Ruminations

Are you the one?

After Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples he went on from there to teach and preach in the towns of Galilee.  When John heard in prison what Christ was doing, he sent his disciples to ask him, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?"  [Matthew 11:1-2]

What an amazing text...one that reports John the Baptist asking the great question — Are you the one?

Are you the one?   This isn't merely A great question.  This is THE great question of all time.  Numero uno; Life’s Meaning 101: Jesus, are you the one? Are you all sufficient? Are you really the son of God, and the son of Man? Are you what you claim to be?  This is ground zero, the foundational question for every man, woman and child that ever lived and ever will live.  Four short words, the answer to which shakes the universe.

It’s a binary question, with its demand of a "Yes/No" response.  Are you the one?  Not, "Might you be the one?"  Are you the one?  There is no in-between; no middle ground; no maybe; no perhaps.  All of man’s hedging responses to this question about Jesus' nature -- myth, good man, great teacher, powerful role model,  human exemplar [some of which are true, of course] -- are insufficient.  Each represents a marginalization, an avoidance of the core question that has been called by John the Baptist, Jesus' cousin.  "Are you the one?"

To many, "Yes" seems obvious.  It has to be!  We see it, so why don’t others?  We cry out, "God, why can’t he see it — she see it — as clearly as me?"  How is it that we can witness the same creation, read the same texts, see our lives clearly interpreted through God’s word, look at all the same evidence, and yet reach radically different conclusions?  Yes! No!  Or, I need more information.

Georg Hamann, 18th century critic of the Enlightenment, wrote the following in a letter to his brother:

"Do not run to men, even if they be high priests like Eli. It is the voice of God -- hear what He says. The rolling thunder, the whispering spring, and the cool evening breeze in the midst of the garden are the tongues of His attributes. But what are all these suns and earths with their harmony, and what is all the language of the turning stars among angels and men?  A sounding gong compared to the love that speaks from the blood of His Son, our brother, who was slain for us from the foundation of the world."

Hamann’s is a beautiful word picture of faith-filled eyes.  Seeing eyes.  How is it that his "yes" is so clear, so beautiful, yet many of his learned contemporaries answered "no" so resoundingly?

Binary  brings to mind the world of computing, e.g., binary code. Let’s lift one concept from the computing world and tease it out a bit here.  Among computer scientists, the term for a standard response to any stimulus not otherwise categorized is the default response.  What is the default response in man, as regards the truth claims of Scripture?  Are we set to "yes", preprogrammed to belief?  Or are we set to "no" as our default condition, and need explicit intervention into our human circuitry to move that dial?

Since the Fall, we know that we have set ourselves to "no."  Our forebear, Adam, tripped that setting when he disobeyed his Creator.  His fall becomes our default. Listen to Paul's words to the Roman church [Romans 3:10-12]: "No one is righteous, no, not on; no one understands; no one seeks God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one." Jesus makes the same point in Matthew 13, "Though seeing, they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear or understand."

Our default setting is not "yes."  It is not belief, but unbelief.  And fallen man cannot move that dial from "no" to "yes" on his own.  Apologies to all who believe that Cartesian logic can move that dial.  It just ain’t so.  Our intellect, logic, or force of will alone will not get us off of that fallen default position.  We can’t shift the dial. We need divine intervention.  The invisible hand of God.

We need the Spirit of the triune God to awaken us...to open our eyes...to unclog our ears...to unfreeze our hearts.  To quicken our dead spiritual pulse. Ephesians 2: 8-9 tells us, "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is a gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast."

We believe, therefore we see. The world sees, yet does not believe.  Said another way, believing is seeing. The world claims seeing is believing: I don’t see it; therefore, I do not believe it. I will wait for another.  We know that belief precedes sight.  Faith is a gift from God.  Saving faith, that opens unseeing eyes.

Here's another quote: "Man is a credulous animal, and must believe something; in the absence of good grounds for belief, he will be satisfied with bad ones." [Bertrand Russell]

Sorry Bertrand, but that’s not quite right.  Even in the presence of good grounds for belief, man will still be satisfied with bad ones.  The evidence is all around us, isn’t it?  Human history is chock-a-block with men ignoring good grounds and clinging to bad ones.  In the presence of so many good reasons for belief -- the world we live on, the universe we are spinning through, the truth we see revealed all around us, the beauty we see embedded in God’s creation, the veracity of the Word that God has given us...that describes us, our relations, needs, wants, desires, propensities...the preponderance of evidence of God’s design on us and everything -- we are still prone to accept falsehood and reject truth.

OK, but so what?   What's a 2009 application of this 2,000 year old truth?

Here’s one. When we answer the greatest question of all time with an emphatic "Yes, you are the one", we need to remind ourselves that our very response is a gift of God.  We cannot credit ourselves with better vision, greater discernment, more holiness or anything else compared to our unbelieving brothers and sisters. If we find ourselves, like the Pharisee in the temple, taking glee or just plain comfort from our spiritual condition compared to another, we know that it is Satan having his way with us.

The only legitimate, honest response we can render to our improved sight -- our saving sight -- is gratitude for the cross. Said another way, our improved sight must give us a clearer vision of Calvary, and our part in that sacrifice. 

First, we must recognize our own, personal contribution to the crucifixion of the Son of God.  While our sins have been forgiven, thank you, Lord, we still own their impact.  And second, coupled with the first, we have to realize that the saving faith we have is because of Jesus’ atonement...that he has gifted to those who accept Him as Lord and Savior.

Are you the one?  The author of life demands an answer.

Biblical bankruptcy

I have bankruptcy on my mind these days.  Not that I'm getting ready to file, mind you.  No, it's all the coverage insolvency is getting in the media.  Chrysler.  GM.  Banks.  Litigation.  Government intervention.  Supreme Court appeals.  Reorganization versus liquidation.  The rights of debtors... unions...other stakeholders.  Makes me wish I was a lawyer!

I also have access to Bible Gateway.  So I keyed in five different word searches: bankruptcy, insolvency, liquidation, reorganization and, finally, debtor-in-possession financing.  And got no matches in the Bible (NIV translation) .  Not a one.  [BTW, just kidding on the last one -- but the first four were real keyword searches].  

Does that mean the Bible has nothing to say about bankruptcy?  I don't think so.  The Word has something to say on every important topic.  And this is certainly an important topic, no?  So I started thinking about synonyms and similar concepts, versus those specific words.  And sure enough, I find some very explicit teaching on bankruptcy, and how a Christian should approach it.  Now that I've got your interest, read on. 

"In all their distress he too was distressed, and the angel of his presence saved them.  In his love and mercy he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old." [Isaiah 63:9]

And that's just one explicit reference to insolvency...to distress... to the need for a bailout, a rescue.  Isaiah of course is talking about God the Father...that He too is distressed by our distress, because he is the God of mercy.  He is the creator who takes an active and ongoing interest in his creation, even -- better yet, especially -- when we are in distress.  When we are bankrupt.  When our liabilities exceed any assets we may claim title too.

What is God's approach to bankruptcy?  Let's really drill down on this.  Is our merciful and just God more focused on justice when we go into that bankruptcy hearing?  Or does he accentuate mercy?  Do we have a divine judge at that hearing who is focused on what His law requires?  Or do we have a judge who will be more sympathetic to the mess we're in, and relax the demands of justice relative to our particular situation? 

To put it in very specific bankruptcy lingo, is God looking for a good reorganization plan when we come before Him (Chapter 11 bankruptcy)?  Or, is our bankruptcy proceeding a liquidation (chapter 7)?  Would do you think? 

You may ask for an illustration.  Here goes.  Let's say that you've become convinced that the way you have approached your life to date is not working.  You realize that the things that you have trusted in are not trustworthy.  It might be your balance sheet.  It might be your resume.  It might be your beautiful appearance.  Maybe it's a sense of humor...or an inheritance that you expected.  Whatever it is, you reach the conclusion that it is insufficient to carry you forward.  To give your life meaning.  To give you a sense of net worth. To give you assurance that you are right with your Creator.

So you go into celestial bankruptcy court to plead your case.  What argument would you present to God for his mercy?  You want to be relieved of your debt, and you want to be able to proceed with a clean slate.  One approach -- one argument -- would be to present a personal plan of reorganization.  "God, I've messed things up.  You know that better than I do.  But I've got good news.  If you will only wipe the slate clean, forgive me these debts that I owe you, I promise to clean up my act.  I promise to do better.  I promise to perform in a manner more consistent with your way...once I exit the courtroom.  Please grant me the stay, the relief, of your divine bankruptcy process."

A very different argument might go like this: "God, I have nothing.  I have no merit to base my plea for mercy upon.  I have no recovery plan.  I am completely spent.  I'm incapable of ever restructuring my life to please you.  Yet I ask you to liquidate your claim against me.  I rightly deserve your wrath and your judgment, but I appeal for your mercy.  I base that appeal not on my own plan or effort or merit, but on the accomplished work of your Son, Jesus Christ.   Only in him do I make this appeal for mercy."

I've tried a Chapter 11 reorganization argument with God more than once.  It doesn't work.  Every time I exited the discussion with my "recovery" plan, it failed.  I failed.  My good intentions -- my sincere desire to clean up my act -- had no power associated with it.  I went from insolvency to insolvency, a bankruptcy recidivist.

It took me entering chapter 7, a complete liquidation, for there to be any hope of moving forward.  With my life in permanent receivership, I suddenly discovered a power outside of me that could actually change me.  That could clean up my act.  But that cleansing is an output -- a result -- not an input to my salvation.  The rejuvenating power of the Holy Spirit, which comes to us when we throw ourselves on the mercy of the liquidating sovereign -- now that creates change.  Real change.  Permanent change.  Change that you can bank on.

Chris Joyce

 

 

 

 

Christian capital formation

I took a grad class in business marketing in 1976.  The school I went to used the case method, where you were presented with a business problem distilled to a five-page "case."  Your objective was to analyze, present and defend your recommendations.  The marketing case I recall best was Escalante Chili.  If that's a real product, apologies to the owners in advance. 

Their [Escalante's] problem was market share.  They had a small share of the canned chili market, and they wanted more.  So they played with different formulas to achieve that...e.g., increased promotion, different packaging, lower price and variety of tastes (mild, spicy and caramba!).  

One of the solutions I didn't recommend was that Escalante invest in increasing the overall market for chili.  Escalante had such a small share, it didn't make sense for them to focus on expanding the number of chili lovers.  They wanted consumers that loved Escalante chili, not just any old chili.  And for a company with a small share, that made a lot more sense.  They had to view the market through a narrow lens.  Now if they were the dominant provider--think Ma Bell in 1980 (not chili, of course)-- it made all the sense in the world to expand the use of the telephone..." reach out and touch someone..."  With a 95% market share, every dollar of added telephone spending put $.95 in Ma Bell's pocket.  Not so for Escalante chili.

What's the point?  John 17:20-22 reports Jesus praying for all believers:

"I pray also for those who will believe in me through their [the apostles] message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you.  May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.  I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one."  

Christ's words challenge me to think radically about the capital formation of his church.  When he challenges his followers "... that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you," he is picturing gospel-centered believers as bolted together at the cross.  He actually goes so far as to state that we do this so "... that the world may believe that you have sent me."  In other words, our being one is a witness to Jesus' divine Sonship.  Conversely, our being narrowly focused, solving only for our particular "brand" in his church, denies that same truth.

The marketing terms we used back in grad school were π1 and π2.  π1 was the overall market.  π2 was our own particular brand's share.  As A Christian, I'm called to focus on capital "C" formation, capital C being the gospel-centered Church.  That doesn't say the local church doesn't matter...of course it does.  But Jesus' words do tell us it should not dominate how we view our investment in building Christ's kingdom here on earth. 

His words also warn us about modifying His recipe to make it milder,or spicier, or more attractive to a particular segment.  He is the author of the formula. 

Lord, forgive me the narrow lens that I often use in viewing your kingdom work.  Grant me the heart, the will and the vision to see that the way I define your Church directly testifies to the world what I really believe about you. 

Chris Joyce

Important questions

I coach fast-pitch softball...pony-tail division...girls...13-18 years old.  It's great fun, the psychic income is high, and it keeps me running.  Thank you, Lord.

The most important question I ask every player to consider--a question that should get asked before every pitch--is, "If the ball comes to me, what am I going to do with it?"  Every player has to be ready for that.  They need to consider the question beforehand, so that their response is [almost] automatic.  If the ball comes to me, what am I going to do with it?  Throw to first.  Get the lead runner at third.  Go for the force at the plate.

I heard an Easter sermon at Market Square here in Old Town Alexandria that repeated that softball question, but with two word changes.  Pastor Tom asked the approximately 200 folks assembled at sunrise in the town square, "Since the gospel has just come at you, what are you going to do with it?"  Now that's a great question.  What am I going to do with it?  

First, will I catch it?  The gospel--that beautiful redemptive message--will I catch it?  We know it is virulent, and infects millions of our fellow creatures every year.  But will I catch it?  Or are my antibodies so strong, my defenses so formidable, that I will attempt to avoid any contamination?  Will I just let it go by--let the next guy pick it up--or watch it dribble through my legs or, worse yet, will I run from it?  If the gospel comes at me, what am I going to do?

And if I catch it, what will I do with it?  That's another great question.  Make no mistake: no one can catch the gospel ball and just hold on to it.  There are no "ball hogs" when it comes to the truth.  If we catch this message, it is going to go somewhere...somewhere beyond us.  The other players in our lives will see it.  We're going to feel it.  And we're going to do something with that hot potato called the good news.  We will not be able to "privatize" it, to hide it away just for ourselves.  This isn't some secret self-improvement project.  No way.  It doesn't work that way.  The gospel is a flow, not a stock.  It moves.   

There were some great players on the city diamond Easter Sunday.  Not their stats--their stats were pretty run-of-the -mill human being stats.  Sinners all.  No, it was their potential that's so promising.  They are on the field, going after the gospel ball.  There was also a good supply of new talent, too.  Plenty of opportunities to catch the good news. 

I believe many did.  I sure did.  Thank you, Lord.

Chris Joyce

   

Forever man

He checked the math a final time.  9,131.  That's what it came to--the number of days he had left to live. 

Actuarily, that was.  The insurance tables predicted he'd make it to age 85, given his current age, health, physical activity, and prior history (former smoker), plus whatever else they threw into their statistical black box that spit out the "85" terminal result.  It hovered there on the screen, reminding him of the first digital displays on a TI calculator.  The numbers just seemed to appear back then, seemingly out of nowhere.  The chips--actually, that was a single chip--would suddenly disgorge its solution, after some secret sauce processing that went on within that hard plastic shell.  That was...let's see...at least 30 years ago.  10,957 days before.  More time that he now had to go.  Actuarily.       

How many more days he had left on this earth actually was a different kettle of fish.  God knows.  "Kettle of fish"...now where had that come from?  He'd never seen a kettle, no less one filled with fish.  Where do these sayings come from?  Why do we adopt them so readily?

And why this focus on days?  Why was that the metric he zeroed in on with that laser-like focus?  Because it felt like the best unit of measure.  One day captured a full cycle.  Waking, eating, working, talking, communing, loving, praying, sleeping.  While the sun circumnavigated the globe.  Good science that!

Days.  Each day a gift.  He really believed that.  So he best count them.  No guarantee he'd wake tomorrow, despite that actuarial result.  Ergo, if he did, it was the gift of another day.  The challenge then became: what am I going to do with it?  This gift of a new day.  It kept him focused; motivated; hungry.  

So that explains the measure...days.  But what about the afterlife?  How was he supposed to get that factored in here?  It was a discontinuous function, right?  You live a life...let's say 31,000 days, plus or minus...then you die.  But that's not the end of the story.  That only closes out the first two and a half chapters.  

Why two and a half?  Well, let's take birth--his creation--as one.  Then there's his fall...every man falls, he knew that from experience. That was chapter two. Then there was redemption, but only half that chapter occurred in this life.  The redemption of the spirit, of the heart.  The redemption of the body came later.  After his 31,000 days, plus or minus.  

That was the next chapter...chapters?  Who knew.  But how was he to factor that into his thinking now?   He liked precision.  He liked knowing or, at least, pretending he knew so he could plan accordingly.

And there were real impacts to how he framed the question, and did the analysis.  Example: was he storing up enough treasure to last 9,131 days?  [note to self: the recent market meltdown had made that calculus a lot more challenging].  What about the rebound, his resurrection?  Should he be looking for some TIPS Bonds that went out a bit further?  How about the house?  The land?  What was he supposed to do with that stuff?  Should he keep it in the family, just in case Christ's return was in the near term?    

His head was starting to hurt.  This was all insoluble with the tools he had.  It was mind numbing.  He felt the weight but, incongruously, it was heavy on his leg.

Lucy moved when he suddenly awoke, freeing his trapped leg.  Lucy, his Australian Shepherd.  Startled.

It was a new day.  Thank you Lord.  Show me your will.  Your way.   

Chris Joyce

  

A visit to idol island

There is a mental exercise that I used a few times when interviewing candidates for analytic jobs.  The question went something like this:

Imagine that you work for a foundation.  The head of the foundation calls you into her office one day and gives you this special assignment.  "A billionaire recluse has decided to donate a very valuable piece of art to our foundation.  You're to fly to his private island this afternoon.  You get to choose one piece from his valuable collection, just for us.  Make sure it's a good one."

Given that your background is in business and not art, you're a little concerned.  But like a good soldier, you salute and head out on your mission.  When you arrive at the island, the recluse mogul greets you with: "Here's the process, kid.  My servant will bring in one object of art at a time into this room.  You get to say one of two words--" pass" or "keep."  Once you pass on an item, it's gone for good.  It ain't coming back in the room.  I have a hundred items...you can choose any one of them, but it has to be when that object is in the room with you.  You're not allowed to ask any questions of my servant.  Even if you did, he doesn't speak English.  And no trades after the fact.  I hope you pick something good...for your sake.  I know that boss of yours, and she's tough.  Good luck."

It's a fun question in an interview.  Well, it's a fun question to ask in an interview.  You can get a pretty good sense how someone frames the problem.  The questions they ask and factors they consider tell a lot, too (e.g., "A billionaire recluse on his own island? That's weird to begin with.")  

But for this blog entry, I want to tweak it a bit.  And yes, I want to give it a spiritual spin.  Let's fly out to Idol Island for a bit, a postage stamp sized atoll in the middle of Self-Absorption Sea.  It's a place we all know well.  Every one of us has one...our own personal idol factory.  As John Calvin wrote, "The human heart is a factory of idols…Everyone of us is, from his mother’s womb, expert in inventing idols.” 

So we land on our island.   Imagine Tattoo (for Fantasy Island fans) runs over, exclaiming "The owner is here!  Welcome, chief."  He escorts us into the presentation room.

The idols that we have invested in these many years are carried into the room, one at a time.  Unlike our employment quiz, though, we are the world-class expert on the value of each.  Because we created them.

First in the door is career.  It's a big idol.  Tattoo has a tough time carrying it into the room. "How valuable is this one, sir?  Is this the one you want to keep?  Shall we place it in the plane for you? "   I pass.  You see, there was a time when I put that one at the top.  But I got everything I asked for in my work career, so I discovered that it did not fully satisfy.  That idol is dragged out the exit doorway.

Next in comes appetite.  I have had some interesting "appetite" idols that I invested in over the years.   This one is my appetite for attention...to be at the center of things...to have the spotlight focused center-stage on...me.  It's a BIG one; so big, it takes two servants to drag this baby into the room.  "Pass," I call out.  That particular idol has not served me well.  Some might say (correctly) I became a bore, in my wholesale pursuit to be in center ring.

Comfort is next in.  For me, this is made of $100 bills, glued together into a big recliner.  Very artistic.  You see, the idol maker--my heart--knows me well.  I used to convince myself that material comfort was the ultimate objective of a good life.  The whole purpose was to accumulate enough during my "productive" years to be totally independent in my less productive years.  And comfortable.  Very comfortable.  I pass on that one too, because I realize that's a pipe dream.  Every time I achieved some level of material comfort, my heart moved the goalpost.

And so it goes.  Each of the idols of six decades of that production line running is carried through the room.  I immediately know the value...how well each particular idol served when it was number one in my heart.  I also know that none of the bunch will really fill the void that will always remain with idolatry.

But it's a good tutorial.  A blessed reminder of how far Jesus Christ has stooped to rescue me.  He leads me out of the room, walks me back to the plane, and pilots us off to a far better place.  A land without any durable idols.  A place where that space in my heart is filled by something real... something permanent... a personal relationship with the risen Son of God.  The Redeemer.  Who came for me.  In spite of my idols.

Thank you Lord. 

By the way, where are we going?

Chris Joyce

 

    

How do we get right with God?

I think every human being understands that being human also means being imperfect, and that being imperfect includes our ability and propensity to sin.  When we look honestly at our own lives, we each can point to things that we've done that are wrong.  We know they're wrong because God created us with some understanding of right and wrong.

 

Most people acknowledge that there is a God, though we also invest a lot of time and energy denying Him.  Why is that?  I believe it's because, while we are created in God's image, we are also imperfect, so we often attempt to be our own god.  We want what we want and, like a child, we often ignore what is good and right to pursue our own selfish desire.

 

In our hearts, we also appreciate that a God powerful enough to create the universe and everything in it also knows us for what we are.  The majesty of God's creation convinces us that God is beautiful, and that beauty attracts us.  We also know He must be perfect, for if He was flawed, He wouldn't be God.

 

We recognize that there is a great distance between God-- the author of everything-- and us.  We sense His presence, we often feel His love, but we also feel a great distance separating us from Him.

 

What can we do to close this distance?  What can we do to "get right" with God?

 

All of the world's religions answer this question in one of two ways.  To distinguish between these two very different answers, it's helpful to use a metaphor.  Imagine that you are standing high on a riverbank.  Before you is a raging river, with white water rushing by at high speed.  The river is wide. On the other bank, you can make out a beautiful place, a place that you know is God.  You want to be there with Him.  You are drawn to the peace, beauty and the promise of this far land across the river.

 

All human religions give you a guidebook on how to cross that river.  There are specific exercises that you must do.  There are routines that you must follow.  There are programs-- a regimen of "do's and don'ts"-- that prescribe what you must do to get in shape.  You must focus religiously on implementing this improvement program.  Said another way, you have to clean up your act and make yourself presentable to God.   

 

Think about that rushing river as a picture of human imperfection-- let's call it sin-- that separates us from a perfect, sinless God.  The river is wide, the current swift and, because we are human and therefore sinful, we keep adding to the width, depth and the speed of it.  Even with the improvement plan that human religion offers us, we realize that the distance is increasing, the river even wilder.  We know that if we step into that current, we'll never make it to the other side.  Not on our own strength.  We will be swept away.  It appears impossible, because it is impossible.

 

Jesus Christ offers a different solution.  Imagine yourself still on the bluff overlooking the river, longing for that far shore yet knowing you cannot get there.  Jesus approaches you, picks you up in a fireman's carry, and enters the raging waters.  He doesn't ask you for help; doesn't ask you to lose a few pounds first, or kick with your feet, or flail with your arms.  He tells you simply to rest in Him... that He can carry you, and that He will carry you, to the other side.  All you have to do is trust Him.  You have to let go of that self improvement plan.  Just believe Him.

 

You stare at the river, and realize that it is a river of human creation.  And yet, here is the Son of God, offering to face its onslaught... offering to immerse Himself, to expose Himself to this deluge, just for you.  He's ready to carry you home, crossing the river to His Father's place. 

 

So you allow yourself to be picked up.  You don't fight back.  You don't struggle.  You quietly trust Him.   Jesus enters the raging river and, as He promised, delivers you to the other side.  He pushes you up on the bank.  But in that rescue-- in saving you-- He is swept away, drowned in the process.  Because of you.  Because of me.  He loves us so much, He is not only willing to die for us, but He actually does.

 

That is the message of Christianity.  That is the message of the Cross.  That is what differentiates the Christian faith from all other faiths.  The Christian is called to accept that he or she is not capable of crossing that river, of bridging the gap between himself or herself and the perfect God.  The Christian needs a savior.  Not just for part of the journey... for the distance.

 

It is not an easy message to believe.  It is completely outside the way any human would write it.  A human author would build in a role for his audience.  After all, we all want to be part of the solution.  All human religions give mankind a big part to play in getting right with God.  In that way, we also get to take some of the credit for the journey.  And let's face it folks, as humans we like to get credit.

 

That is one of the reasons we know the gospel to be true.  Only God could author such a beautiful plan of redemption.  We just have to trust it.  Believe.  Accept Him.  Climb up on His back.

 

Chris Joyce

The great exchange...a/k/a Christ's TARP

I am full up on hearing about the TARP--the federal Troubled Asset Relief Program.  And "toxic assets"..."bad banks"/good banks"...and so on.  We've thrown $350 million at the problem, and that's just the start.  Wake me when it's over. 

Then again, the TARP discussion does surface some wonderful questions.  What should we do with those toxic assets that are gumming up the wheels of economic recovery?  Who should they be unloaded upon?  Or should they stay with the banks that created them, as punishment?  How should they be valued?  What's the best way to clean out the pollution so we can move on?

These are questions of both value and exchange.  And if we peel this onion of a topic back another layer, there's a gospel question at the root.  "Gospel" in its literal sense, that is...will there be "good news" at the end of this story?  If we answer these questions of value and exchange right, we win.  If we get them wrong, we lose, and lose big.  We're talking about our future, after all. 

OK, but what's this got to do with faith, you ask?  Everything.  Just look at the stock market's initial reaction to the latest TARP pronouncement. 

Now that I have you thinking about faith in the economic sphere, I want to switch to a wider- angle lens.  Let's focus on the the faith it takes to believe the great exchange that Jesus Christ offers us.  What is that exchange?  It's a TARP at the spiritual level...the life changing level.  Here's how it works:

First, Christ takes all of our human toxicity--all our pride, greed, lust, anger, self-centeredness...all our smallness--and allows us to transfer it to Him.  The whole dumpster load of our moral failures.  We just back that garbage truck up at the mound of Calvary and raise the bucket, and out it all pours.  Not just that...He gives us unlimited dumping privileges, a mega-landfill to unload our failures--past, present and future.

So we're relieved of our toxic assets.  We are declared a "good bank" in the language of TARP.  Jesus becomes the bad bank.  That's the first part of the exchange.  Who would make such a deal? 

Now what about value?  How does He value what we give Him?  How do we value what we receive back?  Well, Christ receives faith from us.  That's His only demand--that we bring our sin to the Cross, and that we believe in Him.  That He came to save us.  That He calls us by name.  That He actually wants a relationship with us.  That He can cure us.  We are called to believe. 

God values faith a lot, doesn't He?  Look at what He takes on for our belief.  The burden of all our sin.  The punishment.  The agony.  For our faith.  That says the value of the exchange in God's eyes is worth it.  He wants us.  He's willing to pay so much.

A side note.  Some say that the Bible talks about sin too much.  But if we take a small view of our sin, it also means we see too small a Cross...and a diminished Christ.  We miss the direct correlation between big sinner and big Savior.  Think about how hard it is for us to love someone who offends us, and we get a tiny taste of how big God's love is for us.

What do we get in the exchange?  First, we receive forgiveness. Wonderful and liberating in its own right.  But we need to look beyond forgiveness.  Those who accept this great exchange are credited with the righteousness of Christ.  The righteousness of God's Son.  That's not good...that's great.  Gargantuan.  Momentous.  Life altering.

Further good news: the trading window is now open.  Christ's TARP is at work.  We need to bring in our troubled assets...our troubled lives.  Exchange them at the window of the Cross.  Receive the good news.  Accept the great exchange.

It's the best deal we will ever get.  Anywhere.

Chris Joyce

I need a bail out

It's hard to open the mail these days.  Or go on a few particular websites, e.g., Fidelity, Vanguard, Schwab et al.  The behavioral literature of finance describes me well.  I don't want to recognize the "now condition" of my portfolio.  My personal balance sheet, battered by the stock market storm.  The last time I opened my 401K statement, it reminded me of the scene in Godfather One, when Don Corleone carries Sonny's bullet-riddled carcass into the undertaker's basement, then extends his arms, crying out..."Look what they did to my beautiful boy...use all of your restorative powers...I don't want his mother to see him like this." 

Better to recall what was, or what might have been.  Maybe if I just avoid those statements, and those headlines, and that chatter around the water cooler, I'll feel better.  Sleep through this one.  Pull an investor Rip van Winkle, and wake up to a wonderful new reality.  That 50's hit repeats in my mind, with substitute lyrics...He fell asleep in the woods one day, Dow then rose and made his day!

Which got me thinking.  About bailouts.  How could I get one?  After all, why not?  As my mother-in-law is fond of saying, "What am I--chopped liver?"

So I pulled everything together--gathered up all those statements, asset lists, obligations, etc.--and sat down with my local banker.   Mark.  A good guy.  Also a member of the same church.  He'll help me out, I reason.  

Mark-the-friendly-banker-and-fellow-believer pushed my paper pile around his desk for a few minutes, grunting, then rocks back on his chair, so he's balanced on the back legs.  Now that's risky, I think.

"So what's your question?"  He's still delicately perched at that 40 degree angle.

"Am I eligible?"  I ask that in a low voice, a bit embarrassed.  It feels like the fiscal equivalent of ordering Depends.

"Nope."  Dismissive.  No "it depends".  No probing questions.  No helpful advice.  Just nope.

"How come?    I mean, what would it take to get me eligible?"  Come on, brother, I'm thinkin.

"You have to be bankrupt.  Insolvent.  Illiquid.  Caput."

"But I must be," I whine.  "Can't you see?  Actually...actuarially...I am bankrupt.  Think about it.  I'm 60 years old.  In the 4th quarter of life.  My best income producing years are behind me.  The big cash outlays approach--long term care, hip replacements, and who knows what else.  I'm toast..."  My hands are open, palms up, on his desk.  I try to get a little quiver going in them.

"No sale," he opines.  In spite of my whines.

"OK then, tell me this.  What would it take?  What would I have to do to prove I'm eligible?"

"Liquidate everything.  The house.  The clothes.  The cars.  The 401K.  Use it all to pay off your debts.  If you have $1 left, you're ineligible."  All delivered with that smug expression, to boot.

"But wait a minute," I protest.  "Citibank didn't have to do that.  They didn't have to do anything.  Why should I?  That's just not fair." 

"This isn't about fair, friend.  It's about bailouts.  You don't get to decide the terms.  He does."

He?  Who's he?  What is Mark-the-unfriendly-banker-and-maybe-fellow-believer talking about?   

"The big guy," he answers my unvoiced question.  "He decides.  It ain't about eligibility.  It's about grace."

My mind spins.  Grace?  What's grace got to do with commerce?  And bailouts?  Stunned, I bolt up from the chair, ready to fight my corner.  And awake.  The bedcovers are mangled around my legs.  The pillow's a bit moist.  Must have been grinding those molars again.  It's morning.  A new day.

Yet for some reason, I feel better.  It's not up to me.  What a relief.  I don't have to prove I'm worthy, or  eligible.  Or anything.  He--the Big Man--knows I'm bankrupt.  Spiritually.  All I have to do is liquidate everything...my faith in my position, my dependence on toys and trinkets, my confidence in my own goodness, my pride...and declare myself insolvent.  In need of a bailout.  Incapable on my own.  In desperate need of a rescue...a savior.  Nothing in my hand I bring, only to the cross I cling.

That's good news.  That's gospel.   

Chris Joyce

Creating space

I used to work in telemarketing.  True confession.  The company had over 2,000 seats—telemarketing stations—and our mantra was "Your call means the world to us.”  It really was a fun job, though some of you will probably be tempted to call me during dinner soon.  Payback.  There would be justice in that, but before you pick up that handset, think about playing the mercy card instead.

A key measure of success in telemarketing is “occupancy.”  Just like the airline business, as I'm sure you've noticed.  You've got this investment in capacity [seats] and you want it occupied—generating income—as much as possible.   More is better, at least in that business model.

I've had occupancy on my mind lately, but in a different context.  I've been conscious of the occupancy of my person.  Occupancy within the skin, so to speak.  What occupies my mind?  What's on my heart?  Where are those internal moments invested?

Pastor Tom has made the point more than once that our idols become most visible in our idles—moments, that is.  When your mind is a blank, what rushes in to fill that vacuum?  If it's that new gigunda plasma screen, or the image that popped on your computer screen earlier today, or the still-hot anger of a recent slight, then you've got a good sense of what your little idol factory is churning out these days.

In one of his many articles[1], Henry Nouwen makes the point that, in the spiritual life, discipline means "the effort to create some space in which God can act."    An interesting thought.  Occupancy for the disciple should include a regular diet of un-occupancy.  A turning from the things of this world, the creation of space that the Holy Spirit will fill. 

Where are the opportunities to reduce the clutter of the urgent, the demanding and the enjoyable from my own space?  Have I created that space to camp out in?  I'm a man who tends to mistake activity for impact.  Some of the disciplines of the disciple—the creation of space, the pursuit of silence, the resting in the Word—are not disciplines that I easily gravitate towards. 

In that same article I referenced above, Nouwen remarks that discipleship and discipline are the same words.  Ergo, as a disciple I need to be more disciplined in my pursuit of vacancy, confident that God will fill those spaces with his intent. 

Chris Joyce

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[1] “Moving from Solitude to Community to Ministry;”  Henri Nouwen.