When Good Doesn't Feel Good

Mitchell, Brody, Shannon, and Shelby,

Conventional wisdom: If you do good things for others, you will feel good.  That's why God's Grace is foolproof, because He knows that if He lets us off the hook, we'll get addicted to doing the right thing because we enjoy it and not because we're required to.

Except that doesn't work.  Not always.  Sometimes you do the right thing, and you know that you did the right thing, and it feels awful.  Someone close to you will tell you about how strong you were, but it doesn't make you feel better.

I'm a writer.  Not published yet, but I see the world as a writer does, with all sorts of possibilities with people, their motivations, their decisions, their consequences, and so forth.  I'm the person to ask when you want to think up of a situation where doing the right thing doesn't make you feel better.

Sometimes you have to let go of something, and you'll always feel sad without it.  But it's the right thing.

Sometimes you have to forgive someone for doing something unforgivable, and even though justice won't make you happy, neither will forgiveness.  So you're still unhappy.

Sometimes you have to compromise on something, because it's the only way to lose forward.

Sometimes you have to lay down your life for someone, and you especially won't be thinking to yourself about how good it feels.

Fact is, being selfless is against our nature.  Only Jesus could be selfless, because He was the Son of God, and He was God.  Only a triune deity, existing equally as three persons, could even begin to think outwardly.  Otherwise, every human being identifies as "self," and therefore it would be a paradox for us to be "selfless."  These words are opposites.

Except for when we take on the identity of Christ.  Then we're one in body with our fellow believers, and we're truly connected to others.

Still, being selfless isn't always easy.  We won't always be selfless, because we still have these sinful bodies.  And it will always be tempting for us to turn away from selflessness, because it simply isn't always pleasant.  Jesus Himself pleaded with the Father to lift the burden of His death from Him.  And then He walked off to His trial anyway.

Not because this act of giving made Him feel good. It had reached a point where it didn't matter if He felt good about Himself, or about whether or not He could live with a guilty conscience.  He was under enough temptation that He would have gladly shirked His duty and lived with that conscience.  The pain of crucifixion and then death vs. a lifetime of guilt?  Are you kidding me?  I'm human, and so I have the credentials to admit that I do things because I believe that a lifetime of guilt is a reasonable price to pay to spare me from the pain of selflessness.  I do it more often that I would like.

But Jesus didn't do that.  He walked the whole way, and He didn't do it because He was trying to avoid the guilt.  He did it out of love.

Sometimes I do the right thing when I really don't want to, and so many times I do it because I'm afraid of feeling guilty.  But there are times, mysterious enough as it is, that I think I might forsake my own happiness for a better reason.  Could it be that because God became suffering, that I have become more Christlike?

Sincerely,
John Hooyer

I Dreamed a Dream

Mitchell, Brody, Shannon, and Shelby,

When I was younger, this wasn't the song I cried to.  Then the movie came out, and I still didn't cry.  Then suddenly it hit me, when I saw Fantine appear before Jean Valjean at his deathbed.

Fantine was Jesus.

The Bishop was, too, actually.  A far more likely candidate.  I always honestly thought Colm Wilkinson looked like a silver-haired Jesus.  And since Colm Wilkinson played the original Jean Valjean, and since Jean Valjean was described upon his death as being a saint, that means that Jean Valjean, too, is Jesus.

But the point remains that the most unlikely candidate for God to reach down and say "You are the body of my only begotten Son" is Fantine.

A few months ago, something struck me pretty hard that brought me crawling to this song.  There was a dream I had, a hope that was wholesome and good, and I lost it.  It's gone.  It's over.  It's a done deal that it's never going to happen, that thing that I was really hoping for.  I'm going to die without that thing.  So I listened to this song, and it spoke to me.

And if Fantine is Jesus, how does that change my perspective on things?

The other song that I listened to during my depression was the first half of the Godspell finale.  The part where He says "Oh God, I'm bleeding, I'm dying, I'm dead."  Go ahead and find the song for yourselves.  I'm even providing a link for your.  It's that easy.  Just do it.

Do you hear that?  He's torn apart.  We make His death all PG-13.  We show it to our children.  We hang it up in public.  And because of that, maybe it's lost some of the impact.  What should be a tragedy is the subject of inspirational paintings, portraits of joy, and most grievously is flown around with all the same fanfare as the American flag.  Does that really make any sense?

If we were to actually put ourselves into Jesus' skin, what would it actually feel like?  Think about it.  This is a man dying.  It's not just physically painful, but it has all the dignity of a prostitute losing her life to her profession.  I would compare this to rape.  Who's going to glorify the rape of someone?  Who's going to make that the symbol of their religion and, God forbid, American pride?

Jesus is Fantine.  He's a woman who gave up all of her dignity to save a child.  He's a woman who could have lived a beautiful life, but had that stripped from her.

Does it not occur to us that Jesus might have had dreams?  He was human.  He had to have dreamed.  What must it have been like when He slowly had His life suffocated from Him?  Can't we hear it?  Can't we hear the shock when He cries out that He's bleeding?  He's in the process of losing everything, of vanishing from existence, of no longer being there for His mother, no longer having His friends.  And His friends have abandoned Him, His closest disciple outright denying Him.  Only two of the disciples bothered witnessing His death.  Out of all of the fullness and richness of life that could have been afforded to Him, He died very alone.

And then it hits Him.  He's dying.  He's actually dying.  This is it.  This is the moment.  Everything that He had ever been and done was just about to become someone else's memory.  He could feel it coming upon Him, not as some distant future, but right around the corner.  How do you possibly make peace with that?

He's dead.

And there's silence.

The world closes in around Him, the blackness overtakes Him.  The entire curse of creation clamps down like the lid of a coffin.  He dies a man without anything.  He dies a victim.  He dies without fulfillment.  And all that He did, did any of it ever matter?

Fantine is Jesus, and by God she saved us all.

I listened to these songs because I felt that.  In my bones.  I was trying to find closure, but every time I did it was an act of denial.  The fact is, I might move on, but parts of me are now dead.  I will never have my life as it should have been.  And it really should have been.  It's just that the world is broken, and it's not fair.

We raise our children to believe that everything is going to be all fine, but how we have blinded them to reality.  In the real world, people die unhappy all the time.  On a planet with seven billion people, do we honestly believe that everyone goes to their graves fulfilled?  Can I convince myself to be happy for someone when an entire world full of hopes and dreams died with them when they stopped breathing?  And to think, those dreams might have come true.  When we lower them to the ground and gather around in black suits, does the eulogist talk about those dreams?  No, they talk about how great the person was, how they smiled all the time, how they were fulfilled, and so forth, and it's not true.  The majority of all people live out unfair lives, and they die unfair deaths.

I have one last dream left in me, and I'm crying because I don't know if it will ever come true.  Just a few days ago, someone told me "we would explode the world with creativity!"  That's what I want.  I really have a vision for this, changing the world and history itself using my God-given gifts.  I want to be like Walt Disney.  That's my dream.  That's the kind of difference that I want to make.  But so far I'm still an obscurity, and I've been afraid for so long of how unlikely this dream is that I've suppressed it.  But now I've just been reminded of how badly I want this.

I live for two reasons.  To talk as much about Jesus and Grace as I can, and on account of these things overflow with abundant creativity.

When I die...

I don't want to think about it.

In any case, I've pondered the mystery that I will join the many, many other people who died unfair deaths after living unfair lives.  And before any of you try to tell me to think positive, let me remind you: Anne Frank.  There's no way in Heaven that you're going to tell me that her life was a celebration.  She wanted to be a Hollywood actress, and what she got was the last portion of her short life oppressed and directionless.  When she died, what did her life amount to?  Yes, her journal made a difference for us, but it didn't make a difference for her.  She died a meaningless death.

And I don't want to live and die without meaning.  I actually want to live out the identity that I have for myself.  I want to explode the world with creativity.  I have an imagination, people inside of my head that I want the whole rest of the world to see, and I owe it to them that they shouldn't die with me, that they should never be alone.

And if I find myself dying...I feel as if the entire world is dying with me.

The entire world died with Jesus.

And, of course, all who believe in Him will share in His resurrection.  For that reason, I know, many of us can be happy and hopeful when a loved one dies.  But it doesn't completely wipe away the emptiness I feel inside.

When Dillon died, I hated death.  I still do.  There's nothing that I hate more.  I hate it.  It's my worst enemy, my most personal nemesis.  It's unfair.  It's terrible.  It's unspeakable, and beyond my ability to describe.  I'm still angry with Death, and I want to expose him for who he truly is, for the entire world to see.

I want to see more people realize their most secret of dreams.  I want more people to rob Death of his sting.  He will still take them physically, but maybe fewer people will have to die as Jesus did.

But in the meantime?  Those people who die unfair deaths at the end of unfair lives?  They're Jesus.  Their dreams are like Christ.  Maybe we should give them a little respect.

Sincerely,
John Hooyer

Jane the Baptist

Chapter 1: The Family Reunion

The girl in a blue and white dress ran down the hallway to the kitchen.  The sun seeped through the slots in-between the window blinders, and there were no adults around, no one to see her, so the eight-year-old Julie stood on her tippie toes to turn on the faucet.  She opened the dishwasher and took out a clean glass, and then she filled it to the top.

Still no adults around, she held the cup with both hands and snuck out the kitchen door, into the backyard.  Her three cousins were there, paying a visit.  Mary, Michael, and Joseph.  Julie held up one hand from her cup to hold a finger to her lip, and handed the cup to Mary.  She held it close to her chest and brought her brothers into the garden.

Julie then ran next door to the neighbor's house and knocked the secret password on their back porch door.  There was the sound of light footsteps, and Matt, Mr. and Mrs. Shannon's five-year-old son, opened the door a crack to peek and see if it was her.

"Come on, Matt!  My cousins are here, so we can do it now!"

"Alright.  Where are we going?" said Matt.

"They're waiting in my parent's garden.  My parents are busy looking at pictures with my aunt and uncle, so we won't get caught.  But we have to hurry!"

Matt followed Julie to her cousins, who stood by a row of colorful flowers.  Julie took Matt by both hands looked him straight on.

"I'm ready," he said.

She looked him up and down, wondering if she was forgetting something, but he was right, and he was ready.  Mary handed her the the cup, and they all lined up to face Matt.  Julie took the cup.

"Matt, do you want to do the will of Jesus?"

"I do."

"And everyone here, do you promise to help Matt grow in the ways of Jesus Christ, our Lord?"

"We do," said her cousins.  "God helping us," added Mary.

"Do you accept in one Baptism for the forgiveness of sins?"

"I do."

"Do you confess that Jesus is the only Son of God?"

"I do."

Julie drew a cross in the air with her finger, and then dipped it into the cup.

"Matthew Bennett Shannon, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  You are a new creature in Christ."

She touched sprinkled his head with water, and the other children gathered around to put their hands on him.

~~~~~

Steven Shannon would be home late today.  He didn't mean to be, but by some twist of fate, three people called in sick, and someone had to pick up their work to meet the needs for the day.  It all came straight to his desk, and he filled out twice as much paperwork as he had expected to.

The sun was going down, and he took a slip outside during a coffee break to get some fresh air.  He looked to his left and saw George Keats, a fellow coworker, a ways further down along the building, standing alone in the parking lot.  His suit was in one hand, strung over his shoulder.

"This might be the first time I'll ever leave the building at the same time as you," said Steven.

"This day sure does suck for you, doesn't it?"

"I had to work longer hours when I was young.  Speaking of which, are these new hours of yours wearing on your health?  We haven't talked in a while.  How are the kids?"

"Nope.  My body can handle overworking myself.  Stress isn't getting to me too much.  I've been paying the bills, et cetera, and doing well.  As for the kids, they're great.  They're a bit older and rebellious, but I don't have to hold their hand all the time.  I actually find them more fun this time around than when they were so tiny, because they argue with me, and they always have something coming for them.  Matt is like what, three?  Too young to have opinions.  But Trevor and Lacy, my goodness.  'Dad, I think you should get us a television.  Dad, I'm too young to have to be paying for my own cell phone bill.'"  George rubbed his hands together and grinned like a demon.  "And I'm like, 'Ohhhh, now this is what I've been waiting for.  I had to be a pushover when your self-esteem was so fragile, but now I can show my true colors and throw the book at you!'  It's great.  You have no idea.  I love it."

"Sounds like you," said Steven.

George let his coat slide off his shoulder and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the inside pocket.

"I didn't know that you smoked."

"Well that's because you've never seen me late at night.  I don't do it when most people are here.  All of the questions people have over my health are sickening.  Do a favor, though, and stand on the other side of me.  I can tell that you're downwind right now."

Steven switched spots, and just looked at George.  It had been a while since they had talked, and they used to know each other fairly well as far as coworkers go.  It seemed like all possible conversations had been tread already, and there was nothing new to talk about, except that even now George remained something of a mystery.  Outspoken, confident, opinionated.  There was always something more to find out, but he still felt like he hardly knew him.

George sucked in another lungful of fumes and breathed out.  The smoke swirled.

"I'm assuming that you plan on quitting sometime," said Steven.

"Yeah, of course I do."

"Have you ever noticed that there are different types of smokers?"

"I know what you're talking about.  There's the scum, then the trash, then the factory workers who are better than both but still smoke anyway.  Somewhere in the middle there are the James Deans, the well-intentioned but stressed-out single mothers who didn't have the proper parental guidance and maybe saw one too many rated R films, and the optimistic high schoolers who think that they're invincible.  Then there are the philosophers, the aristocrats, and businessmen like me.  High society types, and I'm not smoking like a high society type."

"I'm trying to figure out what type of smoker you are."

"Oh, that's easy," said George.  He faced Steven, leaning against the wall, and before he continued, he turned his head around and blew out in the opposite direction.  "Actually, it's hard, because I decided that it would be hard to explain when I first started.  You won't figure out.  Active verb.  Well, forget it.  Passive verb: You'll find out, because I'll tell you.  Ha."  He blew in the other direction again.  "But first, you asked me if I planned tot stop.  Like you were assuming the best in me.  What a polite way of addressing a lifestyle choice that you disagree with."

"Yeah, I disagree with it.  But I respect your decision."

"Well the answer is, of course I will stop smoking."

"Do you know when?"

"Yes, whenever I want.  I have a contact who specially makes these cigarettes.  They have all of the poisons with none of the nicotine.  I'm not addicted.  I have to work myself into kissing this blasphemy.  But here's the point," he said, taking the cigarette from his mouth with his right hand and pointing at him, "It's not a fashion choice.  It's not a philosophy.  I want people to think it is, like I'm the kind of guy who smokes because I can do whatever I want because I don't care.  I don't smoke like a philosopher.  I smoke like scum."

"Hm.  Fair enough.  Hey, can I have that pack?"

"Sure," said George.

Steven held up the pack and shook it.  "Mind if I keep this?"

"It wouldn't make a difference, but I get the point.  One was enough to get us talking.  Interesting conversation so far?"

"Yeah, sort of.  Why did you start?  I'm just curious.  I've never hung out around smokers much, and I never related to it.  And you're not scum, so I'm even more confused.  I always wondered why people started if they knew what the consequences were.  There's no benefit, no logical reason, nothing that motivates them, and even if it's peer pressure, it doesn't make sense.  And of course, I never asked, because with most people that might just sound judgmental.  It makes me genuinely curious, though."

"Easy," said George.  "Each time you smoke a cigarette, you shave seven minutes off your life.  It's a socially acceptable form of suicide.  And I hate myself.  Everyone knows that I don't care what others think and that I'm confident.  Well: I confidently hate myself.  You smoke, and you're punishing yourself with the future.  It's an easy way to go.  You get there, and you're a bit older, and when death comes along, the end of life feels like the end of life either way you go, whether it's at age eighty or eighty-seven.  You don't feel those seven minutes that you lost.  And I'm sure that in the future, I'll be a nice guy.  I'll start loving myself again, but I want to punish myself before I can change my mind.  It's the perfect masochism, punishment without pain.  I will feel the hatred I had against myself even when I don't feel that way any more.  I'll be the past and the present, and upon my death, I'll have a holistic picture of myself, because I will simultaneously value and celebrate my life while dying on account of my own hatred of it.  All I ever was, in that one moment."

"Which is kind of scummy."

"Exactly, so you're catching on."

"And also philosophical, so your still something of a high minded smoker."

"Well, I never said I wasn't a hypocrite.  Seriously, though, if you think about it, why do you think people start smoking?  It's because they don't want to give their future selves a chance.  They want to sabotage the good person that they don't think that they're worthy of becoming.  I'm just the one madman who knows what he's doing."

George finished his cigarette.  He slipped his suit back on, and headed toward the entrance.  Steven looked at his clock.  He still had an hour left to go.  It would be dark.  He would have missed dinner.  Matt would be waiting for him.  He would feel emotionally exhausted when he got back, but maybe a little satisfied.  He definitely respected the venerable Mr. Keats for the rogue that he was.  Some people might not have expected it, but the Keats children were remarkably intelligent and stable, and they admired their parents.  His friend George was a remarkable father.

And still, a mystery.  Maybe he wasn't meant to understand.  Steven returned to work with his mind on home, knowing that he would return with a greater appreciation for the father he was, for the son he had, and for just how unique the Shannon life was.

With this on his mind, the remaining work passed in a flash.  He packed up, shut down the offices, and left with another one of his coworkers.  In his peripheral vision, he saw George leaving with Nancy, who worked in the office next to him.  In the distance, he could hear George cooking up the typical Keats dialogue with her.

"Of course, of course, I understand that, but how do you know that that's what you believe?  Have you actually been that sort of parent with your child?  And you ultimately won't know, will you, until they leave the house, and you're going to be filled with doubts for the first few years.  See, my methods are scientific and proven, so my self-confidence isn't an illusion.  You have great ideas, though.  Keep it up.  I accept that society needs guinea pigs like you.  Or rather, your children."

Steven laughed as he got into his car.

~~~~~

When he arrived home, he smelled dinner cooking.

"LaVerne?  Thank you, honey!"

He entered the kitchen and found her reading a book at the table.  Her humble features were so restful, and when she looked up at him, he felt the equivalent of a musical leitmotif, that feeling he always got when he arrived home.  The feeling that said, as redundant as it was, "Home!"

"I figured that since you would be late, I would wait on dinner.  How does it smell?"

"Good.  Hey, is that enough casserole for the three of us?  Matt should be in bed by now."

"I let him have some snacks out of the refrigerator to keep him fed enough, but he still has plenty of room left for dinner, which he should.  It's summer, by George, and he doesn't need to go to bed early every night, and I wanted to make sure that the whole family eats dinner together.  I don't want to make any exceptions."

"Okay, good idea.  Thanks for thinking of that.  Now where is Matt?  Matt!"  He heard footsteps coming down from the second floor.  "How long until the casserole is ready?" he mumbled.

"Two more minutes."

"Okay, plenty of time to set the table."

Matt reached the ground floor and ran straight into his father.  Mr. Shannon bent down and caught Matt in his arms.  "Hey there, my little buddy!  Tell me everything!  How did your day go?  What did I miss out on?"

LaVerne, from her chair, said "Well I was solving puzzles with him for most of the day, but he went out to to play with the Du Mez family.  You had a nice time, didn't you Matt?"

"Lava?  Lava lava lava lava lava.  Don't spoil it all from me.  I want to hear it all from the man himself.  Matt, let's talk."

LaVerne set down her book and opened the oven door.

"I had an awesome time with Julie!  She's so nice and cool, and her cousins were over this time for a family reunion!"

"That's so cool!  How many cousins were there?  Tell me, how many?"

"She had three cousins.  Mary, Michael, and Joseph."

Well then it wasn't really a family reunion, thought Mr. Shannon.  "Was that all?"

"Yes."

"Did you know that their family is even bigger than that?"

"Really?"

"Yes," said Mr. Shannon.  "The Du Mez family is huge!  Julie has over twenty uncles and aunts!  It would be pretty awesome if they all came over, huh?"

In the background, LaVerne began setting the table.

"Wow!  But I still had an awesome time.  I love them so much!  And today's my new birthday, I think!"

"Your new birthday?  Silly, what, did she adopt you?  You know that that girl loves you so much!"

"No, she baptized me!  I'm a Christian now!"

LaVerne stopped in her tracks.  Mr. Shannon missed a beat, then looked in her direction.  She looked at her son, then at her husband.  In a soft voice, she rejoined the conversation.  "Matt, what do you mean by baptized?"

"Julie brought me out and baptized me.  Her cousins were around to be witness."

"That's good, Matt.  That's good," she said.

"Your mother and I are so proud!" said Mr. Shannon.  He matched eyes with her a second time, then looked away.  LaVerne reached out and placed her hand on the Bible at the center of the kitchen table.  "You know, I think that we should celebrate by reading a special Bible verse for this dinner.  Lava, do you have anything in mind?"

LaVerne began rubbing the Bible.  Mr. Shannon couldn't afford to wait, so he had to improvise.  "Just a second, I'll set the rest of the table."

"What sort of baptism was it?" she said.

"Julie sprinkled water on my head, like this," he made the gesture with his hand, with zero coordination.  "And I'm a new person in Christ."

"Do you know what that means?" she said.  Right next to her, Mr. Shannon completed setting the table, and opened the Bible.

"Ah, here.  Honey, what do you think of this?" he said.

Matt had already forgotten his mother's question.  With the table fully set, and his father flipping through the pages of the dinner Bible, his mind immediately became distracted by food.  He pulled up his chair, and began fiddling around.

LaVerne looked over at the verse her husband had selected.  "No, that's not the one.  John, chapter three."  She put on her reading glasses and flipped to those pages and cleared her throat.  "Matthew?  Are you listening?"

"Yes, Mom," he said, and he folded his hands and closed his eyes.

"No, Matthew.  Bible first, then prayer.  Remember?"

"Oh, right."  He put his hands on the plate and tried the best to pay attention.

Mr. Shannon sat down in-between them.  His wife read the chapter.

When she was finished, Mr. Shannon hesitated and looked at his son.  He waited for a moment, then said, "Well, wasn't that special?  An extra long Bible verse today.  So what did you learn about Baptism?"

"John baptized, and whoever is baptized is reborn," said Matt.

"Something like that," said Mrs. Shannon.  She glance over the rims of her glasses to Mr. Shannon.

Honey, why is is that just because I'm the head of the household, I'm the one who has to explain things to teach him tough lessons?  He cleared his throat.  "Well, um...maybe this is a lesson best suited for another day."  LaVerne raised her eyebrows at him.  It was subtle, but he just felt it.  Her prodding him, and him feeling guiltily tugged along.  "Well, you can see that the people being baptized here were adults, and they weren't Baptized until after accepting Jesus for who He was."

"Hey, I did that!" said Matt.

"That's good.  That's good.  Because that's exactly what Baptism is," said Mr. Shannon.  "Say, honey, would you say that there was a particular verse that stood out to you?:

Her was soft again, in that guarded sort of way.  "Well...I liked the part that said "God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.  Whoever believes in Him is not condemned."

"That's good.  Very good.  Good lesson.  Now I'm hungry, and I know that Matt is especially hungry.  How about let's eat?"

They picked up their silverware, and Mr. Shannon engaged in lively talk with his son while Mrs. Shannon remained a silent observer.

~~~~~

Matthew was tucked in bed.  Mr. and Mrs. Shannon were alone in the master bedroom together.

As he took off his suit and tie, he said, "Well, I didn't see that coming."

"Steven, that was a disaster!  How could you have — "

"Done what, exactly?  LaVerne, what was I supposed to do?"

"Tomorrow, you go and talk to James Du Mez and let him know what his girl did."

"You know what?  It doesn't matter.  He's baptized.  It's a bit early.  It's not what we would have liked.  But what's done is done.  He said that he believed that he was saved by Jesus.  it sounds like he just wants to be a Christian like his mom and dad."

"Steven!  You know this matters to me!"

Steven grabbed LaVerne by the face and kissed her with all his might.  They fell sideways onto the bed.  "And you matter to me!  Lava Shannon, you're the most amazing mother ever, and you're so completely right, so I know.  I want to sort this through.  I'm going to sleep on it, and I want you to sleep on it, too.  And I promise you, I will talk this over with all the right people tomorrow."  He kissed her again, and he kissed her again.

"But — "

"I don't want to hear it.  I propose that we both feel too exhausted to argue."

"No, Steven!"

"Oh, alright.  What do you propose?"

"You talk to Matt tomorrow, and tell him about Jesus, and tell him about why he has to really understand salvation."

"You know, I was wondering earlier, why is it always me?"

"Because Matt looks up to you as the mentor.  If he ever remembers any lessons I teach him, it's always the emotional stuff.  But you're a man.  He wants to think logically with you.  He wants to learn logically with you.  That's how boys are."

"So if we had a daughter, it would be you teaching her about Jesus?"

"No, it would still be you," she pointed.

"H-what?"

"The father is the ambassador of absolutes.  It's just nature!"  And then she kissed him.

"LaVerne, even though I care, I know that you care more about this.  Please have something to do with our son's learning.  Please.  I'll still do the part you expect of me, but I want to know how you're going to mother him."

"I don't know.  I don't.  I wasn't expecting this, and...I just don't know.  But please, I'm counting on you to do something for me.  I love you."

Steven closed his eyes.  He was tired.  "Well, since you love me...I'm talking with James tomorrow.  Come here."

They hugged.

"Lava Shannon..."  You're my favorite Lava Shannon.

"I'm lucky to have you."

I'm kind of glad that she leaves this to me, come to think of it.  If this was all left to her, I swear the boy would have been "Baptized by Lava."

They fell asleep with her in his arms.  And Mr. Shannon had surprisingly very happy dreams about his son.

Kumari

Mitchell,

It's good to hear that you're in Nepal.  I don't really have a theological thesis to write up for this particular occasion, so I'm just writing a regular old letter to say I'm glad that we still get to here from you.  Not that I here much, but I believe you liked something I posted on Facebook, so that means that you're either still alive or someone hacked into your account.  Your mother said that you contacted her and told her about how poor Nepal is.

If you can, it would be awesome if you started a journal or a blog or something so that when you got back, you would have a giant list of things you learned while over there.  I'd be interested in hearing some stories.

Mission work is discouraged in Nepal; I believe it was illegal once to come into the country with that goal.  How they could figure out whether or not someone entering was a missionary, I don't know.  Did they ask people up-front?  I'm not sure.  This isn't particularly relevant to your mission in Nepal, since your purpose in being over there is to learn from a doctor in order to improve your resume, and to have an interesting experience to boot.  Although, I wonder that if you're respectful of their customs while also being completely yourself, maybe they'll be just as curious about you as you are in them.

But in any case, I just said it.  You're probably curious to know more about them, and I am, too.  Since Nepal has been in the news, I saw a story come up about something called the Kumari, a child goddess selected at the age of five and then replaced once she hits puberty.  The report was sloppy from a journalistic perspective, and people who know more about Hinduism criticized it for sensationalizing this little aspect of Nepali culture and treating it as more exotic and mysterious and backwards than what it really was.  There were also all sorts of atheists in the comments section who thought that this was preposterous and who went on miniature rants against religion.

While we obviously don't believe that the Kumari is a child goddess, I'm personally fascinated and not overly critical.  No, she's not the way to salvation, and Hindus don't have looks at mankind with a salvific narrative.  But anyway, I wondered, and I thought that Jesus would be fascinated with the people of Nepal and want to know more about them.  Would He preach His own message?  Yes, but I think He would listen first, a lot like He did with the Samaritan woman, and He would be genuinely interested in what they had to say.

So unlike the atheists, I look at these people who have odd ideas and I'm unappalled (I can really make a pun with that word.  Can you see it?), just curious.

Anyway, Wikipedia can only teach me so much, and it's also only information.  I don't think that it's the same as actually hearing an eye-witness description of the Kumari, and perhaps more importantly, to hear someone describe what she actually means to the Hindus in Nepal.  You'd probably be able to explain this to me better than anything on the internet can.

It would also be great to have some of the language explained to me.  Are you picking up anything about the language?  You're obviously not learning to speak it, but I was wondering if you were noticing any patterns or things that made it unique, sort of like how neither of us can speak German or Japanese, but we can recognize it when we hear it, and we know of various stereotypes to associate with each language.  So in that sense, we have a feel.  Do you get much exposure?

Anyway, back here in home sweet home, I suppose a bit has happened, and I would like to keep you up to date.  Bruce Jenner became Caitlyn Jenner and appeared on the cover of Vogue, and a lot of Christians find that offensive and see cultural implications in this.  I've personally taken a "come as you are" approach, and he's also apparently an evangelical Christian, which nobody ever talks about.  The only thing that really bothers me at all about this is that of all the names in the world, he now wants to share the same name as my friend, Vaags (whom I never call "Caitlyn," either).

There's been another cop controversy.  This time, both people are at fault and everyone looks bad, so everyone in America is worse off because of this.

Hillary made a speech and said that "The speech would serve as the interview" before any news outlet could ask her questions.  Bill's okay, keeping cool and not saying anything stupid, and now that there's some distance between his presidency and where we're at right now, I've made peace with him and can say that I genuinely like the guy.  Even so, if Hillary wins the election, I'm getting out of here.  As in, I'm getting my passport and traveling the world, because teetering close to the point where I'm not sure if there's any place in the world anymore where I feel is particularly "mine."  America will be mine forever, I'm sure, but maybe it's my parent's house and I'm meant to move past it.

That's the subject of a deeper personal letter, though, and I think I'll save that for later.  It's a deep thought though, questioning your place in the world.

Christopher Lee died today.  He was ninety-three years old, and one of my favorite actors.  My mother called me today to tell me about it, and I'm now telling you about it because I know the about of respect that you had for The Lord of the Rings.

Jurassic World also premiered this evening, and there were a ton of people there.  Our cousin Nick was there, and also Trevor Pieper.  For all of the adventure you're getting over there, there's one thing you should be envying me for: I got to the T. rex.

Okay, just a moment here.  I'm having a special moment.  Please don't judge if this seems a little silly.  And I apologize, since I don't swear often, but this is legit enough to merit it.

ALL HAIL THE MOTHERFUCKING T. REX!!!  YEAH!  HELL YEAH!  NOBODY MESSES WITH THE GODDAMN T. REX!!!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWRRRR!!!

The movie didn't quite get the music right, and the first half of the movie didn't have enough positive fantasy building, nostalgia, and magical moments of simple glee.  It should have.  But if there's one thing that the movie got right, it was the raptors and the motherfucking T. rex!  Eventually, you'll get to see this movie, but bro, you won't see it on the big screen and it's a crying shame.  You're missing out, because the movie got the T. rex damn right.  There were three shots in the film that were just perfect, and they all had the T. rex in it.  The plot was, overall, okay, good but not great, giving me enough of what I wanted to keep me going, but once it got to the T. rex (and I sort of saw this coming, because I knew that it would redeem the movie ten times over) it gave me exactly what I wanted to the point where you should have seen me jumping up and doing a dance in the front of the theatre and yelling with delight when the almighty king of the dinosaurs roared his mighty roar.  No, you're more than just the king of the dinosaurs; you're the king of the world, and Leonardo DiCaprio was miscast in Titanic.  T. rex, I love you.  T. rex, you're the love of my life.  More than wine, more than women.  I'd marry you and change my last name to yours, T. rex.

I'm done now.  Okay?  Seriously, though, I love the T. rex.  So long as the movies treat her like she's the Rex she really is, she's my Rex.  Or...queen, I guess.

So yeah, best movie of the year, thus far.  Star Wars might be able to top it overall (and you'll be back in time for that), but I'm pretty sure that Jurassic World had the single most awesome moment.

...But I don't know.  That versus being in Nepal for a few months.  Tough call.  I hope you're not as sentimentally attached to the T. rex as I am.

Sincerely,
John

Piety Priority

Mitchell, Brody, Shannon, and Shelby,

Hey, I don't deny that there's something very good about church.  It's communion with God's people, and God is love, specifically a communal love, seeing as He is a Trinity.

But anyway, I encountered one of those picture memes that only has words on it, so you wonder why it's a picture instead of merely text, and it said this:

Last night I...Got Drunkin the Spirit
Got Highon Jesus
And Dancedbefore the Lord
What's your church like?

So basically, God is a drug.  A glorious drug, mind you, but a drug nonetheless.  Or maybe what struck me the wrong way was the emphasis on doing.  Or maybe it's the rhetorical quip at the end that basically says "If you don't worship like this, then you aren't as Christian as me (or at all), and there's something wrong with you."  I don't know who wrote this, but I saw some stranger share this and he said:

"My church, yep!  'The most dangerous place in the world is on the front seat of a dead church.'"

Wait, what?  Whaaaa?  Since when was it dangerous do honor God in a simple, modest way?  And since when was a very particular type of worship instituted by Jesus?  Why are we to look down with contempt on churches that don't make rock concerts out of their services?

A little more dismayed, as I was looking through these Christian images on Pinterest, I noticed that this wasn't an isolated piece of bad attitude.  Right next to this was another image of a middle-aged man clenching a microphone in one hand and, in the other, his empty fist, and it said:

"Life is too short, Heaven is too sweet, and hell is too hot for you to be playing with stuff that will make you lose your HOLY GHOST!" - Aaron Bounds

This is posted on a page that's basically dedicated to looking like a particular kind of Christian.  And I won't be a coward and leave this anonymous and inoffensive; I have the guts to single out Pentecostals for having this attitude and making pages like this.  Sometimes it's merely a cultural thing and a matter of pure preference, but I remember one Pentecostal church I visited believed that it was mandated by the Bible (because of something said in Psalms) that Christians must convene in churches with radical worship.  This is way too common within the Pentecostal culture.  This criticism is universal, however, and I will get exasperated with any church that swears someone will lose God if they're not zealous enough, or if they aren't radical enough, or if in any way their particular form of worship doesn't match their particular standard.

Otherwise, come one.  Look at this one:

You have to live PAST the shout!

That's true!  You do!  Except truisms like this don't actually communicate the truth when they're being received in the spirit of piety priority.  When you prioritize piety, you hear this, and your attempts to live past the shout, to truly live in the Spirit, essentially results in shouting even more and more, and if you take a good step back at it and listen with a bit of perspective, you'll realize that it's nothing more than noise.  The more earnestly you worship, the more radically you try to live past the shout by shouting more, the less you become truly humble before God and the more you become merely...loud.

Pentecostalism, I will give you a break, though, because now I'm turning my attention to my homeboys in the Catholic church, starting with the Reformers.

Come on, CRC blokes!  You know you're really Catholic!  Sola scriptura my sweet butt!  Why do you treat baptism like a sacrament?  Why do you use the same creeds?  Why are pastoral duties delegated exclusively to men?  Why are your serves so similar to Catholicism instead of, say, some random other world religion?  You may think you're different, but good grief, have you walked outside Christendom and seen just how different you are liturgically from other world religions?  Scripture alone isn't going to make you that similar to Catholics.  It's not inevitable that all Christian churches are going to look a certain way, and the Reformed and Catholic liturgies have more in common than merely the "basic Christian stuff."  I mean, I've been to a Greek Orthodox church a couple of times now and you have no idea how different they are!  You go to that, and suddenly the similarities between Catholic liturgies and traditions and Reformed liturgies and traditions is much closer than previously imagined.

So the whole "we don't do tradition" thing sort of falls flat.  Even though always I flinch when a Protestant pastor pridefully says "in the Reformed tradition," at least he's acknowledging that there is a tradition, and that by extension it's basically a tradition taken from Catholics, just, you know...reformed.

Now moving on to the old-school Catholics.  Now, before I get started, I know from first-hand experience that Catholicism isn't a homogeneous group.  I've talked with very well-educated Catholics who believe that God must logically know whether or not you would choose His salvation or not, and others who take a more Armenian point of view, just to list one example.  Yet, where the church speaks on the highest level, she has definitively spoken.

So there are these things known as the Precepts of the Church.  Depending on how you count them, there are five or seven of them.  One of them is contributing to the church's needs, and another is confessing before a priest your sins at least once a year.  The first on that's listed, though, is that a Catholic must attend mass every Sunday and on every holy day of obligation.

This is where things get tricky.  Jesus said that whatever the apostles, and Peter in particular, bound up on Earth, so would it also be bound up in Heaven.  Supposedly this means that if the church writes down a new precept, then it's considered part of the eternal Law of God.  So it's not just the Catholic Church that commands it, God commands it.  Supposedly.

When I looked these up, I discovered on a couple of the first Catholic websites say, without flinching, that this was a mortal sin.  Which means that you'll lose salvation because you didn't go to church.

Now, they make exceptions.  If a mother can't because she's taking care of a child, it's okay.  If you're sick and can't go, it's okay.  If for any reason you can't go, then you're okay.  You're not sinfully forsaking the assembly.  It's just a problem when you won't go and, if the Catholics speaking online truly represent the the Catholic church on this, then I'm going to Hell.

I have a problem, because I slept in this morning.  Yes, I could have woke up, but I didn't want to.  A couple of hours went by, and I missed my opportunity.  This week, I'm not a Christian.  However, I will become Christian next week when I visit mass again.  Or maybe I can be Christian right now if I feel guilty enough for that sin and promise God that, if the nearby parish had a late night mass, I would surely visit it.

Someone told me that I must not have really sinned because Jesus probably wanted me to have my sleep.  Maybe.  Yet, I'm going to take ownership of this and say that, yes, sleeping in instead of going to church was a little bit disrespectful.  There is an element of sinfulness in that, I suppose.

Regardless, there is no way that this is a mortal sin.  Pentecostals worship noise, and Catholics evidently worship consistency, and in both cases what ends up happening is that they make a piety priority.  What is the most important emphasis that we as the church must have?  Piety.  It's what makes us Christian.

Now, calling out Catholicism like this hits close to home.  I consider myself Catholic, so it's hard to do this.  She often perplexes me when she says things like this, since other past statements make me wonder how seriously I should take them, and if I understand the whole picture.

For example, Catholicism teaches that a righteous Muslim is, in a way, following Christ and will go to Heaven.  Not everybody has to explicitly confess that Jesus is Christ, and sincerity is enough.  In other words, God has mercy on those who don't know any better.  Yet, does that mean that for people like me, who do know better and who are familiar with, say, these precepts of the church, are going to Hell for not being good enough Catholics?  Is there a clause within Catholicism that clears all this up and shows that this really isn't as all-bad as it sounds?  Do these experts misrepresent Catholicism, and does the official Catechism mention these precepts as nothing more than a mere recommendation that's desired but not really necessary, that these are church laws but not necessarily God's Law?

My mother sometimes doesn't make it to church.  She's exhausted.  She doesn't have the spiritual energy to summon the willpower that we all know human beings are capable of.  She just doesn't make it.  Then the other day, she's telling me how uncomfortable she feels that someone who knows her keeps track of how often she visits church and how often she doesn't.  She's a Catholic, by the way, and she's called this attitude out at being un-Christian.

There are many, many other Catholics how would rather not have this attitude.  Maybe Catholics are better than their lawmakers?  I dunno.  Like I said, it isn't an entirely homogeneous group, and I have been friends with a well-educated Catholic who said that I wasn't going to Heaven because my way of understanding the Eucharist as the literal body and blood of Christ didn't match up word for word with age-old Catholic semantics but, nevertheless, he commended me on attending mass regularly as though it were an essential step in my salvation.

But for Christ's sake, when did following a bunch of rules have anything to do with salvation?  And if we recognize the failure in that, we create a ton of rules for how to be better than mere rule-followers.

It seems that if you're obsessed with tradition, you create a piety priority.  It also seems that if you want to break tradition, you still create a piety priority, because you basically create an institutionalized definition for what spontaneity is supposed to look like and then follow that.  But then that spontaneity isn't really that spontaneous, now isn't it?  And is spontaneous always going to look the same in a world of diverse people?  And is spontaneity always a sign of joy and sincerity, can it com from something else that has nothing to do with the Spirit?

Whatever the case, it seems like everyone's obsessed with worshiping Him the "proper" way, the way that He would have wanted.  That's what all those Goddamn piety is all about.

Now I wonder: what is piety, anyway?  Because it's listed as a gift of the Holy Spirit, and that part of the Bible isn't going away.  What is piety?  Tempting as it may be to resort to a dictionary, I'm going to resist the urge.  The way I understand it, piety is the expression of our faith...somehow.  It's some sort of outward sign.  Which basically means that one of the gifts of the Spirit is the fruits of the Spirit.  That's still too vague, though, and it doesn't help me.  Maybe "Piety is faith put into practice?"  Eh...I wouldn't have a clue.

Evidently, though, piety can be a good thing.  Whatever it is.  Personally, I'd just never make it a priority.

Sincerely,
John Hooyer

Hope Amidst the Pain

Mitchell, Brody, Shannon, and Shelby,

Paul encouraged people to find joy in the midst of suffering, and I know a lot of Christians who think that they're following that advice.  I remember telling someone that I was suffering from depression, though, and at first I was happy and encouraged with her response.  "You have Jesus!  Jesus heals everything!"

I so wanted to be that kind of Christian.  I so wanted to be that guy who had so much faith in God that I could persevere in the midst of suffering.

Then someone else, shortly thereafter, condemned me for the depression that I couldn't quite shrug off.  He saw me sitting in my chair, looking forlorn and contemplative, thinking about something that was burdening me.  He went up and told me that after all God's done for me, and what with all that He's doing for me, and what with how big He is, that my depression was a sign that I was doubting Him, that I didn't love Him enough, that I was holding out on Him.

Then, of course, I come across the "sadder than thou" argument.  That's what I call it, and I've called it that for nearly three years now.  Someone inevitably looks at what you're going through and says "Oh yeah?  Well I went through these extenuating circumstances!  I'm not letting it get to me!"

That's good, except I'm not them.  And that fact is, regardless of how difficult my circumstances are, it's about how I feel.  And I'm just going to outright say, the things that have happened in my life are often times sad.  They're not merely "negative."  That's an impersonal word that use to describe sad things.  It's up close and personal, though, and I've seen sad things happen.  Even when Christ is in my life, that doesn't necessarily change the basic nature of the unfortunate, sad things that have happened, and I feel like the only human reaction, if I were truly compassionate at all, would be to feel pain when dealing with the loss that I've had.

I mean, Mitchell, I am never going to tell you to get over that death in the family a few years back.  That would be inhumane and cruel.  

So this is what it feels like when people tell me that because Jesus died for me, that I should never feel sad no matter how bad the circumstances:

Because a true Christian can handle suffering and not be overwhelmed.  Because a true Christian prays and realizes that it's all okay.  Because suffering is, apparently, nothing more than mere discomfort.

I hate this poster.

Shannon, you wrote an entry about the terrible irony and insensitivity of Psalm 23, and while I don't feel that way about the psalm in and of itself, I complete agree with the point.  I hate it that when someone suffers, we try to tell them that they're not suffering, and that it's somehow an illusion.

I've said it before in longer, more extensive dialogue that I think Jesus gives us strength in the midst of our suffering not by making it go away, but by suffering with us and validating that pain.

Otherwise, I feel that those "Oh yeah!  Hallelujah!" Christians equate suffering with bad circumstances.  "Be cheerful and abundant even in bad circumstances!"  The worse that bad circumstances can do is make you uncomfortable, after all.  Except, of course, if the bad circumstances don't actually make you personally suffer and actually experience suffering, then those circumstances aren't suffering, aren't they?

Suffering is something you actually experience.  You're in agony and despair.  Because something is wrong, and it doesn't matter how wrong, because at the end of the day wrong is wrong is wrong.  You have the explicit right to feel cursed when you're part of a cursed Creation.  It would actually be unhealthy if you didn't, because then you'd be numb to pain and unable to protect yourself from evil.  You wouldn't have any compassion.

I knew someone once who thought she was cheerful.  She was the person who told me that I had Jesus, and that I didn't need my anti-depression pills to help me with my condition.  I remember asking her if she ever cried, and she told me that she never felt sad because she didn't need to, because of Jesus.  Furthermore, she even told me that she never even felt sad even when her loved ones died.  Even then, as much as I had tried putting faith in her, I didn't think of this as strength.  It was cowardice.  She wasn't really that cheerful or happy, not deep down inside.  It was more of a well-practiced generally positive attitude.  Good manners, decent behavior, no sign of any imbalances.  But it was poison to me.

So I...I walked away and I didn't go back to it.

What do I have now?  How can I possibly deal with this pain that doesn't seem to go away?  This pain that a positive outlook doesn't really fix?  People want me to be cheerful.

What is cheerfulness, anyway?

That's actually a pretty big question to ask, now that I think about it.  I looked up "Bible verses having to do with cheerfulness" and none of them quite give me that "Hallelujah" vibe.  Some of them didn't actually even mention cheerfulness at all, and instead talked about courage and patience.  Some of them refer to joyfulness.  In any case, I'm never quite given the impression that Paul is referring to Christians as happy paupers with billy sacks waltzing their merry Matilda down the countryside and whistling tunes like "The Bare Necessities" and "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Da".  That's the image that I sometimes think comes to the mind of most people: That circumstances might be bad, but if you're cheerful, you're going to handle it like a Disney character.  There's something cute and colorful and innocent about that word.

If you want my opinion on what cheerfulness looks like, though, I think it comes in the form of hope.  There may be tears in this lifetime, but I think that God gives us hope for what is promised to us, that which we do not yet have.  I think that it gives us strength, and that's how we deal with suffering.  We don't necessarily leave our suffering or escape from it, but it allows us to live even as death curses all the little nooks and crannies in our lives.

I think that it's hope that allows us to cry, too.  Have you ever noticed that sometimes, when we're hurting the most, that crying is the healthiest response?  Like it comforts us without insulting us?  I imagine that God's the type that lets us, when we're absolutely broken and don't know how to handle anything, to grieve for our injuries and losses, and to run to Him and dig out faces into His chest, and we just cry and cry and cry.  He doesn't tell us to get it all together, and He just holds us and He's there.

If there's anything that God doesn't want us to do, it's become bitter.  We get fed up, we've been broken enough, and we begin to embrace the pain in a way that's very different from tears, and it's bitterness.  I can't recommend that, and I think it's unhealthy, but out of compassion, I find it hard to condemn anyone for that.  The fact is, I know.  I know it's hard.  I'm bitter, too, about a lot of things, and I wish I wasn't.

Have hope, though.  Faith can sometimes be difficult, but please, please, please, please, please, please, please...always have hope.  Hope is easy.  Hope you can always have.  Hope is composed of tears, and it comes just as naturally if we don't hold ourselves back.

Sincerely,

John Hooyer

Becoming More Compassionate

Mitchell, Brody, Shannon, and Shelby,

"Praise God!  Trust in God!  Don't worry!  He's there!  Look at how great God is!  Look at how mighty He is!  Mighty to save!  Mighty to do miracles!  Great and powerful!  Wise and wonderful!  I'm a Bible-believing, prayer-praying, song-singing, Spirit-sprinkled, faith-fulfilled, brightly blessed, saved and serving Christian!"

Please, just...go get your American flag while you're at it.  By now, we've become pretty good at associating a flag, a bald eagle, and a robed man with hippie hair together.

American flag: Grand.

Bald eagle: Grand.

Jesus: Grand.

In these things, we love, and Jesus most of all.  Jesus, the most perfect representation of greatness and majesty.

You know, I was looking through that one website people love to use nowadays.  It's called Pinterest, and I'm not much for it, but I gave it a shot and looked through Christian pages and felt a little...empty.  It disappointed me.  I found a lot of things I liked, a lot of good wisdom, but really, something seemed missing.

There was so much praise, so much encouragement to not worry when God's providing, so much profession in salvation.  It was big.

An explosion.

That's what it was like.  It was like the opening crawl to a Star Wars film.  BLAM!  Pictures of the cross strewn all over, making their way into every other picture.  Glorious and triumphant.

Wait, what?  The cross was triumphant?  Why are we depicting it that way?

Then I backstep a bit, and I sort of figured out what was going on here.  I was talking with my sister recently about this, that something seemed so hollow and empty as I went through these pages.  In some ways, I could put my finger on it, because it's obvious to me when there's not enough Grace.  There was a spiritual issue as I went through and tried to figure out what was wrong with these Christian pages I was going through.  How could I tell that there wasn't Grace?  What were the telltale signs?

I began putting together a page of my own, just for the sake of reflection, and I began putting together pictures that spoke to me on that deep-seated level, that were more than just Christian triusms, soundbites, and quips.  After a while, I think I began seeing a theme.

Mountains.  The planet Earth.  Galaxies.  Then, of course, those animated pictures that show everything in the universe to scale.  You know the ones.  They start with Earth and then zoom out until the Earth is a dot and then the sun is a dot and then there's a red giant that's so big that we can't even fathom it.  I get the picture; God's bigger than that.  These make good sermons, I guess, and they're a bit inspirational.

Don't fault me, though, when all this saber-rattling and boasting in just how big Christ is fails to help me develop an intimate relationship with God.  It feels like I could get the same spiritual high if I visited a planetarium.

See, the bigger you make something, and the more you emphasize how big it is, the more distant it becomes.  Show me a picture of VY Canis Majoris, and the best I can tell you is "Cool."  Knowing that something is big, through, really doesn't change my life.

I began scanning the internet, scourging it for all that spoke to me about Christ.  I discarded the ones that thumped the cross like it was a flag, or depicted Jesus like a lion.  Too triumphant.  It was religious patriotism.  Didn't seem right...

Then I saw pictures depicting Jesus and things that He did.  That spoke to me.  Some of them weren't necessarily preaching anything in particular, and they were just biographical facts.

Oh yeah, that's right.  God became a regular old Joe Schmoe.  A person that I could have touched if I lived in that place and time.  This person wasn't big and grand.  He was small, and humble.

When I place all worth on this Jesus, I find that it humbles me.  All the inspirational pep talks left me feeling a little stranded, but this changes me.

The apostles didn't worship some far-off abstract God.  They had a relationship with Him.  They didn't have to fight in order to create an imaginary relationship, because He became an historical reality.

I can see why disbelief in this caused the Gnostics to become less loving.  If they couldn't believe in a Jesus who was small, then they couldn't really become small.  They couldn't empty themselves.

Once I began thinking about it, and once I began seeing Jesus as a simple, humble servant, once I began treating Him as someone I have a personal relationship with, not just as God but as a man also, I believe that the spirit in which I look at the world changes.  I find that nobody has to preach anything to me, that I simply become more compassionate simply by confessing that this little guy means something to me.  That's the Spirit which I live by.

Sincerely,
John Hooyer

The Grace Talk

Mitchell, Brody, Shannon, and Shelby

Also all my friends at Dordt, who time and time again have been a family and a home for me: Justin, Hannah, Rebekah, Anna, Joy, Bailey, Marta, Marissa, Aubrey, Heidi, Adam, Michaela, Lance, Calvin, Kelli, Kaycie, Andrew, Bridget, Monica, Craig, Cait, Tanner, Nathan, Dirk, Justin Mills, and Aaron,

All my friends in Christ, all the people I haven't met, and hopefully the entire world,



At some point, every parent has to give their children the "Grace Talk."  That's what this is.  This is someone being as clear as possible that Grace is indeed Grace, with no bargains, conditions, or petitions.  This is what I believe everyone needs to hear and constantly be reminded of.

On March 19, 2014, Dordt brought in a man named John Lynch to speak at Chapel.  This is a service put on at the B.J. Haan Auditorium at Dordt most Wednesday mornings.  There most likely isn't one going on today, since it's finals week, and people like Hannah are going to be graduating, but I figured I'd turn back the clock and revisit what was the most important sermon I ever heard on that stage.  It's this outlook that has made every sermon by Aaron Baart a treasure, and that has given gentility and, well, gracefulness to many others who have spoken before the campus, such as President Erik Hoekstra.

This stuff is important to me.  There's a reason why I don't get tired of saying the same thing over and over again, because I know how easy it is to lose sight of what's important in life.

So John gets up.  He talks.  The Dordt students embraced him like a Lynch mob.  I find myself completely on the same key as him, and so relieved that he wasn't letting this issue go, wasn't getting sidetracked, wasn't trying to apply it to a tangential issue.  Maybe I cried, but I don't remember.  I definitely remember crying right at the end, though, as everyone started leaving their pews.  I went up to him and gave him a hug and said that this meant so much to me.

A recording of this particular chapel service is available on the Dordt website, and I would listen to it over and over again, particularly as I was completing my artwork.  I remember going through my painting for Justin, and just putting it on repeat.

It took me a while, but I finally completed a transcript of John Lynch's speech, and that's why I'm writing this.  To translate a work of oratory into a work of literature, that's something.  It has meant a great deal to me to keep myself immersed in this, and it's given me a bigger heart for all of you guys.

So here it is.

FOREWORD by AARON BAART

Good morning everybody. Welcome to Chapel and, um, welcome to this new series we're kicking off in Chapel today. Um, thanks for the incredible response we've been getting across campus. People have been signing up for small groups and collecting books in Student Services. Caleb van der Hill continues to help us out. If you have not got in a small group yet and you're panicking because you're realizing you're missing out on something, Caleb van der Hill is in the back. Um, he's got his, um, books as well as signups and can still get you connected, or feel free to swing by student services any time today and Emily Vander Greene can help you as well.

So this is our first week going through, um, this series – on The Cure., and when we talked about doing this project from the very beginning, um, one of our goals was to ask one of the primary authors, um, John Lynch to come help lead us. Um, it worked in John's schedule for him to be here; uh, it's been fun showing him around campus, introducing him to Dordt. Uh, John Lynch, uh, is the primary author of The Cure, has been pastor for, teaching pastor for, thirty years. He opened doors in Phoenix. Um, he's written multiple other books, travels around speaking and leading, and um, we're just absolutely thrilled that he could be here this morning, so will you please join me in welcoming John Lynch.

And I'll offer a quick word of prayer as well. Please bow your heads with me. Father God, we want to thank You so much for all the ways You keep speaking to us, revealing truth, and inviting us into life with You. Thank You for the gifts and the wisdom, the insights, the vocabulary You have given to John in his journey to speak that voice, and invite us into life with You. Father, use him again this morning, that his words will convict our hearts, draw us closer to You, and just set us on fire for all it is that You are doing, and in Jesus' name, amen.

JOHN LYNCH

Amen.

Good morning everyone!

(Good morning.)

That was really pitiful. Come on, I went through TSA for you people. Work with me now. Work with me. Good morning everyone!

(Good morning!)

Thank you, yes, my people.

I know what some of you are thinking: Did that elderly man step in some turquoise paint? I can explain. Listen, um, when I go places I'm asked to – most places, Aaron didn't do it to me – but most places, they want you to dress “business casual.” I don't have that particular look. I have casual and I have slovenly. Um, when I dress up I just look like a dweeb. I have Dockers on and these shoes that look like a tribute to The Pilgrims, or, er, uh, I just look stupid. So one night my wife and I, Stacey, are strolling in an overpriced, high-end mall, and I walk by this store. It's called Han, and I see these shoes, and I think, and I say, “I...I...I must have those shoes.” And Stacey says “Well it's your birthday. Let's go get them.” I said “Really?” and I'm thinking, “This could put us back sixty-seventy bucks. These shoes, um, are-are roughly the price of a mid-sized Sedan.” But it was my birthday and she got them.

Look, here's the deal. I'm sixty. I don't care anymore. Thank you.

And here's the deal: if you don't like them, I'm not going to be around much longer anyway, so...deal with it. But I love them. Love'em. I have a whole fleet of them. Um, so deal with me.

Drinking water, just because I can.

Alright guys, I am so honored to be here with you! I'm so proud of you guys that you're going through The Cure! Can't believe the commitment this campus, your leaders, have made to do this. So when I found out what you're doing, I said, “I'lll...I'lll...Yes. Just yes.” I hope what today does is maybe...gives common language, maybe to stuff that you already know but didn't have words for. So I hope, I hope this is a great beginning as you start this series.

THE SERMON

This all begins, doesn't it, back in the Garden, back there the lie was believed? Two people in unconfirmed righteousness are told a lie. “Hey hey hey hey! You can eat of it...Don't, c'mon. He just doesn't want you to have the knowledge of good and evil. He wants to hold out on you.”

And you know the story. “You surely will not die,” and when the woman saw that it was good and it was delightful to the eyes and the tree was desirable, she had some and she gave some to her husband. And then the eyes of them were both opened and they knew that they were naked, so they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings. First act of sin management in human history. And you know it doesn't work when you try to manage your sin, and the way you know is that you still hide.

And so they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the Garden in the cool of the day and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord among the trees of the Garden and the Lord called out to the man, saying “Where are you?” knowing full well where he was, and Adam said “I heard the sound of You in the Garden and I was afraid, because I was naked. For the first time in my life, I felt nakedness.”

Interesting, the word for “naked” changes from this point on in Genesis. Before it just meant “without clothing.” Now suddenly it means “Estranged. Alone. Odd. Not sure what to do. A feeling of 'I'm not right! Something's particularly wrong with me!”

“I was afraid. It scared me. Because for the first time I realized I was naked, and so I hid myself.”

And there it is.

A stone drops into a giant pool, a pool of DNA now, drops into a giant pool of history, and their concentric circles work their way out down through history, and they work out and they work out, and they touch every single human, and they find themselves...all the way to me. And now whenever I feel like I don't match up or I get embarrassed or I get afraid or exposed, or I do something or something gets done to me, that tries to convince me that I'm not enough, that I don't match up. Shh! I hide. I put on a mask.

As early as we can remember, we've performed for acceptance. If I'm good, talented, beautiful, together, competent, right enough, I'll be loved and accepted and happy, and if not, I will be pitied and patronized and rejected and I'll live a second class life.

You know what it's like? It's like the “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” theology. Santa Claus. We created him because we couldn't handle God. Truth is we can't handle Santa Claus. We made him all jolly and chubby, but the guy's really, truly a controlling omniscient legalist with unlimited power.

“O you'd better watch out, you'd better not cry! You better not pout...I'll tell you why. Cause Santa Claus's coming to town! 'O ho ho ho ho,' he's making a list! He's checking it twice! He will, oh my, he will find out who's naughty'n'nice!”

And this controlling omniscient legalist...He's coming to town!

“He knows when you've been sleepin'...” Which in my book is wrong, okay? I don't care who you are. I don't care if you're jolly. I don't want to wake up and “Ah! Santa! Get out of my room!”

“He knows when you're awake. He knows when you've been bad or good...”

So be good for, um, Goodness' Sake. And your worth is on how much you do right and how little you do wrong, and he's always writing stuff down, and he's going to find you out! Oh, and this omniscient legalist, he's coming to town, so you'd better watch out. You'd better fear this guy. You'd better stop sniveling. You'd better not pout. You'd better put on a good face and act like you're somebody better than who you actually happen to be. Dance better, put on a good show, just be better than who you are, for goodness' sake! Don't be a whiner. Fix yourself. Try harder. Do more. Be better. Don't have so many problems. Watch over your shoulder. Get better in a hurry, and if you can't, at least bluff like you are, because you're constantly on trial. And if you want good things to happen in your life, you'd better figure out how to keep this guy happy.

It is genetically wired into us, isn't it? We learn early on to perform and the highest value is being accepted, and the means of acceptance is right appearance.

*sigh*

There's a problem, because I fail. Gosh, if you could get into my head, you would say “Why are we having this guy come preach to us?” I fail, and another result of the Fall, it feels like nobody fails like me. Mine feels weirder and more shameful, and so I live with this secret awareness of just how poorly I'm doing, how little I've grown, and so I feel unfit, unworthy, unlovable. Shhk – I'm naked!And I cannot stand that feeling. Just like Adam, it freaks me out. It makes me afraid. It makes me feel alienated in the world in which I walk. So no one must know. I've got to mask myself with enough reasons to be loved. I've got to brag, I've got to put others down, act healthier, idealize myself, posture, bluff, uh, religify myself, keep a smile on myself, avoid correction, justify and rationalize and hide the real me.

And then comes the Gospel. Maybe for the first time, maybe for the four hundred a fifty f...five, fifth time. The Gospel.

2 Corinthians 5:21. “He, God, made Jesus, Who knew no sin – who had never sinned – to actually bec...become sin on my behalf.”

He, God, made Jesus, Who had never sinned, actually take on all my garbage, all my filth, and not just mine, but everyone in history's. And He becomes it. He, God, made Jesus, Who knew no sin, to actually become my sin, and here you go now, listen to this: “So that I – The one who put Him on the cross? – So that I might become the righteousness of Christ in Him.” So that I actually carry full righteousness in me!

What? Are you kidding me? Why? Why would He – why would I find myself being loved like this? Jesus saying “To the exact extent that My father loves Me, so also I love you.” And you...when the Son does this, and I find myself actually believing it, it rewires my circuits. And patterns get broken. I dare to believe I'm lovable just because He chose to love me. I'm delighted in. Holy, righteous. I begin to believe that He created me lovable, that He actually wanted there to be a John Lynch on this planet like he is now, right now. He just had to...He had to break through the chasm of sin separation, and this radically remakes us.

And then...something happens. I don't know – you tell me. I...I...Maybe you go through a season where you don't experience His love as much, or you feel dry, or maybe you fail God in some way that you promised Him you would never fail Him again, and you did and you did again and then you did again. And subtly, gradually like ssssssssssmoke it sssssssssssslips back under the door, the lie reawakens. You b-begin to presume that a sense of His absence or bad circumstances must be due to His displeasure with you. So the cycle starts back up again.

Okay, I'll sure things up. I'll straighten the magazines. I'll set some standards. I'll get serious. I so got this! I can do this! I-I-I-I'll get serious about my behaviors, I-I-I'm-I'll-I'm going to sure things up, and then the river will flow again. Whew! I can do this!

And one of these times, because He's absolutely crazy about you, He will say “That's enough.” And He will finally call you out.

You'll be walking along doing the Christian life, just one path, it's always been that way. You've just been walking the Christian life, and then suddenly – Boom! Right in front of you, one path becomes two, and there's this giant pole right in front of you. And this giant pole shoots way up into the sky, and over to the right side there's an arrow, and an arrow on this one. This one says “Trusting God.” And this one says “Pleasing God.”

Well I uh...uh, whew, don't get it. No, I just want to do the Christian life. I admit, these are both great.  I don't want to have to choose between either one, now just do the Chri – but there is it, and it's not going away. And from this point on, whichever one you choose will become the primary motivation of your heart for the rest of your journey.

So eventually, frustrated, I look up and I see “Trusting God.” That can't be right. That doesn't give me anything to do. Alright, stay there...“Pleasing God.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...Yeah yeah. See, that's, this has got to be it, because after all He's done for me, the least I can do is I want to please Him. I want to make Him happy. I wanna – I wanna express how enough that I care and that I-I can real-really prove to Him that I...

Oh my gosh, I see what's happening. This is it. He just finally made this path so that I would choose and be with the sold-out people of God. I get what's happening here. So I do, I take this path of pleasing God, and it starts out – I go through some thickets, some brambles, and then eventually trees are growing. Eventually I'm in a thick forest, and I walk for a long ways. Eventually, the forest opens into a clearing, a wide clearing. Acres and acres and acres of clearing, and off in the distance I see this glimmering, shining building.

And the building has, eh, eh, words on it and as I get closer I can see it. Beautiful building. And now as I've walked closer, another five minutes, I see that it says “STRIVING HARD TO BE ALL GOD WANTS ME TO BE.”

Yeah! Ha, woowooowoowoowoowoowoo!

I mean, it sounds like an [unintelligible at 17:30] and a big “C'mon!”

Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!

And I'm, I'm, I'm there. Now I get closer and I see that there's a door on the building, and the door has a doorknob, and written above the doorknob are two words: “Self effort.”

And I'm thinking “Yeah. Finally somebody says is. Somebody has the nerve to say it, 'cause that's exactly right. 'Cause I – God does His part, so I gotta do my part. Right? I mean, God helps those who help themselves? That's in scripture...behind like Malachi or something? I – It's there.”

So –

chk! chk!

I open the door and I walk in.

Thousands of people! Cacophony of sound! The place is packed, and it's overwhelm...! I-I-I'm stunned; my jaw's dropped; I'm just li – I can't believe it. I'm here with the sold-out people of God.

And I don't notice as I'm standing that behind me a hostess...walks and she says to me in a voice that upon further reflection is a little slick, a little oily – she says, “Hi. Welcome to the room of good intentions.”

And I'm blown – I don't even hear what she says, I just go, “Hello! Heh, huh, you have no idea how excited I am to be here! He, how's everybody doin'? Hwoo! Hha haey-aye!”

And it's quiet. Not a sound.

“Hey, how's everybody doin'?

Finally, somebody steps forward. One person says “[clears throat] Thank you, we are doing just fine. Yes we are. We're fine. Thank you. Bob, Debbie, Carl? We're all fine. Just fine as fine can be. That's who we are. We're the fine people. Fine-ness – you can see it. We're that kind of people. Kids are doing great; the liquidity in my position at work; I have a...spendable currency with a basis of, of dialectic. We are doing just fine. Thank you for asking.”

...I'm thinking, “Well that's odd, but they seem fine, and that's great.”

And then the hostess says to me, “So how are you doing?”

And I say, “Oh, whew! Thanks for asking. I-I've been struggling with a lot of things, but now that I'm here, I think that I-I be, eh, uh, and I, but I gotta tell ya – ”

And she does this, and she pulls from behind her a mask, and issues for me to put it on. Well I don't want to put on a mask. I've never worn a mask in my whole life but...as I look at the mask, it looks very similar to the expression of the faces of the people in that room.

I so want to make it. I so want to be accepted. I so want to be loved. I so want to be known.

Ah, God, help me.

Shhhhhk! I put on the mask and I...I say, um, “I'm doing fine. I'm doing alrigh – I'm d-do-doing fine, thank you for asking.”

You're in the room of good intentions! And there's a banner on the back wall. I don't see it at first. It says, “Working hard on my sin to achieve an intimate relationship with God.” Working hard on my sin to achieve an intimate relationship with God!

Yeah. See, that's right. That's right again. Beca-because when, wh – when I was first a Christian, it felt like He and I were so close. It felt like I could talk to Him, like I could almost touch Him...and then something happened. Over time it felt like Romans Seven: the things that I said I was going to do I didn't do, the things I said I wasn't gonna do I did, and over time it's like He got further and further away on the other side of my sin, and this mountain started growing of all my stuff, of all my junk, all my garbage, all my fish bones and coffee grounds and mildewy stuff. This steaming, hissing, pussy mount of of my stuff. And He keeps getting further away as it grows, and it's got wet cat food that's been left out for a week, mixed with mayonnaise, and it's just, just – gaaahh! And I can't see Him anymore because of the steam and the vapor that's rising, and He's so far away.

But I imagine Him now, shaking His head with His arms folded, saying “Fffffhhhhww, I had so much hope for that kid – but he has let Me down so many times and so – I don't want to hear it anymore!”

And I want to call out to Him and say, “I, erhmgh, I lo – I love You I know You probably can't hear me, but I d-d-d – You watch now! Now that I'm in this room, I'm gonna get things fixed! You're gonna see, that mound's gonna get small, and we're gonna be closer again!”

But what nobody tells me in that room is that there's nothing I can do to make that mound grow smaller, and what nobody tells me in that room is that trucks more of that stuff are being brought in every day, and what nobody tells me in that room is that when I wear a mask...

When I wear a mask, only my mask gets loved.

Oh, but this room, you guys, [sniffs] this room is beautiful. It is inlaid with ivory and parquet floors, and beautiful, flowing balconies and staircases and, uh, i-i-ivory and shining, glittering chrome – it is magnificent! It has sincerity and perseverance and courage and diligence and full-hearted fervency and sold-out determination, and I'm thinking, “Yes! This is it! I'm gonna make him so happy and one day soon we're gonna be so close.”

[heavy breathing, gulps, breathes heavily again]

But weeks turn into months and I notice that many here sound cynical and the look so tired. And their conversations, if you listen to them, they're superficial and guarded, and if you catch them when no one's looking, and they can't tell that anyone's around, there's deep lonely pain in their faces. And I'm starting to think differently. I'm no longer as relaxed. I've got this nagging anxiety. If I don't behave, if I don't control my sin enough, I'm gonna be on the ousts with everybody in this room.

And probably with God, too.

So I do. I invest more effort into sinning less and I do. I gotta tell you, I feel better for a while, but despite all my striving, despite all my sincerity – da-gaah! I keep sinning! Some days the same sin, over and over and over again! I-I get fixated on trying not to sin. I can't seem to do enough. I never get through my list. I never feel like I've done enough! I feel like I'm making every eff – stinking stinking effort to please a God Who's never pleased enough!

[panting]

And gradually the path to pleasing God is turning into “What in the world must I do to keep Him pleased?”

Uh, m-muh-my...my dear brothers and sisters. When I embrace this theology, I reduce godliness to a ridiculous formula: more right behavior plus less wrong behavior equals godliness.

More right behavior!

(Less wrong behavior!)

Equals: Godly Man.

And there's only one problem with that theology. It has to improve to reach the level of heresy. Did you hear me? It has to improve to reach up to heresy. Why? Because it disregards the godliness and righteousness that God has already placed in us...on our worst day. Yes, we mature in godliness, but if we disregard the righteousness that's already ours from trust, we are set up to live in hiddenness. We can never resolve our sin by working on it. We may change behaviors for a while, like moving deck chairs around on the Titanic, but when we strive to sin less we don't, and it causes us to lose hope. It keeps us immature, and even the [wheezing]...

And even though this theology's been breaking out hearts almost a thousand times – ten thousand times – we keep desperately hoping that maybe this time we'll be able to control and stop our bad habits and sin by enough – [wheezes] – sincerity and will power.

[Strained breath. Gulp.]

And I can't breath! I can't breath in this room! And I want, I wanna call out and I want – but it's the one thing that nobody wants to talk about. Do not talk about that! [strained breath] What's wrong with me? Why can't I make – why does it seem like everybody else –

[Strained breathing. Voice almost cracks.]

And eventually, even though I'm pretty convinced that this is the only chance that I have to be around the sold-out people of God...

Ch-chk! I open the door and I walk out.

Now what do I do? I'm devastated. I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I th-that – this was it. This was my one chance and I blew it. And I wander. I wander for like forty-five minutes to an hour. I-I'm, my head's down, I'm not even looking, until I run smack-dab into that pole again, where the two arrows were.

With almost no hope I look up at that arrow that says “Trusting God.”

Ah, you've got to me kidding me, right? You've gota be kidding m – is there a third path?

And hearing nothing, I start walking again. Down this path. [sigh] Walk, same thing. Trees, thickets, bushes, brambles, forests, walk out into a clearing, giant building off in the distance, same thing.

Except this time the words are different. And I keep walking because I can read them now, but they don't make any sense. I keep getting closer and saying “What? That can't mean that.” But there they are, written across, right across the wall, the front of the building:

“Living out of who God says I am.”

Wwwwhat? My ear hears one word right after another. “Living out of who God says I am.” Well we'll get right on that (what does that mean?)!”

I keep walking, another five-ten minutes, and I see that there's a door on this building, and then I see that there's a doorknob, and there's one word written above the doorknob this time. It says this: “Humility.”

Shhhhhhhhhhk!

Humility. Trusting God and others with me. It dawns on me so much. It just hits me. I've tried so hard. I've tried so – I've tried so hard to impress You, to convince You that I was worthy of Your love, that I could pull this off, that I could be enough – and You never wanted! You're bigger, You're faster, You're stronger, You're better, and all You ever wanted me to do was trust You in me.

Help. I'm all messed up. I'm all battered and help me, I don't know how to do this anymore! I – I don't know where to go if this doesn't work.

Chk-chk! And I open the door and I walk in. Same thing. Huge crowd. Cacophony of sound. Thousands of people. And I'm just staring now. And I don't notice that there is in this room also a hostess, and she walked up behind me, and she doesn't say anything for a little bit. She just looks at me and smiles. I don't see her until I hear her words in maybe the most beautiful voice I have ever heard in my whole life. She says “Hi...hi kid. Welcome to the room of Grace.” And she's very cool, ve-very smart, very wise. Listen who what she says.

“So how are you doing?”

Well I've been here before, so I say, rmhm, “Fine. I'm kind of fine. Sort of fine. Who wants to know?”

And then I look our here at this audience. Same thing again. It feels quiet. I'm feeling mocked. So finally I've had enough, and I yell out –

“Hey! Everybody! Hhhahahaha! You know what? I'm doing – not fine! Hhhaha heh! There you go! Haven't been 'fine' for a long time. Ah-hah? I'm tired, I'm confused, I'm afraid, I feel guilty and lonely, I'm sad most of the time, I can't make my life work, and I'm so far behind I'm befuddled on what to do next! It leaves me frozen. And if any of you squirrely religious people knew half my dailey thoughts, you'd want me out of your little room. So there! Doing fine / not fine at all! Hhhh-thanks for asking, I think I'll go now!”

And my hand is on the doorknob, when from way, way back in the room, someone yells out “That's it? That's all you got? I'll take your confusion and guilt and bad thoughts and raise you compulsive sin and chronic lower back pain! Oh, and I'm in debt up to my ears and I wouldn't know the different from Showtunes and Classical music if it jumped up and bit me. YOU'D BETTER GET MORE THAN THAT LITTLE LIST IF YOU WANT TO PLAY IN MY LEAGUE, buddy!”

And the hostess leans over and she says to me, “I think he means you're welcome here.”

You're in the room of Grace.

Grace.

Garrace.

A hundred and twenty-seven times in the New Testament.

And you can't say Grace except in a Scottish or Irish accent for this is the manner in which God speaks.

Oh, and the Judaisers hated it. They hated it. Romans five through eight.

“Paul! Don't you dare! You can't talk to these people about Grace! They'll take advantage of it! I know what they'll do. Th-the-you can use it like paprika, but don't talk to them about it! Use it like a condiment, but that's it! You gotta keep screw, the lid on these people! They'll take advantage of it, do Christianity. They'll space out, they won't be sincere in their faith. Don't talk to them about Grace!  Appeal to their flesh, tell them to do more, tell them to try harder, work harder! Gra -I'm telling you, Paul, it won't work!”

And Paul said in Romans five through eight, and perhaps I'm paraphrasing a bit out of the NIV, he says “Thank you so much for your kind interest, and you have a great point, except for two things. These vermin that you talk about? They're new creatures. They don't want to get away with anything. All they want to do is love and be loved by their God. They want to jump up into His lap. They want to know and be known by Them. That's who they are. They're brand new creatures. They have Christ in them.

“On their worst day! Christ is in them! Fused with them! I can't tell where Jesus ends off and I start out. He cannot define His own Name anymore without mine included, and I cannot define my name without His.

“Oh, and one more thing. The Holy Spirit lives in them. Third person of the Trinity, very impressive, powerful, yeah. Pfffw! He can do stuff? And He's able to exhort them, comfort them, draw them, draw their attention, and the only thing that keeps them from obedience, heartfelt obedience – although they'll comply for you – but what keeps them from heartfelt obedience is moralism that appeals to their flesh and tells them 'You should, you ought, what's wrong with you, when will you?'

“Oh, you can get compliance by any method, but if you want heartfelt obedience that obeys from the heart, I'll take Grace. I'll take Grace.”

I-I wrote a piece a long time ago called “The New Testament Gamble”. My kids were just so young, they were like seven, five, and two. Now they're all grown up, but at the time I was so scared it caused me to write this piece, this gamble, that wasn't a gamble to God but it sure felt like one to me. It was God saying “What if I tell them who they are? What if I take away any f – element of fear and condemnation and judgment or rejection? What if I tell them that I love them? What if I turn over the cards and tell them that I will always love them? That I can't love them any more than I love them right now and I love them right now no matter what they've done, as much as I love My only Son? That there's nothing they can do to make My love go away? What if I told them there are no lists? What if I told them they were righteous with My righteousness right now? What if I told them they could stop beating themselves up, they could stop being so formal and stiff and weird and jumpy around me? What if I told them I was absolutely crazy about them? What if I told them that even if they were out at the ends of the Earth and did the most unthinkable, horrible things and were unfaithful in their marriage, when they came back I'd receive them with tears and a party? What if I told them I don't keep a log of past offenses, of how little they pray, of how often they let Me down, or made promises they don't keep? What if I told them they don't have to be owned by man's religions, additions, or traditions? What if I told them if I'm their Savior, they're going to Heaven no matter what, it's a don deal? What if I told them they have a new nature, that they're saints, not saved sinners who should 'buck up and be a better if you're going to be a Christian after all He's done for you?' What if I told them that I actually live in them now, that I put My love and power and nature inside of them at their disposal? What if I told them that they didn't have to put on a mask, that it was absolutely exactly okay to be exactly who they are at this very moment with all their junk and not have to pretend about how close we are, how much they pray or don't, how much Bible they read or don't? What if they knew they didn't have to look over their shoulder for fear of things get too good the other shoe's going to drop? What if they knew that I will never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever use the word 'punish' in regards to them? What if they knew when they mess up I never get back at them? What if they were convinced that bad circumstances are not My way of evening the score for taking advantage of Me? What if they knew the basis of our friendship was not how little they sin but on how much they let Me love them? What if they had permission to stop trying to impress Me in any way? What if I told them I – they could hurt My heart and I would never hurt theirs? What if I told them I kind of love – really a lot – Mumford and Sons, too? What if I told them that the 'thees' and 'thous' always confused Me? What if I told them I was never that fond of the Christmas handbell with the white gloves? What if I told them they could open their eyes when they pray and still go to Heaven? What if I told them there was no secret agenda, no trap door? What if I told them it wasn't about their self-effort, but allowing Me to live My life through them?” And I raised my kids in that, and now they're grown. They trust Jesus more tenderly than I do, and they don't have to live a double life.

You guys, are you gonna be the guinea pig test and try this out? You see, it's all over Scripture. Second Timothy two...two-one says: “My son, be strong in the Grace that's in Christ Jesus!”

Acts twenty-thirty-two: “I commend you unto God and to the Word of His Grace which alone is able to build you up!”

Hebrews four-sixteen: “Let us draw near with confidence to the throne of Grace that we may receive mercy and find Grace that will help us in our time of need!”

Romans five-two: “We have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through Whom we've obtained our introduction by faith into this Grace in which we stand!”

Romans six-fourteen: “Sin no longer gets to be master over you because you're no longer under law, you're no longer under buck-up-ism or moralism. Sin will no longer be master over you because you're under Grace.”

Period.

You see, you know what we're doing, right? We're talking about Hebrews eleven-six. Without faith it's impossible to please Him. Faith, the noun form of the verb pistos in the Greek. The verb form is “trust.” Without faith, without trust, it's impossible to please Him! See, you could all day long try so hard to “C'mon! Here I go! I'm gonna try to please you – ”

He says “You'll never do it enough and you'll never learn to trust.”

But if over here – if over here – I dare to believe that on my worst day I wear a robe of righteousness, that He says “There's no condemnation of you, kid. I'm crazy about you. I know everything that you're going to do, and I can't stop thinking about you. I adore you.” If I dare to believe that I'm Christ in John Lynch, He will say this: “Listen to Me, John, you're doing it. You're doing it, kid. You're trusting Me. Not only that, you've never pleased Me so much in your whole life.”

Whew! You see guys, um, pleasing God, it's an incredible desire, motive, it's wonderful. It just can't be primary motivation or it will imprison our hearts. For if all we bring to God is our moral striving to please Him by solving our sin, we're back at the same square that put us in need of salvation. We're stuck with our talents, our desire, our ability, our longing, our hootspa, our diligence and resolve to make it happen. Pleasing is not the means to our godliness. It's the fruit of our godliness, 'cause it's the fruit of trust.

Oh yeah, there's a banner on the back wall of this building, too. It says this:

“Standing with God, with my sin in front of us, working on it together.”

What if the shed blood of Jesus was this powerful, that for you who have dared to put your hope in Christ, that He was never there on the other side of your sin? Because of the shed blood of Christ, He walks all the way up and around that sin, and He stands in front of you, face to face, six inches away from your face, and He smiles that smile that no human can make, and He says “I know, kid. I've known from before the world began, and I'm crazy about you. I'm not ashamed. I'm not mad. You're right on time. I've got you.”

And then He was – He would put His hands on my shoulders, and then, without warning, He would pull me into a bear hug so tight and He would hold me so tight and with force!

I wanna fight it. I wanna say “No no no no! You don't understand! Youdunnome! This is not right! But I've been b-b-bi-bu-t-t – ”then after a while I don't want him to stop ever. I want Him to hold me like this forever.

But He keeps saying, “I know kid. I'm not ashamed. I'm not mad. I'm crazy about you. I know. I know. I know.”

And He keeps holding me like that and He keeps talking like that until He's absolutely convinced that I believe Him. And then, and only then, does He loosen the embrace, and only so much so He – so that He can put His arm around me. So we can look at my sin together.

I always – every time I do this – I always imagine Him with His arm around me and looking at my sin, and I imagine Him saying “[snort] Aheh. Wow. Hhhahahahamahaheh – My, my my, that's a lot of sin! Don't you ever sleep?” and then He would say, “And we'll – we'll deal with it when you're ready, kid, and I've got your back. I'm crazy about you.”

Hmm.

Have we been changed? Oh gosh, as day is from night, we've been changed. We've received a brand new core identity! We've already changed, been changed. We're not gonna – I can't stand going into stores, Christian book stores, say “Man, it's time to change!” You've already been changed! You're not going to get changed any more, you've got all the Holy Spirit you're gonna get!

If I took a caterpillar to a biologist and said “tell me about its DNA,” He would say “John I know this looks very much like a caterpillar to you, but – by every scientific testing and every expression, this that I'm holding is a caterpillar – but you know what it is? It's a butterfly.”

Wow. He has placed into a creature looking nothing at all like a butterfly a complete butterfly, and because it is a butterfly in reality, one day, if you will let it, it will inevitably, invariable turn into a butterfly. In the meantime, yelling at it to be more like a butterfly will just hurt its tiny little ears.

And so it is with us! I'm a brand new creature, brand new DNA! Christ in John, fully righteous!

And He says, “You're immature, kid, but if you'll believe it, you will mature into it beautifully. Oh, by the way, if you'll trust it, you will love more and sin less.”

Now not everybody stays in the Room of Grace once they get there, for not only must you believe you're accepted, you must learn to accept the yokos who are already here, and the ones who enter each week. And they are goofy and odd and flawed and and failed and strange and inappropriate. Oh, every now and then a presentable one slips in! But he or she usually soon discovers his schtick is a mask. He must, too, learn to rest in the sufficiency of Christ, or he'll go back to where appearances make the man or woman.

And now you. Now it's down to us. This – this day, prepared before the world began, with this precious group of students at Dordt College. I know what some of you are thinking. You know what you're thinking. “Yeah, but you don't know me. You don't know what I hide. You don't know the stuff I carry. You don't know the garbage I've done. You don't know how I feel second-place. You don't know how I don't believe I fit here. You don't know how outside I feel.”

So maybe, just maybe, as you go through these next eight weeks...maybe you'll be able to tell someone – all it will take will just be one – and just say, um, “I need to tell you something about me. I trust you with me. I think you're someone who is safe with me. And I want to tell you this...”

And maybe, just maybe, they will lean over to you and say, “That's all you got?” and it will be their way of saying, “You have always been, your are now, and you will always be welcome here.”

I'm so proud of you guys. Thanks for having me.

BENEDICTION by AARON BAART

Thank you very much, John. When I hear you speak, I hear the heart of the Father. Sometimes the voice of Liam Neeson, but – the heart of the Father. Have a great day, everybody!





Sincerely,
John Hooyer