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Last year I posted a story about the decision by a Wisconsin elementary school to rewrite the lyrics of “Silent Night” to make it acceptable for the “winter program”. The unfortunate choice for a new title was “Cold in the Night”. And the new lyrics went something like this.

Cold in the night,

no one in sight,

winter winds whirl and bite,

how I wish I were happy and warm,

safe with my family out of the storm.

That is wrong on so many levels. Why not just have the kids sing “Grandma got run over by a reindeer” and go on home. Some things just shouldn’t be done. It is like the old Jim Croce song…”you don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind, you don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger, and you don’t rewrite Silent Night” (New Revised Version).

Rereading that post brought to mind a legend I had heard all of my life involving the real song “Silent Night” and a wartime Christmas truce. I researched the story and found that it actually happened. Here is a nice Christmas story for your Christmas celebrations to share at Christmas gatherings during this Christmas Season (was that anti-pc sentence a little too obvious?). I would normally post a story like this a little closer to Christmas Day but I just found out there is a movie depicting this event and I thought you might be interested in acquiring or renting it. There are some cautions for parents contained in this review in Christianity Today but the positives seem well worth the investment. I just ordered the DVD and I look forward to viewing it this Christmas. Here is the story that inspired the film.

The year was 1914 and soldiers were having to spend Christmas Eve night on the battlefields of France during World War I, the Great War, as it was called. After only four months of fighting, more than a million men had already perished in the bloody conflict. The bodies of dead soldiers were scattered between the trenches. Enemy troops were dug-in so close that they could easily exchange shouts.

On December 24, 1914, in the middle of a freezing battlefield in France, a miracle happened.

The British troops watched in amazement as candle-lit Christmas trees began to appear above the German trenches. The glowing trees soon appeared along the length of the German front.

Henry Williamson, a young soldier with the London Regiment wrote in his diary: “From the German parapet, a rich baritone voice had begun to sing a song I remembered my German nurse singing to me…. The grave and tender voice rose out of the frozen mist. It was all so strange… like being in another world — to which one had come through a nightmare.”

Silent Night
Holy Night

A man named John McCutcheon wrote a song about the incident. These lyrics are from his work called “Christmas in the Trenches”.  His poem has also been released as an illustrated book with CD that you find at John’s website.

The cannon rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more,
As Christmas brought us respite from the war….

“They finished their carol and we thought that we ought to retaliate,” another British soldier wrote, “So we sang “The First Noël” and when we finished, they all began clapping. And they struck up “O Tannebaum” and on it went… until we started up “O Come All Ye Faithful” [and] the Germans immediately joined in …. this was really a most extraordinary thing — two nations both singing the same carol in the middle of a war.”

McCutcheon’s lyrics continue…

“There’s someone coming towards us!” the front-line sentry cried.
All sights were fixed on one lone figure trudging from their side.
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shone on that plain so bright
As he, bravely, strode unarmed into the night.

It is recorded that enemy soldiers greeted each other in the no man’s land that was a killing zone on December 23rd. The soldiers wished each other Merry Christmas and agreed not to fire their rifles on Christmas Day. The spontaneous cease-fire eventually embraced much of a 500-mile stretch of the Western Front. According to the reports of soldiers at the scene, hundreds of thousands of soldiers celebrated the birth of the Prince of Peace among the bodies of their dead.

Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man’s Land.
With neither gun nor bayonet, we met there hand to hand.

Other soldiers told of how the “enemies” exchanged badges and buttons from their uniforms. Others shared photos of wives and children and some even exchanged addresses and promised to write after the war ended. The German troops rolled out barrels of dark beer and the British reciprocated with offerings of plum pudding. Some soldiers produced soccer balls and a spirited match broke out as fellow soldiers shouted encouragement.

At one location along the front the men who just the day before sought to kill one another now gathered together to bury their dead. Together, with heads uncovered, they held a service to memorialize their fallen comrades. A solitary voice began to sing Silent Night, in French. He was joined by another voice — this one singing in German — the words of a Christmas song known and beloved by all.

But the miracle of peace was temporary. Slowly, under threats from their officers, the troops returned to the trenches and the recoils of rifles split the temporary “Silent Night.” Some soldiers admitted aiming so their bullets flew well above the heads of the “enemy.”

Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more.
With sad farewells, we each prepared to settle back to war.

But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night:
“Whose family have I fixed within my sight?”

My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell.
Each Christmas come since World War I, I’ve learned its lesson well:

That the ones who call the shots won’t be among the dead and lame,
And on each end of the rifle, we’re the same.

That is the message the Prince of Peace brought to us on Christmas long ago. Perhaps those of us who celebrate the birth of the Savior could learn a lesson from this Christmas miracle as we engage those who do not share our beliefs and faith in Jesus. Those on the other side of the cultural trenches are not unlike us. The message delivered in Bethlehem was peace and goodwill toward all men. When we fight the cultural war we need remember that the whole purpose of Jesus invading our space and time was to love and ultimately die for those on both sides of the battle.

But perhaps the biggest lesson is how the power of a unified focus on Jesus can unite even bitter enemies. My heart aches as I see Christians splitting ranks over things that don’t amount to a hill of beans on an eternal scale. I picture Jesus weeping over the churches of America like He wept over Jerusalem. I picture Him weeping over how Christians in this country divide over non-essentials and fail to communicate the joy and life-changing power of the good news of the gospel. Jesus gave this final command to His followers…

“Go out and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism in the threefold name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then instruct them in the practice of all I have commanded you. I’ll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age.”  Matt 28  The Message

Pretty straight forward. Nothing in there about personal gain, power, or prestige. The power of what happened on that Silent Night united enemies centuries later on a French battlefield.  My Christmas prayer is that the miracle of God becoming man will unite you and me, His followers, to seek what actually matters. To really make it about Christ and not about us. While we still have the chance.

 

Ronald Reagan had a favorite joke that he told so often that the joke itself became a joke with staff members. A CBS News piece related the story as remembered by former Reagan aide Ed Meese. The joke was told about twin boys who were six years old. Worried that the boys had developed extreme personalities — one was a total pessimist, the other a total optimist — their parents took them to a psychiatrist.

First the psychiatrist treated the pessimist. Trying to brighten his outlook, the psychiatrist took him to a room piled to the ceiling with brand-new toys. But instead of yelping with delight, the little boy burst into tears. “What’s the matter?” the psychiatrist asked, baffled. “Don’t you want to play with any of the toys?” “Yes,” the little boy bawled, “but if I did I’d only break them.”

Next the psychiatrist treated the optimist. Trying to dampen his out look, the psychiatrist took him to a room piled to the ceiling with horse manure. But instead of wrinkling his nose in disgust, the optimist emitted just the yelp of delight the psychiatrist had been hoping to hear from his brother, the pessimist. Then he clambered to the top of the pile, dropped to his knees, and began gleefully digging out scoop after scoop with his bare hands. “What do you think you’re doing?” the psychiatrist asked, just as baffled by the optimist as he had been by the pessimist. “With all this manure,” the little boy replied, beaming, “there must be a pony in here somewhere!”

“Reagan told the joke so often,” Meese said, chuckling, “that it got to be kind of a joke with the rest of us. Whenever something would go wrong, somebody on the staff would be sure to say, “There must be a pony in here somewhere.’”

This may seem like an odd lead in to a Thanksgiving article but regular readers know that odd linkings are part of my brain function. On this Thanksgiving Joni and I could choose to be the pessimist in the joke. This has been a tough year. Joni has been in the middle of her breast cancer treatment for eight very long months. Her prognosis is good but we know it is never certain. So we could choose to wonder why this has happened to us.

Forgive me if this is a bit crude but I can tell that when you start digging through the crap that life dumps on us you will very often find the pony. We have found so many blessings in the midst of the storm. This is just a partial list of the blessings we are grateful to God for on this special day of Thanksgiving.

• Experiencing the peace that is inexplicable. How can we find peace in the middle of a battle with cancer? It is only through the comfort of the Holy Spirit. Paul talks about this in his letter to the Church at Philippi.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Phil 4 NIV

• The friends who have been there with us throughout this trial.
  
• The countless “strangers” who are praying for us. Many are praying for Joni because of this blog. Others through prayer lists around the country. What an amazing blessing to realize that people who don’t even know us are praying for us.
  
• The privilege of glorifying God through this trial. When I first told our sons about their Mom’s diagnosis I told each of them the same thing. “If our faith in Christ doesn’t work now it is not of much value”. It has worked. And it is of great value.
  
• The realization that we can get through anything with Christ.
  
• A changed perspective on life’s little irritants. Joni’s cancer has changed how I view my world. My biggest concern is that I will forget this lesson when the treatments end and the tests are good. In the words of the Apostle Paul…God forbid.
  
• An even deeper appreciation for my bride. Her courage and faith have been inspiring…and humbling.
  
• Priorities…priorities…priorities. I want my life to count for eternity. Every day is a precious gift and not to be taken for granted.

As you face this Thanksgiving you may be looking at circumstances that may make it hard to be thankful. I understand that it can be hard at times. But I also know the value of continuing to dig through the pile. More often than I would have ever dreamed possible there is a “pony” in there somewhere. Don’t miss a blessing this Thanksgiving.

We know that God, who raised the Lord Jesus, will also raise us with Jesus and present us to himself together with you. All of this is for your benefit. And as God’s grace reaches more and more people, there will be great thanksgiving, and God will receive more and more glory.

 That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day.

I pray on this Thanksgiving that you will never give up. And never quit digging for the blessings that are hidden.

 

 

This Thursday most Americans will sit down to the ridiculous excess that we call Thanksgiving dinner. I will be one of them. If my pattern continues I will eat too much of the wonderful food prepared by my bride. I will probably complain that I ate too much as if that is anyone’s fault other than my own. I will be genuinely thankful for having my family together. That will be extra special this year because Joni’s cancer is a reminder that such gatherings are not guaranteed. I will thank God for the bounty of food that will be before us. But I don’t think I will really comprehend how blessed I am to be a citizen of the United States.

A story that I read in the Miami Herald gave me a big helping of perspective as I look forward to Thanksgiving Day.

Streaks of grime cover the boys’ bodies and insects crawl on their heads as they scour through heaps of trash alongside buzzards that seem large enough to carry the kids away. Brothers Carlos, 11, and Noel, 9, are dragging a pair of plastic bags filled with fast-food refuse while Ruben, 14, chases after a dump truck spilling fresh rubbish. This is life for the children at the main municipal dump in the capital of Honduras — a life of far-too-early desperation in a country where nearly two-thirds of the population lives in poverty.

Many Latin American nations have pepenadores, Spanish slang for people who scour garbage dumps for recyclable goods they can then sell. But Honduras has the highest rate of children working at dumps — an estimated 2,000, according to UNICEF, the United Nations Children’s Fund.

”Every barrio has a dump,” said Rick Beck, a Christian missionary who visits the Tegucigalpa city dump each week to deliver food and prayer. “It’s a way of living. The problem has to be attacked spiritually, physically and emotionally.” Soledad Ramírez, director of social programs for Tegucigalpa, said the effort to get the kids out of the dump will require a long-term commitment.

”It’s not just to rescue the kids. It’s to educate them and insert them into society,” she told The Miami Herald. “Many of these children grew up in the dumps. There were even children in cribs there.”

I don’t want my ministry to be a travel agency for guilt trips. But I do want to be tender enough to the gentle nudging of the Holy Spirit to realize the need and then to gladly offer back a portion of what I have been given. It breaks my heart to think of these precious children digging through the refuse of the other poor to survive. What a disturbing image to picture a crib in the middle of a garbage dump.

We are so blessed…and so oblivious.

Picture this scenario.

Here comes 6-year-old Giovanny, yanking at the brothers’ trash bags to pick through crumpled boxes of fried chicken. He’s known as El Pollo — The Chicken — for his love of the morsels he scrapes off the tossed-out bones.

We laugh about the five second rule when food falls on the floor. But for most of us it would mean nothing to toss that food away and get something else. Imagine gnawing on the remains of someone else’s scraps to get a morsel of nourishment. It is a disgusting thought. But it is a heartbreaking reality for Giovanny.

And I realize that I am so blessed…and so oblivious.

When the dump trucks roll in, it’s a mad dash to get to the refuse. Men and boys tend to push the women off the mounds, and no one seems bothered by the smell, which at times is so foul it burns the nostrils and makes the eyes tear. The pepenadores are too busy collecting anything they can use — some shoes they can wear, a semi-broken toy they can still play with, a piece of cake they can eat, a bit of metal, plastic bottles or paper they can sell.

”The problem is that they make more money in that dump than they do with an education,” said Kim Beck, who helps her missionary husband deliver food.

Enjoy the blessings that God has provided this Thanksgiving. But take a moment to reflect on how truly blessed we are in this country. Maybe a little perspective will help you realize that the position or title you were denied is not that big a deal. Or that person who irritates you at work or church is created in the image of God and in a fallen state…just like you and me. About 98% of what we get all exorcised over is trivial from an eternal perspective. What does the Lord delight in? It is not our wealth or power or position.

“This is what the LORD says: ‘Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or the rich man boast of his riches, but let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight,’ declares the LORD.” Jeremiah 9:23-24  

Count your blessings. Be grateful. Don’t feel guilty that you are blessed. But don’t forget the responsibility of that blessing. And maybe we should pray that we could begin to approach what was happening in the early church.

“All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had. With great power the apostles continued to testify to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and much grace was upon them all. There were no needy persons among them. For from time to time those who owned lands or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales and put it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to anyone as he had need.”  Act 4:32–35

Maybe that is not possible in this culture. I suppose I am naive. But I am sure we can do a lot better by being a little less oblivious to the suffering around us.

If you want to help the children of Honduras or anywhere in the world you can go to World Vision or Feed the Children and share a part of your blessings.

 

 

As I navigate through our increasingly more bizarre culture I alternate between laughing and crying. Yesterday I found out that our government has decided to redefine the plight of poor families in our country. For the thirty-three million Americans without enough money to buy food or families in which parents skip meals so their children can eat are now labeled as having “very low food security.” The experts feel that the term “hungry” does really describe their situation.

I think these bureaucrats have “very low common sense capacity”. Hungry describes the situation for too many people in this country. I realized that we do the same thing as followers of Jesus. Because we don’t want to offend anyone we manage to do exactly what the government is doing. We have “very low truth and grace security”. The late Howard Cosell signature phrase was “telling it like it is”. Our culture seems increasingly less capable of calling simple concepts by their name.

Our politically correct society has make sin an archaic and intolerant word. But no word as powerfully communicates any behavior that separates me from a Holy God. By reducing the power of the concept of sin we have negated the awesome gift of grace. You don’t need grace to rescue you from idiosyncrasies. I haven’t been moved by a hymn that says…

Amazing Grace. How sweet the sound,
That empowered a dysfunctional but spiritually seeking and fundamentally good person like me.

Somehow John Newton’s original line about saving a wretch like me hits a little closer to my story. I am not talking about self-bashing and looking for fault. I am talking about the mind boggling prospect of facing a holy and sinless God with resume that I would have to present. Am I a good person? Yeah, I think so. Am I up to that appointment without the redemptive endorsement of Jesus? No way.

The classic hymn He Took My Sins Away by Margaret Harris would lose some luster if many of us in the body of Christ were writing it about ourselves. Here is the refrain as she wrote it in 1901.

He took my sins away, He took my sins away,
And keeps me singing every day!
I’m so glad He took my sins away,
He took my sins away.

One hundred and four years later it might go something like this…

He recognized my dysfunctional past, He helped me find my inner voice
And showed me it was not my fault
I’m so glad He understood my syndrome
He took away my responsibility.

Same verse…everybody sing along now.

Ahh….responsibility…that is a bad word in our culture. Evangelist Mike Wells makes a sobering point in one his newsletters. He was talking to a man who was, in his words, addicted to pornography. Wells responded “I’ll bet your family is sick of watching pornography with you.” The man was horrified. “Oh no, I would never look at it around them!”  Wells asked him the uncomfortable question of how can you be addicted if you can choose when and where he watches pornography? So much of what we try to excuse as addiction is a choice that we make. We choose to find a private place. We choose to go online and we choose to type in the address of a site that is inappropriate. I will grant that not making these choices can be difficult but we are denigrating the power of Jesus Christ living through us if we say we can’t make them.

Any thing that breaks the covenant between myself and a Holy God is sin. God doesn’t have scales to weigh our sins. Really good people still fall short of the mark. I fall short and I need that fixed. Jesus came to fix it. That gift of forgiveness is incomprehensible.

Jesus called sin by it’s name…but He also calls us by name…His child. All it takes is accepting the gift of salvation.

 

 

The daily ramblings have recently featured a little dialogue between father and son. Eldest son Matt has allowed me to post our discussion on some questions he is pondering. If you would like to catch up the series started when Matt had a thought provoking, soul-searching encounter with a homeless man in Salt Lake City. I responded to some of his questions about being more transparent, pride, and the challenge of finding real friends. Here is Matt’s response to the first round of the dialogue.

Dad,

First, I love the dialogue.  It’s a little more public than I would prefer but I appreciate the opportunity for a son to engage his father in the deeper things of life.  Thanks for taking the time.

The other night Holly and I were discussing this premise of authentic relationships.  (Before you think we are the intellectual types this conversation was jammed between recorded episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and ER).  She looked at me with cute blue eyes after hearing me ponder these lofty thoughts while using big, theological words and said, “Matt, the only thing that matters is who God believes you are”.  She turned to resume her consumption of scandalous, action-packed pablum in front of the television.  Her thought has not left me.

A few days later I brought it up again on a car trip.  The only thing that matters is what God believes of us…is that true?  I mean, I know it’s true in the same way I know what a baseball looks like kind of true.  Cognitively it makes sense.  But spiritually I can’t get my mind around it. Your thoughts on pride struck me in this same way. 

But I have to be honest with you. This will be a lifetime project. I have gotten better at allowing the Holy Spirit to gain control of my pride. But I still take back control at times. Why? Because I do have things to “protect”. I want you to think I am smart, successful, a good husband, a good Dad, a good Christian. The truth is I am all of those things some of the time but definitely not all of the time. And why is that such a problem to admit? 

Pride.

It makes sense to me.  Yet, making sense of something and living it are two distinct things.  In my head, I know pride and arrogance consumes me more than I wish to admit.  Years ago I recognized this while simultaneously loathing that part of me.  I can control these feelings through false humility, downplaying the gifts and blessings as not being special or different.  I can dip my eyes during a compliment or say quick thanks that belittle the person attempting a sincere gesture all for the sake of being “humble”. 

In keeping the C.S. Lewis theme going he said, “I would prefer to combat the ‘I’m special’ feeling not by the thought ‘I’m no more special than anyone else’ but by feeling ‘Everyone is as special as me’”.  Seriously?  I can understand we are all messed up.  We see that everyday.  But we are all special?  It sounds too Sunday school turned Stuart Smalley for me.  In our modern Christian culture the Fall dominates Creation.  Yet, the truth is God believes I am special, and you are special, and everyone around us, everyday, at every moment is equally special.       

Through false humility I deny what God has so graciously provided and, in the midst of this denial, neglect to recognize how special God sees those around me.  What would we have to do to see ourselves and those around us as equally special?  Is it even possible to not create layers, caste systems, socio-economic boundaries, denominational trenches, or the multitude of other things that separate us and label us superior or inferior?  It’s a discouraging thought.

But here’s something to ponder…Henri Nouwen writes in Out of Solitude (a great 1 hour read) that when we truly reflect and look deeply into our soul that “it is in this solitude that we realize that being is more important than having and that we are worth more than the sum of our efforts.  In solitude we discover that our life is not a possession to be defended, but a gift to be shared.  It’s there we recognize that the healing words we speak are not just our own, but are given to us; that the love we can express is part of a greater love; and that the new life we bring forth is not a property to cling to, but a gift to be received.”   

How do we change what we cling to daily?  Are Christians or churches more proud of being present for people or a resume of conversions, giving, and ministries?  Can anyone truly believe that God sees us as more valuable than the sum of our efforts?  And, if we did, what would that church or those kinds of Christians look like?

Those are my questions…I look forward to the dialogue.  

Eldest son Matt posed a series of questions recently that I have addressed in two previous blogs. I just received a follow-up from him that I will address in the days to come. It is fun, challenging, and a little annoying to have your progeny make you think this deeply. Matt is a bit uncomfortable with the public nature of the dialogue and I can understand that. I have several years of public declaration that I am an idiot saved by grace who is currently engaged in a fumbling, bumbling stagger to the finish line. It is a relief to acknowledge that simple fact and I found that, for me, that declaration was a turning point in my journey.

Today the question posed by Matt involves friendships.

Why can’t all friendships feel this freedom and openness and even honesty about our ugliness?

Hey Matt,

Real friends are a treasure. I know you have probably read all of the works of 17th century French classical author François La Rochefoucauld. In case you missed this quote I will refresh your memory.

“A true friend is the most precious of all possessions and the one we take the least thought about acquiring.”

That is so true. The kind of friendship that you desire will be, if not rare, at least unusual. You will have many good friends and that is a blessing. But you will have just a handful of real friends. Friends that you can tell anything and not be rejected. Friends that you can call at any time for any reason. I have just a handful of friends in that category. Relationships like that take time. It takes investment. And I think you have to go through a variety of experiences together to really go to the next level of friendship. You don’t really know a person until you go through adversity with them. That is not something you can plan or force.

I admire your desire for openness and honesty about the ugliness in all of our lives. That is a risk. Not everyone can handle that. But if you are willing to take the risk you will find friends that are willing to go there. And they will be in that trusted circle of real friends. I know you are a fan of writer Henri Nouwen (in addition to La Rochefoucauld). This thought from Nouwen captures the heart of friendship that goes beyond backslappin’ and bad manners.  

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.” 

You can’t force that. But you can help the process by being a friend. It is no surprise that Proverbs contains some great thoughts on friendship. Solomon recognized that not everyone who starts out as a friend remains a real friend.

There are “friends” who destroy each other,
      but a real friend sticks closer than a brother.  Proverbs 18:24

The need for honesty is expressed in this familiar proverb.

As iron sharpens iron,
      so a friend sharpens a friend.  Proverbs 27:17

I think that is what you are looking for in a friendship. Beyond the fun times you want a friend who cares enough to challenge. And that is when you discover the state of your friendship union. Later we find this interesting nugget.

Wounds from a sincere friend
      are better than many kisses from an enemy.  Proverbs 27:6

That is a hard truth. But that is the friendship holy grail that you are seeking. Finding a friend like that is worth the risk and it is a risk. You will likely be disappointed and even hurt along the way. But finding that small number of real friends is worth it. All friends are a blessing. Real friends are a treasure. I will wrap this up with a quote from one of my sentimental favorites, the movie “It’s A Wonderful Life”.

Remember, no man is a failure who has friends. 

Enjoying the exchange,

Dad

Last week I had the first response to Eldest Son Matt’s questions about his encounter with a homeless man named Brett on a recent trip to Salt Lake City. Matt relayed the emotional and gut level prayer that Brett prayed for him.

I asked to pray for him (Brett) and said a generic prayer of protection, hope, forgiveness, and provision of resources. I reached for my wallet again and he stopped me. He asked to pray for me. He prayed a beautifully inarticulate prayer with his raspy broken voice,

“Matt, I pray you will not do drugs like I have. I pray your children love you and accept you. I pray your woman will love you and stay with you. I pray that you have a home, job, and food. I thank you for not being scared of me and talking to me. I pray that we can see each other again.”

Did you see it? He prayed that I wouldn’t be him. Pity turned to grace. It was his grace for me.

So here are Matt’s questions for today. How can a man I knew for 20 minutes pray the most sincere prayer for me? Can the pride that sequesters us to insincerity (we are all guilty) be broken in normal life circumstances?

Hey Matt,

I have been thinking about this a lot. I think the answer to the first question and second are the same.

Pride.

You and I still have lots of it. Brett doesn’t. Brett has nothing to “protect”. His image was not damaged by being real with you. He was not the least bit concerned that you would think he was a failure. He admitted that. Brett did not need to impress you and win your favor. You had extended grace yourself by giving him time and attention. How sad is it that a man created in the image of God thanks you for not being scared of him and for simply talking to him. You made me realize how I too often choose the safe route.

Part two of your questions is the tough one to address. Can that pride that causes us to be so phony be overcome in normal life circumstances? I wish I could say yes and give you 3 easy steps to conquer pride. But I have to be honest with you. This will be a lifetime project. I have gotten better at allowing the Holy Spirit to gain control of my pride. But I still take back control at times. Why? Because I do have things to “protect”. I want you to think I am smart, successful, a good husband, a good Dad, a good Christian. The truth is I am all of those things some of the time but definitely not all of the time. And why is that such a problem to admit?

Pride.

G.K.Chesterton once said, “If I had only one sermon to preach it would be a sermon against pride.” Powerful. Because Chesterton was a man with a lot of insight on a number of issues. We foolishly take ownership and control of things that we do not really own or control. The ultimate irony for control freaks is that they truly control nothing. One moment (like your Mom’s cancer diagnosis) causes your house of control cards to come tumbling down. We have no control. So we should remember daily that we are called to live our lives as “dual citizens” with both earthly and heavenly goals. As C.S.Lewis more eloquently stated…

“If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were precisely those who thought most of the next. It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this.”

I think when we have that perspective we have a chance to put things in perspective apart from a tragic life circumstance. Seeking a very intentional balance of eternal and temporal helps to keep you grounded. Homework assignment for you. Read Romans 12 everyday for a month. Maybe change translations each week to get a different feel and to keep it fresh. Memorizing that text for living would go a long way toward your goal of living an authentic and transparent life. Here is a little snippet from The Message…

Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle. Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder. Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality. Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Laugh with your happy friends when they’re happy; share tears when they’re down. Get along with each other; don’t be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies; don’t be the great somebody.

I love the language. Don’t be “stuck-up” and don’t be the “great somebody”. I really dislike the “no cursing under your breath” part. That is such a great way to be a covert “Bad Christian”. Paul does understand our nature.

Focus on what matters. As you alluded to in your letter it is easy to get off course in those years when you are establishing your career. I did. But here is what I have figured out. You gain satisfaction from your career, from doing a good job, and from success in various endeavors. But you gain joy from relationships. The most common verse on pride is likely Proverbs 16:18 about how pride goes before a fall. But earlier in Proverbs we read this truth.

Pride leads to disgrace,
      but with humility comes wisdom. Proverbs 11:2  NLT

Matt, when I think of the Christians who I most admired, respected, and desired to emulate there was one common trait.

Humility.

That is not a popular word in this culture. But if you want to really pursue your goal of authentic relationships then seek to be humble and kind through the power of the Holy Spirit. You will fail at times. But if you stay sensitive to the gentle, quiet voice of the Holy Spirit and the not always so quiet and gentle voices of those who love you then you can succeed more often than not.  Your goal is a Godly and worthy goal. I will pray for you as you pursue it. Your thoughts?

Dad