Ten Years a Missionary

Well, it’s been ten years and as of last week, I’m no longer a missionary. Well, I’ll always be a missionary, because like James Fraser said, true, lasting missionary work is done on our knees. I won’t be getting off my knees. But I will be looking elsewhere for employment.

It’s been a long complicated road to arrive at this conclusion. And there will be a lot I miss about working as a missionary in China. Hell, I’m gonna miss noodles like crazy. But, on the bright side, I can say hell whenever I want now.

Now I’m just going to be a Christian. No longer will I be a “professional Christian”. I can walk my faith, live and breathe the gospel the way I believe it should be lived and breathed. Not a whole has stood in the way of that before, but it wasn’t always easy. I have had an audience of many, not an audience of one. That’s part of the complication of living on support, which is often a huge blessing. But sometimes it’s utter foolishness. Now I’m excited to put the foolishness aside and be who I’m called to be in some secular workplace in America.

You know, assuming I can find a job.

Until then, I no longer have to binge eat donuts and burritos because I’ll be able to have them whenever I’d like.

I will, however, now have to binge eat noodles when I go back to China for a week next month to shut everything down.

China, you’ll be missed. Hopefully I can get a job that brings be back to you with some regularity. Hopefully you’ll always be a part of my life, not least in my prayers.

This is a big intimidating change. Not sure what to expect.


There’s a shocking amount of uncertainty in my life right now. Shocking because of how little there was six months ago. Shocking because I have always known who I was, where I was going, and exactly how I intended to get there.

It turns out the whole world as my apple kind of scares the hades out of me. I’d rather know exactly where I’ll be taking a bite and how, and where that will lead three years from now.

Instead I’m chasing away questions I’m unwilling to ask because I’m too overwhelmed by the ones I can’t answer. They pile up and I shove them under a rug and yell loudly at myself, “This isn’t a midlife crisis!” Hoping if I say it loudly enough I’ll grow to believe it myself. I beg myself to believe what I teach—what I believe—that God is in control and somehow has a place for this. There is a road yet ahead. Not just a cliff.

And hopefully there will be very few casualties on said road. I’m not sure I can handle it any other way. My hopes are fading with my burning desires. Desires burning to ash. Not desires not burning inside of me.

Infrequent Opportunity

Preaching this Sunday on a topic of sound theological basis, but with lots of complex explaining needing to be done to fit in with different eschatological views. Hope I can skirt the right issues, and address the right ones. Landing where the Lord is honored, and His Kingdom is grasped better by those who hear.

It’s interesting to only have infrequent opportunity to speak on whatever topic I’d like. I speak a lot, but seldom do I get to choose to share what’s on my heart. In these situations I feel the need to jam a lot in, and hopefully allow my passion for the topic to not overshadow the scripture it’s founded on.

Turning Over a New Stone

This week, namely yesterday, marked a new stone turned over. I tried something I’ve wanted to try my hand at for years and put myself out there in a new, scary, and strange way. Maybe I’ll be shut down, and try to tell myself I never really wanted it anyhow. Maybe I’ll be well received and panic and run. But turning over new stones is always scary. What if there’s something new under this one?

I’ve had a lot on my plate for some time now and I am acutely aware of my inability to sort through even knowing what I desire. I feel like the Lord has me on a precipice and is threatening to push me over. Not to kill me, mind you, just to make fall briefly into my discomfort zone.

It’s fascinating to watch theology I’ve had all my life be challenged by the reality of having to face the situation. I can believe I’ll behave one way, but I’m watching my doubts and fears respond in whole new ways. Especially as I attempt to consider my family and their needs and desires.

I’ve watched pastors and other believers whom I’ve counseled deal with similar situations and I always thought them so weak for not knowing what they want. And now I have no idea what I want. I figured if ever in this situation I would be clear about what I wanted, or at least the Lord’s will, and then I would pursue that boldly. “Like a man,” if you will. But now? Well, now I know to compassion on those in these situations. To love them, encourage them, and help them when they fail. Even when they fail to pursue what I think they want. Because apparently sometimes, we genuinely don’t know.

Here’s to hoping this stone only has bugs and dirt I’m familiar with on the other side. Or else something fascinating I can’t look away from. I’m fine with either one.

Missionary Tenure

Growing up I always assumed that the word tenure came from an old English word meaning 10 years. I’ve since looked it up and found the two have nothing in common. Nonetheless, tenure for a missionary seems to come at or around the ten year mark.

Tenure for a missionary is like tenure for a professor in the sense that getting tenure means you’re arriving at a kind of ensured longevity. But tenure is different from teaching because in teaching you get tenure for great teaching, research, or published scholarly articles. And as a missionary you get tenure for being broken down and wiped out, eventually staying in the field as just a shadow of what you once were. When the missionary gets tenure it means he finally lays himself down and really learns a slow dependance on the Lord.

You can tell the missionaries with tenure because the young and new missionaries all think of them as lazy, sometimes wondering why they are still around. Conversely the tenured missionary has patience for the young kid with an insatiable “go-get-em” attitude because he’s been there.

No one gets to tenure just by learning from the older generation. They have to get there the hard way—through long years of work and consistent failures from trying to operat without the Spirit.

Tenure is a good thing, the Lord can use the tenured differently because they’ve given up on doing things by their own strength.

The Documentary Hypothesis (JEDP) as applied to a Nigerian e-mail request for money transfer

I've recently been thinking about Biblical criticism and found that I could apply what I've learned to an email I recently received requesting my help for a transaction of a large sum of money. I was really quite shocked to find that not one, but probably as many as four people or groups of people helped to compose this email to me.

My breakdown of the text is based largely on who is the master (or the most important person) of the email at the time. I have broken this down into four parts the "Sir," the "Help," the "I," and the "They." At four different times this email was edited by people who leaned towards thinking a different audience was the master of the email

You will see by notes below just how clear these different authors were. And I hope my point will become clear to you as you read through these notes.

From: DR. RAYMOND OHIRO [D_ohiro@annmaiLcom]
Subject: Immediate Response

(S) - Here you can see the first master of the email. The composers of this first part considered the master (the main subject) of the email to be the person they were writing to. This letter is addressed to "Sir" because it made the recipient very comfortable in believing this was going to be about him.

I would date this probably sometime in early 1995 back when people had just discovered email and used it primarily to learn more about others than to share about themselves.

Good day to you. You were introduced to us in confidence through the Chamber of Commerce, Foreign Trade Section. The reason for this letter is that your help is being sought in order to facilitate and successfully complete a profitable venture that is of immense benefit to you, and us the originators within a stipulated time frame.

(H) Help is how we will refer to the second writer of this email. Likely sometime around the dot-com crash of 2000 this letter was found and then revised with the master (or focus) of the email no longer being the recipient of the email but rather the urgent need for help. This was characteristic of the time and people's lack of money.
I am Dr.Raymond Ohiro, a director with the Department of Petroleum Resources (DPR) and the Secretary of the Contract Award and Monitoring Committee (CAMC) of the Department of Petroleum Resources (DPR). This profitable venture involves the sum of US$15,600,OOO.00 (Fifteen million Six hundred thousand United States Dollars) which is presently in an account of the DPR with the Apex Bank in Nigeria, the Central Bank. We need your help as a foreigner to help transfer this sum of US$15.6M (Fifteen million Six hundred thousand United sates dollars).

(I)I is the third person or group to edit this email. This must have been at least 10 years after the original was written as the focus is now completely removed from the "Sir" at the begging of the email and at this point the "I" believes they can be more persuasive if more is offered about them, then asked of the recipient.

Notice the continuing pleas for help throughout this part of the email... clearly added at a later date when 15 million would have been a more reasonable sum (than back in 95 when probably the number would have been closer to 10 million to be a believable sum).
(T) "They" is the fourth and final person/group to edit this email before it was mailed off to my inbox. This group is set apart from the previous I because the email loses it's personal tone of a dealing between two people and shifts to a transaction between one individual me-- the recipient -- and they a group now seen clearly in the word "we." We cannot make this transfer on our own or in our names for the fact that we are civil servants (still in active service). But you as a foreigner can assist us in the sense that the money to be transferred will be paid to you as a contract entitlement for a purported contract executed for my government. The money in question is ready for transfer into an overseas account which we expect you to provide. We have agreed that the money will be shared according to the ratio stated below;a) 20% of the money will go to you for acting as the beneficiary of the fund.b) 70% to us originators (which if possible we may enter into a partnership with you)c) 10% for any expenses that both parties may incur in the course of this transaction

We will require from you: a) Name and address of Company or Beneficiary. b) Details of the account which you are the only signatory that the money will be transferred into. The above requirements is to legalize the claim for payment and transfer of the money to your account. Be informed that the reason we are sending you this letter is because we know that the only way to succeed is to seek the help of a foreigner. Your professional status is not a matter of hindrance in this transaction. Please, your assistance is highly solicited. We have no doubts at aIl that this money will be released and transferred if we get the necessary foreign partner to assist us in this deal. Therefore, when the business is successfully concluded we shall through the same connections withdraw all documents used from all the concerned government ministries for 100% security. All expenses regarding the opening of an account if not already in existence shall be borne by you, all expenses are however reimbursable on the conclusion of this business transaction. It is of high hope that you will consider this humble request and respond positively. If you are still in doubt after the receipt of this letter, please do not hesitate to contact and ask any question(s) that may hinder your decision on this matter. If in the alternative you are indisposed, please an acknowledgment of the receipt of this letter will be appreciated stating such. For more details on this transaction, you can call me on my telephone number +234-1-774-4594. The telephone line be busy, please keep on trying till you get through. While awaiting your early response, thank you in anticipation of your most valued assistance. Yours faithfully, Dr. Raymond Ohiro (MNIM) P.S. PLEASE TREAT AS URGENT AND CONFIDENTIAL

The constant ebb and flow of good/poor English can easily be explained by the lack of unity with the original writers.

Just to conclude... The original "S" text was written sometime around 1995 (using the best estimates of my understanding of the language and the culture at the time), the first major modification -- "H" -- being being made sometime around the turn of the millennium.

"I" would have rewritten and added their text sometime around 2005.

It is my best guess that "T" brought the whole text together into a sort of combination I like to call S. H. I. T. probably around the end of 2007.

At this point I intend to respond to this email as quickly as possible and I hope to receive my 20% of the 15 million by the end of the month. I hope that my brief adaptation of the JEDP hypothesis to this Nigerian letter shed at least a little light on how you approach the documents of importance in your life.

Beer and the Resurrection

Years ago I lamented that I could find no good spiritual parallels for beer. Well good people, I’m glad to say my theology has evolved (joke in there somewhere) and I’ve done it. My reading and pondering lately have all been in the realm of eschatology and the resurrection. Thus…

Beer is an excellent example of the transformation we undergo in resurrection.

Bland wort (the syrup made from soaking grains which is later fermented in to glory) turns to glorious deliciousness through the wonders of yeast. Likewise, we are bland (even bad) fallen in nature until we are, through the work of Christ, resurrected in to our heavenly nature. Beer is imperfect, and we are imperfect. But we are citizens of heaven invading earth. Beer is a product of heaven invading earth.

And then there is the hops. What was for a long time considered nothing more than a bitter worthless weed becomes the foundation of flavor which makes beer so good. It’s like the sins and wounds of our past. Those bitter parts of our history now gives us our unique flavor. Our greatest help to believers often comes from our greatest wounds. Resurrection turns the bitterness of our sins and wounds to mere testimony of the glory of the Lord. We use those things to bless, encourage, and empathize with others.

Yeast is the Spirit at work within us, transforming our nature in to something perfect.

Beer. The resurrection. Awesome.

Of Significance

As secure of a person as I feel I am, I think I am surprised at how much I nonetheless wrestle with significance. Am I doing what I’m supposed to be doing? Am I a faithful enough missionary? Will my work have a lasting impact? Will anyone care or remember me? Do I even want to be remembered?

What if I made more money elsewhere, would I then have a greater impact on the Kingdom? Do I spend enough time in prayer to be doing to real lasting work? If I had to leave tomorrow would anything I’ve built last long enough to accomplish the Lord’s purposes?

And this last question brings to light my misunderstanding. I know without question I have built nothing of value in my own strength. The Lord either builds through me or none of it does matter.

Yes, probably sometimes I build things which will not survive the refiners fire when Jesus returns. But if I’m depending on the Spirit of the Lord, which I am so terribly inadequate at, and if I preach His word, He WILL accomplish His purposes in and through me. My significance comes not from of what I’ve done. But from of what I’ve allowed Him to do in and through me. I am of significance because I am a child of God. My work matters because I have tried to do it by His strength and not my own. My work will survive the refiners fire when it is actually revealed to have always been His work.

I write this to preach it to myself. Because I too often forget it.

Most Shocking to Me Daily Is

There are people in this world with a tolerance for monotony I cannot help but quietly envy.

Insider Movements are Bad Mothers-in-Law

If you accept the imagery of marriage being a picture of Christ and His Church, then insider movements are the bride trying to bring her mother along to the marriage. There is leaving and cleaving in marriage, there should be leaving and cleaving when you become a believer (become a member of the Church) and you cling to Christ.

Anything else isn’t asking for a successful marriage; too much baggage is being brought along for it to have any hope of working.

An Empty Box of Chocolates

In my younger years I was not, what most would call, suave. In fact while there were lots of examples of this, perhaps the most telling situation was when, in seventh grade, I asked an eight grade girl to be my girlfriend. She took three days to think it through, which in itself probably should have given me pause. Then one day right after the bell rang, she pulled me in to the hallway and said “no” in front of all my peers. That wasn’t that big of a deal in itself I suppose, even George Clooney was probably rejected once or twice in his life. But I was not rejected once. I was rejected about eleven times. By the same girl. You might wonder why I kept asking her the same question. Because something told me she regretted her decision. The first time she was just confused. The tenth time she just hadn’t come around yet.

Like I said, suave.

Well the months passed. And actually my interest did eventually fade from that girl to one of her best friends. They ran in a pack of three. There was Sarah, who had shut me down countless times. There was another girl of some unusual descent with an epic nose and an even worse name—Camel. You can’t make this up. She was actually named after the animal with a hump perfectly descriptive of the one on her nose. And then finally, to protect her identity, let’s call this new focus of my attention Mary. Mary was blonde, cute, and funny. When one of my friend’s told me she was too much of a “Barbie” I didn’t understand how that could possibly be a problem. The whole world complains Barbie is a standard no one can possibly live up to, and here Mary’s being accused of being like Barbie as though it’s a bad thing? Clearly my friend was an idiot.

I liked Mary but, being the mature seventh grader that I was, I had no idea how to show it. Shyness was not something I struggled with, and this is probably all the more reason why I utterly lacked suaveness. Valentines Day came along and one of my friends, Reed, came to school with a large heart-shaped box of chocolates. His mother had given him this as a gift, and by the end of first period he had already eaten the last of the chocolates. Now my school was small, and I had made a fool of myself on more than one occasion, but I decided it would be amusing for me to take this box and ask girls if they would be my valentine.

Most, upon seeing me on my knee proposing something with no meaning at all, simply giggled and walked away, knowing I was an idiot. But eventually I did make my way to Mary. While my heart was much more a flutter at the time, I was going through the same routine I had hundreds of times. In retrospect it’s hard to know what I was thinking, perhaps I was preparing myself for a life in sales and wanted to get used to rejection. It’s difficult to understand the motivations of pubescent boys. Even though I was one—this specific one. I remember that entire stage of life through a hormonal blur of self consciousness.

So there I am, on Valentines day, at the top of the stairs to the Jr. High School floor. I was facing south with my back to the stairs and I caught Mary as she was closing her locker door. The air was dry. I had my shirt tucked in. The mole on her right cheek was particularly cute that day.

I lowered myself to one knee and asked Mary to be my valentine. She turned bright and clasped her hands behind her back as she swayed slightly back and forth. I was scared—probably sweating in some new places. She then smiled and said, “Yes.”

Time freezes sometimes. But it’s different than in the movies. In the movies when time freezes the camera pans around the room and shows you the face everyone is making right after an explosion or something. In real life, when time freezes, you simply get to live the most painful moments of your life for much longer than a moment. I had long enough in my head to process the fact that this girl, the girl I wanted more desperately than anything at the time to like me, was making a gesture which suggested she in fact did like me. And I had an empty box of chocolates. Empty.

Reed’s mom had given them to him, not me. And I definitely was not competent enough to be giving a real box of chocolates to Mary. What was I thinking putting myself in this situation?

I knew I couldn’t stand there forever, though that was probably already how long I had waited. I had to say something. So I mustered all my intellect, had a meeting in my brain and “It’s empty,” was all I managed to mutter.

Mary walked past me and down the steps. I stood staring at the wall in disbelief until disbelief turned to devastation. Unfortunately however, this is not the end of the story.

A few weeks later, our school, like many before it, decided to add to our already socially awkward lives by offering a free Post-Valentine-Gram mailing service, or something with an equally terrible name. This little excercise was easy, the student council set up boxes thoughout the halls which we could fill with notes to whomever we wanted and in a few weeks, right before a school dance, the notes would be delivered during homeroom to whomever we wanted in our school.

This was my chance at redemption. I could taste it as I tucked my hands under my pillow in bed at night. I knew my poetic mind could come up with something to win Mary over. Her expression of vulnerability would not forever be lost to the nether of Jr. High, I would swoop in, save her by asking her to a dance (a move I could actually back up), and this would become something we would both laugh about in our fifties. Just me and my barbie.

Thus began a long tortuous process of writing poetry, prose, or more likely, just complete sentences to win over Mary. I experimented with everything. But at this point in life the only thing I knew how to write was book reviews and reasons why marijuana was bad. School was preparing me for academic and perhaps professional life, but was clearly coming up short on helping me with reality. While I don’t have the letter in my possession any longer (I’m sure it’s still tucked away somewhere in Mary’s special drawer of prized possessions), I can say with some confidence that it said something like this:

Dear Mary, Roses are red. Violets may be as well, I’m a little color blind. There’s a dance coming up which I hope you’re not entirely unaware of because I’d really like you to come with me, if you wouldn’t be embarrassed to do so. Not that you should be embarrassed, I’m not saying that, I’m just saying if you wanted to, and it happened to work out that your parent’s aren’t opposed to you going to dances or anything…. well. Would you come to the dance with me?

Yours, The only guy who ever gave you an empty box of chocolates.

This was it. I had done it. This was going to work. It had to work. It was going to be a week until it was delivered and it was all I could think about. I thought about it when I put my books in my locker after class and while I was trying to engage my friends in conversation at lunch.

And finally the day came. I didn’t know when in the day it would happen until a bunch of student council folks showed up in my homeroom class and starting handing out notes. She was there right across the room from me. She was handed what was definitely my note and I was going to get to see her face as she read it.

She opened it, her eyes moved back and forth the way they should. She stopped. And then she didn’t look up and look at me. Instead she handed the note to her friend next to her for consultation. But they looked bewildered. Did she really not know who had given her an empty box of chocolates?

Just as I was contemplating what I could have done wrong a note landed on my desk. A note asking me to the dance. And it was from Camel.

I’ll save you the details about the smoothness with which I responded to this quandary but suffice it to say Mary and I were never an item.

Why I Smoke a Pipe

About three years ago I took up pipe smoking in earnest. I had been smoking a pipe with occasional opportunity since when I was with a few friends, every night around midnight my freshman year of college.

Now I don’t get back to the states but once every three years or so, and thus my dental hygienist was a bit surprised at what she saw. Knowing what I do for a living she said, “I’m really surprised at the amount of stain I see in here. It almost looks like smokers stain, but I assume it must be coffee.”

Nope, it’s smoke.

This, well, I’m not sure she had a box to put smoking in. And now I’m personally out of her missionary box and in some “other” box. Can’t win them all.

The reasons I have continued smoking a pipe are many. But here are a few in no real order.

  • Email will someday be the death of me. But you know what makes doing email really shockingly bearable? Headphones with loud music and great tobacco in a big pipe. Suddenly I’m dining instead of just responding to another organizational email about which I couldn’t possibly care less.

  • Playing outside with my kids is awesome. But I do wary quickly. In extreme heat or cold this is intensified. A pipe makes me the one encouraging them to stay outside, “Just until daddy is done.”

  • William Makepeace Thackeray said, "The pipe draws wisdom from the lips of the philosopher, and shuts up the mouth of the foolish: it generates a style of conversation, contemplative, thoughtful, benevolent, and unaffected.” I firmly believe the pipe is helpful in shutting my mouth.

  • Men need something else between them. Maybe this is a modern American thing, but we can’t get together just to talk. Well, we can. But only if we tell each other it’s actually to enjoy a pipe, or a beer, or something of the sort.

  • I smoke a pipe because I thoroughly enjoy it. And as a believer, I not only have the freedom to do so, but I can even enjoy it to the glory of the Lord.

The Biggest Problems in Missions Today

It may be these issues apply to all ministry and not just missions, but missions is what I know and so that is the focus. This is not an exhaustive list of the problems in missions, there cannot be one because the people who do missions are, well, people. But these are the things I see most often, even in myself.

1. We desire our own name to be glorified instead of the name of Jesus. 

This is by far the biggest issue and has many negative fruits.

We complicate this by heroizing old missionaries instead of the work God did through them. We make these people out to be super-saints, and no doubt they were not wimps. But we whitewash their history of neglecting their families and sin. These people rise to a standard no longer achievable (partially because we have no record of their foolish tweets or boneheaded blog posts). We then desire to be famous like them, and to do the great works "they" did, when really it was the Lord who did great things through them. Even when these missionary histories are written in a God-honoring way, we still read them the wrong way.

Then when our focus is on our own name being glorified, we forsake the true goal of honoring the name of Jesus and we therefore operate by own strength instead of the Holy Spirit.

With our eyes on ourselves we hope to plant a church. And build a church. And we want our church to be the biggest best church around. We aren't working to build the church, the body of Christ. Rather we want to build our church with our theology, our people we can call our own. This, we figure, brings honor to our sending churches (which is true, but it's the wrong kind of honor) and makes our supporters write bigger checks.

When we have our minds on impressing the world back home, or being super-missionaries we prefer any means by which we can in increase our numbers (of converts, or church plants, or coffee's sold to non-believers). This leads to all kinds of strange methodology and is (in my opinion) what leads to things like insider movement methodology. We'd rather have ten pseudo-Christians (I know, it's not a real thing) stuck in the slavery of Islam than one true convert who is free indeed.

Finally, this all leads to the missionary desire to be the savior instead of point people to the one who actually has the power to save.

2. We teach cultural bias and cultural theology instead of the gospel

This one is short, simple, and self-explanatory. Yet, it is very difficult to do correctly, and for the most part we're doing it wrong.

3. Neglecting the unreached for sexy people groups

See previous post for details on this.

If we really care about the lost we need to be investing as heavily in Italy, New York, and Japan as we do in Africa and the Middle East. The lost are not limited to third world countries, yet it's a lot easier to raise support to go to such places.

Alcohol and Tobacco Policies as Bad Missiology

(This has been re-written, or at least edited... hopefully for the better).

For the nine years I've been in the field I've been watching the folks from the IMB (the Southern Baptist missions arm), among other organizations, send people overseas with strict No Alcohol and No Tobacco policies.* Apart from feeling bad for them and how often they're missing out on fellowship with other missionaries, I only occasionally gave the issue much thought. I do know that many abstain from both tobacco and alcohol and have good reasons for it, and I think I always assumed those would be the type of people who would join the IMB.

But now I've heard my organization is soon to pass similar policy. I suppose I've mentioned once, or a bunch of times, that I partake of both alcohol and tobacco products. Often this is with others and, increasingly I allow it to intersect with my ministry.

Creating or having policies which outright (or situationally) ban the use of tobacco, alcohol or other substances (besides those which are illegal) causes unnecessary difficulty in appropriate preaching of the gospel and is thus bad missiology.

Sometimes it looks better on paper that your missionaries don't smoke, drink, and chew, or go with boys who do. But I'm increasingly convinced it hinders the teaching of the gospel when it is universally applied.

Here I should say I will primarily be addressing the arguments about alcohol, because I cant think of any good arguments against the use of tobacco. Yes, it's not good for you, but neither is Coca-Cola and only the Mormons have proved theologically consistent enough to outlaw that. Yes addiction is bad, becoming dependent on something other than the Lord is a problem; but  we blind our eyes to caffeine, video games, etc...  Many partake of these things because the benefits outweigh the negatives. And because some can properly handle their substances and game playing, even enjoying them to the glory of the Lord (like the pipe I'm smoking while writing this), all without becoming addicted.

1. An argument from convictions 

There are lots of good, even Biblical reasons not to drink. However, it's very very difficult (and bad exegesis) to make an argument that drinking is Biblically sinful.

That said, if you are convicted personally not to drink, then not drinking can be a great way to preach the gospel. You can talk about how you're abstaining because you have a personal conviction against drinking and the Bible tells us not to sin against our conscience. This is honoring to God. (Romans 14:23).

If you choose not to partake just because of a policy (rather than your convictions), this confirms in the mind of others that our religion is primarily about rules. When actually this is the precise point which makes belief in Jesus so different from the rest of the world's religions. Living our freedom in Christ is one of the most important things a Christian missionary can do. Not abusing that freedom, living it (Romans 14:13-23). Because openly living out our freedom in Christ is preaching the gospel.

When Peter shied away from his convictions in Antioch, Paul opposed him to his face. Submitting to a law when a law is not required for salvation is teaching religious weirdness in place of the gospel. (Galatians 2:11-14). Now, I'm not saying you shouldn't submit to a policy that asks you to not smoke and not drink—you should submit to your authority. We're called to and must. What I am saying is the policy itself is actually a detriment to the gospel being fully preached.

2. An argument regarding reputation

Sometimes the problem is simply that an organization is fearful of the reputation it would have should it's staff be seen drinking alcohol. If reputation is an issue, we need to remember we do not represent an organization, we represent Christ. This then begs the question why was Jesus not concerned with this reputation? (Matthew 11:19). Part of the reason is He wasn't actually drunk. We know He was drinking (John 2:10), but he wasn't drunk. If our organization has people getting drunk in it that is a problem (Ephesians 5:18), but if they're just drinking we need not be worried.

Followers of Christ were not called to be ascetics, or pharisees. Buddhism, Taoism, and even Islam (and just about every other religion in the world) are about following rules, and following them well enough to find salvation. The gospel of Christ is the opposite, this is something we must be boldly proclaiming with our lifestyle.

Another reason Jesus wasn't concerned about others seeing him or his disciples drinking is because wine (and I believe it's safe to extrapolate to other forms of alcohol) is a gift of God. Alcohol brings joy and makes the heart glad (Psalms 104:15, Eccl 10:19). Gifts from God are meant to be enjoyed for His glory. A missionary using alcohol in appropriate settings for building fellowship with others is a good and right thing to do. It is also important that missionaries, more perhaps than anyone else, proclaim there is a right and good place for alcohol. The same way we don't ban sex, we just teach it's made for certain situations and not all situations.

Not all missionaries are discerning. But a blanket policy means the discerning ones will no longer have opportunity to preach these things. It also means the discerning will not have opportunity to teach the undiscerning when and how to properly enjoy such things.

3. An argument from experience

About six years ago, I had an opportunity to take a crowd of about seven locals out to do some evangelism. That night we shared with a homeless man under a bridge. This man was obviously drunk and very excited to have people to talk to. He offered each of us all that he had—a cigarette. My friends, in order, each turned him down. I was second to last and I took the cigarette and let him light it for me. My friend's were shocked.

Now keep in mind, I hate cigarettes. I don't understand why anyone on earth smokes the things. But I do not believe cigarettes are inherently evil, or even sinful to smoke. I also believe this was a situation to be all things to all people (1 Cor 9:21). The same way I eat pig brain when offered to me, I often smoke a cigarette with people when I believe they will then give me their ear.

That night this man refused to hear from anyone other than the one guy who accepted a cigarette. I was the only foreigner and my gospel presentation was, without question, the least clear that could have been offered that night. Yet this man heard us. He believed. And I have good reason to think that cigarette was essential to the transaction.

This is one very black and white situation, but there are many like it regarding alcohol. When those who are comfortable having a drink have the freedom to drink with non-believers it can open the door to talk about the gospel. Again because of rules; people believe all religions can be boiled down to rules. And it is true. For everyone except us. Our God fulfilled our rules, so we don't have to. Because we can't. This IS the heart of the gospel message.

This kind of policy  doesn't reflect the gospel. The gospel is about freedom and when we're with a disciple we can't preach freedom and yet live our lives following a rule we don't have conviction in. This confuses those we're discipling. Policies like this also close the door on the (admittedly) occasional opportunity we have to open doors through clear-conscience partaking with non-believers.

Rules which are not Biblical rules cause us to live in a manner conforming to things which we cant back up with doctrine—for missions this is foolishness. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying abstaining will ruin all missions work. The gospel and our God are bigger than these rules. But it is our job to preach the gospel. Period. Even as it relates to enjoying alcohol and tobacco.

4. An argument from culture

Just about anywhere in the world that has any issue with drinking or smoking learned it from Americans. Not from their reading of the Bible. But from American missionaries.

South Korea is a nation which learned of Jesus, but every South Korean I've ever met never learned how to enjoy alcohol appropriately because the missionaries we sent there didn't teach it. And to this day many Koreans live as though this one thing is a special sin. They know the gospel, but also kind of think in their hearts they might be in some special trouble with God if they have wine at their friend's wedding reception.

I spent some time recently with a small people group who have a similar culture. They believe Christians cannot under any circumstances smoke or drink. Sadly many believe this what makes them a Christian. They think you call Jesus your God, and then stop smoking or drinking and you'll go to heaven. That's a bummer, but it is what happens over time when hardline rules— instead of gospel freedom—are taught. Our hearts like rules because they are black and white and we can try our best to follow them. Naturally we will revert to such thinking, and naturally we will forget the gospel, unless the gospel is consistently taught in the face of rules. A policy makes this difficult to do.

The missionary who went to this minority people a hundred years ago taught them not to drink because their culture was one which only drank to get drunk. He did not model that drinking does not have to lead to drunkenness. He simply made a rule. But a rule has no power over fleshly desire (Col 2:21-23). A man who models submitting his desires to the Lord is far more powerful in the long run, and is lot a less likely to lead to false teaching—because alcohol consumption does not send you to hell.


There will always be people, even in the mission field, who abuse substances. But the solution is never a policy against them. If staff are handling these things incorrectly, refusing them alcohol or tobacco will not solve the problem. It may help the "reputation of the organization" for a brief period of time, but we should be more concerned with the reputation of Christ (and he wasn't worried about these things). We also should be concerned with helping those who are abusing these things to figure out how to use them appropriately. Otherwise we get immature staff who never learn how to properly handle alcohol and tobacco, they return home from the field and go and use them foolishly.

If you want to model appropriate use, do not make a policy against using such things, make a policy encouraging younger staff to learn from older staff. It might be a better idea to make a policy which says your new staff can only partake of these things around seasoned staff for their first year or two until they learn when and how to drink and smoke appropriately. If addiction is the issue you have bigger problems than a policy will solve, and it should begin with a conversation with leadership rather than a set of rules.

If people have messed up, while not fun, it's not the end of the world. One of the best things we can do as missionaries is respond appropriately to our sin. We can demonstrate to locals how we confess our sins, repent, and lean on Jesus.


I always wondered if I would choose to stick around should my organization pass such a policy, and I've heard this is about to happen. I believe too much in what we're doing to give it up just for the freedom to use alcohol and tobacco. But that’s not all that's at stake here. What’s at stake is the preaching of the gospel (and man's ability to misunderstand it), and I’m not sure I’m okay with being subject to such a policy for very long.

I will mourn the loss of the fellowship I have with other missionaries and local pastors over beer and tobacco. I will mourn the loss of opportunity to speak the truth and talk about why a drink will not condemn me, and how I can partake freely because of what Christ did. And I fear the future and our disciples forsaking the gospel for a law they believe we followed.  I'm afraid they might end up like a friend of mine who believes the Lord might never forgive him for the tattoo he got on his arm before he became a believer.

But as locals take over our ministries, I realize I want to stick around long enough to help them understand why such policies are not only unhelpful, but actually detrimental to the preaching of the gospel. I want to be there as they run in to this issue, when they wrestle with policy for ministers and missionaries. I want to help them learn what kinds of things are worth spending their time worrying about. And I hope I can convince them that there is an appropriate response to missionary use of alcohol and tobacco.

But new policy isn't it.

*There are lots of organizations I could pick on, but the International Missions Board is the easiest just because of how big they are.`


I haven’t pulled a post from this blog in a while. But I pulled the last one after some feedback that gave me pause. It’s being reworked and will be reposted. The last time I pulled a post it was because someone pointed out it was in conflict with the gospel. Ouch.

Hopefully this one is less of a problem and is just a matter of better or clearer wording to better express what I meant. But as always, I reserve the right to say, and I’m saying right now, “Please disregard what you might have just read. It was foolish of me to publish it for any number of reasons. Hopefully the next thing to be posted will be better. Sorry. And thank you.”

Neglecting the Unreached for the Sake of the "Unreached People Groups"

We are neglecting the unreached for the sake of unreached people groups. Sadly while the former is black and white (people who don’t know Jesus), the latter has an arbitrary definition. Some folks in a committee one day decided how to define a “people group”. And what percentage of believers defines a “reached” or “unreached group”.

You might be surprised by the number of people who believe once each of these “people groups” hear the gospel and have one believer amongst them, Jesus will return. And somehow these folks goal has become to bring Jesus back. They’re actually calling this, “finishing the task.”

Sadly, there are huge cities and countries in this world filled with people groups considered “reached”, but with basically no believers in their ranks. In fact, by the definition used they should be considered unreached, they’re just part of a bigger, technically “reached”, people group. We have neglected these places for the sake of going where the “unreached people groups” are.

The problem with our definition and our understanding of the implications means that when each of these people groups is reclassified as reached, people will be shocked that Jesus hasn’t returned. And then we’ll have to reclassify and start over “finishing the task.” But our neat definitions of percentages and languages or culture are not necessarily how God sees things.

A lost person is lost. Whatever his ethnicity. And God isn’t just looking for a believer from one more people group so he can add one to his charm bracelet of believers.

Jesus cares about the lost. Period. So should we. Our missions programs and strategies should reflect that.

We need to go to cities with no minorities just because they’re lost. We need to go back to Europe. Just because it’s lost. We need to seek the lost. Period.

For His Name's Sake (Isaiah 48:9-11)

This morning I was reading Isaiah 48:9-11 which says, "For my name's sake I defer my anger, for the sake of my praise I restrain it for you, that I may not cut you off. Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction. For my own sake, for my own sake, I do it, for how should my name be profaned? My glory I will not give to another. "

God could cut us off entirely. Though he says this of Israel it's true of us too. But He doesn't cut us off because we are his chosen people, and He wants to bring glory to His name through us.

For His name's sake, He doesn't cut us off even though we deserve it (gospel, gospel, gospel). 

For His name's sake, He refines us through the furnace of affliction. I think the Lord likes those who represent Him to be the broken of spirit and calm, gentle before Him. The smile of the man in utter dependance on the Lord because he nearly lost everything but the Lord brought Him through. That's probably the smile we're all headed towards if we keep on for him. Because affliction does wear you down, it wears you down until you finally understand your need for the Lord. 

For His name's sake, and for the glory of it, He makes us who He wants us to be. Not who the world desires us to be. 

For His name's sake we will be broken of spirit, humble servants, rather than powerful famous people. For the sake of the name of Jesus, he will make us who he would have us be, so that he has the glory, for He has no intention of sharing it.

For His name's sake He will not share His glory with the superstar missionary, or superstar pastor, or superstar businessman.

For the name of Jesus. 

Of Money, Judgement, and Thankfulness

My family has been on the road for the last three-and-a-half weeks. It’s been a long trip and we’ve been through ten states and driven four thousand miles. We also saw a lot of friends, family, and folks who support our ministry. Some of these people have a lot of money.

Whatever you imagine a lot of money to be, double it. I mean bigger houses, larger tracks of land, stronger air conditioning, more elaborate showers and bathrooms, and more boats. It was awesome.

I have a confession to make though, I have coveted these things in a way I don’t recall ever coveting before. Part of it is being hit with a reminder of the enormity of the city we live in overseas, and the way it contrasts with the vastness of space available in America. Part of it is just how uncomfortable we are and just how comfortable America can be. But part of it is definitely that there are a lot of people in this world who make A LOT more money than me, and sometimes I wonder if I’d rather be earning that kind of money instead of being a missionary.

I also have another confession to make, I often judge these people and their “fortunes”. My natural response to this much money is to believe that people must have lost their souls to get it. They must be slaves to work and have terrible marriages. They must value all the wrong things in this world. These people are clearly sinners because the righteous all live overseas as missionaries or in tiny houses living humble lives in America.

I don’t really believe this in my head, but sometimes this seems to be what comes out of my heart.

This then begs the question, “Just how big is a humble home?” Three bedroom in the city or four in the suburbs? Or is a trailer a humble home? Can it have a backyard? What about a swimming pool? Why do I have specific lines in the sand that I use to judge others? And why am I comparing folks to me and my economic situation as though I were the perfect example for all to follow? Because I’m acting like a Pharisee.

I knew in my head that there were people with thousands of acres of land, but I never saw it with my eyes until now. I knew in my head that there are people who own (multiple) lake houses in country clubs with golf courses and private air strips, but this is my first time experiencing what that means.

And seeing it with my own eyes has been shocking to me. But there is another thing which has been shocking on this trip. These people who seem to me Loaded with a capital L, are also Generous with a capital G. They share their boats, their houses, their food, even their beer, and often their money with missionaries like me—some of whom they don’t even know. I was blessed incredibly with rest and comfort by an outrageous number of people who did things like take me on carts through cattle ranches (and even let me drive). I was blessed by huge beds with lots of blankets in the middle of summer with completely unnecessary air conditioning.

I was blessed by the Lord, via these people, with good gifts of outrageous comfort and as a bonus I was able to be humbled in the process. All the money in all the earth, and everything in the earth is the Lord’s. Why do I assume anyone using it differently than me is a sinner?

I’m so thankful these people have more than me and are willing to bless me with it. I need to learn how to use what I have to bless others better. Because I tend to be willing to share my house until the first time someone puts a stain on my carpet, or moves a measuring cup to the wrong cupboard.

My prayer is that I can maintain a posture of humble thankfulness for the opportunity to experience and enjoy this wealth. That is, instead of my natural reaction of covetousness and judgement. Give me the grace Lord!

The Only Thing in the Blogosphere Ever Written on the Topic of Writing

I’ve been writing with some consistency since I was in early High School. Back then a friend of mine pressed me in to writing poetry and I loved it. Though, I still have those poems and they’re pretty embarrassingly awful. Thankfully we get better with practice, of which I’m still in need of a lot.

Writing is fascinating to me because the written word, different from the spoken word, allows for careful contemplation and the ability to arrive more precisely at that which I’m trying to express. I consider myself a relatively well spoken person. And if there is ever a time I feel I don’t express myself well when speaking English, I only have to compare it to my second language speaking to suddenly feel very confident. When speaking English I feel like I have a funnel of words hovering above my head and the ability to think quickly enough to grasp with Swiss-made-watch precision the exact word I want to best express myself. When speaking a second language it’s more like a thin pillar than a big funnel. There may be ten words for thief but I only know 3 of them; or five words for lonely, but I don’t fully understand the nuance of difference between them.

When writing in English I get the luxury of the huge funnel to start, and then I also get to come back and revise to be even more precise.

I imagine it’s something like how I view a master painter. On my very best days I can draw stick figures that look like people. I always am jealous of folks who can paint something which looks exactly how they want. Even if it’s impressionism and not realism, it still blows my mind that an artist can create on a canvas, that which is in their head.

Perhaps better than many, I can express myself in written word precisely in the way I desire. But at the end of the day there is often still some dissonance. Something in my head which still doesn’t come out quite as elegantly on the paper as I would like. Often times I edit something five or six times and still manage to miss a simple spelling error. Or I wrack my brain for days and end up publishing something insufficient because I can’t ever bring from my mind to my fingertips exactly the word or phrase I want.

Literary theory taught that a concept cannot even exist in our minds until we have a word to express it. Once the word is there we can begin to fill it up with meaning. Love has meaning only because there is a word which we associate with that specific feeling. If this is true, and I have no idea if I even believe that it is, then there must be a word already in my head. The idea must exist in there already formed in words. Writing would just be learning to transmit ideas clearly from my head to the page via my fingers.

All of these leads me to wonder if even the master painter is frustrated with the differences in what is in his head and what ends up on the canvas. Or if the composer never fully gets exaclty what’s in his head out on paper.

I hope that’s the case. Because if I’m the only one still needing to work at it, I’m not sure I could handle that.

I write because I have an idea that will never be fully made clear until it’s expressed in this exact medium. Because the written word is the closest I can get to a representation of what’s in my head. Because I think in words, not pictures or music. And I write because I think someday I just might write a piece entirely imperfect, but perfectly expressing my mind’s imperfections.

The Wall (School Age Kids)

In conversation with my brother-in-law tonight we discussed the wall missionaries hit at around 30 or 35 (give or take) in their lives. Life wasn’t easy when overseas as a young single or even a young couple. But it is nonetheless decidedly different when you have kids, and those kids are hitting school age. Especially when the culture primarily bleeds things you don’t want your kids to learn.

We’re hitting a wall where staying overseas means stepping up our lives substantially. Figuring out how to get our kids in school and live a sustainable lifestyle in this other culture. It’s a wall which causes a lot of people to just move home. And maye that’s what we’ll do. Who knows (though it isn’t our plan right now).

Anyhow, my brother-in-law tonight got to discussing this and mentioned, this is a wall people hit in America too. Actually that’s a big encouragement to me. Even life in America gets tough when your children reach a certain age and life suddenly picks up a certain stress and complexity. Being overseas may add a bit of complexity to it, but life itself reaches a tough point around now.

Figuring out how to get through this next stage of life is a part of life as much as it is a part of missionary life.

America for a Missionary

America for a missionary is a funny place. To us (and especially our children) it’s a great playground filled with delicious food, fun things to do for cheap (or free), and a whole culture who doesn’t treat us like lepers. People don’t stop my children in the street and rub their hands through their hair, people don’t stop to gawk and take pictures. We may personally feel very out of place here, but to everyone else around us we fit in, at least a little bit.

And then there is the fact that my work, when in America, looks very different from my normal work. Support raising is primarily fun meals with fascinating people and then interesting travel and catching up with old friends. Also, I get to be home with the kids a lot more than in regular life.

But it isn’t real life. It isn’t normal overseas life and it isn’t the normal life of a normal American. It’s something “other”. There are times, like runs through beautiful open spaces, where it’s invigorating. And then there are times, like when someone starts talking about their new vacation home, where our eyes glaze over and we get exhausted trying to engage. This is our third furlough in the last eight years, and it increasingly feels cross-cultural to come visit this place.

Though there are some things that we get used to again instantly, like how the roads are wide and people drive carefully. Or how the snack isles are filled with things I find delicious (instead of spicy chicken heads or pickled octopus).

I’m most thankful for the friends that care for me. Love me. And engage with me, even when they’re completely at a loss as to how to continue the conversation. I’m thankful for the sunshine. And I’m thankful for a God that gives rest to His people.

A Missionary Without Honor

We’re on furlough stateside now and it’s the first furlough that I’m wondering how much longer we have overseas. In the past we have always thrived and then, in the last year, found our boundaries. Suddenly where we live isn’t obviously long-term-able for the family. I’m not saying we’re leaving right now—we’re not planning on it. But eventually we will be.

Anyhow, I’ve been chewing lately on why I’m so opposed to leaving. The first and most obvious reason is I still believe overseas is where I am called to be. But the second reason is fear.

We’ve been outside of America for a long time and frankly, I’m not real sure what life looks like state-side.

But it occurs to me what I would miss the most (and maybe what I really fear) in leaving the mission field, is the honor I have being there. I’ve been in-country long enough to be somewhat senior. Not the most senior, by any means, but many people have been there shorter than I have, which earns me some respect for longevity. But then there is that which is undeserved, the honor given just because I’m white, or because I speak Chinese, or whatever.

Someday moving to America means someday giving up an immense amount of honor—honor I’ve grown used to. But that is kind of a lame reason to stay overseas. I hope I lean on the Lord enough to have the strength to stay exactly as long as I’m called. Likewise, I hope I have the courage to leave when it’s time, even though America is intimidating. And even though I would be forfeiting a certain amount of honor with which I’ve definitely grown quite comfortable.

A Weekend Near the Border with Burma

I’ve taken trips to the country-side before. But this one was different for a number of reasons. First of all, it was my first such trip with no other foreigners to share the experience. As such I imagine there were several things which would have made me laugh had someone with a Western perspective been there to share the experience with me, but rather I glossed over them or moved on too quickly.

That said, there was still plenty of note. I travelled with a local pastor friend of mine. I could explain all the relationships and these peoples roles, but it was an unusual event because they all have ties to the government and should never have been hosting a foreigner, so unfortunately I have to leave out the interesting details. Suffice it to say we were headed to see my local friend’s old buddy of the Lisu minority (the people to whom James Fraser of the China Inland Mission famously preached). This Lisu friend was my first interaction with a Lisu minister of any sort, let alone one connected somehow with the government. The Lisu pastor explained to me that he would have to be very careful about how he handled hosting me, but that as long as I wasn’t given the chance to preach in one of the churches he would probably not get in trouble.

We arrived on a Saturday night around midnight and Sunday morning we attended two of the three services our Lisu host normally attends and where he preaches. The first service was a Mandarin speaking service with people who were Lisu, Jingpo, and Han. I was the only foreinger, and the only one who had probably ever attended the service. Foreign missionaries still work amongst these people, but usually (I would assume) with the underground church. We met on the second floor of a country-home which had an open-air living room. The service began in no remarkable fashion, but then I was asked if I would be willing to stand and sing a solo worship song. That was new.

I did my best, when asked about 5 minutes later, to sing Come Thou Fount in a manner reasonable enough to not be too embarrassing for those attending. I think I did alright all things considered. But the suddenness of being asked did cause me to realize just how few worship songs I was comfortable singing from front to back without forgetting the words (especially under pressure). They later did compliment me on my singing, but I have every reason to believe it was a sympathy complement and not an encouragement to pursue this as a career.

We proceeded from there to a Lisu service where I understood nothing of what was said. It is a very interesting sounding dialect. Despite this, it was wonderful to see these people worship, and the way three of the male elders gathered half way through worship to sing an accapella rendering of some worship song in their language—perfectly harmonized. It would have been comparable to a chamber choir or whatever they’re called in the States.

That afternoon I took a bit too long of a nap and therefore the host felt uncomfortable waking me to take me along for the third service. This did make it possible for me to go for a run on the mountains which was something I wanted desperately to do. The paths were only remarkable in that almost none of them weaved slowly back and forth up the mountain, but rather were literally straight up from the village to the peak, often at an incline so steep I could barely maintain grip with my feet while I attemped to move at a pace faster than a crawl.

Later the brother-in-law of our host (we called him Er-Jie-Fu or, the husband of the second eldest sister) arrived and spent some time with us. Erjiefu wore a very large tooth around his neck from a wild boar he had killed himself. I like most people I meet in the city, he was stout, strong, and dark skinned from a life of pretty intense labor. He maintained farming all of the family’s land on steep mountain sides while the rest of the family was now involve in ministry or other work.

Erjiefu insisted on showing us around the grounds a bit, including the crops they were growing in bark on stilts around their house. Even my local native-speaker friend had never heard of this plant, but we were told it sells for a very high price to be used in Chinese medicine. We tried a bit of it (supposedly good for your eyes), but it was nearly flavorless and I’m sure I didn’t eat enough to know if the eye-thing is true.

After this we were shown a bees nest they keep (though they looked like black wasps… but do wasps make honey?), and then given some of the honey. It’s my understanding that bees honey doesn’t really go bad, but this seemed quite … um … bad. In fact the honey was a slightly green color (not orange or yellow) and had a bit of a rancid taste to it. I don’t know if this the result of the strange crop these bees were probably feeding off of, or if the honey had truly turned. It was everything I had to down the small spoonful worth of the stuff I was given for as interesting as it was, it tasted something terrible.

Later as a going-away gift I was given the remainder of the honey in an old plastic jar, as well as some instant coffee (everyone in this country thinks Americans love their Nescafé).

That night around nine when I was ready for bed, the host finally returned from his crazy long day, and he wanted to take us for some late-night cookout. I was very sleepy but could tell he really wanted to go, so I went for the ride. It was a half an hour in to the village, and then quite a bit from there. We didn’t get home until midnight again, but they were quite blessed by my attendance. They offered to bust out some wonderfully brewed local wine, but apparently they really meant grape-juice. A distinction that is very clear in Chinese, and therefore I can only imagine he was joking intentionally when he mentioned it. That said, I would have been quite surprised if they drank real alcohol as it’s something the Lisu believers famously don’t partake of.

The next morning I was guest of honor at Erjiefu’s courtyard, pig-raising, house and then sent on my way.

Beautiful mountains. A spontaneous singing role. Probably-rancid honey. The whole deal. A very interesting weekend.

On Theological Differences and Fruit

I work with a lot of different churches from a lot of different theological persuasions. Just yesterday I met with a pastor I really enjoy and respect, but with whom I have many differences of theology. Throughout his discussion with me about issues in his church, or problems different people are facing, or even in discussing the church as a whole in this country, there are times where I cringe because I fundamentally disagree with his opinions.

What is difficult in these interactions is knowing when to speak up and actually vocally disagree, when to just mention that there may be other views on the topic, and when I should completely keep my mouth shut. Sometimes I walk this balance well, other times I’m not so sure. Most of the time my opinion on a secondary issue (i.e. not the gospel) is of little importance. If he agreed with my view on something he might interact differently or think differently about a situation, but my goal as a missionary is not to bring everyone in to my fold of theological thinking. My goal is to point people to Jesus. And sometimes that means specifically allowing locals to chase the Lord in a way different than I would. But it isn’t always easy. And even more difficult is knowing when holding my tongue is going to cause even bigger conflict down the line.

As a general rule, I try to balance my speaking up with the quality of the fruit the church is producing. In my meeting yesterday I have many disagreements with this pastor, but I can work with him easily because I’m so profoundly impressed with the quality of their church’s fruit. I don’t spend much time worrying about their methodology (even though some of it drives me batty) because their people are walking boldly and blatantly in the grace of the Lord. They understand the gospel and are living it out in their church and in the world. As a result, I don’t need to butt in very much with concern over secondary theological issues. However when a church leader is struggling with his marriage, or his people are dealing with sin or false teaching it’s harder to hold my tongue when disagreements arise. If the fruit the church is producing is scary to me, I speak up. And if a pastor is failing to live, preach, or believe the gospel, that’s not something I ever let slide.

Investment Prospectus for the Kingdom

From a business perspective, supporting an American missionary overseas is not always the best call. A single American may need to raise two or three times what a local couple in that country would need in order to fund their full time ministry. And the local couple would probably be more competent (in most ways) at the work than the American (or other Westerner).

If that American had one child (or six) that cost suddenly increases even more dramatically. And then Americans, like other countries, have our unique problems related to our current social issues. The monthly fee for my medical insurance, for example, is probably enough to fully support a local couple.

However we are not in a business making investments like a businessman. This is the Kingdom, and the CEO of the Kingdom is not limited in resources to the point where he can only make the best investments. He has the finances to take risky bets. He even has the finances to invest in that person He really liked, even though the guy probably won’t be but mediocre at his job. Sometimes God might invest in someone simply because He wants to work with him.

What does this mean for us? It means we don’t just support the most financially strategic people. We support people to do what the Lord has called them to do simply because the Lord called them to it. We support people to full time ministry because the Lord wants us to pray for more laborers and then rejoice when they arrive.

There will always be someone more financially strategic. There is someone somewhere in Africa who is an incredible minister of the Gospel, is unbelievably effective at what he does, and can live off a gourd or three each day. To participate in his ministry financially would cost pennies and have huge payoff; he would be, by the world’s definition, the best financial investment. But he’s not the only one the Lord called. And I’m arguing we should support people for who they are in the Kingdom, because they are humble ministers of the gospel of Christ, and because the God of heaven called them to go.

Don’t be stupid with your money, you are, after all, called to steward it wisely. But being stingy in your investments in the Kingdom for “business” reasons is neither wise, nor good stewardship.

The How

Talked with a brother today who has been wounded by colleagues of mine. Wounded because he wasn’t willing to sacrifice the people he was serving for the cause he was told should take precidence. This is hard to hear.

If our goal is human praised legacies in a perishing world, then the “how” of what we accomplish will always be of secondary concern (at best). But if our goal is an everlasting Kingdom, the “how” is of utmost importance. As is the collateral damage we cause on the way.

Aspiring Faith Healer

I have a local friend (let’s call him Hank) who has recently decided to get serious about his faith. On the one hand this is always good news, he had been a believer for many years and lived a life no different from non-believers until just recently. Getting serious about what he believes and attempting to live the life of a believer is a good thing.

On the other hand, however, is the means by which he’s going about this. And not all of it is good. More prayer is something most of us wish we were engaged in. Hank has gone from next-to-zero prayer to six hours each day of prayer. Again, in and of itself the prayer isn’t bad—it’s great. But the prayer has immediately become a source of pride for him. He notched it up to six hours because he knows no one who prays that much. It has become a point of pride, he wants to know if he prays more than me. Yes. Yes he does. Now it’s hard to reach six hours except he prays in tongues for the good majority of it. A hero of his quit his job to pray every day, and prayed so much his jaw hurt. This is essentially the standard for which he’s striving.

Now while the gift of tongues has become a point of pride (as somehow this specific gift tends to do), finding himself in a new church where almost everyone speaks in tongues took away something he thought made him special. He now is seeking out the gift of miraculous healing.

Again, this is nothing to give me pause in and of itself. Seeking gifts from the Lord is not inherently something to be wary of, especially those intended for the building up of the church. Using the gifts of the Lord to commune with him is also a wonderful thing if that’s actually what’s happening. The problem is when prayer is really just self-absorbed meditation—I have reason to suspect in this situation it may be. And then when, in seeking the power of the Holy Spirit, you become like Simon seeking personal gain and power (Acts 8:18), you have something else entirely.

So with Hank, I keep pressing in about the gospel. Reminding him that prayer does not make him righteous, and he is startled to be reminded this, though he already knows it. I keep reminding him all of this is supposed to make him more in love with his savior, not a famous Christian. But I understand what the draw is—the world remembers famous Christians.

He stands and heads to his computer to show me videos of some of the people he wants to be like. He’s searched online and found Benny Hinn. And a few other personalities with things to… um… give you pause.

His current great desire is to throw huge “gospel” meetings and do well-performed faith healing.

I wish he could have seen things like the Toronto Blessing and the Lakeland Revival up close. Such meetings are enough to leave an impression—the little bit of good (and God at work) mixed in amongst the foolishness.

In the Acts passage, Simon is rebuked and immediately seems to notice his folly. I suppose I could rebuke Hank, to tell him to seek the Holy Spirit for who He is, not the power He possesses. But it would be a lot easier to do so if my motivations were always so pure.

Instead the best I can offer is a reminder to Hank as well as myself, that a famous Christian is not what the vast majority of us are called be. Servants, humbly doing His will, and fading out of the limelight is where we probably belong. More glory for Jesus, and less for us. We must decrease so He can increase.

Divine Machiavellianism

I’ve already spent some time writing about the issues I have with our definition of “church.” How often we misunderstand it to be referring to our Sunday programs rather than the people that make up the body of Christ.

I’m realizing my biggest frustration in this is it causes us to believe our Sunday services are protected by divine right. If our programs, rather than the people of the Kingdom, are the church, then many of our current heartless actions make sense. And running people over to make our programs bigger, better, flashier, etc… are all warranted behavior. In this ecclesiology, jerkface actions are not just good—they are in fact divinely Machiavellian.

Doing Evangelism Still Gets Me Excited—though perhaps for the wrong reasons...

I don't know if I actually like evangelism better than everything else I do (or better than most of it), or if it just fulfills something in my mind of what I think a person in my vocation should be doing. Is my doing it motivated by actual understanding of its inherent value? It does fire me up big time when I get to really tell someone about Jesus. Or is my doing evangelism primarily motivated by my desire to feel validated in the world or in the Lord's eyes?

Because if the latter, it's definitely a wrong motivation or at least one grounded in misunderstanding of the gospel. Not saying I should wait to get my motivations right to keep going about it. And I'm sure my motivations are somehow a combination of both, but it nonetheless makes me pause. Especially as I just had opportunity to share. And I'm pretty pumped pumped right now. 

Then again, getting the opportunity to tell someone about the only hope in this life and the next, getting to be a part of potentially changing their forever, that's no little deal. 

For Those Who's Needs Aren't Being Met

This week someone on Facebook posted a link to this article about bad reasons to leave your church. Number four states: "My Needs Aren’t Being Met". Terrible, terrible people. How dare they selfishly leave a Sunday morning program so absorbed in itself it believes *it* is the church. This article states, and I wish I were making it up, but I'm not, "the Church actually isn’t about you. It’s about Jesus. It’s his Church. He came for it. He died for it. He redeemed it. He continues to build it. And one day, he’ll come back for it. It’s his. . . . The Church doesn’t exist to meet your needs. You are a part of the Church that exists to meet the needs of the world. Put away the shopping cart and pick up a shovel."

All great points about *the* church. And terrible terrible concepts to apply to your Sunday morning program. If your church is saying these things, it might be time pick up your shovel... and dig an escape hole. Let's turn this wording back around on the pastors confusing these things: the Church actually isn’t about your Suday program. It’s about Jesus. It’s his Church. He came for it. He died for it. He redeemed it. He continues to build it. And one day, he’ll come back for it, and you'll be responsible before Him for what you've done with His people. It’s his.

So for goodness sake, let people go when they find life with Sunday services whose pastors don't believe their Sunday attendance should, by divine decree, never shrink. 

Worthwhile Sacrifice

If I felt called by the Lord to service in steamboat springs Colorado it would not be much of a sacrifice for me. In fact if I could move anywhere in the world that's exactly where I'd pick. I could do it. Probably in my own strength, and probably forever. 

But what about when a missionary iscalled from Alaska to an island in the Phillipines without air conditioning? What about him? How much is he who hates heat being called to sacrifice? And what should he be willing to put up with to fulfill what he is called to do?

Heat may be is a small thing and has an easy answer: suck it up. 

However, what I'm really driving at is my current situation. I'm in a place that is awful. Like really truly unpleasant to live, for a number of reasons; many of which are admittedly personal dislikes. But I feel genuinely like this I where the Lord wants me to be. I don't think He always calls us to places that are miserable. But I also am not convinced he will always call us to a place we will easily thrive on our own, or even enjoy. 

So here I am, life isn't great, but the ministry is so much fun I'm having pretty good fun doing it. This alone is nearly enough to sustain me here, at least for a time. The issue then is the family. If my family can't thrive here, then all of sudden I'm sacrificing something very different than my personal displeasure with the oppressive heat, humidity, and lack of sunshine. I'm sacrificing my wife's willingness to follow me places and my children's education and friendships (both of which are basically non-existant here). 

There are ways around these things. There are always other things we can try, and we keep trying them. But nothing seems to work. There is one obvious education option that we have confidence would solve most of out frustrations—but it's about $100,000 out of our price range. 

My question therefore is, what is a worthwhile sacrifice? Sometimes to be in the service of the Lord you need to make sacrifices. Lack of comfort, I can handle, and money I'm willing to give up. But my family? I've put my foot down there. If the Lord doesn't figure out a way for them to do more than just barely survive, I can no longer care how much I feel called here or how much I love the work or see the need for it; I'll duck tail and run. They are, afterall, my most important disciples. 

But that's where it gets interesting. Before I can feel good about leaving I have to do and try everything I can imagine to try and make it work. This means writing letters and asking for favor. This means pleading with our supporters for prayer. And this means putting my kids and wife in less-than-comfortable situations for a time to see if we can figure something out. 

In the mean time, I lean on the promises of the Lord for rest, and for His presence to be obvious with us. He knows how much we can really take better than we do. But keeping our eye on the prize is hard when we're desperately limping forward. 

Here's to praying He figures something out. 

Manpower and the Glory of God

When we have a problem in the church or in missions or whatever we also have a solution. We throw more people at it. Enough people and we’ll solve world evangelism, enough hard work and we can get there.

We have a word for this - manpower.

This has to be at best hilarious to The Lord and a worst an offense to him. After all how often do we see manpower as the solution The Lord uses in the Bible?

When God wants to accomplish something often he first whittles the manpower down to near-negligible before using His way, which is something else entirely: God power.

The problem with manpower is the glory it brings to man. And the reason for whittling down to very little is to demonstrate Matthew 19:26, that what is impossible with man is possible with God.

How does this inform our desire to throw people, hardwork, labor, manpower at our spiritual problems?

If you need 500 wooden chairs built, having 500 people to help you build will definitely accomplish the task quicker than just one man. And maybe that’s all the solution you need (certainly many problems in the world can be solved this way). But in the Kingdom there is only one master carpenter with the skill to build the chairs necessary; with the variety, stability, and durability to suit the king for whom they’re being built.

Is this Even Possible? or: Everyday Missionary Mental Struggles

“This city is too big. There is no reason to go. We will surely not make a difference.”

I’m sorry, but such thinking may have just condemned you to the desert for 40 years. (See Numbers 14).

Problem is, here I am teetering back and forth on the ledge of condemnation if this is true. Thankfully there is redemption, the blood of Christ, the resurrection, and hope for the people of God.

Forgetting the Point. All Too Easy.

The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith. Certain persons*, by swerving from these, have wandered away into vain discussion, desiring to be teachers of the law, without understanding either what they are saying or the things about which they make confident assertions. - 1 Timothy 1:5–7

(Almost) Every seminary professor and seminarian ever.

Keeping Thoughts to Ourselves

There was a time when a man was alone with his thoughts. Even when they were brilliant, witty, or perhaps full of wealth-making innovation. He wasn’t constantly attached to computers or even notebooks. This he had to keep such thoughts to himself and continue about his work, hoping not to forget before he could share them, or write them down. Now every thought more complex than, “Buy Milk,” or “I’m hungry,” we tweet, blog, or podcast (this thought included). God forbid we should keep things to ourselves, or between us and the Lord.

And I wonder if back then we spent more time in awe at the minds God gave us.

I Shall Not Want. But I Do.

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.” - Psalm 23:1–2

Lord, what I want is green pastures and still waters. And I’m surrounded by cement.

Yesterday I layed down on green grass. It wasn’t much. But the sun did shine. And it was shockingly refreshing. And last week I ran by a river. It ain’t much. But here I’m wanting to wrestle with God over this and ask for it at least spiritually. But I realize both have physically happened in the last week.

For Priests to Honor the Lord

“And now, O priests, this command is for you. If you will not listen, if you will not take it to heart to give honor to my name, says the LORD of hosts, then I will send the curse upon you and I will curse your blessings. Indeed, I have already cursed them, because you do not lay it to heart.” - Malachi 2:1–2

My greatest fear in life might be that I would bring honor to the Lord and forget to do so for myself. It might be that I would advance the Lord’s Kingdom and be forgotten in history. Something I actually strive to live for, pray for, and seek actively after. But scares the hell out of me in reality.

Time to prepare my face for the dung pie. (See vs. 3).


It’s interesting that in order to be the kind of husband and dad that I need to be to my family, I can’t be as “productive” of a missionary as I’d like to be.

But that’s only because it’s so hard to get my head around my wife and children being my most important disciples. And it’s sadly difficult to remember that my service is first and foremost to my Lord, secondarily to my family, and a much distant third to my ministry.

Life Legacy is Measured as a Point System Duh.

Is our work as ministers measured in the physical things, or magnificent disciples, we leave behind? I would argue (and I think you'd agree) that no, our work is in a Kingdom not of this world. But yet, while we're alive and here on this earth we praise those who left behind great missionary societies. Or huge churches. Or extraordinary disciples. Or writings which change our hearts and minds and move our spirits. 

Certainly these things are not bad themselves. They are, in fact, good. 

But I find it interesting thinking that I can not think of anyone who could rightfully call me their disciple. Now at different times in my life I have been, in some sense, discipled by someone. But I am not exclusively the outcome of any one persons ministry. Many different people have affected me over the years. My youth pastor in High School and even his incredibly incompetent (but humble) lay assistant. C.S. Lewis and Hudson Taylor's writings. The life experience and testimony of the lives of many great missionaries, ministers, and preachers. The truth spoken to me by my closest friends. 

I chase hard after the Lord (or at least do my best to) because of the work of the Spirit manifested in my life through many different people. And if that is the case, why do I often feel inadequate playing the role of 'just another manifestation of the Spirit's work' in the lives of others?

We (I) want to call the sanctified life of another, the fruit of our own labor. But it isn't. Even in the best situations. It's the fruit of the labor of the Lord (sometimes gracefully through us). We should rejoice in any role we get to play in it. 

I'm convinced the Lord is not sitting up there with a gigantic chart with lines drawn between people which He intends to use as a score card so we can get credit for what's due when we get to heaven.* But it sure is easy to live like He is. The Glory is going to go to Him. Weather we give it willfully or not. 

*I can't help but imagine the voice of a sports announcer on judgement day, "And in the life of Ron Smith who changed the face of the Phillipines for God, a life-worth coming in at an even 1000 points, we have a 17% share going to his pastor for the great teaching he provided. That's 170 points to Pastor Jones... And with a 3% share going to..."