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It’s now less than three and a half weeks before our family makes its biggest move yet. Our new home and job take us back to the sunny state of Florida (yay!), back to the turquoise waters of southern paradise that I wrote about in my first post.

3.5 weeks. It’s still hard to believe. Harder to leave friends who have become family, church that has become home. To top it off, we’re moving two kids, two dogs and a cat diagonally across the United States.

Yes, a Chevy Venture rolling ark.

OK, that’s not completely honest. My mother is flying up to pick up our daughter for the week, so we’ll have one kid, two dogs and a cat. We couldn’t convince her to leave Colette with us and take the animals home with her. Can’t quite understand why…

So, the grand adventure awaits: campgrounds and national parks. Yep, camping with a near newborn, two dogs and a cat.

Kinda sounds like the National Lampoons Vacation.

A couple weeks back two dearly loved family members went in for surgery. At 8am, Seamus went in; at 2pm, Nathan entered.

Seamus (our Collie) got neutered.

Nathan got circumcised.

When Niki and I arrived at the clinic for Nathan’s procedure, the nurses asked if we wanted to watch the circumcision, or at least be in the same room.

Of course we did.  Nathan is amazing and we wanted to “be there” for him.  Both of us have an aversion to much blood and I can’t stand the sight of sharp objects puncturing flesh other than a good juicy steak or grilled chicken breast, but hey, I can handle watching a circumcision!

I must say, I did well.

For the first 3 minutes.

For those of you who do not know what goes on during that interminable time, the boy gets swathed in iodine to prevent infection and then injected with three doses of anesthetic. Interestingly enough, the doctor and nurse kept asking me if I was doing ok. Nathan is screaming his head off, mad as a hornet, I’m holding his hand watching anesthesia being injected into my son, Niki is sitting down near me and they ask me how I’m doing!

“I’m fine, thank you very much.”

“You doing ok?”, she asked again?

“I’m doing okay,” I say, trying to mean it.

This goes on a few more times until I needed I need to sit down next to Niki and say something to that effect. I sit down, perfectly in control of all my processes. I’m doing fantastic.

A whopping 30 seconds later, I inform the nurse that I should probably go back to the waiting area. She agrees and begins walking me down the corridor to our room. I got weaker and weaker and probably made it an impressive 7 feet down the hallway before I went blind.

Yes, blind. I remember it all so well.

I was still walking upright, talking with the nurse, listening to the other nurses ask what I was doing, but as I turned to my helper, it all went black. As I could see absolutely nothing, I matter-of-factly understated, “I’m about to go.” I then got a giant bear hug from this nurse much smaller than me (and I’m not a large man), who then laid me down, half in the nearest room and half in the hallway (these rooms were made for children, not perfectly fine adults in need of a little rest).

Lessons learned?

#1. The best place to black out is in a doctor’s office (they have juice and cheese and crackers when you wake up).

#2. Sympathize with people - heck, empathize with them - but don’t ask to see their war wounds.

And Nathan? Came through like a champ. Niki? She’s much smarter than me - she didn’t watch.

At 9:08am, Nathan will be two days old!

Nathan Schroeder (pronounced shray-der) Heilman has joined our family! He was born on Saturday, June 7th at 9:08am. Niki and I are incredibly excited to have him finally with us and Colette is excited to have a little brother (though I’m positive that she has no clue what a little brother is).

I’m in the middle of yet more books for our seminary classes and these have captured my attention: Cross and Covenant (Larry Shelton), and Unbounded Love by Clark Pinnock (click here for Unbounded Love for free). These have me thinking often and deeply about atonement, resurrection, law and relationship.

So, yesterday, while I was picking up some Papa Murphy’s pizza (the best chain-pizza in the USA, by the way), I got to thinking about the story of the Rich Young Ruler (or Man, whichever translation you’re using). Basically, this guy meets up with Jesus and asks the way to salvation. So Jesus, interestingly enough (especially to Protestants) asks first about the Law of Moses - the Big 10. The guy affirms that he’s kept all the rules since he was a child. So Jesus challenges him on what seems to be his possessions - he tells the guy to sell it all and give the money to the poor. Because he was so wealthy, this guy can’t do it - he can’t keep that commandment.

So, what got me thinking was that I’ve always looked at that story as the story of a selfish man, someone who couldn’t live without wealth. And the writer of the account seems to agree: this guy went away saddened because he had much wealth. Then Jesus says, “It’s hard for a rich person to enter the Kingdom.” All signs seem to point to money being the problem.

And it certainly was part of the problem. But the real problem, I think, was relationship.

This wealthy guy thought he had a good grasp on knowing God; his relationship was based on loving and keeping laws, rules, obligations. Unfortunately laws, rules and obligations can’t love you back. After Jesus sufficiently understood that this guy was tip-top in the guy’s own estimation of relationship with God, Jesus challenges him on his relationship with others.

He had the super-spiritual side down pat.

Yet, that spirituality did not move him to love his neighbor.

This guy’s knowledge of God was proven deficient; the laws he kept did not lead him into a relationship with others. And if religiously keeping holy laws didn’t lead him to love his neighbor, how then could they lead him anywhere near a relationship with God?

Keeping the rules didn’t change him.

His deep beliefs about God didn’t change him.

What does this say about us? Many of us (including myself) are bent on following rules to the “T”, trying to convince God that we mean business. We’re serious about this God-thing. That’s what we’re trying to prove.

But the fact is this: we prove the extent to which we know God not by the morality we claim or the laws we keep, but by the relationships we have with others.

I have to admit, I’ve often been critical of ‘big church‘. You know, the mega-churches, those gathering places with thousands and thousands of people, pastored by well-known ministers, often well-known for things other than being Christlike.

I’ve been critical because I don’t like big churches. I get lost. I think that a church’s responsibility is to create new communities - new church plants - when they are large enough. I hear of building “expansion” to have larger Sunday services and think, “If we’re/you’re big enough to spend all that money expanding, we’re/you’re big enough to plant.“

I’ve probably unfairly evaluated a lot of big church. It’s easy to rail from the outside. It’s easy to point fingers. It’s easy to look at my church and think worse thoughts of others. And it’s plain arrogant.

So, I’m beginning to be more gracious in my thoughts and words about big church. I find it easy to extend grace to individuals; why not to organizations? So, I’ve decided that - big or small - churches should be evaluated on this basis: what they offer to the community.

Now, I don’t mean what services, assistance, or events do they offer, nor do I mean community simply as those in close proximity to the church building.

What I mean is, “Does the church serve its own ends for its own people or does it seek the welfare of the community?” Does it seek to transform society by empowering its members - the body of Christ - to influence their own little worlds? And I don’t mean teaching adherents how to guide someone in “the sinner’s prayer”, as good as that might be. I mean, do we encourage Christ’s Body to act compassionately, the see with Jesus’ eyes the world around them, to give of one’s self and family to those in need, to aid in community development, to give a “cup of cool water” to someone thirsty?

I’m convicted by this blog by Rick Whitter. I count myself of the Pentecostal cloth, but what does that mean? Does it mean exuberant worship services? Speaking in tongues? Giving a “word of wisdom”? Barking like dogs? I think Rick has it right: the real evidence of the Spirit’s infilling was “these people gave.“

I couldn’t say it better than this:

“The DNA of the Spirit at work in the people of Acts is identified in their helping, their giving, their sharing, their feeding of the hungry, their clothing of the poor, their getting involved in correcting social injustices. As one with a Pentecostal heritage, I think I can offer a healthy criticism of our current operation. We have made Pentecostalism a style of worship. The Bible never does that. Pentecostalism is first and foremost a set of convictions that demands compassion by those who wear the label. A truly Spirit-filled person will get involved in efforts to address the needs of the less fortunate. A Spirit filled church really can’t be one unless they speak out and act on behalf of those who need help. Agreed, being Spirit filled it is about the manifestation of the gifts, no problem with that. It is about the unprecedented unity that they enjoyed, no doubt. But it is also about making a difference in the lives of hurting people. Not just praying for a miracle for those who are hungry, but creating a miracle by feeding the hungry. That is the work of the Spirit. That is what will make a difference in our world.“

That’s enough for us to spend the rest of our lives perfecting.

That’s evidence of the Spirit.

I’ve just begun A Community Called Atonement by Scot McKnight. I hadn’t gotten very far into the book when I stopped to chew on something he wrote:

“The kind of gospel we preach shapes the kind of church we are;

The kind of church we are shapes the kind of gospel we preach.“

I don’t know about you, but this is pretty convicting - especially to imagine how we, as local churches, have shaped the Gospel to fit the kind of church we are…

I hope you wrestle with this, too.

I’ve been contemplating this question for some time now. Evangelical Christians, especially here in the US (I know this type of Christianity best) are concerned (and rightly so) about correct belief. We spend inordinate amounts of time studying and proving ourselves and our doctrines right. After all, it’s what someone believes that is important, right? We’ve all heard the statement, “It doesn’t matter what you believe as long as you are sincere” and we know the answer: “You could be sincerely wrong.”

We devote entire ministries to proving creationism right and evolution wrong, writing books proving the historical accuracy of the Bible, websites to disproving a heretical tenets of particular groups, whole denominations to protect our earnest beliefs in one interpretation of a biblical concept such as the baptism in the Holy Spirit or social practices deemed sinful such as smoking, drinking, dancing, singing alongside instruments or voting Democrat.

Christians are obsessed with being right.

Too often, we’ve forgotten how to be good.

Unfortunately, being good and being right don’t always go hand in hand. In striving to be right, it is all too easy to develop an escapist mentality and disappear into judmentalism - to live our lives south of grace.

When Jesus was approached, he was asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to be saved?” (Mark 10:17). Good teacher, not right teacher. Perhaps it was already understood by the questioner that Jesus was “right”; he was, after all, asking Jesus an incredibly important question. But this is significant: the young man recognized Jesus as good.

In Matt 25:23, Jesus will address those entering His Kingdom as, “good and faithful”. Notice what comes first: good.

Think about it. Are Christians known for being good in our world? If you were to ask random people on the street what they think of Christians, what do you suppose their typical response is? Would they answer, “Christians are kind”, “Christians look out for others”, “Christians care about the poor and oppressed”, “Christians are loving”, “Christians open their arms to everyone”?

Or do you imagine another response?

“Christians are bigoted”, “Christians are narrow-minded”, “Christians think they’re better than me”, “Christians are hateful and exclusive”.

Though there are wonderful exceptions, the rule is that we are better known for our attempts at professing to be right than we are for our actions to be good.

There’s a world out there that needs good Christians: Christians who are good to those, even, who we consider wrong. Jesus’ goodness was not only extended towards those who accepted His message, to those who were His disciples. He fed the 5000, many of whom may have cried out, “crucify him!”. He even said, “Love your enemies, and do good.” (Luke 6:35).

Yet, in all He did, He did good.

May we be more and more like our Good Teacher.

You’ve seen them - from outside the key-coded gate. Maybe you’ve even tried to slip behind a resident and get under the gate before it closed on you. You know who you are…

Gated communities.

They keep people out: undesirables, less-affluent, more-affluent, those not-on-the-approved-list. They just do. They are safe-havens, isolated and intentional communities, a pick-your-own-neighbor life.

But this isn’t about the merits or downfalls of gated communities. No matter where on that continuum it falls, it is nowhere as insidious as the gated Christian communities.

You know what they are. You’ve seen them. You might not be aware if you are in one, but you sure as anything know if you aren’t. And these communities are sometimes harder to break into than physical gates. These gates communities have multiple gates.

You’ve attended church services and felt out of place. Or you have neighbors who claim to be Christians. Whether a Christ-follower or not, you know when you feel on the out of something in. And sometimes, no matter how how many gates you get through, there always seems to be one more. Here’s a few I am thinking of.

Gate #1 The Language Barrier: We Christians have our own lingo. We go to a church service; during that time we like to praise and worship; some of our favorite words in praise and worship are hallelujah or hosanna. After church we fellowship in the foyer (or lobby or vestibule - or the worst, the narthex); on Sunday nights we go to small groups (or life groups or home groups); in Bible studies we talk about spiritual warfare and principalities and powers…any of this sounding a little familiar? Then we talk about salvation and justification and getting saved or being born again. Learning this language can take years!

Gate #2 The Christian Smile: This is what you meet when you walk into the church and are handed a bulletin (this language thing is going to get messy, I can tell). It’s also what you see when you drop your kids off at kid’s church. Then you see it on faces when you finally locate a seat in the santuary (does anyone else hear Quasimodo bellowing in the recesses of your mind?). You’re first thought is, “dang, these people are happy.” Everyone you greet with a, “How are you?” returns a, “Great, thanks! How are you?”, which naturally begs you to return the same response. That’s when the smiles start to seem like plaster. Sure, there are a lot of genuinely happy people in church, but as my pastor’s wife says, “these people are bleeding all over the pews and no one knows it.” Then you try the experiment: when someone asks you how you are, you decide to respond, “Terrible, thanks. How are you?” And you answer this at least 4 times before someone realizes you said, “terrible”. Good luck getting the passcode for this gate.

Gate #3 The Christian Inside Jokes: This hit me in a brief service planning meeting that I had with our senior pastor and associate pastor. After talking about a few things, I said something christianese like, “the Bible companion guide to the pseudopigrypha.” We all laughed, and then I realized that no one outside our elite group would have got that joke. Did it make me feel good and superior? You bet! Did it make me feel woefully inadequate to interact in normal, non-churchy conversation? Nope. Should it have? Maybe. But come on, admit it: pseudopigrypha is funny!

I’m going to stop with those three gates. Heck, one is too much, and I’m mildly depressed having written all that about barriers to Christian community. There’s got to be a different and better way. Sure, we’re goign to stick out and seem a bit exclusive - every group does. Perhaps we need to understand the way we as the Church, as Christians, look and work hard to counteract that.

Let’s start a movement: NMGCC - No More Gated Christian Communities.

This broke my heart.  The International Herald Tribune wrote this heart-wrenching article on Haiti and the world food crisis.  What got my attention was page one: a father told the author that his children had two spoonfuls of rice two days prior, with no food since.  They keep saying, “Papa, I’m hungry.”  And he has nothing to give them; all he can do is turn away.

I cannot imagine this.  No, I can imagine this.  I have a 2 year old daughter and it would break everything in me if I could not provide for her, if I had to watch her slowly starve to death.

Hunger is real.  We don’t face it much here in the USA - and when we do, we’re insulated from it, from the real, gut-painful hunger.

Then this gem on page three, a testament to the ignorance our country has largely paid to this nearby country: “the one business booming amid all the gloom is the selling of patties made of mud, oil and sugar, typically only consumed by the most destitute.”

One citizen in his twenties was quoted, “It’s salty and it has butter, and you don’t know you’re eating dirt.”

Did you read that right?

He is eating dirt.

Mud pies.

Like we used to make as children, only this is for real.

I don’t know what can be done, I just know that I could barely get through the article.  Something must be done.