The following is a post I wrote several weeks ago for another blog to which I contribute: Equip. It’s the blog for my church so be sure to check it out!

Several months ago my small group got so big that we had to make a decision: keep accepting new women, or cap it off? We’d been together for years and intimacy is a tough thing to build, so we went with the latter. Cap it.

Shortly thereafter we got an e-mail from one of the group members. She’d decided to break off from the group and start a new one. If we were turning women away, then clearly the church needed more small groups. That’s what she aimed to do.

I eventually had a chance to sit down with her and hear more about her thinking. I was pretty challenged by it. When she started a new group it almost immediately exploded. So much so that they spawned an additional two more groups in the following months. She explained this phenomenon as follows:

“The girls knew from the start that God might call some of them out of the group to start new ones. We were praying for that. But in the mean time we responded to our numbers by asking for a miracle of intimacy. Even though our group was big and no one knew each other, we asked God to provide.”

This idea of praying for a “miracle of intimacy” totally blew my categories. We think of miracles in terms of an inexplicable healing from cancer, or surviving a natural disaster, not small group relationships.

The conversation made me wonder if our pragmatism makes faith unnecessary. As long as we have a system, we don’t have to rely on God to provide. Or when we do seek Him, it’s more of a “Lord, please be present in this” approach. We may exercise faith by acknowledging the need for God’s presence, but are we making room for the miraculous? Are we allowing for God to move in ways that make our systems obsolete?

Planning and organization should not be under-rated. God calls us to be good stewards of what we have. But we go awry when our systems turn into limits on where and how God can move. God can provide a miracle of intimacy in small groups that are busting at the seams. He can multiply the proverbial loaves and fishes of whatever meager resources we have. So rather than work from a theology of scarcity or a ministry driven by pragmatism, we should work from a theology of abundance. We already have more than we will ever need.

I don’t know about you, but as a woman there is one thing that I’ve always felt was lacking in my spiritual life: a mentor. I have wonderful, godly parents and awesome Christian friends, but I’ve always wanted an older woman in my life with whom to have an intentional mentoring relationship, someone who’s a little bit further along in life experience and can challenge me in the face of my spiritual blind spots. I had one in college, but since then I’ve largely been going it solo.

I know I’m not alone in this. A lot of women either yearn for a mentor, or simply desire solid friendships with other women. Maybe you just moved to a new area and you’re having trouble meeting people. Or maybe you’re going through a tough time and you need some women to walk alongside of you and support you. But your church is so big or your schedule is too busy and it’s just not happening.

So we get stuck feeling frustrated. Even hopeless. This is also a time when it’s easy to become bitter towards the church. Why isn’t the church supplying my need? Why aren’t Christians reaching out to me?

In response to these feelings of frustration, a friend of mine recently directed me to a passage of Scripture that was unexpectedly helpful: Luke 1:39-40.

In this passage, Mary has just received some of the scariest news of her life. She is pregnant out of wedlock with the Son of God. Yeah, yikes! On top of all that, she has no idea if Joseph will still marry her, or how she will support herself if he won’t. If there was ever a time when a woman needed another woman’s encouragement, it was then!

So what does Mary do? Does she stay in her house and wait for a woman to come find her? Does she walk by the other women in town with her head hung low, hoping they will notice? No! She seeks a woman out. She leaves town and goes to Elizabeth, a woman “filled with the Holy Spirit” who speaks truth to her and encourages her with the goodness of God’s blessing.

Even in a vulnerable, fragile state, Mary took initiative. She knew that she needed the support of another godly, woman, so she diligently sought it out. She put herself out there. And sometimes that’s what we need to do as well.

Sometimes it can be hard to meet new people, and sometimes we’re so tired and overwhelmed that the last thing we feel like doing is seeking someone out. But Mary’s example reminds us that as much as Christians should be reaching out to people, they don’t have the benefit of God’s omniscience. No Christian woman, no matter how compassionate or discerning, can know all the hurts and needs of those around her unless she is told. This reality puts a burden of responsibility on our own shoulders. We need to initiate.

It can be scary putting yourself out there and sometimes it can take time, but God gave us the church as a resource for life. Take advantage of it! I guarantee there are women at your church or a church near you who would LOVE to be a part of your life–they just haven’t met you yet.

So be like Mary. Be brave. Put yourself out there. If you meet someone new at church, ask her to meet you for coffee. Find out if your church has a small group you can plug into. Be the initiator. And like Mary, you are sure to find women who will spur you on toward Christ and make you feel most “blessed among women.”

One of the common complaints about Christians today (often by other Christians) is that we’re fake. As the indictment goes, no one is being “real.” Words like “honest” and “authentic” are thrown around a lot. We need to be honest about our sins and have authentic community. I’m sure I’ve said stuff along those lines myself.

However, I’ve started to question whether fakeness is the real problem. But let me back up first, and ask you to consider the following scenario: Have you or someone you know left the States to spend time in a developing country, only to return completely disillusioned with American life? It’s like the blinders have been taken off as to how privileged we are and how we take everything for granted. For some of us, an ensuing bitterness towards Americans envelops us. Americans seems so selfish and greedy you can hardly stand it!

What is ironic about this experience is that I, for one, was just like every other American before I went overseas. I loved my comfortable life, and while I knew there was suffering far away I also tithed to the church and I volunteered in my community and that was enough for me. I wasn’t a bleeding-heart activist who cried at night over the dying children in Africa. What opened my eyes to the reality of my privilege was seeing first-hand the want of another. That experience changed me in a way that staying at home could not.

Why then, did I return home with the expectations that others should feel as I do, even though they had not seen what I’d seen? Who was I to judge other Americans when I had been just like them several weeks before? Yes, many Americans are selfish and greedy, but few of them have stared a dying AIDS child in the face, and it’s honestly very hard to conceive of the horror unless you experience it yourself. I cannot fault people for that.

Lack of experience accounts for tremendous naiveté about the world, and this lack of experience is often confused for inauthenticity. Another example of this is teenagers. How many of us were total idiots in high school because we thought we knew everything? Me! Thankfully, my parents were gracious enough to factor in my lack of experience and knowledge about the world in how they responded to me. They knew I would grow up and kick myself for being so foolish, so they responded in grace and love. While they did teach me and discipline me, they weren’t disappointed or disillusioned by what I didn’t yet know.

These two examples illustrate one of the real reasons for so-called “Christian fakeness.” While I don’t doubt that many Christians are pretending to be something they’re not, most people’s intentions are not that sinister. Many Christians genuinely desire to be real with you and to have open, honest, community. Many of us comes across as fake because of our lack of life experience. Many of us who were raised in Christian homes or privileged families have been sheltered from the darkness and suffering of the world. We are limited by our experience, which also limits our understanding of God.

This, of course, is not true of all American Christians. Not all Americans are sheltered and privileged. What’s more, there are some Christians who have incredible wisdom despite their lack of life experience. But speaking from my own life, I have been extremely privileged, which has directly impacted the development of my spiritual maturity. My understanding of suffering and the depth of my sin has been very shallow at times, which meant that my understanding of grace was shallow as well. I didn’t want to be that way, nor was I trying to hide anything. I was simply limited by my experience.

When we think of Christian maturity, it’s helpful to think of it in terms of infancy, adolescence, and adulthood. Spiritual infancy is defined by a consumption of the simple, digestible truths of God. We don’t want to get stuck there, but it’s a necessary step for every Christian. Spiritual adolescence can digest the meaty things of God, but like a human teenager it is also limited by experience. Over time, the combination of solid teaching and experience result in the wisdom defined by spiritual maturity.

To be perfectly honest, I think I am just now beginning to leave my spiritual adolescence. Barely. I’m still in it sometimes. Maybe I’m a spiritual college student.

All of that to say, if you ever find yourself feeling frustrated with other Christians for not being “real,” instead show them grace. Show them patience. We are all on different spiritual timelines so despite having been a Christian for years, many of us are still in our spiritual adolescence. Show the same kind of loving grace that my parents showed me when I was younger, knowing that I was limited by my years. There are much better ways of encouraging one another than slapping people with the label of “fake.”

This week my pastor preached about Exodus 32 and the Israelites’ betrayal of God. While Moses was on the mountain receiving the Ten Commandments, the Israelites felt abandoned. They couldn’t feel God’s presence, so they took the gold that God had given to them in Egypt and used it to make a golden calf. Or as Aaron the dufus put it, “They gave me the gold, I threw it in the fire, and out came this calf!” (v. 24) He’s like the kid who claims he didn’t punch his brother in the face; his brother simply “ran into his fist.” The only appropriate response to this Exodus story is a Homer Simpson-esque “doh!”

Even though I’ve heard this story countless times, something new struck me about it this time. In response to the Israelites’ unfaithfulness, God became angry and essentially slaughtered all the unfaithful. But that’s not what surprised me. What surprised me was the extent of God’s anger even though He knew ahead of time they would betray Him. It’s not as if God was caught off guard when they started worshipping idols. He knew it was going to happen, and yet He responded with the kind of anger of someone who’d had high expectations but had been stunningly disappointed.

And that got me to thinking. The story of Exodus happened thousands of years ago. It continues to happen today. God knows we are going to royally screw up over and over again, but He gets angry about each act of sin and disobedience as if it’s the first time. Why hasn’t God become disillusioned with us? You’d think that at some point He’d wash His hands of the broken human race and walk away. That way He wouldn’t have to go through such pain and depth of emotion each time.

But He doesn’t. In spite of the fact that God knows we will mess up, and in spite of the fact that His justice compels Him to feel betrayal and wrath in response, His love and mercy compel Him as well. He perseveres with us. He loves us unconditionally. He pursues us even though He knows we will forsake Him. He never becomes disillusioned.

For us young people, this is a powerful example. Disillusionment is an attribute that frequently defines our generation. As a group, young adults are generally more idealistic, which also means we’re more prone to get sick and tired of political corruption and religious hypocrisy. In response, it’s easy to wash our hands of it all.

While there’s an extent to which our faith in secular institutions should certainly be limited, there’s no excuse for washing our hands of the church. In view of God’s great mercy, disillusionment is revealed to be nothing but a cop-out. We are not in more of a position to be disillusioned with God’s people than God. If He will not forsake His people, if He will not stop loving them, then neither should we. And more importantly, if God has not stopped loving US in spite of our own infidelity, then who are we to do less for others?

This truth holds me accountable for my attitude and the state of my heart. I do get frustrated with other Christians, and there have been times when I’ve wanted to walk away from it all. But we cannot do so and remain faithful to God. The two options are incompatible. Remember that the next time you hear someone say that they walked away from the church as some sort of spiritually superior move. As 1 John 4 reminds us, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.” (v. 19-20) You can’t love God and hate His church. You can be disappointed with people in the church, even angry at times–clearly so was God–but you cannot walk away, nor can you give into feelings of bitterness or self-righteousness. The love of Christ compels us otherwise.

I think you would be shocked by how many evangelical Christian conferences are held every year. Most denominations have national and regional conferences, there are national and regional conferences for every perceivable demographic (ie. college students, women, married couples, youth), and there is a myriad of conferences for pastors of all sorts–worship pastors, church planters, multi-site pastors, youth ministers, etc. Even if we didn’t count the little retreats that individual churches put on for 50-200 people, the number of conferences with 1,000+ attendees is likely in the hundreds each year.

We Christians love our conferences. And there’s a reason for it. It’s a great chance to get away, fellowship, and learn under godly teaching. It can serve as a breath of fresh air, especially for leaders who are usually pouring into others. It’s also a great time for leaders to pool their creativity and ideas. Working together we can accomplish more, and I fully support that.

There is an element to this trend, however, that I find troubling. While these conferences are indeed edifying, the teaching is often led by the same general pool of men (and a few women), many of whom have young children. In addition to leading churches, these men are traveling around the country during the month speaking at conferences, and I’m beginning to wonder if this is healthy. Given the technological advances that not only allow us to upload weekly podcasts from these men, coupled with video broadcasting, the number of conferences would seemingly decrease, not increase. Given our options, should we be asking pastors to take that extra time away from their families?

I did some research this week to find out how much time American fathers spend with their kids. The studies I found all indicated that the average father spends about 2 hours with his children every week day (that is, interacting with their children in some direct capacity) and about 8 hours on the weekend. Out of a 168 hour week, that constitutes about 15% of a father’s time. In comparison with their wives, men spend just over half the amount of time with their kids that mothers do during the week, but they nearly equal the time their wives spend with the kids (around 90%) on the weekend. And keep in mind that these statistics only account for families in which the parents are married. In other words, this average has not been lowered by custody dynamics or absent fathers.

Now psychologists argue that this 15% is enough. In that small amount of time, fathers can do a lot for their kids, especially if they’re intentional with their time. But this does lead me to wonder what it looks like for a Christian father to put family ahead of work, as they are frequently taught to do. Realistically, dads have to work and support their families, but if they’re spending a minimum of 40 hours a week working each week (in comparison with 26 hours a week with kids), is time any sort of indicator of one’s true priorities?

The issue gets even stickier when you throw ministry into the mix. Ministry is a noble calling, so if God has called a father to preach around the world, shouldn’t he heed that call? Perhaps the most famous example of this tension is found in the person of Billy Graham. He famously spent weeks at a time away from his family following his call to preach the Gospel. Millions of people around the world have been saved because of him. Was it worth it?

In a biography of Billy Graham written by Roger Bruns, there seems to be regret from everyone in the family. He writes,

“For the Graham family, the dynamic was always the same–weeks at a time without the father and then a few days at a time with him. Ruth once told Billy that he missed the best part of his life–watching and enjoying the children as they grew. Graham’s daughter, Anne, often said they were raised by a single parent, ‘and giving your father up when he spends more time with a secretary or a news reporter that he does with me–that hurts…We knew he preached and he went and served Jesus, so I was glad to let him go because of that.’ Later in his life when Graham looked back, he said that his constant travel away from his family made him poorer both psychologically and emotionally. The children, he admitted, must have carried even greater scars. And as for Ruth, Billy wrote that if she ‘had not been convinced that God had called her to fulfill that side of our partnership, and had not resorted constantly to God’s Word for instruction and to His grace for strength, I don’t see how she could have survived.’”

While wives may have the spiritual resources to bear their husband’s absences, Graham’s words highlight the main problem with a schedule that pulls men out of the home: children aren’t similarly equipped. How, then, can a calling out of the home be reconciled with a call to protect one’s children?

Now rather than point a finger at pastors (I am in no position to judge how a family heeds God’s calling on their lives), I do think that as a Christian community we need to start thinking outside the box. With technology today, we can get the info out there without the conferences. I’m not saying we do away with conferences, but maybe we should start restructuring them. We should, for instance, consider only having one speaker present, and the rest are video feeds. A great example of this was the Nines video sponsored by Catalyst and Leadership Network last month. It was a wonderful day of information and vision casting that allowed the speakers to stay at home. The hours they would have wasted flying to one location could instead be spent with their kids.

As the Church, we should be leading the way in prioritizing family, and we certainly have the resources to do it. If the national average is 2 hours every week day, we should be above it. It would be an incredibly powerful witness if pastors only spoke at a handful of conferences a year, and instead focused on producing podcasts and writing as a means for disseminating information without leaving their families in the mean time. The conferences will always be there, but fathers only get one shot at raising their kids. As my own pastor, J.D. Greear, put it to me, “Conference speakers are a dime a dozen, but my children only have one daddy.”

My hope is that the prestige and flashiness of these conferences and the big names they draw will not lead us to sin. I fear these conferences have so thoroughly come to define us as a culture that, as Matt Chandler once stated, God will speak to us with the same words he once spoke in Amos 5:21: “I take no delight in your assemblies.” As a church, we must have the faith to keep our priorities in place, knowing that our faithfulness and the integrity with which we guard our families is one of the most powerful witnesses we can have in the world.

Every week I get on this blog and write in a way that attempts to sound somewhat authoritative and thoughtful. I like to give the impression that I know what the heck I’m doing, but I really don’t. I’m constantly growing and learning about life and God and myself, and this blog is no exception.

As a writer, I’m always working on two key things, and I still have a loooong way to go on them both:

1) Finding my voice. It’s easy to mimic the countless other Christian voices out there that I think sound really great and I want to be like. Every time I read something thought-provoking or hear a great preacher I think, “Hey I should be more like them.” This is always a disaster. I’m not them and I end up sounding fake. That said, I’m still working on figuring out how Sharon says things best, and to stick with that.

2) Figuring out my target audience.

This second one has been really hard for me. Anyone who’s read my blog knows that it’s targeted towards Christians (in case “She Worships” didn’t give it away) but over the last couple weeks as I’ve written a number of posts, I kept having the thought, “How would this sound to someone who doesn’t believe in this?” Will they be totally turned off by all the Christian jargon and insider language I’m using? While I may be encouraging Christians, am I simultaneously turning off many who aren’t? And not because I’m being judgmental, but simply because of the basic assumptions I’m making? This is the internet, after all–it’s not like I’m holding a secret meeting of Christians that’s safe from the prying ears of those who disagree with me.

Yet sometimes I write like I am.

This is something that a lot of Christians struggle with. Some of us have so immersed ourselves in the Christian world that we don’t know to relate, or even talk to people outside of it. We know how we’re supposed to talk to non-believers, ie. be kind and loving, ask them questions about what they believe, listen to them, and then gently direct the conversation towards Jesus. That’s like every Christian’s covert op for being friends with non-Christians. And while that’s not necessarily a bad thing (it definitely beats standing on a sidewalk screaming at people through a bullhorn) it’s generally not very convincing to people, and it overlooks our greatest evangelistic bridge–our humanity.

As humans, we share a lot of things with each other. We face the same fears, struggle with the same temptations, and we want happiness, health and security. God deals with all of these issues through his Son, and that’s one of the reasons why we follow Him. We don’t have to be afraid anymore. We don’t have to be bound by our anxieties and mistakes. Our humanity finds refuge and wholeness in Christ.

But for some reason, a lot of us act like we left our humanity behind when we became Christians. Because we feel so much pressure to make the Christian life appear totally awesome, we don’t talk about our doubts, our struggles, our regrets, or our fears with much openness. Even when we do talk about those things, it’s with a Christian spin or the tag line, “But God is faithful!” Yes, He is, but sometimes things are scary and awful. Period.

Many of us hide the things that make us human. We turn into Christian robots that smile all the time, always have the right answer, and are thoroughly unable to sustain real relationships with people who think God isn’t real.

This is why the Incarnation is such an important part of the story of Christ. God didn’t become man simply so that he could die in our place. He became man so that he could relate to us. He spoke to the world in a way it could hear and understand. He spoke into our humanity, and continues to do so.

That should be our model for ministry: Be human. Don’t act scandalized when a non-Christian (or a Christian) doubts Scripture–that’s human. Don’t judge when a non-Christian sins–that’s human. And don’t be condescending when a non-Christian struggles to have faith–that’s human.

Conversely, don’t act like holiness and purity come easy to you–that’s not human. And don’t act like you figured out God because you’re so smart or good–that’s not human either.

When I write in a way that only speaks to Christians and excludes the average human being, I have failed. Not only as a writer, but as a called disciple of Christ. Given that Christians are humans too, we need to hear the exact same truths as our non-believing counterparts. The language we use should essentially be the same. That said, if I’m no longer writing for the human heart, then I’m not really ministering well to Christians or non-Christians.

With all of that in mind, I’ve decided that that my target audience is human women. Regardless of what topic I’m discussing, I’m going to try harder to frame my language in a way that any person could understand. Obviously that’s a somewhat impossible goal given that the wisdom of God will many times be foolishness to humanity, but that’s no excuse for me to get lazy either.

The Christian in-crowd language is one of Satan’s greatest tools for short-circuiting our accessibility and authenticity. And he is so adept at it that most of us think it’s not a problem for us. I have non-Christians friends, and I know a lot of Christians who are a TON more socially awkward than I am, so until recently I always talked about Christian-ese in the context of “them.” “That’s something that cheesy Christians do. Not me.” But honestly, I think that’s what the majority of Christians do. Christians who act like broken humans are the exception.

Ultimately, our in-crowd language not only shapes our speech, but our minds and hearts as well. In-crowd language is merely a reflection of an in-crowd community. And as Christians, that’s something we’ve got to avoid. It’s hard to break out of the rut that our language falls into, but it’s something I want to work on in my writing, as well as myself.

About a month ago I was hanging out with some friends when someone raised a really interesting question for discussion: Should single women adopt?

One friend, who comes from a large family in which a number of her siblings are adopted, had an immediate response. She felt that this was absolutely wrong, and contrary to God’s design for the family. As she explained, God created families to be composed of a mother AND a father, and while there are families in our broken world that fall outside that category, and God can still redeem them, it is not a scenario to be sought after intentionally.

Another friend of mine was not so sure. She pointed out that there are a LOT of orphans in the world, and as Christianity Today recently reported, as many as a third of Christian women will have to remain single because they so greatly outnumber Christian men. What is better, for a child to be raised in an orphanage, or to be raised by a godly, caring single woman? The answer would seem quite obvious.

Honestly, I have really mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I’m sometimes wary of the emphasis that Christians place on the family as being THE fundamental foundation of our community. Now don’t freak out on me yet–I’m not saying it’s not important. It is. But what is more important, more fundamental and foundational, is the Church. As the Body of Christ, we have a responsibility not only to our own families, but to every member in our community, as well as their children. This point is grossly understated in our language about family and the church.

When I got married, I stood before an entire community of people whose very presence was a kind of commitment to hold me and my husband accountable to our vows. I expect that accountability, encouragement and teaching to continue the rest of our lives, and many of my married friends expect the same of me. That said, if a single Christian woman were to adopt a child, I would expect that child to be well cared for by her entire church community, which possesses ample men who can be a kind of father figure for the child. In fact, this should be happening in any church community in which single parents exist. As the Body of Christ, we play a crucial role in our friends’ children’s lives.

So with that in mind, I can see an argument for single mother adoption, not on the basis of God’s created design for the family, but on God’s created design for the Church.

HOWEVER, to jump to such a conclusion is to miss the real problem altogether. If we have come to a place in which the numbers of orphans are so vast that the burden is falling onto single women to adopt them, then married couples are missing their call. Scripture specifically highlights orphans as a demographic we are to care for (James 1:27), and it’s no wonder–is there a better picture on earth of what God did for us? Though we made ourselves strangers to Him through our sin, God adopted us through the sacrifice of his Son and loves us as his children, allowing us to inherit all that He has.

Amidst a culture that values biological children so highly, going to extreme lengths that are sometimes theologically questionable–in vitro fertilization, surrogacy, etc.–we must be cautious of the message we are sending. Our biological children are not more important than adopted ones. So while it is by no means wrong to desire and have our own children, we must value all life equally, consider the way that God, not culture, defines parenthood, and take seriously our call to care for orphans and make disciples of all nations (Matt. 28:19). After all, adoption fulfills both those Scriptural commands, while blessing a child in a way that will not only change their life for the better but enhance their love for God.

So should single women adopt? I’m still not entirely sure and I would really love to hear your input, but I don’t want that debate to overshadow the bigger issue. In America where we have so much and countless Christian parents have sufficient financial resources to support large families, why aren’t they adopting? My friend who was raised in a large family of adopted children explained that while her dad was a doctor and they could have lived a more luxurious lifestyle had they had fewer children, her parents chose to live at a slightly lower standard so that they could adopt more children. What a wonderfully counter-cultural, radical Christian idea!

This is truly something that more married couples should be praying about it. God may not call your family to adoption, but you will never know if you don’t come before Him in surrendered obedience and ask. And if He does call you to adoption, I guarantee you will share in many of the blessings and joy that God received in adopting us.

Cliques.

This is a word that instantly generates feelings of annoyance and disdain. We all knew those girls in high school, that group in college, maybe even some people at your church right now. Few things feel worse than being excluded from those tightly-knit groups who so ably highlight our inadequacies. And that is why we hate them.

I still remember sitting in my Middle School cafeteria the day my best friend moved on to a better group. Even though we’d been inseparable for years, I’d seen the move coming for weeks. She’d been spending more and more time with those “other girls,” and then came the day when she sat down at their table for lunch. I asked her to come sit with me, and she gave me the “please don’t talk to me anymore” look. Brutal.

(Of course I can’t really blame her. She was blossoming into the most gorgeous girl in our school, while I simultaneously spiraled into the depths of what I call me “awkward phase.”)

Because of stories just like mine, we all detest cliques. We’ve all been excluded at one time or another, and many of us still bear the scars from those emotional blows.

But is there more to it than that? Aside from the way cliques make us feel, is there something inherent about their very nature that we should avoid? What does Scripture have to say about this rampant social practice? After all, we may have been hurt by a clique, but we’ve probably been in a clique as well. What might God think about this?

Well to find the answer, we can look at the very first clique in the Bible, and it’s found in Genesis 11. In this chapter, we see the people of Babel growing in number, as well as pride. They have deceived themselves into thinking they can attain equality with God, so they set out to build a tower that will reach to the heavens. God told them to be fruitful and multiply, but they instead hunker down and stick together. They have bigger fish to fry than simply multiplying. They have the rep of the group to protect.

And what is God’s response to this? It goes as follows: “If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them.” (v. 6) So He confuses their language and scatters them all over the earth.

What exactly did God mean by that statement? Nothing will be impossible for them? Did He really mean that nothing at all would be impossible? That they could really become like God Himself if they merely stuck together? I don’t think so.

What God meant by those words was that no evil would be impossible for them. Already they were seeking to replace God, and they were only just beginning. Clearly, no act of disobedience was out of bounds, so what would be next??

This is the danger of the in-group mentality. It is a mentality in which the self-preservation of the group is put first and foremost ahead of every other concern. And when this happens, all other people, interests, or causes are subordinated to the well-being of the group. We have seen the in-group at its worst during the Holocaust and the practice of slavery. We even see it in Christian cliques when pastors and prophetic voices are driven out of their churches for reasons having nothing to do with Christ.

In-groups mentalities are therefore extremely destructive because they use peer pressure to get the whole group to act, at which point their collective actions become all the more powerful. If you don’t go along with the group, you risk being shunned, thereby making it very difficult to change them.

So the larger these in-groups get, the more dangerous they become, which is why God scattered them. As the group gets larger it gains momentum, growing faster and faster. And as this growth transpires, it gains increasing man-power to promote its cause.

God knew all of those things, and foresaw the potential destructiveness of this in-group mentality, which is why He responded so definitively. If left unchecked, there was no end to the evil they could accomplish.

That said, beware of cliques–and by that I don’t mean avoid people who are in them. Rather, don’t be in one yourself. When we are in a clique, we fall prey to the in-group peer pressure, and subsequently hurt others. What’s worse is that these cliques often prevent us from even caring if we trample those around us. We find ways to rationalize why we are so exclusive–”I do hang out with other people…sometimes;” “We tried hanging out with her but she’s just so hard to talk to;” “She’s just at a different stage in life than the rest of us, so she should find someone her own age to hang out with.” All of these are justifications for exclusion, exclusion that wounds and destroys.

How do you know if you’re in a clique? Some of the tell-tale signs include the way you spend your time–do you make an effort to hang out with anyone else, or do you only hang out with one specific group of friends who also happen to be exactly like you? Also, what do other people think about the group? Odds are if you’re in a clique, then people have mentioned it to you before. Listen to them. And finally, has anyone been hurt because of the group dynamic? And by that I mean has anyone felt intentionally excluded. Although friendships are never perfect, which means people will inevitably get hurt from time to time, the group’s willingness or unwillingness to make amends and include them in the future reveals a lot.

If you find yourself in a group that fits any of those qualifications, then you need to do one of two things–talk to the group and make an effort to change, or start making new friends. Cliques can be spiritually toxic, so if your friends are resistant to change then you need to switch social circles.

Instead, resolve to be outwardly focused. God called us to be fruitful and multiply, and this command applies to more than mere procreation. We need to multiply spiritually, we need to be adding to our number daily those who are being saved, as well as making our Christian friendships more fruitful. Reach out to the people in your church, dorm or workplace who need a friend, and reach out to those in the community that the socio-economic in-group has marginalized. This practice will generally take us out of our comfort zones, but if the people of Babel teach us nothing else, it is that we can either take ourselves out of the clique, or God will do it for us.

Last week I wrote about Bishop Jefferts Schori of the Episcopal Church, and her denunciation of “personal relationships with Christ” at their General Conference. Though I only alluded to it in that post, there was a second controversial element to the conference, and that was the Church’s decision to ordain homosexuals into the priesthood.

Now I am by no means trying to pick on the Episcopal Church by highlighting them twice in one week, but I came upon a response to the Episcopal Church’s decision, written by N.T. Wright, that I found worth noting. If you aren’t familiar with him, N.T. Wright is a renowned British theologian, and he is also a member of the Anglican Church (the Episcopal Church’s British counterpart). He makes some incredible insights into the the Episcopal Church’s decision from which we can all learn. Not only does he appeal to Scripture and tradition in his defense, but he does so without the emotional work of name-calling or mud-slinging. What follows are some of my favorite excerpts:

On sexual chastity in the Christian tradition:

“Many in TEC (The Episcopal Church) have long embraced a theology in which chastity, as universally understood by the wider Christian tradition, has been optional. That wider tradition always was counter-cultural as well as counter-intuitive. Our supposedly selfish genes crave a variety of sexual possibilities. But Jewish, Christian and Muslim teachers have always insisted that lifelong man-plus-woman marriage is the proper context for sexual intercourse. This is not (as is frequently suggested) an arbitrary rule, dualistic in overtone and killjoy in intention. It is a deep structural reflection of the belief in a creator God who has entered into covenant both with his creation and with his people (who carry forward his purposes for that creation).

Paganism ancient and modern has always found this ethic, and this belief, ridiculous and incredible. But the biblical witness is scarcely confined, as the shrill leader in yesterday’s Times suggests, to a few verses in St Paul. Jesus’s own stern denunciation of sexual immorality would certainly have carried, to his hearers, a clear implied rejection of all sexual behaviour outside heterosexual monogamy. This isn’t a matter of “private response to Scripture” but of the uniform teaching of the whole Bible, of Jesus himself, and of the entire Christian tradition.”

What an important reminder that sexual purity is not just about being holy, but providing a witness for those around us. We are meant to be different, to look different, and our sexual lives are one way that we set ourselves apart from the rest of the world for the glory of God. When we conform to the sexual norms of our surrounding culture, we become like a salt that loses its saltiness (Matt. 5:13).

Wright also responds to the TEC’s notions of justice in relation to human identity–that is, treating all humans justly, regardless of sexual orientation. This was also a great point:

“The appeal to justice as a way of cutting the ethical knot in favour of including active homosexuals in Christian ministry simply begs the question. Nobody has a right to be ordained: it is always a gift of sheer and unmerited grace. The appeal also seriously misrepresents the notion of justice itself, not just in the Christian tradition of Augustine, Aquinas and others, but in the wider philosophical discussion from Aristotle to John Rawls. Justice never means “treating everybody the same way”, but “treating people appropriately”, which involves making distinctions between different people and situations. Justice has never meant “the right to give active expression to any and every sexual desire”.

Such a novel usage would also raise the further question of identity. It is a very recent innovation to consider sexual preferences as a marker of “identity” parallel to, say, being male or female, English or African, rich or poor. Within the “gay community” much postmodern reflection has turned away from “identity” as a modernist fiction. We simply “construct” ourselves from day to day.

We must insist, too, on the distinction between inclination and desire on the one hand and activity on the other — a distinction regularly obscured by references to “homosexual clergy” and so on. We all have all kinds of deep-rooted inclinations and desires. The question is, what shall we do with them? One of the great Prayer Book collects asks God that we may “love the thing which thou commandest, and desire that which thou dost promise”. That is always tough, for all of us. Much easier to ask God to command what we already love, and promise what we already desire. But much less like the challenge of the Gospel.”

It is always ironic that many of the Christian voices who preach the loudest about community tend to ignore the greater community of Church tradition. We must not be so arrogant as to think that we know better than the 2,000 years of Christian brothers and sisters who preceded us. That is not to say that we shouldn’t hold Church tradition under the scrutiny of Scripture, but in this instance the two are clearly aligned. With that in mind, it’s important that we love those with whom we disagree, but loving them does not mean we are so shaped by the culture that we no longer resemble the Church established by Jesus Christ.

To read Wright’s entire response, click here.

Well I am back in Durham after a week of traveling throughout Tennessee and Georgia, and I have to say that the Collegiate Summit in Nashville was awesome! We heard from a number of speakers including a phenomenal young pastor in Alabama named David Platt, the President of Lifeway, Thom Rainer, and the President of the Barna Group, Dave Kinnaman.

All of the speakers were incredible, but I’m going to focus the substance of this post on something that Dave Kinnaman said that was both challenging and humbling. In case you aren’t familiar with the Barna Group, it is a research organization that primarily gathers information related to the Church and Christian culture–whether it be patterns of Christian lifestyles, or reasons that non-Christians avoid the Church. Dave has published a book entitled “unChristian” that responds to a lot of the information he found, so you should certainly check it out if you haven’t already.

During his talk, Dave provided us with information about American teens today–what makes them tick, what their habits tend to be, and how complex they are. In many ways they are unlike any other generation before them because they are so tough to pin down. There is very little that characterizes them as a whole.

However, it has become very common today to view this younger generation as sort of a lost cause. 40% of children today are born out of wedlock, and their generation is characterized most by the worldly influences of MTV and trends like “sexting,” so it’s easy to write them off. They would seem to be hopeless.

As a result, many Christians have come to think of this age group as “the Prodigal Generation,” and in light of this perspective Dave made a challenging observation:

“If this is the Prodigal Generation, then the Church is the older brother.”

I don’t think Dave could have been more on the mark. When we consistently criticize and berate young people, we reveal our hearts to be just like that of the bitter older brother in Jesus’ famous parable. Our desire is not redemption or reconciliation–we want to be justly rewarded for how faithful we are. Under the guise of concern and caution, we hide proud hearts that think these lost sheep will get exactly what they deserve.

I do not, however, believe that this trend is limited toward the teenage culture. Christians tend to be bitter and prideful toward a lot of demographics. This is perhaps most noticeable in the blog world–if you visit any popular Christian blog on the internet, you will likely find venomous comments by critical Christian readers who are quick to doubt the intentions of the writer, and fast to slander them.

Many Christians are in a constant posture of bitterness and condemnation. This is not only true of the token conservatives, but of the liberals among the Body as well–it is as if anger has all but consumed our Christ-given propensity toward grace.

It is within this climate that Dave Kinnaman’s words are timely. It’s one thing to be watchful, but quite another to be expecting failure. We must therefore be mindful of what our actions say about our faith. As in the story of the Prodigal Son, we learn that no individual is beyond the redemption of God’s love. It is not simply a story about forgiveness, but about hope–God is able to redeem anyone, even the most lost.

When we let bitterness and judgment define our interactions with other Christians, or non-Christians, we say less about their lostness, and more about God’s ability to use them. Behind that bitterness is ultimately doubt–doubt that God is really able to save, or doubt that He is so radically merciful.

Yet no person is outside the redemptive power of God. As Isaiah 59:1 reminds us, “Surely the arm of the LORD is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear.” This knowledge should determine our posture towards one another. We should be defined by an orientation of hope, not cynicism. Even if you disagree with another Christian, do not doubt the power of God to work through them. When we are bitter or arrogant, we not only close ourselves off to one another, but to the mighty and wonderful work of God within them.

So check yourself. Is your heart like that of the prideful older brother, or the loving, hopeful, and welcoming father? Judging by how you have talked about, thought about, or written about other Christians this past week, your actions probably speak for themselves.