You Can Do It

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the actuality of becoming like Jesus because it's not as easy as I once thought.

A number of years ago, there was this discipleship campaign called, "What Would Jesus Do?" with the braclets and the whole bit. I remember getting one of the wrist bands, thinking it was the best thing that ever happened to my wrist. I was enamored with the idea of doing what Jesus did, what he actually said. I was ready for change.

The braclet didn't make me more like Jesus, though. The implication behind the question on the braclet was this--If someone wearing the braclet looked at their wrist randomly, they would be reminded to be like Jesus, ask themselves, "What would Jesus do?", know the answer, and be able to carry it out. The problem with me and the braclet had little to do with the marketing scheme or even the nature of the campaign. The problem was simply this:

I can't do what Jesus would do. It's too far beyond me.

Even if I happened to look at the braclet randomly and ask myself the question, I cannot even answer the question, "What Would Jesus Do?" without a lot of speculation. He lived in a specific context totally removed from my 21st-century, American self. For example, "What would Jesus do for a job today?" The economy is down, he might not be able to get a carpentry job. Would he take that decently paying sales job if that's all he could get after college graduation? Would Jesus even go to college? Would Jesus would live in a big city so he could be influential? Didn't he live in the country? None of those things are bad, I just don't know if that's what Jesus would do.

The problem with "What Would Jesus Do?" is not simply that it's hard to answer; it's also that I am incapable of living up to what he can do. He's too far beyond me, he's life-style out of my reach, higher than mine. So my condolences to the nice braclet people and all the good-hearted supporters, but I have a confession to make:

I don't know what Jesus would do; even if I did, I can't do it.

He already knows that though: "Apart from me you can do nothing" (John 15). I'm glad he can, and I'd like to let him do that in my life.

Thanks for the lesson, Bob VanFleteren, Alan Hirsch, and Andy Stanley.

Sticks and Stones, Love (Positive Theology: v)

There’s great irony in my writing this blog entry. I want to talk about the power of the spoken word and I’m typing. Hear me out though, metaphorically speaking. My whole life I’ve heard, “Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.” Recently, I’ve given it a second thought.

Commuting from Nashville to Lexington every week last semester game me a lot of time to think about the words I’ve heard and spoken. Then, this week, I lost my voice and I couldn’t speak for about three days, so I had time to think about life without words. I went through an entire day of work without my full voice. It was amazing how differently life happened without the ability to speak. My job requires that I go in and out of offices picking up paper for shredding. Then, I’m required to put the paper in a truck and shred it, ‘Mobile Shredding,’ it says on the side of my truck. There’s a small constituent of receptionists in Nashville that know me only as “The Shredder.” I’ve never met the ninja turtles, but maybe if I keep this identity, they’ll find me. Going in and out of these offices without the ability to speak made me realize that they probably think I’m mute! I had the thought—how much different would I be if I could never speak? I don’t really know, but I’d probably be a better person... maybe worse.

I am making a verse in Hebrews 3 one of my life verses: “Encourage one another daily as long as it is called today.” I don’t know how to encourage someone without using words. Okay, I guess I could write letters and give pats on the back, but I’m not sure if there’s a more powerful way to encourage someone than to speak. I guess that’s why preaching is powerful. I say preaching not in a negative way but in the true meaning of the word. Preaching, when done well, is encouraging. Everyone thinks about God, but it’s completely different to talk about him. I used to think that preaching meant coming up cool, new ideas about the nature of God every week. But I think preaching is different. Preaching doesn’t require innovation but simply using the spoken word to remind the people of God the content and meaning God’s story.

It’s kind of like when you know someone is holding something against you and they just need to say it. You wanna scream: “Say what you need to say?” But John Mayer’s words would only make the elephant in the room more awkward. I think God wants me to confess more... out loud. Not just to Him but to people I’ve hurt. James told the early Christians, “Therefore, confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” Something happens when we speak the truth even if it’s about sin.

There’s something about talking to people that we tend to avoid: confrontation. It’s so easy to talk about people, but it’s hard to talk to people. I have this theory that I’ll never be able to prove. It’s that every war, divorce and broken relationship comes from bad communication—words spoken rashly, words spoken in hate or words never spoken at all.