kicking puppies and the World Vision controversy

being critical of popular writer and speaker Jen Hatmaker feels a bit like kicking puppies. if you are unfamiliar with Hatmaker, she is a blogging, self-depreciating, too-much-info sharing pastor’s wife and author of Seven and Interrupted. she manages to be funny and heartfelt all the while sharing her clear desire to see the Gospel impact the world around her. she also has a great collection of oversized earrings that i confess to greatly envy.

since setting off on my journey to become a published writer, Jen Hatmaker has served as a model for what i would like to achieve; walking that razor-thin line of approachable yet substantive. she is authentic and real but without making excuses or compromising her convictions. do you sense the giant “but” approaching? here it comes…

but, having enjoyed and been inspired by her writing so much in the past made reading her recent blog post regarding World Vision and it’s since reversed decision to allow for the hiring of married gay employees that much more disappointing.

it isn’t Hatmaker’s position on gay marriage that disappoints me since her position is unclear. (she has clarified her position in her latest post if you care to know.) What I find so disturbing is her dangerous mischaracterization of the nature of biblical truth and our ability to discern that truth, all in the name of peacemaking.

Hatmaker says “…the Christian community is not going to reach consensus on gay marriage.” i actually disagree with this view since the church has historically been in agreement on this issue for thousands of years. but putting that aside, supposing that we will never agree, in her opinion, mean that we should throw in the towel and just agree to disagree?

what if the early church fathers had taken this approach regarding the biblical canon or heresies that plagued the early church? Should they have simply thrown up their hands and agreed to disagree? despite her claims that there was a significant lack of agreement among the early church regarding major aspects of the faith, we have hard won creeds and doctrines that have been passed down to us that say differently.

speaking of the early church fathers, this brings me to my second beef with Hatmaker’s assertions that “we” will never agree. when it comes to the church—and i mean the church beyond 21st century evangelical protestant America—and its view of same-sex marriage, there is actually a larger consensus than she is willing to admit. when one takes into account the whole of the church, through history and across continents, the overwhelming majority comes down on the side of traditional marriage. i find it ironic that too often those who claim to speak for the open-minded crowd neglect the opinions and perspectives of literally billions of believers.

Hatmaker asserts that “Thousands of churches and millions of Christ-followers faithfully read the Scriptures and with thoughtful and academic work come to different conclusions on homosexuality (and countless others). Godly, respectable leaders have exegeted the Bible and there is absolutely not unanimity on its interpretation. There never has been.” this is simply not true. it isn’t true of homosexuality and it isn’t true of any of the major tenets of the Christian faith. if it were, we wouldn’t be a single religion but rather a collection of sects.

has there been disagreement among certain traditions regarding issues such as baptism, predestination, and more culturally relevant issues such as slavery and the role of women? absolutely. but there is also a rich history of common ground that as Christians we all enjoy and should fight, yes fight, to defend.

i absolutely agree with Jen Hatmaker that the world needs to see the Church work through these issues with love and respect. i just don’t want to see us sacrifice what is true in the name of let’s-all-just-get-alongitus. for then, if we allow the truth to slip away while we are too busy making nice with one another, what will we have to offer a lost and dying world? what Good News will there be left to tell?

we must wrestle with the truth and with one another not in order to prove we’re right or win points for our side. we must preserve it in order to give it to those who so desperately need it. The truth is there to be discovered and in the end it will set us all free.

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Some Christians seem to be accepted in their own experience, at least, that is their apprehension. When their spirit is lively, and their hopes bright, they think God accepts them, for they feel so high, so heavenly-minded, so drawn above the earth! But when their souls cleave to the dust, they are the victims of the fear that they are no longer accepted. If they could but see that all their high joys do not exalt them, and all their low despondencies do not really depress them in their Father’s sight, but that they stand accepted in One who never alters, in One who is always the beloved of God, always perfect, always without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing, how much happier they would be, and how much more they would honour the Saviour.

-Charles Spurgeon, Morning and Evening. So much of the Christian life is accepting in our hearts what our mouths claim to be true.

The Wheels on the Bus Fall Off Sometimes

holy ego-butt-kick, Batman, today has not been good. i should have seen it coming but somehow i can plan a meal calendar out til sometime after our first child leaves for college but can’t look past the rosy events of today in order to see the distinct possibility of the storm clouds tomorrow.

yesterday was one of those beautiful days where the rays of heaven bounced lightly off the homeschooling halos encircling our heads. everyone stayed on schedule. everyone mastered the material. everyone remembered to take their plate into the kitchen after lunch. today was…not that. the wheels were falling off the bus before we left the station and i am pretty sure more than one heart was bruised by the ensuing chaos.

i just took my eye off the ball for a minute, or two. or the time in which is takes to watch “extreme make-over: weight loss edition” rather than do a little extra prep last night. and then there was the kid i let stay up a little too late (in order to keep me company while watching said episode). and the kid that woke up so far from the wrong side of the bed, i think he was in someone else’s room. and then there was…etc.

it is crazy how fast all those little errors in judgement pile up. like so much dirty laundry. one day your drawers are fully stocked and before you know it, you are left with mismatched socks and the underwear that you avoid wearing cause it always gives you a wedgie.

one starts to see how easy it is to wander off the straight and narrow. i used to feel so shocked when reading the biblical accounts of any one of the number of Bible superheros that start off in such enviable positions of favor with the Lord and end up in some spiritual desert, having forsaken the path of God. i must resist the temptation to shake my head in disbelief and feel superior. my focus has been known to wander as well and i certainly have felt the desert sands beneath my feet as well.

the difference between those who lie down to die in the desert and those who make their way out is small and yet enormous, a little thing and yet everything. the difference is simply the willingness to admit to being lost. to look upward and reorient oneself and ask for directions home. the former end up as skeletons buried in the sand while the later receive the lifesaving waters of grace and mercy. but you have to ask, not once but always. not one day but everyday.

so tomorrow i will start again. and today will be a grim reminder to always look keep my eyes focused. when tempted to lose focus i will pray for the grace to know better.

“prone to wander, Lord i feel it; prone to leave the God i love. here’s my heart oh take and seal it; seal it for thy courts above.”

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Lately a question I dread being asked more than “What’s for dinner?” is “So, Amy, how are you guys doing?” There have been plenty of times in my life when this question would have prompted a 20 minute, uninterrupted outpouring of confessional desperation: “This child isn’t having a hard time getting along with his siblings and I don’t know what to do!” “This child seems to be getting lost in the shuffle and again, I don’t know what to do!”  But that isn’t why a good-natured inquiry into my family’s state of affairs has me feeling ill-at-ease of late, though I still don’t know what to do about most of the things which transpire in under our roof.

It isn’t how we are doing I wish to avoid focusing on but what. Because my answer these days sounds more like a color commentator than a mom. “Well, Bailey’s team plays tonight. Sam and Maggie have practice tomorrow.” If I am not sitting lakeside making sure no one takes a shovel to the head, I am parked along the first base line trying to strike the careful balance between supportive encouragement and screaming maniac.

I think there is much to be gained from the kids playing organized sports. If I didn’t, the shape of my rear end would not have been permanently altered by the hours I have spent sitting on unforgiving metal bleachers. But never in all imaginings of my future life did I dream I would send so much time shouting things like “You’ve got this buddy! Way to watch!”

And while I keep telling myself, it’s just this one month of the year devoted to my children’s future Major League careers, I can’t help but consider how my willingness to sacrifice regular bedtimes, family dinners and a significant amount of our family resources   is a reflections of our values. I am willing to pack seemingly endless numbers of tuna sandwiches, snack size chips and water bottles in order for them to play a game. A game they can learn from, make friends through, etc but a game nonetheless. True, it’s a season  but am I willing to make similar types of sacrifices for the more eternal pursuits of life.

How am I investing my time in energy into my kid’s spiritual lives? Am I supplying them with the living water they need to sustain them? Encouraging them to practice the disciplines they will later in their spiritual careers? Am I on the sidelines cheering them on? How often have I mentally whispered “Please don’t ask to pray. Please don’t ask to pray.” as I was putting them to bed at night because I was “too tired” to give up five more minutes of my time?

Baseball season has taught my kids some good lessons this summer. Lessons about teamwork, perseverance, etc. But I have learned a few lessons too. Lessons about prioritizing the eternal over the temporal, about sacrificing of myself without fear of having nothing left for myself. Thank goodness God isn’t holding me to the three strikes your out policy. His mercies never come to an end.

Another Reason You can be Glad I’m not God

You would think that with a father who could grow geraniums in the Sahara, I might be able to keep a house plant alive longer than the time it takes to drive home from the store. You might think this, however, you would be wrong. (I also have a mother whose sweet voice is the soundtrack of my childhood and yet I, sadly, can’t carry a tune in a bucket.). Since dropping out of our community garden project a few years back due to an overwhelming Spiegel thumbs down on kale and kohlrabi, Jim and I have attempted to cultivate a modest garden of our own. A few raised beds, brimming with peppers and tomatoes, a scattering of herbs and cucumbers. Nothing to give the Golly Green Giant a run for his money but hey, we try.

As is typical of most projects, I enjoy the prep work far more than the day-to-day maintenance which is generally required in order to keep living things alive. The raising of our children is the main except to this rule, though sometimes I definitely enjoy the idea of them much more than the reality. I live for online research and trips to the farmer’s market for more humus, whatever that is. Then the summer wears on and honestly, between baseball games and trips to the lake, I forget there is stuff growing out there. After weeks of neglect, I discover cucumbers the size of Larry Boy and tomatoes which seem to be sun-drying themselves on the vine.

So the over-reactionary, Laurel and Hardy version of Amy goes running for the hose and proceeds to drowned everything in site, again hopefully with the except of the children. It is so hard to find that natural balance between panicked downpour and neglectful drought. Slow and steady may win the race but my pace is definitely something more akin to fast and furious. 

Unfortunately, this is often my approach in spiritual matters as well. I decide to memorize scripture. So in the course of an afternoon, I buy a book, download one of those beautiful Ann Voskamp memorization guides, commit to memory the first five or six verses of Colossians and set a course for spiritual enlightenment. And…a week later, the book is already dusty on my bedside table, my beautiful memorization guide is at the bottom of my workout bag and I have forgotten three of the six verses.

Not so with God. He is the steady rain that falls and refreshes without fail. He is the sunshine that warms without ever burning too bright. It may not always feel this way. It may sometimes feel as though you are dying for lack of rain. It may feel as though you have been abandoned to the elements. But He is there, waiting for you to feel your need of Him. Waiting to wash away the panic in the gentle downpour of His love. Peter tells us “With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:8-9). You see, it isn’t us waiting on Him but rather Him waiting for us. We aren’t dying for lack of His care but rather it is He who waits for us to ask.

A Glimpse in the Mirror

This past Sunday, in celebration of Mother’s Day, I was very late for church. It wasn’t that I wanted to be late to church so much, as I wanted a one day vacation from hustling everyone, including myself, out the door. This resulted in the fam and me being seated much farther back in the sanctuary than is our usual custom. You would think with four “spirited” children we would always be hiding out in the back row. Sitting in closer proximity to our pastor’s watchful eye seems to help curb our children’s rambunctiousness and if that fails, we figure “Why not make a show ourselves and at least amuse those around us with our offspring’s antics.” Or as Jane Austen puts it “What do we live for but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn?”

So I am sitting in the back, looking around for someone to make sport of. Not in a mean spirited way, of course. More in a way “Wow, there is so much more to be distracted by back here” kind of way. If nothing else, I began to understand the proportionate relationship between the kids’ restlessness and our seat assignment. I’m looking around for friends, checking out what everyone is wearing when I observe an interesting trend. Our church has a fair number of college students in attendance and I notice that almost all of young women have their long, lovely college girl hair pulled to the front, framing their faces. I am sure from the front this makes for an attractive display of said tresses, but from behind it leaves a shocking gap.

This got me to thinking about the time I made the mistake of looking at my behind in the mirror. I am not one for much mirror gazing but I try to make sure my outfit works, there is nothing stuck in my teeth, etc. But one day, while jumping into the shower, I caught a glimpse of my exposed behind in the bathroom mirror. This was a big mistake! “How did that happen?!?” I wondered. Because what I saw was certainly not the delicate derriere I had been envisioning for myself these many years. It was a painful moment of clarity that humbled me, not to mention doing wonders for my dedication to working out on a more regular basis.

We all have these little blind-spots, gaps in our character that we fail to see. Sometimes we are so busy working on what we look like head on, we forget to examine ourselves from behind. We become a Flat-Stanley-cardboard-cut-out version of ourselves, one dimensional. We keep focusing on the polishing our front-side image and hoping no one looks behind the curtain at all the nasty bits. 

But then one day, if we are lucky, we catch a glimpse of the nether regions of our hearts in the mirror of truth. “Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like” (James 1:23-24). The Bible, along with that small, still voice in our hearts, or the louder, less still voice of a friend in our ear, is there to show us what we really look like. To refocus our efforts on the whole of our character and not just the parts that are most obvious. True, the revelation can be humbling, but without a picture of who we really are, it is doubtful we will become who we really want to be.