I think there are some folks in many church fellowships who want their brothers and sisters to be clones of God … or perhaps more accurately, clones of themselves. Thinking, believing, acting the way they do.

Like the Nazi-ish stormtroopers of Star Wars or the goofy-looking Oompa-Loompas of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: everyone looking, speaking, behaving the same.

How boring.

God didn’t make us clones. He made us different from each other. He expected us to generate different points of view, interact with each other about them, appreciate the differences. It’s part of what enriches His creation. Peter didn’t preach like Paul. John the Baptist wore itchy camel’s hair.

If He had wanted every detail of His will to be perfectly clear and universally known, couldn’t He have done that? (Even if it took a MUCH bigger book than the Bible?)Or is it more likely that He wants us to meditate on what He has revealed … discuss it; share it; learn from each other – struggle? disagree? love and accept each other anyway?

Rather than marching in lock-step on the “only correct” side of every single issue we can think of?

There are probably a few folks out there – all right; all two or three of you – who wonder why I bothered blogging about or why I would care anything about what happens in the ICOC. After all, the reaction of most people in the fellowship of Churches of Christ to trouble brewing within the International Churches of Christ has usually been a grumpy and very un-Christian “Well, good.”

Well, it’s not good. Christians are Christians, no matter what the sign reads above the door of their meeting place.

And I have a debt of gratitude to one particular group of believers, then known as “Boston movement,” who met on the campus of Butler University in Indianapolis many years ago. They expressed first an interest, and then a deep love, for the soul of my younger sister and persuaded her that Christ still loved her in spite of some of her self-destructive tendencies.

Their persistence in what is now known as “discipling” her went far beyond trying to reach goals or quotas, and had an effect that has also persisted. My sister, now a married mother of three, has been a Sunday school teacher and care group leader among many other roles in her walk with Christ since then. Those believers reached out when our parents, as well as my older sister and I, could not have reached her – and I will always be grateful for that.

I don’t have to agree with everything that folks in the ICOC teach and believe. (Hey, they tried to recruit my dad in those days to be an elder at their church … isn’t recruiting elders from other churches a pretty peculiar way to get them?)

They loved my Sis, and nothing can ever change that or its effect on her life.

And, by heaven, even if Jesus Himself were to write them out of His will (ridiculous thought!), I would still love them right back for that.

That’s why I care.

Pray today. Pray for Rachel Pleasant. Pray for little Ira Hays. Pray for Rebekah. Pray for the ICOC. Pray for victims, families, rescue workers, repair crews in the wake of destruction left by Hurricane Katrina.

Never doubt that prayer has power. Your will and my will may not be what God initially had in mind, but He is God, and He can – and has in the past – “bent” His will to accommodate what His children have asked for.

Thank you for your prayers. After a drought of career opportunities this summer, there seems to be a good soaking rain of them all about me. A friend called yesterday out of the blue and said he’d been praying about me. I told him it was having an effect! He sounded a little disappointed, and said “Please don’t accept anything until I’ve had a chance to get back to you within seven to ten days.” What he could only hint at was a possibility that would put my skills to good use for the Lord. I promised him I wouldn’t say “yes” to anyone until we had talked again.

Nothing puts the paltriness of your own career satisfaction into perspective like seeing the devastation of a hurricane, or of cancer in a little girl, or of a rapidly-spreading infection in a young wife, or CDH in a tiny baby, or the potential of devastation in a struggle within a fellowship of believers.

Prayer has power, though.

Be powerful today.

It’s a phrase Jesus uses twice in Scripture, as nearly as I can tell – and it fascinates me.

Anyone who breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.
– Matthew 5:19

He’s talking about the Law and the Prophets (see context, v.17-20), I think. It may be a limited blessing, as some think, that’s in effect only “until everything is accomplished” (v.18). But was everything accomplished when He uttered “It is finished!” on the cross? Or was there still work to be done, through the Holy Spirit, through believers – leaving that comment about being “least in the kingdom” still in effect?

And is He also talking about commands that are implicit in His beatitudes, His commission to be light and salt – and the ones that follow: treating others with respect, seeking reconciliation, resisting lustful urges, marrying for life, speaking with your own integrity, sharing and serving rather than seeking retribution, etc. etc. etc.?

Can someone disobey the least of commands, and teach others to do the same, yet still be a part of the kingdom of heaven – even if he or she is the “least” therein?

Could Peter still serve in the kingdom even though he was a bigot?

Could Paul and Barnabas still serve in the kingdom even though they had a sharp disagreement about John Mark?

Could preachers who preached Christ out of egotism and for profit still serve in the kingdom?

And is being “least in the kingdom” the worst thing that could happen to you?

The other instance when Jesus uses the phrase is in His description of John the Baptist:

I tell you the truth: Among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist; yet he who is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. – Matthew 11:11 (and Luke 7:28)

Somebody like me who messes up all the time and sometimes inadvertently misleads others can be least in the kingdom yet still be greater than John the Baptist? Can I concatenate those two separate descriptions of “least in the kingdom” to ask that question?

If so, how could that be true? In what way could you or I be greater than a prophet who gave up a normal lifestyle, diet and wardrobe to live off the wilderness? Is it because the message I have is greater, more complete? Not just “The kingdom of God is near!” but “Here it is; and here are the details about how it got started … and how Jesus accomplished it … and how it involves you!”

Is it really possible that the message so far transcends the messenger?

… and I’m not talking about Hurricane Katrina.

This spiritual storm is forming on the west coast, according to a couple of recent posts by Salguod, and may determine the course – or courses – that churches in the International Church of Christ fellowship may soon take.

It seems that a Los Angeles ICOC congregation has come up with its own version of A Christian Affirmation (drawn up by folks within the Church of Christ fellowship from which ICOC withdrew some years ago – and between whom some have opened a dialog of reconciliation). The new document is called the STATEMENT OF UNIFIED BELIEFS, PRACTICES, AND BROTHERHOOD.

This, apparently in response to former ICOC leader Kip McKean’s statement – also quoted by Salguod, proposing (from Portland, Oregon) to revive “dying, former ICOC churches” by helping “any way we can” in their quest to be “‘free to choose’ whom to submit to.”

I join Salguod and others who are saddened by this turn of events, and hope you will remember this group of believers in your prayers.

I’m not sure it’s ever a good thing when believers feel compelled to draw up documents agreeing on what they must do and must not do and must believe and must not believe and who’s in and who’s out.

– Instead of emphasizing what Christ has done … and that no one in the world is outside of His love … and the incredible fact that He believes in us to share this good news with those He loves.

Okay, it’s 4:30 a.m. and I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve put this thought to pixels.

It’s not a new idea.

It goes all the way back to Isaiah – 29:16, to be exact – where the prophet says we get everything backwards:

You turn things upside down, as if the potter were thought to be like the clay! Shall what is formed say to him who formed it, “He did not make me”? Can the pot say of the potter, “He knows nothing”?

Isaiah’s telling us we need to back off how we think God should have made us; accept His sovereignty, His wisdom; and be what He made us.

It’ll get tough for us if we don’t (45:9):

“Woe to him who quarrels with his Maker, to him who is but a potsherd among the potsherds on the ground. Does the clay say to the potter, ‘What are you making?’ Does your work say, ‘He has no hands’?”

We’ll always be unhappy – with God; with ourselves. But we’ll blame Him instead of taking responsibility for what we’ve chosen and accepting the person He’s made of us through our choices and words and actions.

If we can do that, we’ll be blessed (64:8):

“Yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.”

Then Jeremiah takes up the theme (18:3-6):

“So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. Then the word of the LORD came to me: ‘O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter does?’ declares the LORD. ‘Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.'”

But I shouldn’t forget that Paul advises the same humility with the same metaphor, too (Romans 9:21):

“Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?”

“Why did you make me this way, God?” asks us. “Why did you make me with _____ ?” and we fills in the blanks according to us each.

More trouble with greed in my heart than others have? Lust for what isn’t mine? Homosexual cravings? A bad ticker? Cancer? A craving for alcohol? The inability to have children of my own?

Silly us. We blame Him.

When we should thank Him.

Because maybe His answer is: “I wanted you to know suffering like my Son did.”

“I wanted you to know what it’s like to sacrifice, to give up what you want in order to have what you need – and what I give.”

“I wanted you to understand what it means to be despised and rejected so you will be accepting and free of judgment toward others.”

“I wanted you to perceive how important it is to have a good heart for as long as your life lasts.”

“I wanted you to understand what slavery is all about, so you’ll choose Me as your Master and crave living water more than the distillation of death.”

“I wanted you to comprehend how dearly I love all of my children and how precious your adoption makes you to Me.”

Have thine own way, Lord; have thine own way.
Thou art the potter; I am the clay.
Mold me and make me, after thy will
While I am waiting, yielded and still. – Adelaide Pollard

Okay. Now I can sleep.

Is it possible I have nothing to say about Ann Coulter being named as an American Studies speaker at my alma mater Harding University, a conservative Christian institution which would expel any student for using the type of language or living the kind of lifestyle she represents – even if that student solidly agreed with her politics?

Is it conceivable that I have nothing to comment about the fact that Harding will invite Coulter to speak, but not alumnus and minister Mike Cope (possibly because someone misrepresents what he believes about baptism before their board) nor popular speaker writer Jeff Walling (possibly because he once told a group of young listeners that “Jesus liked to party” in connection with His turning water to wine at Cana)?

Sure it’s possible. It’s conceivable.

But most of what I could say has already been said, and better, by others. Look around on my linked blogs. You’ll read what I mean.

At the same time, I’d just like to say that it’s a pity that an entire fellowship gets caught by the world airing our dirty laundry in public even while technology makes it possible to communicate our feelings on this controversy more quickly and efficiently than ever before.

It was – and still is – a pity when the current technology was mostly “brotherhood newspapers.”

It’s not as if our communication could ever be private through these channels.

But we of the Church-of-Christ fellowship too often write/speak as if we are completely unaware that our words are out there for all to see and hear – or worse, as if we don’t care what “the world” thinks.

“If anyone speaks, he should do it as one speaking the very words of God.” – I Peter 4:11a

I need to find a new job in four weeks.

Things haven’t worked out well in my current one, and my supervisors and I agree it’s time for me to find something else – and probably for them to dissolve the position.

I need to do good work that glorifies God, directly or indirectly, and I need to earn a living to support my family.

Beyond that, I am open.

So I’m beginning to update my résumé and portfolio site, and scan the available position sites/classifieds. That’s why I haven’t blogged faithfully of late, and why I’m behind on developing templates for the revamped New Wineskins site; and why I haven’t made a big deal about my ten-thousandth unique visitor (whoever it was) because I just noticed this morning that the counter had passed it.

Thanks for dropping by, whoever you are, and please pencil me in on your list of petitions to the Father.

I’ve been doing it for years at bedtime with my kids. I’ve been doing it other places for about the last year and a half. At home, at church during Bible class and worship and committee meetings, even occasionally at a restaurant before a meal.

It’s awkward. My knees complain about it. I usually only go down on one knee, since it was injured several years ago and doesn’t always submit to the “unbend” request and I need the other one to get back up.

I’m not really sure what started it. I had been doing some self-study about prayer, and began noticing how many good people in scripture knelt to pray: from Ezra to Daniel, to Jesus Himself, to Stephen while being stoned, to Peter, to Paul, to the disciples (including their wives and children) on a beach to send Paul off for the last time with prayer.

I also caught mentions of it with regard to people in the Bible when appearing before their kings and masters.

Then I began to notice how many people knelt when they encountered Jesus with a heart-wrenching need or a word of praise: a man possessed by a legion of demons; a leper; a ruler whose daughter had just died; a rich young ruler; the apostle Peter.

And, while – throughout scripture – good-hearted people pray while standing (Hannah; various leaders of Israel; the sinner who stood and prayed at a distance), for one reason or another I have tended to associate the practice with the Pharisee who stood praying to be seen.

I don’t kneel to be seen. I kneel out of respect for God, for His Son, for His Spirit.

Something my friend Bob McClanahan said twenty years ago about piloting a plane has long seemed relevant: “Your altitude has a lot of effect on your attitude.” While he was talking about roll, pitch and yaw – and the fact that a pilot is more keenly aware of them when she/he’s closer to the ground – I’ve found that my altitude has had an effect on my attitude in prayer too.

I don’t know whether kneeling is a right or wrong way to pray. God loves us, and He listens. Jesus bears the message to Him. His Spirit groans for us when we lack the words.

Kneeling in prayer often feels especially right for me. When my knees give consent, so do I.

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge — that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.
~ Ephesians 3:14-21

I’ve just finished eating lunch, but I’m still hungry. A different kind of hungry.

I didn’t get to commune Sunday, you see. In my fellowship, we celebrate eucharist each week. Sunday morning, my 12-year-old son was feeling queasy right after his Bible class and we went home before worship.

How do folks of other fellowships get by without that communal meal each week?

It’s all a matter of what you’re used to, I suppose. If I were reading this as a Catholic, I might be thinking, “How can he stand to not go to confession? I would feel so guilty; so dirty.” If I were from a church that sings with an organ or an ensemble, I might be thinking, “How can he bear to just sing, and not hear the fullness of the music? It would feel so incomplete.” If I were from a charismatic church, I might be thinking, “How can he pray only with his head bowed in silent assent? I would feel like I wasn’t participating.”

I could have sneaked a wafer and a cup later, I suppose. But it wouldn’t have been the same. It would have been like standing at the cross alone; or at the tomb by myself. Lonely. Empty.

When I drink and eat this special meal, it’s a tiny fellowship meal that recognizes the body of Christ in all of its meanings – including my church family around me.

And it seems that with each passing year, when I miss a chance to recline at that table, the hunger goes a little deeper.