Fear and Anger Have No Place Among Us

Thus ends my roughly year-long blogging sabbatical, in which I refrained from sharing my thoughts on the COVID world because they’d be merely one drop in an already deafening ocean. Others have covered it nicely.

(In case you’re wondering, I did contract COVID-19 this year – around Halloween – but my symptoms were thankfully mild. The six-week loss of taste and smell were disconcerting, but given the tragedy others have undergone, I will merely grieve with them.)

So…it is good to see you again.

I find myself barging clumsily back onto the scene again because today has the potential to be a definitive day, one that could solidify a lot of people’s fears and frustrations – on either side. I’m referring, of course, to the Georgia Senate elections. Many have been waiting on that particular delayed race to decide the shape of this interminable election season.

There are two emotions that serve as one’s frequent, almost constant companions in political dialogue: fear and anger. There’s a reason politics has a prominent place on the list of “things you don’t talk about at guests’ houses”. What raises the hackles on the back of your neck as fast as politics? Though we all hold a morbid fascination for these conversations, we know they get us tweaked. To focus on politics without leaving oneself tense, irritable, and judgmental for the rest of the day is a feat of considerable emotional discipline. (Maybe you can do it, but it should be self-evident by now that not everyone can. Or wants to.)

But is is a necessary feat, because fear and anger are not options for Christians.

“Don’t fear those who kill the body but are not able to kill the soul; rather, fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.” (Matt. 10:28)

“Be angry and do not sin. Don’t let the sun go down on your anger, and don’t give the Devil an opportunity.” (Eph. 4:26-27)

I know there are people in the world that view the Bible as polite advice, or perhaps second-tier emotional guidance not to be taken all that thumpingly. But for those just discovering this blog, I tend to take the Godhead’s words literally whenever the text merits. If God says fear and anger don’t belong in our emotional profile, then that is the way.

If we’re not to fear the worst possible fate – being killed in the body – then nothing else should be feared.

If we’re not to stay angry beyond the temporary righteous anger that is promptly snuffed in grace and forgiveness, then it really is possible to forgive.

Indeed, God seems serious enough about this emotional destination that he has the author of Hebrews point out believers who “accepted with joy the confiscation of your possessions, knowing that you yourselves have a better and enduring possession.” (10:34). It takes immense sanctification to be able to pull that off. It almost seems monk-like.

Or perhaps, what it takes is a view of something else – that better and enduring possession.

See, fear and anger are substitutes for faith.

Fear is the belief that God does not see the future.

Anger is the belief that God does not see the past or present.

I know that sounds harsh. They seem like such natural, innocent emotions. But this is one of those times where God’s perspective seems frustatingly inhuman, yet perfectly holy. “Fear not” is one of the Bible’s most oft-repeated commands, and you need only to look at the world around you to see what sustained anger does. He knows what he’s talking about.

And if any doubt remained, Christ forgave the very centurions who nailed him to the cross.

If that is the reach of his love, and if we are to follow him, the mandate is clear.

The truth is, fear and anger evaporate when we see God as he truly, fully is. When we know his omniscience and omnipresence, when we know his father’s heart and his firm hand, all reason to fear or stay angry fades away. That will be our glorified reality one day.

Alas, we’re not there yet. I am just as capable of anxiety and grouch after a good political roundtable as the next guy.

But we can start to move. We can again take up the cross of keeping our eyes inwards, watching our feelings, surrendering them to Christ with every passing minute, taking them captive for his sake. We, as God’s people, should not resemble an ocean in turmoil, but a glassy sea.

There is no time like today to start.

I’m glad you tuned in today. If you found this post to be of value, feel free to share it on social media. Thanks a bunch!

Removing the Mask and Finding Grace

Jesus isn't fooled by our masks...and doesn't need to be.Every Halloween, I would disguise myself as someone who’s got it together.

I would watch as everyone donned costumes of fairies or vampires or Jedi (it seems to have been mostly Jedi the last two years) and pounded the rainy ground on October 31. They’d walk along the dark, gridded streets, collecting energy pills like a breezy outdoor Pac-Man game, and I thought those were their masks.

Before that, I’d come to church and sit amongst everything I am trying to become. Wise, selfless, surrendered believers. Countryside middle-classers. Leaders who understand how to influence people, how to get stuff done in a community. Couples in the glow of early parenthood who somehow show up to service perfectly coiffed and groomed despite the tribe hanging off their arms. Older families who have already raised their tribes into true-blue adult disciples (a more mammoth task every decade). Decent, hardworking folks who seem to be doing just fine.

And I’d think they were the unmasked. Nothing to hide, no need to hide.

And, by extension, I’d assume that I wasn’t cutting it. How could I be, since they were accomplishing so much more than I?

Then a funny thing happened: I got older. Over the course of time, I got to know these people better. And they did this amazing thing, something far harder than anything I’ve mentioned.

They started removing their masks. Continue reading

Tipping and Grace: Do Christians Ever Have the Right to Stiff?

jar2A former pastor once told of an experience as a caterer. He served two groups in the same day that could not have treated him more differently. The first was a gathering of homosexual folks; they were warm, friendly, and left a great tip. The other was impatient, grouchy, fault-finding, and left no tip at all.

The second group was a pastors’ luncheon.

Tipping has become a flashpoint in our social consciousness. I suppose it was inevitable that the smartphone age would allow us to capture and publicize everyone’s tips. (Here’s a montage of tips that would be hilarious if not for their rudeness.) But it’s worth talking about for Christians, because any question of generosity becomes a checkup on how we’re doing as the salt of the earth.

Some Christians respond to this call by leaving tracts for their waiters instead of tips.

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It’s the worst thing ever.

Look, I get the reasoning. Tracts can potentially lead to salvation, and salvation is worth far more than few bucks.

But we Christians aren’t supposed to be operating on our own reasoning. We’re supposed to be operating on God’s. Here’s it is, if you’re interested:

Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead. (James 2:15-17)

My friends, waiters and waitresses live off their tips. When I worked as a pizza delivery driver (a nice earner during football season, I would mention to the college folks), my tips usually amounted to two to three times my actual wage. It was still only marginally worth the wear and tear on my car (and my gas tank). Very rarely will eight or nine bucks an hour get anyone through college. So trust me, your waiter isn’t there for the joy of minimum wage.

 

God understands and appreciates the practical plane, and he ties the validity of our works to it with cords of Scripture. Jesus teaches that meeting worldly needs is a terrific opening to the Gospel (and not the other way around). Christians’ failure to meet these needs gives the world an easy opportunity to beat us at our own Christ-commissioned game: generosity.

Never offer a prayer to which you can be the answer.

But there is an even greater matter on my mind today. Suppose your waiter or driver gives you bad service. Drops food, rolls his eyes, or something. It is often our practice in that instance to withhold tips, in the hopes of “encouraging” better service next time.

I just want to ask one thing.

Is that anywhere close to the way Jesus handles us?

Continue reading