It’s so easy to gloss over messages we’ve heard over and over again. The Christmas story is no different. Even those outside the Christian faith can probably quote at least some of it, if from nothing else their fond memories of the old Charlie Brown Christmas special.  But have you ever thought beyond the pageantry we know and celebrate each December and really put yourself in the context of this overly-familiar story?

The second chapter of Luke is full of action: a road-trip to Bethlehem, virgins having babies, barns and farm animals, angels singing to shepherds (makes me want to pull out the porcelain nativity right now. They’re so life-like, aren’t they?).  But in the midst of all the celebration and lyrics of well-known Christmas carols, we lose a very real fact: it was 30 plus years from His birth in Bethlehem until Jesus completed the purpose for which He came.

Can you imagine getting a gift for Christmas this year and then waiting three decades to open it? Somehow I think it would lose its luster, it’s excitement, the anticipation.  But Jesus didn’t come to provide us a once-a-year emotional reaction.  He came to change the face of humanity, to give life to that which was dead.

In our world of instant acquisition, where we buy things today with money we’ll earn in the future (sometimes years and years in the future), Jesus–the ultimate Christmas gift–was the also the ultimate in delayed gratification. When the angels ascended back to heaven and the shepherds returned to their sheep and their fields, life must have seemed to return to “normal,” even though life would never be the same again.

Jesus was unlike any other gift ever given. Not like the mountains of plastic toys and video games gobbled up on Black Friday.  Exciting today, broken tomorrow, paid for at 21% interest over the next 6 years.  Jesus was a gift that unfolded slowly, methodically, under the radar of mainstream society.  And He’s still unfolding today if we’ll let Him.  Not as one-day-once-a-year event, but as a lifetime pursuit.

Keep unwrapping.

Merry Christmas everybody.

I am Tiger Woods.  That was a compelling Nike Ad when Tiger burst onto the public scene over a decade ago.  But it’s true.  I really am Tiger Woods. Seriously.  Don’t believe me?

No, I’m not the world’s number one golfer. I’m not worth even a minuscule fraction of a billion dollars.  I have no endorsement contracts (unless you include being sent a pre-release of Mark Batterson’s new book, Primal for a blog review).  And no (my wife and mother will be so relieved), I haven’t fallen victim to “infidelity” or “transgressions” that would fill tabloid journals and pop-culture news programs.

But I could.

(the ugly, transgression thing…not the world’s number one golfer or billionaire endorsement thing…just to be clear)

That potential exists inside of me. I’m just as broken.  Just as vile.  Just as selfish.  Just as prone to destroying myself and everyone around me. And if you’re really honest with yourself (come on now, you can do it), you’ll admit that you are, too.

My Midwestern Evangelical ingraining used to immediately launch into rants of condescension, condemnation, and arrogant opining.  We tend to hide our own propensity for sin in almost gleefully acknowledging it others. But today as I stare in the mirror, I see less of that religious hypocrite and more the face of a Tiger staring back at me.

Without Jesus I’m a complete mess. Unchecked, I am capable of unspeakable evil.  I will destroy myself and worse yet, everyone around me.  To bury that reality in self-righteousness is to exclude myself from the very grace I proclaim for the world.  I’m not suggesting there’s not choice, responsibility, or consequence.  But I certainly hope I extend the same mercy to others that I know I so desperately and personally need God to extend to me.

“God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again.” (John 3:17 MSG)

I am Tiger Woods. And so are you.  Do you have the courage to admit it, too?

“Jesus told them, ‘you’re all going to feel that your world is falling apart and that it’s my fault.’” (Mark 14:27 MSG)

Ever feel that way?  Like the closer you get to God, the more chaos it brings? Not exactly a great church-marketing strategy.  But the reality is our western, capitalistic church mindset wrongly equates God’s peace with ease, and His blessing with comfort, wealth, and the fulfillment of our personal, self-promoting dreams and desires.

The closer Jesus got to fulfilling his ultimate purpose, the less circumstances made sense to those around Him. And we see this reality unfold with uncomfortable clarity through Jesus’ disciples.

These men invested three years following this fascinating, controversial figure.  He added purpose to their normal, everyday lives, set them up with a new life trajectory, with meaning.  And then just as it seemed all their visions and desires were about to be fulfilled, He’s arrested, tried, and crucified. He died.

Chaos. And it almost seemed as if that’s what He wanted, like He willfully allowed it to happen (um, because He did).

Jesus rocks our worldview. He shakes our assumptions and perspectives to the core.  We like power, control, comfort, predictability. Yet we find following Jesus (really following Him, not just making Him part of your culture or weekly schedule or to-do list check-off) requires us to give all that away.  He replaces it with indescribable peace, joy, and purpose, but the cost is everything.  Everything.

And most days I’m just not willing to pay it. Just being honest.

Have I just brought Jesus into the dialog to make my love of self more palatable, justifiable, culturally acceptable, easier to swallow? Or am I really willing to give up control, power, perspectives, my way of seeing the world?

Following Jesus is the most peacefully destabilizing decision you will ever make. He will undoubtedly make you feel like your world is falling apart, and that it’s all His fault.  And although something in you is begging to run away, to keep control, to stay in power, there’s another part of you that longs for the adventure, that wants desperately to surrender to His game plan, that knows stepping into the uncontrollable chaos is actually the way to real life.

My friend Davy has really impressed me over the years. When I first met him, I knew him as a stellar, young guitarist who joined the music team I was leading.  A few months later, I found out he was an absolutely fabulous singer (think Adam Lambert’s range without all the, well…disturbing stuff).

About a year into our friendship, I learned he was into graphic design.  I thought, “awe that’s nice, this kid likes to draw.“  Then a few months later he took up photography (like, from scratch…never done it before).  I was impressed.

But the world was going the way of the internet (not sure if you heard that or not), and he didn’t really know how to do web programming or development.  Until he did.  Taught himself. Did this kid ever stop?

Watching Davy helped me realize something important.  He isn’t pencil sketcher.  A painter.  A computer designer.  He doesn’t just take pictures or write web code.  He is an artist.  And he’s willing to use whatever medium presents itself to bring to life what was is really inside of him.

I want to be the same way.  But how many of us get caught up in the expression of who we are instead of, well, who we actually, really are?

A lot of people have asked me if I miss doing music full-time.  In some ways I definitely do.  Music has been a life-long passion, and the piano a technical pursuit since I was just four years old.  I was just beginning to see my dreams of songwriting and record production come to life when we stepped away to start City Community Church.  Sounds crazy.  But I’ve tried hard to define myself by what’s inside of me, not by the way it comes out.

I am a follower of Jesus Christ, and my purpose is to bring God’s Kingdom alive in the world. Today that expresses itself, not through music, but in co-leading a brand new community of believers.  Through speaking and teaching.  By writing and blogging.  Through sitting across a table from real people as they process life, what it means to genuinely encounter Jesus, and if they really buy into all that or not.

I’m not a musician or songwriter, a teacher, a writer, a pastor. That’s just what I do.  And hopefully I can effectively use those expressions to accurately bring the redemption of Christ to life in this broken world.  I want to constantly work on who I am, and who God is becoming in me. The outflow always starts from there.

What’s driving your expression? Is there any substance behind what others see?  Are you nurturing what lies under the surface?  What’s at the source?  Are you an “artist” or just a “painter?”  What defines you?

“Go home to your own people.  Tell them your story – what the Master did, how He had mercy on you.” (Mark 5:19 MSG)

We’re so quick to focus on theology, doctrine, knowledge. But it’s interesting to me that when Jesus healed a demon-possessed man in Mark 5, He didn’t immediately send him to get more information.  He didn’t even sit down with him to go over the basics.  He sent him to share his personal story, his God-encounter.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against knowledge or doctrine.  We should constantly pursue truth and understanding (just check out Proverbs alone). But I also see a generation of knowledge addicts, a culture that thinks more information is the answer to everything.

And transformation never happens. It’s possible to be full of knowledge without ever personally encountering Jesus.

Jesus didn’t send this newly freed man to seminary, He sent him to tell the story of their personal and transformational encounter. Is your “story” a bunch of dry facts, arguments, philosophy, doctrine, or culture – a “what?” instead of a Who?”

Be honest with yourself.  Have you personally encountered Christ? (NOTE: I’m not asking how many years you’ve gone to church, how many books you’ve read, what ministries you’re involved in, how many justice initiatives you support, what letters you have after your name).

I’m simply asking this:  do you have a story to tell?