leading indicators

I think often I’m like the Jews in Jesus’ time: I have such deeply embedded human notions of what Jesus must want that I have trouble understanding what he actually says.

In Matthew 15 I read of a time when Jesus taught parable that had a simple point. It’s not what you eat that makes you unclean, Jesus said. It’s what you say. The Jews, faithful followers of an encyclopedia of rules for the purity required to enter the temple, couldn’t believe it. There were all kinds of restrictions related to food. Even Jesus’ disciples didn’t get it. Look at verses 15-20: 

“Peter said, ‘Explain the parable to us.’

“‘Are you still so dull?’ Jesus asked them. ‘Don’t you see that whatever enters the mouth goes into the stomach and then out of the body? But the things that come out of a person’s mouth come from the heart, and these defile them. For out of the heart come evil thoughts—murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. These are what defile a person; but eating with unwashed hands does not defile them.’”

To the extent we have wickedness in our hearts, we do wicked things with our mouths. Our jealousy becomes slander and back-biting. Our anger becomes lies and hateful innuendo. Our lusts are expressed in dirty jokes and inappropriate comments. In fact, it’s really hard to mask our evil thoughts because our motor mouths eventually betray us.

In business we talk about something called a leading indicator - it’s the first thing you’re likely to notice when your process isn’t functioning correctly. I gather from Jesus’ teaching here that what I say is a leading indicator of my spiritual health. My words will let me know if my heart isn’t right.

Kind, generous, encouraging words are evidence of the fruits of the spirit. Snark, gossip and story-telling point to something unhealthy in my heart. What I say is the most obvious kind of leading indicator. And decades in business have taught me to watch leading indicators pretty carefully.

simple and complex

I used to think age and wisdom were linked and linear, meaning the older we get, the wiser we get. I’ve learned that isn’t necessarily true; some people get wiser and some don’t. But one thing is true: the older we get, the more context we have because we’ve seen more iterations. We learn to recognize pattern and cycles, for one thing.

For example, one cycle I’ve come to recognize in my faith life is this: I get frustrated at my inability to make progress, so I try to simplify. Then, I feel underfed by my simplified faith and I delve into the complexity of God’s revelation. This morning, though, I had the weird feeling of experiencing this long-term cycle compressed into one single devotional session. 

I was reading in Luke 6, about Jesus teaching his disciples after he fed the 5,000. Jesus encourages them not to focus so much over the physical loaves that he gave people, but instead to realize that true life comes from doing God’s work. And then, this, from verses 28-29:

“Then they asked him, ‘What must we do to do the works God requires?’

“Jesus answered, ‘The work of God is this: to believe in the one he has sent.’”

What can be more simple than that? I’m here to do God’s work, and that work is to believe in Jesus. That’s a crystal-clear focus for me; I can reaffirm my belief in him as a historical figure, I can believe in him as my only hope, and I can then read scripture closely and believe all the revelations and promises Jesus made.

What could be more complicated than that? Because if I believe in Jesus, a whole bunch of stuff follows like falling dominoes. If I believe in Jesus then I believe that he owns and controls every square inch of this world and every ticking second of my life. If I believe that, then Jesus’ claim on my life covers each action and decision. And, as I try to make each action and decision accountable to the belief I have in Jesus, then a lot has to change.

All my relationships change; my friends become more precious and strangers become more valuable when I see them the way Jesus does. My money is spent on completely different things. Some movies and books and TV shows become off limits. The kinds of conversations I have change. And I have to wrestle with hard topics like what it means to be a church member and how do I engage our culture as a responsible citizen both of this country and God’s kingdom.

Following Jesus is both simple and complex; it’s easy at the same time that it’s really hard. In other words, he’s the perfect Lord for every turn of my normal faith cycle.

leftovers

Sometimes I believe I’m becoming more like Jesus, thinking more like him; sometimes I realize that I’ve only gone a few steps of a journey thousands of miles long.

This morning I realize that what I think of as helping people is too limited. The blessing I try to be to others is a very faint shadow of what Jesus intends; my concept of what is appropriate is far too cheap.

I realized that while reading of Jesus’ miraculous feeding of the 5,000, one of his signature miracles. Here’s the pertinent part, from Luke 9:16-17: “Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke them. Then he gave them to the disciples to distribute to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over.”

I’ve read this passage dozens of times, and have often marveled at exactly the same thing: Jesus’ lavishness in pouring out his blessing. Faced with a crowd of hungry people, he conjured food from nowhere. He turned a few loaves and fish into abundance. Not just enough to meet their caloric needs and keep them alive; not just enough to end the hunger pangs.

Jesus provided enough food that everyone was satisfied, everyone had as much as they wanted. And even more: for every doubting, wondering disciple, there was one extra basket of food. I used to wonder how big the baskets were, but it doesn’t matter. Jesus message seems pointed enough to me. They said, “Send them away, we can’t possibly help them.” Jesus, after helping every person there, seems to reply, “Here, guys, some leftovers for each of you. Take it home for tomorrow’s lunch.”

How much giving is enough? How much blessing should I try to provide? Enough to communicate the key truth that my God’s providence is abundant and never-ending; enough to seem more like an outpouring of love than a meeting of basic needs.

What I do is the first and best way to communicate who I serve. Do I really want people to think Jesus is as stingy as I am?

Jesus talk

This morning I mark a personal milestone: this is my thousandth devotional post. I started several years ago when journaling wasn’t helping me much. I figured if I was taking the time to note my responses to what I read, I may as well share them. I don’t know what I thought would happen, but I didn’t intend to do it this long.

Often I ask myself why. It’s hard to know - I don’t get a lot of feedback - but as best I can tell I don’t have a ton of readers. And it takes some time. In human terms, it’s hard to see if there’s a good return on investment. 

This morning, though, as I read through Mark 6, I knew why I write. I read about Jesus feeding 5,000 people, and then walking on the water. And then I read this, from verses 53-56: 

“When they had crossed over, they landed at Gennesaret and anchored there. As soon as they got out of the boat, people recognized Jesus. They ran throughout that whole region and carried the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went—into villages, towns or countryside—they placed the sick in the marketplaces. They begged him to let them touch even the edge of his cloak, and all who touched it were healed.”

I write because Jesus is so good. He cares about people’s hunger and their illnesses. He takes time for every single person who asks him for help. And he helps me, in personal and intimate ways, every single day. I write because I can’t really help it; Jesus is a good, good Lord and I can’t help talking about him.

I’m reminded of a few lines from the missionary story Sioux Center Sudan (I think), which tells of the amazing difference a local missionary made in Africa. One man who met Jesus as a result, related that other men in his village told him, “We’ll talk with you if you don’t make more Jesus talk.” This man’s response: “All I have is Jesus talk.” Changed by the love of God, he saw no point in wasting time on less-important things.

Without Jesus, I’m a miserable, selfish person. With Jesus, I’m someone completely different. I write because I just have to share Jesus with someone, somehow.

That’s what we do, isn’t it? When Jesus loves us so abundantly, it overflows. It pours back out of us and splashes everywhere. We tell people about the good things in our lives, and Jesus is by far the best of those. Even more, he’s the source of every one of them.

Jesus loves me, this I know; for the Bible tells me so. That’s why when I read scripture I want to understand it, so I noodle on it a bit. And then I jot my thoughts, and share them. It helps me; maybe it helps you too.

compassion

Jesus’ miracle in feeding 5,000 hungry people was remarkable in many ways, but there’s one I didn’t really put together until I was reading from Mark 14 this morning. Here’s a part of that chapter, verses 6-14: 

“On Herod’s birthday the daughter of Herodias danced for the guests and pleased Herod so much that he promised with an oath to give her whatever she asked. Prompted by her mother, she said, ‘Give me here on a platter the head of John the Baptist.’ The king was distressed, but because of his oaths and his dinner guests, he ordered that her request be granted and had John beheaded in the prison. His head was brought in on a platter and given to the girl, who carried it to her mother. John’s disciples came and took his body and buried it. Then they went and told Jesus.

“When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.” He went on to feed them as well.

I don’t think I realized before that Jesus was in a remote place where there was no food because he was trying to be alone to deal with his grief. Cousin John, his fiery and faithful fore-runner, unjustly imprisoned, had now been murdered. On a whim, because a teenaged girl asked for it.

Even so, when disturbed by this large crowd, he didn’t lash out or turn them away. He had compassion.

It makes me feel small to consider all the times I wouldn’t help other people because I felt needy myself. All those times I had a hard day, or worked a long week, or had significant problems of my own; all the times these were my excuses for not pitching in. 

Jesus’ example was different. As far as I can recall, Jesus never turned away anyone who needed him. Jesus truly gave all of himself, every single day and right up to a torturous death, for people. Ordinary people who were sick or tired or hungry or grief-stricken or lonely. 

There are a lot of people like that, and almost daily I get a chance to befriend one of them. Equipped by God’s grace and motivated by Jesus’ example, I hope to be more available in the future.

standing for Jesus

Being a man of faith in business is tricky. For one thing, if I offend another employee with my faith, then that person can make a case that I create a hostile work environment by judging his or her lifestyle. I’ve been warned that even the simple fact of having a Bible and a religious plaque in my office could be challenged, and if they ever were I’d be asked to remove them. Most of the managers and all of the owners at my company are Christians, but the law tends to be applied in sympathy with plaintiffs in cases like these.

That’s one problem. Another is that we depend on good relationships with a lot of different people. We can’t afford to alienate customers, obviously. And vendors, the people we buy from, have a lot of influence over our success. Sometimes these people are simply profane in their language and choices. Sometimes, assuming all rational people must agree, they openly mock Christianity. In those cases keeping my mouth shut is seen as a better choice than speaking up.

What this amounts to in my mind is going along to get along, and I don’t like it. One of the reasons I don’t is what Jesus said in Matthew 10:32-33: “‘Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before others, I will disown before my Father in heaven.’”

What’s the balance between acknowledging Jesus and not getting my company in trouble with a hostile work environment complaint? When I let customers and vendors assume I agree with their disparagement of Jesus and his followers, how is that different than disowning him?

I don’t know, and I’m sure that too often I make the wrong choice. There are a lot of mines in this minefield, and I’m always conscious that my words and actions have consequences for my employers.

But here’s what else I know: I’ve had the chance to help a lot of people at work because I refuse to be a stealth Christian. That Bible and plaque are still in my office, and I pray over my meals. I talk about church when we discuss our weekends. And I’m free to tell people, when they ask why I act different than other managers, who I’m really trying to please and how he values people.

You know what happens when you do those things? People who don’t know what to do about their messed-up lives, or how to handle the consequences of their bad choices, see you as someone who might help. They seem to recognize that God has answers for life’s hardest questions. And some of them come to ask. 

I never looked at work as a mission field and I don’t now. But over the years I’ve helped marriages hold together, walked a man through the death of a child, and encouraged a number of addicted people as they fought substance abuse. One time, I even helped bring an non-believer to Jesus (I think - you can’t ever know for sure but the right signs were there) as he was dying of cancer, and he asked me to preach at his funeral.

Those things happened because in my own way I’m trying to visibly stand for Jesus - not that I’m so effective, but Jesus will always use men and women who make themselves available. It might get me in trouble some day, but at least I don’t think Jesus will disown me when the time comes.

unemployment

So here’s a point of open honesty: I don’t react well to people in large groups. Busy traffic isn’t my best place, and neither are crowds at concerts or sporting events. To me, all the most negative behaviors of people are magnified in crowds. I see a bunch of people I just plain wish I wasn’t with.

I realize that isn’t good. I wish I was more like my wife; Dawn truly values people, and she enjoys the energy and excitement of a well-attended event. She, I think, is a lot more Christlike in regard to people than I am.

One of the reasons I say that is what I read in Matthew 9:35-38: 

“Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.”

For Jesus, crowds roused compassion. He looked at them not as unruly or ill-mannered or rude; he saw that they were harassed and helpless. He wanted better for them; he wanted to help.

And then, convicting me, he makes his statement about workers. One of the problems I have right now is that I can hire good workers. Unemployment is low, and there are a certain number of people who don’t want to be employed. When I talk to healthy, capable people who choose not to work, I get frustrated because there are a lot of good things I can’t do because I can’t hire workers.

How often, though, do I choose unemployment over working for Jesus? How often does kingdom work go undone because people like me don’t want the job?

Maybe if I could value people like Dawn does, and see them like Jesus does, I’d be more willing to dig in and work on the harvest.