Soccer, Rabbis, Driscoll, and Learning To See Bigger

Recently, Major League Soccer (MLS) Commissioner Don Garber and United States Men’s National Team (USMNT) coach Jürgen Klinsmann have been at odds.  Some key US players, including Clint Dempsey and Michael Bradley, transferred from big European teams (Tottenham and Roma, respectively) to MLS teams.  Klinsmann pushes his players to play at the highest levels of competition to raise their games; in soccer, that means playing in Europe.  Even the most loyal MLS fan must admit coming back to the MLS to play is a large step down in competition.  Klinsmann recently commented that Bradley needs to prove his game will not take a step back in the MLS.  Garber took offense to this comment.  In his thinking, a stronger MLS means a stronger USMNT.  In Klinsmann’s view, a transcendent US player, one who can play at the highest levels of European competition, will encourage more US soccer players, and therefore help the MLS.

So who is right?  Well, honestly, both.  And neither.  A stronger MLS, in the long term, will encourage more young, talented athletes to play soccer, thus helping the USMNT.  But a transcendent US talent will also encourage a stronger MLS.  So, both are right.  But by insisting that their way is the only way, both are wrong.

Last week, I debated whether I would blog about Mark Driscoll.  After all, I am relatively new to blogging; I only adopted to try to support the Refresh blogging initiative.  It is a topic that was certain to offend people.  At the same time, before Driscoll was recently in the news, I noticed this trend about how we, as Christians, treat those we disagree with.  It is a trend that, quite frankly, disgusts me.  We treat fellow Christians with different theologies as the enemy, and we use any weapon in our arsenal to tear them down.  I blogged about this topic.  And, there is no way to say this humbly, but I still believe I am right.

At the same time, I received several responses from trusted friends and colleagues (hey, people actually read this?).  Many of them expressed different viewpoints.  They shared how Driscoll’s actions offended and hurt them, or offended and hurt others they cared about.  They shared how my post, while not intending in any way to be a defense of Driscoll, too easily dismissed the pain he has caused.  And, quite frankly, they were right.  For this I apologize.  You were right, I was right.  And in writing like I was the only one who was right, I was wrong.

Rabbi Brad Hirschfield wrote a book entitled, You Don’t Have to Be Wrong for Me to Be Right.  One of my professors assigned the book to us my first semester in seminary.  While I read it with all the enthusiasm typically reserved for students reading assigned texts, I am amazed at how the concepts driving that book become even more relevant as the years go by.  We can disagree, and both be right.  We may be speaking from different perspectives.  We may be simplifying a complex idea or concept.  Another perspective or opinion does not make my opinion any less valid, or “right.”

I find many of us, as we learn and grow in our Christian faith, approach faith as if our interpretations and experiences are the only possible and valid perspective.  We are right, and no one else is.  We ignore that the scripture that we are “right” on may speak to us differently at different times.  We ignore that the gospel message has proven true in countless cultures over 2,000 years.  We ignore that God is infinite, and our own understanding is definitely finite.  We assume that what we think and feel now is the sole and only truth, and if our perspectives may change, well, then that is the now the sole and only truth.

But you don’t have to be wrong for me to be right.  As I learn and grow more, as a student, pastor, theologian, etc., I learn how big the faith is.  How a great many perspectives provide insight.  How the faith is a complex topic, and I have so much more to learn.

This is not a pass for relativity.  I am not saying that every opinion or perspective is valid.  There are certainly ones I disagree with and stand against.  But this is a mea culpa.  Last week (and for most of my life), I have approached topics as if my perspective was the only right one.  For that, I beg your forgiveness.  May I learn from you, and may I gain a better perspective on the amazing grace of God in the process.

Another One Bites the Dust

There is a colleague of mine that I just cannot seem to work with.  I would like to think I am not that difficult to get along with (at least in small doses), but this colleague and I just do not get along.  Much of my frustration comes from this person’s arrogance.  This person never seems to take responsibility for anything going wrong.  Anytime we work together, it is always my fault, even when it clearly is not.  This person seems to discount all of my ideas in private, but in public, will present my ideas as if this person just thought of them.  I have been in meetings where this person interrupts with no other purpose than just wanting to be the center of attention.

And do you know what I despise most about this person?  When I find myself doing the exact same thing.  I would like to think I do not do any of these things to the same degree, but I have been known to make sarcastic comments in a meeting for no other reason than to be the center of attention.  I have caught myself trying to pass the blame onto someone else.  What I hate most about this other person is what I hate most about myself.

This week, Mark Driscoll stepped down as pastor of Mars Hill Church.  I have difficult, mixed feelings about Mark Driscoll.  On one hand, he played a part in my own faith development.  At age 22, I needed to hear his challenges to young men to be responsible and accountable.  The Caleb’s Men group that helped me take my faith seriously was heavily influenced by Driscoll.  On the other hand, I hate the way he sometimes presents his ideas.  I disagree with some of his theology, but mostly, I disagree greatly with the way he presents the gospel.  Take his now infamous “penis home” comment.  I agree with his point; sex is intended for our spouses.  He could have made the same point without making potentially offensive and inflammatory comments about women.  Why did he have to say those things that undermined everything he was preaching?

Yet again, what I hate about Driscoll is part of what I hate about myself.  I love being intelligent.  I love being right.  In many arguments, I have gone too far, said purposely inflammatory things, and just shoved my argument down someone’s throat.  I even made someone cry once in the parking lot after a seminary class.  We had a disagreement in a class, and even though he was in his first semester, and I was near graduation, I could not keep myself from continuing to drive my point home, long after I should have let up.

My intention is not to defend Driscoll’s actions or theology.  Certainly, his actions were inappropriate, and he should be held responsible for them.  But I urge the rest of us to take a step back and look at our condemnation of a fellow pastor.  Allow me to share some of the comments that have been made on Facebook and on the internet by fellow Christians:

“I hope he dies of a heart attack.  He deserves to die.”

“He doesn’t deserve grace and forgiveness.  He should burn in hell.”

“I feel sorry for his wife he probably rapes and his kids he probably beats.”

Certainly, these represent the more extreme comments, but a large percentage of comments are harsh, judgmental, and inflammatory.  Why is Driscoll the target of our spite?  Is it his theology about women or his views of homosexuality?  Others hold similar views, and we do not respond so violently to them.  Driscoll’s real sin is his arrogance, his judgmental nature, and his hurtful comments.  Yet we respond with arrogance, judgmental feelings, and hurtful comments.

Could it be that what we really hate about Driscoll is what we really hate in ourselves?

I hope we can find another way to respond.  We are called to love our enemies.  And yet, it seems I struggle even to love those on “my team.”  I can only imagine that this serves to support the idea that Christians are hypocrites, and do not live what we preach.  May God have mercy on us all.

Sorry, But I Am Not Cool

Note:  I am about to make generalizations about people of different generations.  I know these are generalizations.  I realize that your cousin’s neighbor’s sister’s best-friend’s roommate may not fit these generalizations.  That is why they are called generalizations, not laws.

I have come to the realization that I am not cool.  I had a nagging suspicion this was true, but as I have had time to reflect on the birth of my second child, I know now it is official.  I once was cool, at least in my own way.  People came to me to find out about the newest films, or the next musical artist that was about to break out into the big time.  But now?  Nothing.  I am not cool.

Here is some of my evidence.  A few months ago, a friend gave me a ride in his new, black Chevrolet Camaro (a fairly sporty car, for those unfamiliar).  Honestly, my first thought was “There is no way you could get two cars seats into this thing!”  Whereas I may have once been the go-to for the latest movies, I have only seen one movie in theatres since 2011 (and that movie was “Ender’s Game”).  South Park poked fun at Lorde last night, and while I knew her name, I honestly had never heard any of her songs.  And perhaps the most damning evidence of all:  when Apple gave me the newest free U2 album, I was appreciative.

I am not cool.  Yet, I am somehow sought after by organizations and churches, as a sort of young people Moses.  I will lead them to the Promised Land of Millennials.  Advertisers salivate over me (I’m under 35 and have disposable income).  Churches believe they will appear more relevant if I am associated with them (I know “the Twitter”).  Organizations believe that if I serve on their board, they will somehow appear more relevant to the younger generations.

Friends, if we expect me to solve our problems reaching out to young people, we have already lost.

One part of the problem is we usually have not asked ourselves why we are so desperate for young people in the first place.  Why is every church I have pastored interested in young people?  Is it because we have a heart for the next generation?  Not really.  We are burned out.  We are tired of giving and supporting the church.  We hope a new, younger generation will come and take over.  They can do everything the way we have always done it, and foot the bill.  We can sit back, relax, and enjoy the fruits of our labors.

This plan is doomed from the start.  No one is interested in being a substitute, or designated bill payer.  If this is our primary reason to want to recruit young people, our attitude sinks our own ship.

The other part of the problem is a complete misunderstanding of what people, especially young people, seek.  While it certainly helps to have some young people to attract other young people, that is not the answer.  Out of an organization like the church, young people seek meaning and relevance more than they seek youth.  They want to know that a church (or library, or store, or non-profit) provides value in their lives.  They want to know that it has a purpose and vision.  They want to know that they are valued in that space as more than a potential customer.  If the organization does not do those things, it does not matter who their “poster boy for youth” is.

So, let me assure all of you that I am not cool.  And I am surprisingly okay with it.  I gave up on that awhile ago.  So if you want to seek out the millennial generation, do not start with recruiting me to serve on your board, or star on your poster.  I am not that cool.  Start with offering something of true value.