My Final Journal Entry

An ancient fable relates the tale of a group of blind men upon their first encounter with an elephant. Having heard of an elephant before but not knowing anything about them, these men are given the opportunity to feel the creature in order to know what it is. In this story (which has been told by countless people groups on multiple continents for over a thousand years) a string of 3 to 6 blind men each approach the elephant one at a time, grabbing different parts of the animal.

One, having felt the side of the animal, claims with certainty that an elephant is some form of wall. Another adamantly disagrees with him claiming the elephant is some kind of tree, having wrapped his arms around the animal's leg. A third chimes in stating that it must be some form of farming equipment, like a plow. He, of course, had felt the tusk. Yet another still claims they are all fools stating this is nothing more than a kind of snake, all the while wrestling with the elephants trunk.

It is not just a book

This post comes with an assignment. Before you go any further, you need to read Acts 5:12- 42. This post will make a lot more sense if you do. 


The word of God is powerful.

As a matter of fact, the best words I can use to describe it are the ones it uses to describe itself. Hebrews informs us that, “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12)

This is no mere book. A well-written book can inspire people to great (or awful) things. Books have inspired conquest and war. Manifestos have started political movements that took the world by storm. They have changed public opinion and directed the course of societies. But at most, a book can enlighten or inform. It can convince or persuade. However, even the most impressive book cannot know its reader’s thoughts.

The right place at the wrong time

Have you ever noticed how much literary real estate is given to David in the Old Testament? Chapter after chapter sing the praises of this man. He is the obvious main character of both Samuels. His family details are splayed out all over the place like some kind of Semitic soap opera.

For the last couple of weeks, I have been reading through the section of the Old Testament that tells David’s story. In the beginning, it seemed like he could do no wrong. He starts off as a little kid destined to do big things. He kills a lion, and then he kills a giant. He fights battles for the king, and he cannot lose. “Saul has struck down his thousands, and David his ten thousands,” sang the people.

Saul gets jealous and chases David all over the countryside, but he cannot kill him. Saul dies, and David becomes king. He continues to fight and he continues to win. David beats armies he has no business beating, like Syria. He was unstoppable. And after all this, God tells David he will establish a dynasty that will reign for eternity. Through his lineage would come the king of all kings, whose rule would never end. Talk about a pretty sweet life.

But then I got to today’s passage.

On storytelling

“There once was a man named Jacob…”

Those were the first words out of his mouth. Abe, a local pastor from the capital city, had come down to help with a volunteer team, and now, he was telling a story to a crowd of children.

Abe and I had driven up to make plans for a baptism that would be happening later that week. The tiny hut where this small group of believers meets is no more than 20 feet in diameter. The walls are open all the way around and it has a grass roof. There are no chairs or benches in this little meeting place, because the believers hold their studies and prayer on mats on the floor.

Children had slowly trickled in until the crowd spilled out and surrounded the hut. A crowd of kids sat inside, while an even larger group stood around the rim, their little heads bobbing over the walls trying to see and hear all that was happening. Eventually an adult spectator chided the children for crowding in and getting in the way. What happened next was priceless.

Cow training - Part 2

If you are perhaps thinking, “Wait, didn’t he give us the Aha moment from the cow training thing like two days ago?” then you feel the same way I did.

This lesson was a double whammy. Right when I thought this little visual demonstration had provided the extent of its enlightenment, I was blindsided with one more unexpected sucker punch of awesomeness.

This is how it went down:

Cow training - Part 1

I like Aha moments.

Aha moments are those little points in time when the proverbial light bulb goes off and some previously known factoid gains new, deeper meaning. What first existed merely as meaningless trivia sprouts and grows into a three dimensional reality. Needless to say, my two years in Africa have presented me with more than a couple of Aha moments. * Life is lived in such a way here that many points of contact still exist with the biblical culture.

I had one such incident this week.

The message of the cross - Part 2

Before you even attempt to read this post, I would suggest you read Part 1. 

Desensitized.

It is a word that gets tossed around a lot in western culture now. We talk about being desensitized to violence or sex in movies. We talk about how children in our society see so much filth they do not really grasp that what they see on television is, in fact, fake. In a country where it was once wrong for Lucy and Ricky to be in the same bed on television, it has now become the norm to hear about sex scandals from members of the Mickey Mouse Club (with plenty of internet pictures and video to accompany). Even video games can acquire a “mature” rating. Skin is everywhere and most of us have seen so many people get shot on television we could fill a stadium with the “dead bodies.” 

Is it true? Can people see or hear something so much that it loses its significance?

I found the answer to that question last week.

The message of the cross - Part 1

We were running late, and I was mad.

However, the object of my frustration was none other than myself. We had a couple of errands to run before we left for the village, and I had, yet again, grossly underestimated the amount of time it takes to get even little tasks done in Africa. So, I found myself wanting to swear as I tied pieces of lumber to the top of our truck.

Confessions of a 29-year-old

Keep in mind, I am an only child.

As a child, my birthdays were a big deal. I can remember lamenting the fact that birthdays only came once a year. It and Christmas were the two events that marked my year. My parents (being of the over-generous, prone to spoiling stock) had me thoroughly convinced I was, in fact, the center of the universe. Life revolved around me, and it was these two events that proved such.

On endurance

The New Testament writers would have been college football fans. Now, I cannot be certain of this, but I believe my theory holds water. Take into account their writing. Letter after letter is filled with references to teamwork, athleticism, and putting on your armor for battle. It just makes sense. Imagine, Peter and Paul arguing about the BCS over a bowl a cheese dip.

Off Topic: Spiritual Surfing

Why is church camp always at the beach?

When I was a kid, every time I would head off to some church camp for the summer, I was stuck off in the middle of the woods. It was usually some camp with a goofy, fake Indian name like Camp Wannahockaloogi, or something to that effect. An hour or more from civilization, we were forced to sleep in little wooden cabins, barrack style, and swat mosquitos all night. The closest we would get to a “beachfront” was that roped off area of the lake that was less green than the rest of it. Instead of going home with a tan, all we had to show for the week was a series of welts from the nightly towel fights. I usually lost those fights.

But nowadays, it seems more and more church camps are at the beach. Instead of packing insect repellent and hiking boots, kids throw their sunscreen and swimming trunks in a suitcase and head off for “Christians Ablaze,” “Spiritual Explosion,” or one of those other Christian events with a pyro-maniacal name. The church charter bus fills up with excited kids ready for a week or two of sun and sand. When it reaches its destination, it is usually some beachfront hotel where the kids will hear flashy speakers and great bands.

When this shift from the wilderness to the shore occurred, I was initially puzzled. Why would we move students from isolation to the middle of vacation central? Why would we take students away from blue jeans and briar thickets and move them to bikinis and beach volleyball? We decided to take our spiritual retreats to the same place MTV holds it spring break specials. What gives?

But then it hit me. 

Would Jesus wear Chacos?

If you ask any number of youth ministers, trying to prove to their kids that you can still be cool and live a Godly life, the answer would be, “Of course he would, along with his North Face jacket and one of those cool KAVU visors.” However, Joel Olsteen would probably disagree and say that Jesus would definitely be sporting a snazzy hair cut and a million dollar smile.

Learning to learn

Have you ever noticed the similarities between a lower case “r” and “s”? Or for that matter, have you considered the fact that an “h” is really just an “n” with a tall back?

Yeah, neither had I, until a couple of weeks ago.

Down the rabbit hole

Do you ever have those moments where, like a line of dominoes, a series of completely unrelated events cascade into a continually shaping idea? (I would call it an epiphany, but that would be just a bit pretentious I suppose.) One strange thought leads to another, and then, a lightbulb goes off and you see the world through different eyes.

Well, I had one of those moments yesterday. But let me start at the beginning:

Gifts that differ: What will you be today?

A couple of months ago, I received an email from a writer who prepares missions curriculum for youth. Our organization's leadership put him in contact with me, and he wanted me to answer some interview questions. Oddly enough, none of them were about our work here or anything of that nature. Instead, they were general questions about discipleship. Today, I was reminded of one of these questions.

Nestled in the middle of his list was this request, “Please share a few sentences about spiritual gifts.”

While, I do not remember my exact response, I am certain it was some string of vague phrases that attempted to make me sound like I knew what I was talking about yet never got to the root of the request. At least, that is how I feel about my answer today. Let me tell you why. As I write this, my hands are covered in paint – black, oil based paint. I have scrubbed, but it simply will not come off.

For the last 10 hours or so, I have been painting a sign. Tomorrow is the grand opening of the little library our mission runs for the area students, and it needed a sign. Outside of being voted “Most Artistic” in the sixth grade by my classmates, I really have no artistic training. But I did have two hands, and they were available.

When I signed up for this missionary assignment, I was told I would be a rural evangelist. In my mind, I was to be a church planter, and I had been uniquely gifted by God for the people here. God had equipped me with just the right spiritual gifts to do his work here. My mind conjured up images of hacking through the jungle with a machete and finding people with bones through their nose who were waiting for some spiritual messenger. Let me be the first to tell you, the noses here have no bones through them, and the only thing I hack with a machete is the occasional rice or eggplant field.

It is funny how easily we can misconstrue God's calling and giftedness. Oh how easy it is to romanticize or over-spiritualize the work of God's kingdom. However, we do come by it honest. Some of the earliest Christians struggled with the same issues. Take the believers at Corinth for instance. Paul addresses this very issue when he corrects their understanding of the gifts of the spirit in chapter 12 of his first letter.

Paul is quick to remind them of their dependence upon one another. No single body part can exist apart from its others. That is a truth that can sting in both directions. If you are too proud of your own giftedness, you need understand that it is nothing without the support of others. And if you struggle with feeling needed because you never seem to be the one on stage with a Bible or guitar in hand, then you are probably sitting on gifts that will strengthen everyone around you.

But Paul does not stop there. He says he desires to show them a more excellent way,

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. (I Corinthians 13:1-3) 

Today, elbow deep in oil based paint, I realized something about spiritual gifts. Here in Africa, I have discovered first hand, that these gifts are not all spiritual words, flashy worship and proper exposition. No, they are far simpler, and far more important. I have had my ability to communicate cut in half. I am handicapped in something that used to come so easily. I can not reach down and share a verse from my English Bible here. It does me no good to come up with anecdotes and illustrations.

Ironically, enough, God has seemingly taken from me the very things I counted as my spiritual gifts, and replaced them. The new ones, are just that, new and unfamiliar. Its like learning to walk again.

Yet, I can cling to Paul's words and realize there is a more excellent way. As I learn to walk again, I can do it in love. Today I am a painter. Yesterday, I was a real estate agent. Tomorrow, I will be an English teacher. While none of these crossed my mind when I first thought of rural evangelism, I thank God that his plan is better than my own. And I thank God, that he can take my two hands, and use them as he sees fit. It has been a joy.

My gifts are not for me. They have been given to me, so that I can share them with others.

Time flies...

October 16, 2009
The sun was setting as I looked out the window to my left. Far below me the terrain spread out in all directions. As we made our final descent, I stared out the window at my new home. The golden reflection of the water gave way to green rice fields. The horizon was guarded by ominous mountains that sprang up from the terrain. Sheer rock faces glared back at me in the sunlight, crowned with lush tropical forest on their tops. It was beautiful, but it was foreign.

The hot air hit me in the face as I rounded the corner for the door. My last breath of American air was crisp and cool, a Tennessee Autumn, but this air was heavy and filled my lungs. The darkness closed in around me as I stepped off the airplane.

Despite the large size of my plane, there were almost no passengers headed to my final destination, maybe 20 or 30 at most. The plane was empty. As we unloaded, the tiny crowd made its way across the tarmac and headed to the building they were calling an airport. I followed.

At first, I thought the airport was the only thing in the area, wondering if we were outside the city. As I left for the parking lot with my baggage, I realized we were in the very middle of the city. A capital city of three million people, and there were no lights anywhere. There was no electricity. It is a luxury that only comes to this city a few hours each day.

Overwhelmed, I found myself in a place too foreign for words.

October 16, 2010
The sunlight peeked through my curtains this morning and beckoned my eyes to open. I rolled out of bed knowing I had a long day in front of me. I started my morning off with a cup of coffee and headed to the Lᴐnni Banxi, or “house of knowledge.” That is the name of the little library our mission runs in my sleepy little town. I met with the young man who runs the library, and we talked shop.

School is back in session as of last week and we have many things we must get in order for the opening of the center. As we sat discussing our plans for the students and our center, the schedule began to fill up. Of course, we must have a grand opening for the new school year. Not to mention, we are making plans for two new English courses we will offer to the area students. Our Bible studies will be starting up soon and we have decided to add a monthly fellowship for any Christian students in the city. Finally, we decided a church fellowship centered around a movie, which will have to be shown with a generator and projector, would be a good event to close out the week.

Apart from the center, we made plans for our village evangelism efforts. We are focusing on three villages currently with plans to extend to more. Our local church members are leading discipleship studies in these places with the hopes of planting churches. People are interested, and exciting things are starting to happen.

I finished out this trip with a stop by the carpenter who has been working on some remodeling for our center and discussed some new plans with him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Confused and not completely sure why I had come, save the calling of God, I stepped off an airplane a year ago today. I had signed up to stay in the this strange place for two years. My mind was telling me it would be an eternity, and the surroundings began to confirm that fear.

But a lot can happen in a year.

Having my parents visit reminded me of my first weeks in country. My mother's looks of astonishment at the crowds and poverty, my dad's repulsion to the mountains of trash lining the sides of the streets waiting to be burned, these things reminded me of my own reaction of disbelief.

I am not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, foreign became familiar. The strange sights, smells, and sounds, no longer grabbed my attention. I stopped noticing all the potholes and started seeing the people.

This past year has been hard at times, but more than that, it has been a gift. God has given me friends I would have never known and lessons I would have never learned, had it not been for his guiding me to this little corner of the globe. I have seen the difference between a “want” and a “need.” I have discovered the value of independence and seen the result of its absence. I have praised God for blessings I previously overlooked, such as a Bible written in my language. And through it all, God has made one thing abundantly clear. No matter how different we are, it is Adam's blood that runs through our veins. Our differences can never outweigh our similarities. We all share a common beginning, and a common end. And we all need a savior.



They really are a beautiful people.

Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees...

In my neck of the woods, people have recently finished celebrating the biggest holiday of the year, Ramadan. The entire area is transformed by the observance of this holiday. Market hours change, work times shift, and at the end, people are all dressed up for big parties and feasts. Think of it like Christmas in the States, except with rice and sauce instead of a turkey and dressing.

For Islam, Ramadan is the holiest month. It is said Muhammad received the first words of the Qur'an during this month and it is a time of spiritual reflection. The entire month, Muslims spend their daylight hours in fast, breaking it each evening as night falls. This action is supposed to be spiritually purifying as the act of self-denial releases one from the material and allows them to focus on Allah. The aim appears to be renewed piety and zeal for the faith.

In reality, my observations of the event have left me a little jaded. During the day, people mope around with long faces, spitting periodically so that anyone in eyesight knows they are not even swallowing their saliva. Furthermore, the attitude towards those who do not participate is obviously condescending. While it is possible to see the truly devout using this time for reflection, it appears many are more concerned with making a spectacle out of their piety. Needless to say, this has had me thinking.

In one of his discourses, Jesus addresses his disciples about this exact issue. Jesus begins with the following words:

Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses' seat, so practice and observe whatever they tell you—but not what they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by others. For they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long, and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces and being called rabbi by others. But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brothers. And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven. Neither be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Christ. The greatest among you shall be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.        (Matthew 23:1-12) 

Jesus uses the actions of the Pharisees as a classic example of what not to do. He points out the sharp contrast between their actions and the true condition of their heart, and in the verses following this passage, he gives very specific examples of their hypocrisy. Read the chapter; his words are pretty heavy.

But be careful how you view this passage. It would be easy to hear these words of indictment and direct them towards anyone but yourself. Indeed, it was that initial reaction that reminded me of this passage during Ramadan. The natural tendency is to point the finger and pick out the sins of our neighbors. Yet, Jesus is really doing something different here. He is not shaming the actions of some foreign religion, but providing a warning for his own people. He is pointing the finger inward.

“Practice and observe whatever they tell you—but not what they do,” is the admonition Jesus leaves his disciples and the crowds of listeners. Remember, all of the people in the crowd were Jews, and Jesus is talking about the religious leadership of the day. He is discussing flaws in their own religion not the religion of others, a lesson we could learn from today.

In the midst of this special month, my temptation has been to criticize the actions of those around me. Instead, this passage has reminded me to check my own hypocrisy at the door. How often do I tie up heavy burdens and lay them on people's shoulders? How often do I do my deeds to be seen by others? How often am I looking for a pat on the back, instead of humbling myself to be the servant?

Jesus tells his followers to get their house in order. He tells them to clean the inside of their cup first, so that the outside may be clean also. (Matthew 23:25-26) Why do we spin our wheels and waste our time pointing out how wrong everyone else is, when the commands of scripture are directed towards those who abide by its words? We must expect those who are not believers to act like unbelievers. Why be shocked by their actions? Why spend effort criticizing the way they live, when the Bible is quite clear that it is normal for lost people to act like lost people. (Romans 1)

Instead, let us critique our own actions. Let us make sure we are living authentic lives. Let us make sure the inside of our cups are clean. Then, instead of fussing about how wrong their religion is, we might actually be able to share ours.

The art of disliking

If books series like Harry Potter or Twilight have revealed anything, I believe it is the existence of the author crush. We all have that friend who has fallen so madly in love with the writings of a particular author that, no matter how the ink spills out of said author's pen, they will lap it up and enjoy it. You know who I am talking about, it is the same friend that usually inserts the phrase, “oh, like when Voldemort...” into your conversations. Or that person who talks like they are “bff” with that shirtless, vampire guy from Twilight. They are the ones who already have their Halloween costume picked out by the end of spring, and may actually wear it around the house when no one is looking.

I pick on people with a crush on J.K. Rowling, knowing very well that I have an author crush myself. It all started the year I graduated from college, the first time. I was never a very big reader growing up, choosing instead to spend my time finding ways to get dirty or grounded. Ironically enough, very shortly after I was no longer required to read, I picked up what I would consider my very first pleasure read. It was love at first sight. The book was a children's book, called The Magician's Nephew. It was the first of the famous Narnia series by C.S. Lewis.

In the Narnia books, Lewis creates a playground for the mind. Better still, he takes hold of the imagination and uses it to teach profound lessons about humanity and the nature of God. (If you want a great example, read this recent post on the topic by a friend of mine.)

Needless to say, my love affair with his writing started there, and it has grown into much more than an infatuation. Not only was Lewis an excellent wordsmith, he possessed an acute perception of the human condition. It was standard issue for Lewis to take some simple aspect of life, one the rest of us merely take as fact, and point out a reality that is quite contrary.

I received one such smack in the face during my most recent Lewis read.

Not too long ago, I discovered one of my colleagues in country was the possessor of Lewis's rarely spoken of Space Trilogy. I immediately asked to borrow it, and upon finishing the series, my view of life was challenged.

Let me share.

The following quote is a passage from the final book in the series, That Hideous Strength:

     “Don't you like a rather foggy day in a wood in autumn? You'll find we shall be perfectly warm sitting in the car.” 

     Jane said she'd never heard of anyone liking fogs before but she didn't mind trying. All three got in. 

     “That's why Camilla and I got married,” said Denniston as they drove off. “We both like Weather. Not this or that kind of weather, but just Weather. It's a useful taste if one lives in England.” 

     “How ever did you learn to do that, Mr Denniston?” said Jane. “I don't think I should ever learn to like rain or snow.” 

     “It's the other way round,” said Denniston. “Everyone begins as a child liking Weather. You learn the art of disliking it as you grow up. Haven't you ever noticed it on a snowy day? The grown-ups are all going about with long faces, but look at the children – and the dogs? They know what snow's made for.” 

     “I'm sure I hated wet days as a child,” said Jane. 

     “That's because the grown-ups kept you in,” said Camilla. “Any child loves rain if it's allowed to go out and paddle about in it.” 

~ C.S. Lewis, in That Hideous Strength (emphasis added) 

When I was a little kid, I can remember liking school. Honestly, I liked everything about it. My friends were all there and I got to see them everyday, but what was really exciting about it was the classroom. I know that sounds crazy, but I liked learning. As a kid, the world was this new strange place and it was fascinating. Things that are now so commonplace as to not stir up any emotion were once new and exciting. My earliest memories of school are filled with the joy of new discovery.

But somewhere along the way that all changed. I distinctly remember not liking school by the fifth grade. I remember talking about summer as though it was this long-off paradise. I do not know why; I have already posted about what my summers were like. This was the phase where it became cool to make fun of my teachers and talk about how stupid our homework was.

What happened? How did my mind change so much? School had not changed in those four or five years. I had.

In reality, I had learned what Lewis called “the art of disliking.” Something had become more important to me than new discovery. It was acceptance. It was fitting in with all the people around me who had made me think I was “supposed” to not like being there. They were wrong, and I was wrong to listen. I took a gift from God, namely joy in his creation and the uniqueness of it, and threw it away for a shot at being like everyone else. I will never know the full extent of what has been robbed from me by this decision. The extra things I would have learned and the joy that would have come are lost forever.

Lewis is right, and I am willing to bet most of us are guilty of the art of disliking. Since running across this little passage, I have found myself going back through and evaluating the things I dislike. Some things I truly dislike, most of them ungodly in nature such as sin, sickness, hurt, and pain. But there are many more that I have taught myself not to like. By this, I am reminded of God's Word.

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul asserts that he is not writing out of need for anything. He tells them instead that he has learned to be content in all situations (Phil 4:10-13). By the way, he wrote those words sitting in a jail cell. 

Have you gotten good at the art of disliking? What have you learned to dislike?

Comment below...

Causing ripples

Ephesus was kind of a big deal. Think of it as the “New York” of ancient Asia Minor. With a population of 400,000 people during the first century AD, it was the second largest city in the world after Rome. It was the political and economic center, not to mention the major port, for all of Roman Asia. The city was home to the second largest library on its side of the Mediterranean (after Pergamum), the largest theater anywhere in Asia Minor (holding upwards of 44,000 spectators), and one of the seven wonders of the ancient world (the great temple to Artemis). Needless to say, when the emperor came to visit the area, Ephesus is where he parked his boat.

In Christian history, Ephesus racks up quite a scorecard as well. It boasted Paul's longest stay in any one place during his missionary journeys, 1 Corinthians was written from Ephesus, and one of Paul's other letters was written to Ephesus. Church tradition tells us that John moved to Ephesus and may have penned his gospel while living there. Certainly the letter of Revelation was written by him to Ephesus and the surrounding cities.

Today, Ephesus would remind you more of Disneyland than New York. For starters, when we arrived, we had to wait in line for our ticket. (Not a good start.) But while I was there, an interesting thing happened. As the mobs filed in through the turnstiles, the ancient city began to fill up with people. Crowds walked the old city streets and wandered through the agora where sellers would have had their shops. The Celsus Library was bustling with people and each temple seemed to have a crowd of gawkers. I saw a city animated.

Unlike the ruins of other cities we visited, I saw Ephesus more as it would have looked. Crowded streets and busy buildings. The whole town came to life, and it was a busy place. Imagine what it would have been in its golden age, 400,000 men, women and children squeezing through the streets and meandering through some of the most fantastic structures of their day.

This is the world Paul came to visit in Acts 19.

He stayed for around three years reaching out to all the cities in the area, with Ephesus as his base. Christianity took hold in Ephesus, and it grew some serious roots. Despite its claim to fame as the very throne of Artemis and its huge industry in witchcraft and pagan goods, this city began to feel the impact of Christian witness from its community of believers. On one instance believers confessed their former witchcraft and brought all of their old resources together to publicly burn them in the sight of everyone, so that all would know they no longer practiced this kind of lifestyle. This was no small group either. According to Acts, so many books were burned the result was a multi-million dollar pile of ashes.

The story gets better.

Apparently, this new Christian witness was having such an impact in its first couple years that it began making a dent in the economy of Ephesus. Imagine that, this band of believers was actually shutting down the idolatry industry in the second largest city in the known world. After what appears to have been a chamber of commerce meeting, a demonstration broke out against the Christians that can only be labeled as a riot. Scores of people poured into the massive theater and chanted for hours for their patron goddess and against the Christian movement. The city stood still, all because the Christian influence was strong enough to sucker punch their sinful livelihood.

Little wads of tourists shuffled in and out of the massive theater while I sat there pondering the events that took place there 2000 years ago. Standing on the middle of that stage, looking up at the endless rows of seats, I could not help wondering about the range of emotions experienced by the Christians who were the target of that riot. I also could not help but be a little jealous. Not of the snarling multitude who wanted them dead mind you, but of the impact they had on their city. In less than three years, they had changed everything. The rules were different in Ephesus, and they had worked paganism into a rioting frenzy because of their presence.

I think my temptation is to say that it was a different time in history. It is easy to think of this as some special exception because it happened in “bible times.” God does not work that way anymore right? Now the work is slow, gradual, and nominal.

However, there is another approach. What if we, like the believers in Ephesus, brought all of our sin, our past habits, our evil out of the closet and burned it before the world? What if we gave a real sign that we were different and were not going back? What if we released our secret grip on money, materialism, sex, alcohol, drugs, pornography, and the countless idols we hold on to?

Could we change our city?

Piles of rocks

I am on vacation. Some friends of mine and I got this ridiculous idea a year ago to galavant across Turkey (ancient Asia Minor) and see as much of the New Testament as possible. Last week, this idea became a reality.

In the last 10 days, I have walked the streets of Ephesus and climbed the acropolis of Pergamum. I have wandered through Lycian tombs and sat in giant Roman amphitheaters. I have walked as close in Paul's footsteps as is humanly possible today.

I am still not sure what my purpose in doing all of this was in the beginning. Did I feel it would somehow make me more spiritual? Perhaps I thought it would be some form of pilgrimage that would connect me with our ancient fathers of the faith, even though we evangelicals do not really do that sort of stuff. Maybe it was because I am a nerd, and these are the nerdy things I do for kicks and giggles. Whatever my original purpose may have been, it is now lost to me.

There is no way to describe this journey. I have a bunch of pictures to prove I was here, but they will no more recreate the experience than staring at an advertisement for a steak will fill you up. Nevertheless, I felt the need to share my thoughts from one particular endeavor this past week.

Laodicea was a big city in its day. It was a major center of trade in textiles during its height and was a rich city. A great hill overlooked the surrounding valleys capped with temples, baths, civic buildings, and a grand agora full of shops. This city had two separate amphitheaters, one facing east and one facing west, so that events could be held in the morning and the evening. The city centered on a grand pillared avenue that ran straight through the heart of the buildings. Two rows of columns rose on both sides of the street.

If you are not familiar with Laodicea, it is the final of seven churches addressed in the Apocalypse of John. The book of Revelation was most likely penned toward the end of the first century AD, when this particular town was at its greatest chapter in history. Indeed, Jesus himself had John write down his advice to the community of believers that lived in this city.

This is what Jesus had to say to the church at Laodicea,

I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth. For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see. Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent. Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me. The one who conquers, I will grant him to sit with me on my throne, as I also conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne. He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.

Today, Laodicea exists not as a great center of culture and enterprise but as a field in the middle of nowhere. All of its glory has been reduced to piles of rocks, crumbled and sticking out of the ground. The great buildings and amphitheaters that showcased their wealth and importance have long since sank into the dirt. Instead of inspiring awe for the works of its inhabitants, it exists as a skeleton of a former achievement. All that is left are the bones of a once great society.

I have no idea if the people to whom Jesus' words were addressed heeded his warning. We must keep in mind that the recipients were the believers in the city and not the city itself. Jesus was not passing some condemnation on to that city; however, he was providing those who called themselves Christians a poignant word of caution.

Like lukewarm water, neither refreshing or relaxing, they had become useless. Furthermore, they had become self-reliant. Jesus accuses them of thinking they were rich. Whether this was a reference to actual monetary wealth or some form of self aggrandizement or false piety, they had decided they were well off.

And, as anyone who buys into this lie would do, their trust turned inward. If they were rich in money or morals, why did they need Christ? Self-reliance always replaces dependence.

But Jesus knows their works. They think they are clothed in royal robes, yet they are poor and naked. They think they see clearly, but they are blinded to reality. They swallowed a lie and looked pathetic in the sight of God. And despite all of this, Christ shows mercy by providing them a way out of the despicable sin of pride. Buy my gold, which is the purest of all; and buy my clothes, which are the whitest of all; and buy my salve, so that you will see as I see. These were the words of Christ.

Sitting in the remains of the Laodicean amphitheater, reading these words, God reminded me they were not just words to a group of believers in the first century. They were written to me as well.

Whatever riches the church at Laodicea had used to replace their dependence on God, they are gone now. It was a kingdom made of stone, and no kingdom made of stone is eternal. May we not fall into the same trap.

What are we trusting in? In 2000 years, will it still be there? If not, Christ stands at the door knocking for all who will let him in, and he brings with him victory.