We spent last weekend in New York City. A extravagant celebration of my daughter’s 13th year of life, and three days of I-wouldn’t-change-a-moment experiences. Including a relatively obnoxious one our last day.

We took the subway to Soho, a trendy artist neighborhood in lower Manhattan, to meet some great friends who just moved to the area for work. We met up at a little cafe just off the main strip. The sign read “Community Table,” an awkward pull-up-a-chair-and-eat-with-people-you-don’t-know concept for this introverted, Midwestern boy. But we played along. When in Soho…

Until I opened the menu.

“All of our eggs are served soft-boiled.”

“But I’d really like scrambled. Can you scramble a few up for me?”

“Um, no idiot. Soft-boiled only.” (OK, she didn’t call me an idiot, but it sorta felt that way).

Then my wife had the nerve to ask for toast.

“We don’t toast bread, plebe. I can bring you some plain bread.” (No she didn’t say plebe, but in a way she sorta did).

The food proceeded to come to our table in 20 minute shifts, but I couldn’t muster the nerve to protest. The waitress was scary. Obviously on an elevated level of culture my simple, scrambled-egg, Indiana upbringing couldn’t keep up with.

In risk of sounding as snobby as our waitress, this isn’t all that different than I’ve felt in some church circles in recent years. Like I don’t measure up. Perhaps some of it ties to my own insecurities, but there’s a definite overtone of emergent self-righteousness that makes me feel like I just had the nerve to order toast in Soho.

Over the years, I’ve grown to despise many aspects my conservative self-righteousness church culture. Defining true faith by an absence of swearing, abstaining from alcohol, (not chewing bubble gum), voting Republican, or never-wavering church service attendance. But the Fruit of the Spirit doesn’t read Prius, Democrat, and organic farming either.

The antidote for conservative piousness isn’t liberal piousness.

It’s Jesus.

But we all (and when I say all I’m first in line) have this uncanny ability to canonize our opinions. To violently swing the pendulum away from things that offend us. To find Scripture that backs up our personal preferences. And I’m just raising my hand today to say, “Stop it!”

Self-righteousness of any flavor smells awful. Kinda like a soft-boiled egg (but hey, that’s just my opinion).

When we sold our house last month, we assumed the journey God was leading us on had to do with where we live.

(Home. Live. Seemed like a reasonable connection to me).

Little did we know, God had something much bigger in mind. Signing that purchase agreement was the equivalent of pulling our thumb out of the dyke. A back hoe moved in and began excavating some deep places in our hearts, ripping up the roots and setting them on the surface for everyone to see.

Things we knew. Things we didn’t know. Stuff we were dealing with. Stuff we thought we’d already conquered.

Over the course of this week, I’m going to share a few of these uprooted revelations with the hope you might find a bit of yourself in our messiness – your own “journey home.”

The week after we sold our house was heavy. I literally felt a weight. In my gut. On my shoulders. In my spirit. And my face registered every pound. Our realtor was showing us houses all over Indianapolis and all I wanted to see was the bathrooms.

Could I discretely vomit in here while they’re checking out the kitchen?

After a few days of soul searching, my wife and I both realized the culprit: Expectations.

As leader you always feel it, and some of it’s healthy. We lead with our lives. “Follow me as I follow Christ.” (1 Cor. 11:1) But when the weight of opinion and other people’s convictions begin to dominate your thinking, you’re no longer able to be true to yourself or listen to God.

Somewhere on my journey I learned that agreeing with others avoided conflict, and avoiding conflict eliminated embarrassment, pain, and shame. Elevating other people’s opinions above my own convictions kept me in the club.

My wife grew up under the pastor’s kid microscope. She and her brother can recall stories of self-righteous board members physically pulling chewing gum from their mouths on church property under the guise a passing motorist might think a 6 year old was chewing tobacco. (You can’t make this stuff up).

Perceptions involuntarily became important to both of us. Surrendering to the expectations of others a coping mechanism. So when a simple, little “For Sale” sign turned “Sold,” the voices of old conflicts and angry board members began ringing in our heads.

“So I guess you’re gonna….”

“Wow, it’s about time you…”

“Surely you’re not planning…”

What will people think? How will they perceive us? What do they expect? A root we were already well aware of (and thought we had dealt with) got re-exposed to the elements. Novocaine free.

People pleasing isn’t just unfortunate, it’s a sin. Elevating the accolades of others above the love of God. Surrendering to outward expectations rather than pressing into who God designed you to be. It’s a reminder we’re broken. It’s a call to repent.

Do you wrestle with the weight of pleasing others? How does it affect you? Is it ever a good thing?

Sometimes God pulls and end around. He calls a run play when you were 100% sure He was going to pass. That’s the journey we’re on here. Our journey home.

More beautifully uncomfortable revelations to come later this week.

Earlier this week I shared some thoughts on why change is so difficult for us. Our own sin and the wounds of others weigh down and swallow up the beautiful identity God originally intended for us. Then we try to fix ourselves.

I used my daughter to help illustrate this reality at City Community Church last Sunday. Her therapy starts next week.

Hope you enjoy this short clip:

Like many I suppose, I spent some time talking to God over New Year’s weekend. Beginning of the year prayer and reflection is almost as Christian as eating at Chic-Fil-a. It’s true.

As I gazed upon the challenges of 2012 – as a pastor, as a husband, as a father, as a church leader – the following words just seemed to uncontrollably gush from my mouth:

“Lord, reignite my imagination! Give me a picture of the future that both excites and terrifies me, and fill me with the courage to walk boldly into things that are beyond my ability to control or even completely understand.”

Whoa. That’s big for me. Dangerous. Like taking your hands off the steering wheel (or texting while driving). What if God actually answers this prayer? Shoot, maybe I should have thought this through.

But I’m filled with such hope! A new sense of anticipation. Yeah, some jitters. And a few butterflies (that feel a little like pterodactyls).

And I thought that maybe…just maybe…you might want to join me?

New Year’s Resolutions are the Sea Monkeys of annual commitments.

Relatively cheap….

Energized by imagination….

Dead in a few weeks…

But there’s one resolution I dare you to take this year. In fact, I triple-dog dare you (TBS’s 24 hours of a Christmas Story hasn’t worn off quite yet).

Read the Bible.

I know, I know. You’ve tried. You hit Leviticus. I get it.

But give a renewed 2012 kind of effort and check out what God might have to say to you this year. Not my interpretation of it. Not your pastor’s sermons about it. Not your toddler’s felt-figure pop-up storybook synopsis of it.

The real thing. For yourself. Here’s a few tips that might help:

YouVersion.com

In my opinion, the best online Bible around. Pick from countless translations and paraphrases, see what others have to say about specific verses, post your own thoughts, questions, and insights, and perhaps even choose a reading plan that fits into your life. The mobile iPhone and iPad apps are stellar.

Reading plans are a great way to stay disciplined. But never forget, it’s not about getting through a passage of Scripture. It’s about allowing Scripture to get through you. When in doubt get the benefit, not just a completion mark. (Hint: there’s a “Catch Me Up” feature if you get a few days behind. Don’t quit. Use it).

7 Minutes a Day

My friend, Dr. Mike Elmore, designed his own approach to reading Scripture that I’ve also found to be a powerful asset. Commit 7 minutes each day. (Why seven? I don’t know. God’s perfect number? Six obviously wasn’t an option, and eight was already taken by that ab shredder program). But seriously, who doesn’t have 7 minutes a day? Liar.

• Pick a passage of Scripture (Mike usually sticks with one for a week or two).
• Read through it.
• Meditate on it (ponder it, question it, run it through the lens of your life experiences).
• Journal about it.
• Pray it.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Just a few thoughts as you head into a New Year. Get into Scripture. Let Scripture get into you. I guarantee a longer shelf life than that packet of brine shrimp masquerading as an underwater family.

It’s eternal.

What does God want to say to you in 2012?