When I lived in Asia, upon finding out I was a Christian one of the most common questions nationals would ask was, "How has this belief lead to improvement in your life?"

Time and time again, I disappointed folks with the first half of my answer, "If anything, the longer I've been a Christian and the more I learn about myself, the more I realize how selfish I am . . . "

This is the fourth in a six part series, Your Bible is Wrong, where I'm examining the ways so many of us misread and distort the message of the Bible. Whether it be by reading ourselves in as the main character, believing the Bible is magically lucky, or that it's primarily about rules and morality, each of us, in some way miss the message of the Scriptures.

Both historic and modern examples of "the Bible making me better" abound.

They take a diversity of forms. The most blatant are the "prosperity gospel" (God wants to make me better by blessing me financially!) and the "god within" ("It's less that God wants you to be rich and more that God is there to make you feel happy about yourself . . . This ends up putting a kind of Christian stamp on narcissism, where the things we already want to do, we tell ourselves, are things that God wants us to do, too." Quote from NPR interview with Ross Douthat).

Even a cursory reading of Scripture however should reveal both those beliefs to be blatantly false, man-centered, and inevitable to create "worse" people.

But, believing the "Bible will make me better" also comes in more subtle forms.

God helps those who help themselves.

Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?

If I could just stop ______ God would be pleased with me.

Each of these holds within them, often disguised, a belief in a self-help "gospel". In each case, and many others, it will lead the reader to take the Bible and essentially ask the question, "What do I need to do to get better?"

As I said, it's subtle. So subtle in fact, that we (myself included!) don't even notice ourselves doing it and would deny it if accused of it. But it's there.

And it's all wrong.

It's all wrong because of what Pastor Tullian Tchividjian calls "the irony of Gospel growth." The irony is this:

• There is no better way to get "worse" than to focus on myself and my need to get better (morbid introspection).
• Those who want to change, but know God won't love them less if they don't are the people that actually will change.

If I open the Bible as a means of self-help to make a better me, I will surely become more self-absorbed and more distraught when I realize I am failing to get better. And if I somehow find myself "improving", my life will be marked by pride and self-righteousness.

But, if I open the Bible and say, "Christian growth comes not by behaving better but by believing better in what God has already secured for us, change will actually come."

But, not change for the sake of change. Not change because I just really want to stop sinning, but change that flows out of a heart that admits, "I'm weak and frail and pretty messed up, but it's not my feats for Jesus, it's Jesus' feats for us that count."

So, when asked in subpar coffee shops and incredible 65 cent noodle joints if religion had made me better, I could answer "If anything, the longer I've been a Christian and the more I learn, the more I realize how selfish of a person I am . . .

. . . but that gives me hope. Because it's not about me, my actions, my achievements, my victories, or my significance. The more I realize how selfish I am, the more I know how great the God is who stepped in and redeemed a wretch like me."

The Bible won't make a better you.

The "better you" already came, lived a perfect life, died on a cross, and rose again so that "broken you" could be redeemed, restored, and rescued to live under a banner that reads "It is finished!"

The Bible is Not a Rulebook

I've spent the past two weeks reading Leviticus and Numbers, so this post may be a challenge. But even in the midst of that, I hold that my contention is true: The Bible is not a book of rules.

This is the third post of six in a series I've labeled "Your Bible is Wrong" as I seek to examine the way that we so often miss the point when examining the Bible. Last time, I hit what will become a refrain, establishing that the Bible is not about you, but rather is the meta-narrative about a God who is in the business of restoring and reconciling his whole creation.

When people approach the Bible as a rulebook, I think they generally do it in one of two ways.

1. The Bible is an outdated, boring list of commands that are at best antiquated and at worst morally disturbing.

2. The teachings of Jesus are wonderful and worth living out. They are the core message of the Bible.

In response to approach number one, I'll be honest, there's portions of the Bible I find . . . boring. And that's not purely because I'm a product of the MTV generation with a 90 second atention span, some parts are just s - l - o - w and seemingly unimportant.

However, our cultural barrier holds us back here and right perspective shows that a set of laws about harvesting wheat (Leviticus 19:9-10) is actually a revelation of God's heart for justice towards the poor and immigrant. Or the fact that an eleven chapter section on how to build a tent properly (Exodus 25-30, 36-40) is actually a detailed, microcosmic glimpse into God's holiness and glory and the precision He deserves. I could go on and on with these examples.

For approach number two, there's need for two clarifications.

First, please don't claim appreciation for Jesus' moral teaching if you aren't prepared to also crown him Lord and King. Jesus claimed to be far more than an ethicist, he claimed to be God incarnate, Messiah, and Savior of the World, so if we reject that claim, then he was a liar and massive fraud. Liars make bad ethicists.

If Jesus genuinely believed he was God, Messiah, and Savior, but wasn't, then he was insane. And while insanity might lead to philosophical fame (See: Nietzsche), it doesn't bode well for trustworthiness in morality (See: Nietzsche).

Finally, some may contend, that Jesus never existed or that his followers simply inflated his reputation and memory, but most likely if you take that position you didn't read this far (yet if you'd like to know my response to that, that's a much longer post for another time).

C.S. Lewis, put it better than I can: "You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to."

Wow, that was a long aside.

A second clarification for those who may claim Jesus as an inspiring, moral teacher. Have you read the commands he gave? You don't have to get too far into Matthew 5 before you should start to lose hope that you'll ever be the slightest bit up to snuff. Inspiration will be replaced by despair in no time.

Have you ever insulted someone? That's equated with murder.

Have you ever engaged a lustful thought? That's equated with adultery.

And the kicker, verse 48: "Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."

Those three lines leave you without any hope whatsoever of passing the Jesus Moral Sufficiency Exam.

Which ultimately brings me to my main point, the Bible has rules, but is not a rulebook.

It's a book where each and every rule is a flashing, illuminated signpost to the fact that humanity has not and cannot acheive morality on our own.

We have utterly failed.

Any that's why the Bible is the story of a God who is committed to redeeming and restoring His creation.

We can't follow the rules. You can't. I can't. You haven't. I haven't.

But, He entered this world and fully kept every last provision of the Law, and in doing so, He opened the door for rebels, like me, to enter in by His completed obedience.

God, from Genesis to Revelation, is laying out exactly how He has, He is, and He will bring right relationship back into order. This is good news.

It's not about you. It's not about rules. It's about Him.

The Bible is Not About You

This is part two in a six part series where I'll be exploring the Bible. Specifically, how do we as (predominantly) American, Western-influenced modern people approach this book and as we do so, what (mis)conceptions do we bring into the text. In future posts, I'll be covering questions such as "Is the Bible a rulebook?" and "Will the Bible make a better you?" But for today, a key idea that should effect the way we look at every verse of Scripture: The Bible is not about you.

You naturally read the Bible and ask, "What does this say for me?"

And I don't blame you, you're pretty awesome. Unfortunately, there's at least two massive flaws in that method of Bible interpretation.

1. The Bible wasn't written to you. It was written in a variety of Ancient Near Eastern cultures over several centuries in languages you don't speak. So, while it was written for you, so that you might know the Main Character of it, it was most certainly not written to you.

2. Enlightenment values do not equal Biblical values. If you are a Western person (Americans in particular), you more than likely approach most of life's questions from a individualistic perspective. By that I don't mean, selfishness (th0ugh our individualism often plays itself out that way), by it I mean, a perspective that seeks to understand personal implications and answer "my mind's" questions.

This method isn't totally wrongheaded, but when we apply it to everything, we do the Bible a great disservice.

This is because the Bible is not about us.

The Bible is primarily about God. More specifically, it is a meta-narrative about God, in the person of Jesus Christ redeeming a people for Himself and making all things new for His own glory.*

It's about God. It's not about you. He is the main character, not you, not me.

But because of the above mentioned reasons (and some others) we consistently read ourselves into the Scriptures.

To borrow an example from Pastor Matt Chandler, take the story of David and Goliath. If you don't know it, watch an NCAA tournament game and at some point the announcers will probably bring it up (or read it: 1 Samuel 17).

When we read this story, we often ask, "What is the Goliath in my life?", "What is the 'giant' I need to overcome?"

Our answers can be important: Maybe it's addiction. Or debt. Or a marriage on the rocks.

Hear me when I say, God cares about those things and deeply wants to heal them.

But that's not the point. That view assumes that, I am David, and that I need to choose the stone that will slay the "giant" and give me "victory".

But, I'm not David. You're not David (and good thing because you'll miss that sling-shot every time).

You aren't David, you're the scared Israelite, "terrified and dismayed" who has "fled from [Goliath] in great fear." (Rule of thumb: If you insist on reading yourself into the text, pick the most depraved, least likable character and insert yourself there, because if you, like me, know the depths of your own heart, that's closer to accuracy.)

Biblically, you and I are always the one who has nothing to offer. We aren't David.

And this story truly isn't about David. It's about Jesus.

That's right. This story that takes place 900 years before Christ's earthly ministry is about Jesus.

And here's why:

He's the better David. He's the stronger David. He's the David who didn't just conquer a giant of flesh and blood who threatened to overtake and enslave, but he's the hero who conquered and killed the giant of sin and death, that didn't just threaten, but held all of humanity in spiritual death and enslavement to fear, shame, brokenness, hopelessness, discord, and frustration.

This is a story about the better David.

Jesus Christ, conqueror. He's the main character. The protagonist. The Beginning and the End and the Present Tense.* He's the better David, the better Moses, the better Abraham.

The Bible isn't about you. Every page, every story, every passage is about He who is redeeming a people for Himself and making all things new for His own glory.

*Adapted from the EFCA Statement of Faith: Article 1.

*Phrase borrowed from Andy Mineo. Get his great, free album: http://noisetrade.com/andymineo

Your Bible is Wrong

How about that for a provocative title, eh?

In a Christian (moving towards post-Christian*) culture, most people have some experience with and opinion about the Bible. My contention is that many of our culture's prominent ideas on this topic are at best misinformed and at worst intentionally ignorant.

So over the next few posts, I'd like to deal with a few of those misconceptions and provide an explanation of what I very strongly believe to be a right understanding of what the Bible truly is.

So, to start off on a somewhat lighter note, first: The Bible is not a good luck charm.

As a sure sign that I've crossed from the Midwest into the Bible Belt, at least once a week, I will see a car with a copy of the Bible in the back window or on the dashboard. Now, I try to be give folks the benefit of the doubt and presume, that is just the Holy Book's resting place between frequent devotions but sometimes the black pleather has been faded to brown from years of sun exposure, the binding has fused to the back windshield, and the pages are yellowed and curled from greenhouse heating.

In these cases, call it out, it's a "good luck Bible". At some point in the life of that car, the Bible was placed in it, never to be removed. And with this, came some belief, whether spoken or not, that leaving the book in there would be beneficial.

And while I will grant that there is the slightest of chances a Christian cop might let you off with a warning if he sees your discolored King James on the dash, I regret to inform you that the Bible has no luck to offer.

So please, take it out of the car and give reading it a chance. That may actually yield non-speculative results.

I say this with experience because I once had a collection of unread Bibles. I owned no less than three Bibles when I started college, but had never made it past Genesis 3 in my attempts at reading the book. And while, I wasn't keeping my Bible in the car, I did hold some ingrained belief that Bible ownership (and giving it shelf space) gave me at least the tiniest bit of superiority (especially when I confirmed that my roommate was definitely selling drugs out of our room . . . sinner).

But a funny thing, happened my freshman year of college. I actually started reading that book, often late into the night until well after the 4th floor's most successful entrepreneur had closed up shop and what I discovered was exciting.

It grabbed me. It made me want to know more. It drew me into a story that mattered.

It was different than any of my presuppositions.

So, maybe you need to pull the book out of your shelf or backseat and join me as we take a look at what these Scriptures really mean.

Want to come with?

*I actually very strongly believe that a "post-Christian America" will be a good thing for the Church and society overall. First, unlike race, sex, or class people cannot truly be born into a religion, so the the fading of America's "assumed Christianity" will break down a culture that causes millions to confuse their nationality and religion. Second, cultural Christianity and civil religion are both offenses towards God. They are dishonest and amount to playing a game with the Almighty. I welcome post-Christian America with open arms.

In his joy He left all he had

For your reflection today here is a tiny passage from Rick McKinley's newest book discussing the parable of the hidden treasure in Matthew 13:44. Consider that Christmas means not only Christ's arrival, but also his leaving. His leaving for a purpose. Enjoy.

What do you really desire? What do you really want? Take some time and think about that. Read that parable and chew on it awhile and jot down your own list of questions. What do I really want? Jesus is interested in your answer because Jesus is interested in becoming what you really want. "Sell everything you have . . . then come, follow me" (Luke 18:22).

Jesus answered that question for himself. He knows what he truly desires. In his joy he left all he had: the perfection of heaven, intimacy with the Father, the glory of glory. And he did it to buy a field that he purchased with his own blood, so he could have the the treasure hidden within it.

You are the treasure in the field.

You are what he desires. Is he what you desire?

He left it to come here. He left it because He had/has a greater desire.

This is good news.

Burglary and Grace

Early Sunday afternoon I walked into my house and it felt colder than usual. Being from the North, I see no reason for houses in Florida to be outfitted with heat so, of course, my heat wasn't on, but still it was colder than typical inside my recently acquired home.

I got a step and a half inside when I looked up and saw it.

Straight back through the living room is a hallway that runs the length of the house, culminating in the back porch door. That door was swung wide open with two busted, wooden pieces of the door frame on the carpet and the door's molding hanging on by a thread tilted inward at a 45 degree angle.

I'd had a break-in.

In my two plus years living in the inner city, I've gotten off pretty easy. Maybe had a pair of headphones or two stolen and that's it. I lived with an awareness that something like this could happen, but rarely thought about it or my hypothetical reaction to it.

Within seconds though, I began to process it. I didn't like what I found. While I searched the house checking for important items and documents and assessing the damage, my heart immediately began making accusations, lining up the suspects, indicting individuals, groups, and the neighborhood as a whole.

None of it was commendable. None of it was helpful. All of it was ugly.

My primary heart attitudes were bitterness and anger. These were very inward emotions. As is typical, I'd bet a collection of my best friends could not come up with five total times they had collectively seen me angry. And even though the bitterness and anger were totally internal and not being outwardly expressed at all, by mid-afternoon I could feel them eating away at me inside.

Resentment, even against an unknown person, does nothing but hurt yourself.

I knew it. I knew I had to let it go. I knew I had to forgive said unknown person, but I didn't want to.

For hours, I was very keenly aware of everything going on inside of me, the bitterness building into anger and from there exposing materialism, faithlessness, worry, self-righteousness, and pride. All of it very ugly. All of it sin. All of it inexcusable.

And even though, I was aware of it, even though I knew my lack of forgiveness would and was only hurting myself, it took until midnight for me to make any attempt to move towards forgiveness.

So, late in the night, I stepped out my back door onto the spot from where the intruder pounded in my door. First, I repented of my own junk. A lengthy process, because while I was telling God about my bitterness, asking Him to change me, and thanking Him for his forgiveness of my sin, I'd catch myself having a prideful thought, then confess, that, but catch myself in a mental image of punching someone in the face . . . and so on and so forth.

It took awhile to deal with me. And thankfully, I'm not the one who had to deal with me, because my old self has already been dealt with on a cross, crucified, and declared dead (see the last post).

After a lengthy time spent in prayer about my issues, I moved to the forgiveness.

And I knew I, by my own strength, wasn't about to forgive anyone for this, so I sent out the following text to 14 guys, "Fellas, quick prayer request. Someone broke into my house this morning. This second, I'm standing at the door they kicked in trying to forgive them, I want to release it, but its not easy. Can you pray for me to forgive? This isn't a cry for sympathy but a request that my own darkness would be overcome!"

I then set my phone down because I knew the flood of responses I was about to receive from across the country would be a distraction to my task at hand and started talking to God.

I had to repent a few more times as my old man's dead, but somehow still persuasive, heart was at work, but eventually brought myself to pray for the guy. I asked God to show him grace, a grace that would powerfully work in his heart, exposing attitudes and motives not just outward actions. I asked that God would work change in his life at a heart level the same way he had been working into my life all afternoon.

I asked that the Lord would give him the same grace that he had given me.

And then, I was ready, I physically held out my right hand turned my closed fist so my palm was facing downward and extended my fingers, opening my hand.

I released the offense.

I let it go.

Then I asked God to convict me of it as sin if I were ever to pick it back up again (which He has several times since then).

And I felt free.

When I picked my phone up off the cold, slightly wet concrete, I read my many text responses. One of them quoted 1 Peter 2, it was perfect:

But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. 'He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth.' When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly. He himself bore out sins in his body on the tree so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. For you were like sheep going astray, but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.