Like most of humanity, I watched the globally anticipated Tiger Woods apology press conference a few short weeks ago.  Never in history had a sports icon demanded such non-athletic attention (Wall Street trading actually slowed notably during his 14-minute statement!).  Unbelievable.

Many of you may have been surprised to hear Tiger’s Buddhist profession and his admission that he’d lost his way as it pertained to his faith.  But through a little research and a few conversations with people much smarter than me (those aren’t usually too hard to find), I’ve uncovered something:

I am a Christian that sometimes lives like a Buddhist.

Yep.  You can unsubscribe now, or you can hang with me (I’m hoping to eradicate some potential heresy, not promote it).  You just may find some of yourself in this, too.

By it’s own admission, Buddhism seeks to eradicate want, to achieve nirvana through freedom from all appetites. According to Buddhism, the only way to live well is to kill desire (and Tiger Woods has some misguided impulses he undoubtedly would like to bury).

As a Believer in Christ, I completely understand that perspective.  At my core, I’m broken and sinful. My motivations are self-oriented, and my life prone to inexplicable evil (I hope I never lose sight of that reality). But Jesus didn’t come just to kill my sin, He came to resurrect in me a new life.

“My old self has been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. So I live in this earthly body by trusting in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” -Galatians 2:20 NLT

Some Christians are half-dead. Like Buddhists, they become focused solely on the eradication of their desires, and they never truly embrace the gift of resurrected life that Christ offers.  Efforts center on control and quickly spiral into a cesspool of religious death.  These people become like walking zombies, spiritual corpses with only a grotesque illusion of life.

Jesus didn’t come to suppress your desires, He came to redeem them. Yes, He calls us to die (“My old self has been crucified with Christ”).  But through that death He offers us life (“It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me”).

Real life.  His life.

Does your life reflect a focus on death or life?  Jesus didn’t stay in the tomb. I don’t want to live there either.

“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.

“If people can’t see what God is doing they stumble all over themselves; but when they attend to what He reveals they are most blessed.” -Prov. 29:18

If I’m totally honest (and I try to be most of the time…really, I do), I spend a big chunk of my time pursuing what I naturally see inside this head of mine. I can’t help it.  The vision I have for my future has been shaped by my parents, my socio-economic upbringing, my sub-culture, the friends I grew up with, my experiences, the voices I’ve listened to.  My expectations and assumptions for life are there, under the surface, triggering my impulses and shaping my decisions, even when I’m completely oblivious to their power. That’s not wrong.  It’s human.

But if I continue down that road of complete honesty (because apparently all my other posts are full of deception?), I spend a lot of time doing my own thing. I allow my instincts and culture to shape my life’s direction, and then invite God along for the ride.  I’m really good at it.  I can even spiritually spin it, use grandiose God-terminology, Scripture even, to make myself (and those around me) think I’m after God’s vision and not my own.  (Sometimes I even believe my own stories).

And that makes me tired. I get worn out trying to manufacture energy, create growth, draw attention, maintain what I have.  My life.  My vision.  My game plan.  Mine.

I think there are a lot of tired people in this world. Tired from chasing the American dream, hiding consumerism in words like “responsibility,” living under our culture’s expectations and obligations, religious duty, cloaking self-absorption in God-language and spiritual vernacular.

What would happen if we learned to stop and listen? To absorb?  To allow ourselves to truly be transformed by the values and desires of God’s Kingdom?  To “attend to what He reveals?” What if we learned to align ourselves with what God was already doing?

What if we learned to ask, and then really listened and responded to what God revealed about:

• Our families?
• Our marriages?
• The way we spend our money?
• Where we live?
• Our most important relationships?
• His heart for justice?
• His plan for our city?

Something is already formulating these visions. Getting a glimpse of what God is already doing will not happen naturally.  We have to be proactive in pursuing, uncovering, listening, surrendering…and then we flat out have to find the guts to respond. Most of the big decisions we make in life aren’t complicated, they’re just very costly.  A lot of times, I’m just not willing to pay the price (yeah, I admit it).

What would happen if we all learned to “attend to what He reveals?“  What if we got in line with what He is already doing?  Are you willing to pay the price?  Yeah, I’m not always sure I am either.

“Do good and you’ll be rewarded for it.”
-Proverbs 28:10 (MSG)

I love verses like this. I could camp-out here (if I didn’t hate camping).  Stay for awhile.  Maybe put down some roots.  That’s good stuff.  I like rewards.  Rewards are good.  Right?

There I go assuming again…

As I pondered this verse over the past few days, a sobering question arose.  Rewards are good for me, but who says that rewards always feel good? Am I making some bad assumptions:

Reward = comfort
Reward = notoriety
Reward = riches
Reward = happiness
Reward = my desired outcome

Woohoo!  Bring it on God!  I’m ready for my reward!

But what if God’s greatest reward is my crushing? What if it’s the systematic disassembling of everything I ever thought I wanted?  The loss of my dream so that His dreams can come alive in me?  What if that reward is a closeness to God that can only be obtained by the complete dismantling of everything I am?  What if that reward is the putting to death of all my self-driven motivation? What if it comes full of pain, questions, uncertainty, and gut-wrenching, sleepless nights?

“Well, uh…you can keep that reward God.  Not interested.  I’m happy to leave that one on the table.  Save that one for someone else.  Yeah, in fact I know exactly who you can give that one to.  Want a name?  I’ve got it right here in my iPhone...gimme just a second…”

God’s greatest reward is His presence, His love, His deep and ever-pursuing passion to make right everything in me that I can’t make right on my own.  And all it takes to obtain that reward is…

…all of me.

My reward is His life, but the pathway to get there costs me everything.  Some reward?

Yeah, it is.

Death.  Always a great way to start a blog when you want to build readership.  Bet you’ll be quick to forward this link to all your friends.  No better way to get invited to a party than to start throwing the death word around.

Yesterday was Easter, so I thought it would be good to dedicate my early morning to re-reading the Resurrection Story.  But it wasn’t only the empty tomb that grabbed my attention.  The last chapter of the Gospel of John tells the story of Jesus conversation with his disciple Peter (if you don’t know the story, Peter had just vehemently and publicly denied knowing Jesus the morning of His death).

So Peter and Jesus were chatting, making things right, when Jesus said something that seems rather strange:  “I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” (John 21:18).

Huh?  But then the Bible explains itself:

“Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. Then he said to him, ‘Follow me!’”

The kind of death?  By which He would glorify God?  I thought this was Easter?  Pastels.  Bunnies.  Eggs.  Death?  Why does it always require death to glorify God?

As much as we talk about the unconditional love of Christ, there should never be any doubt – accepting that love is free, a gift, but that’s just the beginning of a journey.  The cost of following Christ, truly following Christ, is high.  All but one of Jesus’ disciples was killed, the other exiled to live alone on an island.  Do we really understand what Jesus asks of us?

Death.  Dying.  To Self.  To our perspectives.  To our kingdoms.  To our plans for our lives.  To our safety.  Our comfort.  Our selfishness.

Death.  Only death brings life…real life.

The quietness of the house tonight has made me introspective.  I’m pondering more than one unfortunate and sorrowful story of respected spiritual leaders, some of who I know personally, who are not ending well.  Years of effective service drowned in torrents of suspicion, accusation, or slowly found irrelevance.  As a leader who is just starting a new church-planting journey, I’m tempted to point the finger and say “that will never be me.”  But I’m tormented by the unfortunate knowledge of my own humanity.  Why do we hold onto things so long and so tightly?

It’s easy to throw stones when you sit where I am today…literally with nothing.  Nothing but a dream that’s bigger than my reality.  No massive throngs of people listening to me teach, no years of “successful” history to lean back into, no big salary.  When you don’t have much it’s not hard to let it go.  But after 5, 9, 18 years of “sweat equity,” will I still be able to withstand the allure?

Once again, Jesus was the ultimate example.  He personally invested in countless lives, was followed across the countryside by massive crowds, healed the sick and even raised the dead (you know His Twitter feed would have outnumbered even President Obama’s).  And right as His power and influence reached the point of critical mass, as the people were ready to crown Him King…

He died.  He died. He willfully died.

Jesus held everything loosely.  The One who owned it all to begin with never acted as if He owned anything.  I hope the same will be said about me.  I guess only time will tell.