Roots

“As you therefore have received Christ Jesus the Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught..."  Colossians 2:6-7

This weekend I took my eleven-year-old son, Josh, out to Chili's for dinner.   It was a chance for me to revisit his desire to be baptized.  For a few years he has been sporadically asking to be baptized.  For a few years I have been saying "no."  It's not that I don't want him to be baptized, I just didn't feel he was ready.

I am a baptist by conviction, not merely association.  I believe, for a host of theological and exegetical reasons (reasons that would make for a horribly dull blog post), that baptism is a marker of allegiance, not a qualification for acceptance.  It's like a varsity jacket.  Wearing the jacket doesn't make you part of the team.  You wear it because you are part of the team.  Baptism has nothing to do with becoming a Christian and everything to do with declaring oneself to be a Christian, an external manifestation of an internal reality.

Because of this, I treat the decision to be baptized as a serious one.  The internal should precede the external.  A heart devoted to God, if sincere, will spill over into life in more ways than just a public immersion in water.  It will be evident in behavior, attitude, and priorities.  Even in failure, the internal devotion still spills over in repentance and confession.

Previously, I was reluctant to let Josh be baptized because I didn't see a lot of this spill over in his life.  I was concerned that he was merely being pulled by the wake of his parent's faith.  But riding a current, even the right current, is a dangerous foundation for faith.  It doesn't take much to sway you in a new direction.  I suspect this is why so many young people, raised in the church, leave when they are on their own.  Their faith has been riding a wave, not rooted in soil.  Those roots make all the difference.

When spring arrives in Upstate New York and the blanket of snow finally recedes, it reveals a landscape of bare trees and matted vegetation. The harsh affects of a punishing winter are evident. But as the weather warms and the days lengthen, the plants come back to life.  Brown turns to green, bare branches are once again clothed, and new growth bursts forth.  It would be a mistake to predict the potential for recovery from the wilted remains.  Instead, life springs from a root system, hidden from sight, but undeterred by the long cold.

I hope to give my children those roots.  Roots with tendrils that run deep into the soil of the Savior; a strong mooring that will serve them well through the seasons of life.  For all the days of sunshine, they will also face days of dreary rain, or brutal cold, or turbulent wind. And even in sunshine, the heat can become oppressive.   For these my children will need to be rooted deeply so that when the seasonal circumstances of life look barren, there will continue to be life beneath the surface.

Over chicken fingers and tostada chips I explained this to my son Josh, though not nearly so eloquently. And I was able to affirm that I see these roots developing.  His faith is becoming his own.  His priorities, attitudes, and actions reflect it.  He'll be baptized soon. Baptized because he's been planted.  Planted in the soil of a Savior who can carry him through the coldest winter into spring.

BLOG NEWS:  This blog has always been intended as a greenhouse of sorts, a place where writing ideas can be planted and cultivated.  The crop, if it's good enough, can be sent to market when the time is right.  A significantly abbreviated version of this post was recently accepted for future use as a Mustard Seed Ministries on-line devotional.  My review of Gary Chapman's Happily Ever After was accepted in an expanded version by New Wineskins webzine.  My earlier post "Navigator in Focus" was accepted for use on  "Our Daily Journey," a blog ministry of Radio Bible Class (publishers of Our Daily Bread).  In addition, this past week I was guest blogger for The Upper Room, corresponding to the day I wrote a devotional for their print publication (written long before this blog was launched).  All said, it's been a satisfying week as a writer.  Thank you for your encouragement as a reader.

Entertaining a Contrast

This post builds on my previous post Navigator in Focus in which I suggested that discipleship is summed up with the concept of “landscape a blur, relationship in focus.”  We trust Christ as our navigator to steer our lives despite the uncertainty of the path.

Entertain – From the Latin entre (among) and tenir (to hold) conveying a sense of capturing one’s attention, mesmerizing one’s focus. 

Columbus Day weekend was one of those rare glorious autumn weekends in Central New York.  Sunny skies, mild temperature, and autumn leaves near peak splendor all converged at the perfect time.  So my kids made plans for the perfect way to spend this long weekend.  They would bask in the glorious hues of…television.  They had hours upon hours of the whole Disney Channel lineup on DVR ready to hypnotize them with an endless loop of laugh tracks.  As exceedingly cruel parents, we set limits on how much they could watch.  Minutes after the television was turned off, a consensus was reached.  The kids were bored.  There was nothing to do.  Nothing.  Ride bikes, fish in our pond, walk the trails around our house, draw with sidewalk chalk, jump rope, lay in their hammocks, play hide and seek, catch bugs, collect leaves, and a litany of other suggestions all amounted  to “nothing to do.”  Their hearts were set on “I’m In the Band” and “I Carly.”  They wanted to be entertained.  They’re not alone.

There is a chunk of material in Mark 1-2 that lands between the calling of the four fishermen, Simon, Andrew, James and John (Mark 1:16-20) and the calling of the tax collector, Levi (Mark 2:13-14).  In part, this interruption serves as a contrast to the calling of the disciples, a foil to the principle of “landscape a blur, relationship in focus.”  Sandwiched between these episodes of Jesus calling individuals to follow him is this highly concentrated dose of miracle stories.  Jesus

-        drives out an evil spirit (1:21-28),
-        heals Simon’s mother-in-law from a fever (1:29-31)
-        heals many who gather at her house ((1:32-34)
-        heals a man with leprosy (1:40-45)
-        heals a paralytic, (the one who is lowered through the roof into the house due to the large crowds)

He’s putting on quite a show.  A show that elicits great enthusiasm.  Three times the text mentions the people’s amazement (1:22, 27, 2:12).  Four times it mentions the swelling crowds (1:33, 37,45, 2:2).  There is a growing excitement surrounding Jesus’ ministry.  He is creating a stir.  People are clambering for a piece of him.  His fame is on the rise. The circus has come to town.

And yet, Jesus is attempting to quiet the buzz.  He withdraws to an isolated place (1:35), he tells the demons not to speak because they know who he is (1:33), he instructs the man with leprosy not to tell anyone after he is healed (1:44).  This all seems counterintuitive. He’s snubbing the reporters, avoiding the paparazzi, squandering this opportunity for exposure by riding the brakes.  As if this is not his intent. 

He recognizes that the burgeoning swarm is full of observers, spectators, crowd sitters. They crane their necks to get a better view.  They come for the spectacle.   They will go back to their routines in a moment.   This is built on curiosity, not allegiance.  For them, this has nothing to do with a journey, it is an event.  This is not about a navigator, it is about a showman.  This is not what Jesus is interested in. 

For all the enthusiasm in these episodes, there is a decided lack of intimacy.  In contrast to the calling of named individuals surrounding this text, none in these hordes of people are mentioned by name.  The only names that crop up are the four that have already responded to Jesus call, James, John, Simon, and Andrew (1:29).  Everyone else is nameless.  These crowds are not interested in relationship – they want to be entertained. 

There is contrast between the calling of the disciples, invitations to intimacy, and these episodes of box office success with people who are entertained, but never follow. 

And this is where I am convicted.  For all my finger pointing, I’m no different.  My kids learned it from someone and I would be hard pressed to build a case against the charge.  I tend toward inertia, preferring to watch rather than participate, taking my cues from those around me rather than taking initiative. 

I see it in countless ways.  Ways that I’d like to develop in my next post. But not now.  I need to catch up on the programs I've DVRed.

Navigator In Focus

I like this picture.  It was taken in our backyard last fall.  It’s a beautiful landscape, a pond surrounded by trees in the late hues of autumn.  It’s a scene I fell in love with the first time we saw this house.  But it’s not a picture of that landscape.  No one would mistake it for such.  In the picture, that landscape is all a blur.  Instead, it is a picture of relationship, of contoured intimacy, my wife affectionately nuzzled into the nape of my neck.  It is a celebration of well-worn love.  We fit together, a metaphor running beneath the image.  Landscape blurred, relationship in focus. 

Early in the gospel of Mark there are three episodes of Jesus calling men to follow him.  The first two are back to back.  He calls Simon (Peter) and Andrew (Mark 1:16-17).  Immediately following he calls James and John (Mark 1:19-20).  The third is separated by a chapter, when he calls Levi (Mark 2:13-14).  In all three episodes, these men are invited to join Jesus on a journey.  He calls them to follow and they accept the invitation. For the next few years they will spend their lives traveling with Jesus, sharing meals, listening to him teach, watching him perform miracles, asking him to explain parables, walking from village to village.  The decision to follow will change the course of their lives.  Each step takes them further from the familiar fishing boats and tax collectors booth. 

But what surprises me most is how little they know at the outset of this journey.  Jesus offers no details of the course they will take.  And he is frustratingly vague about the destination they will arrive at.  To Simon and Andrew, fishermen by trade, he offers the obtuse destination (or goal) of making them fishers of men, whatever that may mean.  James, John, and Matthew don’t even get that.  They get the invite with no mention of where they are going or how they will get there.  But they follow, stepping into a landscape that is blurry. 

There is a focal point.  The blurry landscape is the result a sharp focus elsewhere. That focus is on whom they will follow.  He offers a navigator.  “Follow me.” He will guide them on this journey. First and foremost, they are invited into relationship. They follow a person, not a path. The path is laid out as they follow him.   This is the beginning of discipleship, the conviction that I can trust Christ to be a reliable navigator in spite of the blurry landscape ahead. 

Recently I had a conversation with a friend about the new direction my life is taking. I told him I wasn’t sure what this will look like in 5-10 years, but I do have a pretty good idea of the next two or three steps I need to take.  Seems this is how Jesus navigates.  He tells me what I need to know for the next step or two.  He beckons me into the blur.  He asks me to trust him, to lean into him, to find rest in his well-worn love.  He won’t force me to follow.  But if I do, I’ll find that blurry landscape to be magnificent indeed.