My homegroup is finishing up an eight-session study on my joy book (The Myth of Happiness). I thought I’d share the discussion guide and questions in case anyone finds it useful.
Note that the study is on the topic of joy and not just a study guide of my book. So the book is completely optional. Thus, you don’t need to use my book to find the study useful.
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And so it begins. Mark Galli’s God Wins is first I have seen in what surely will be a flood of responses or counter-arguments to Rob Bell’s Love Wins. On the one hand, I think it is great to have healthy, lively theological debate about important issues. In fact, at my church, we recently started periodic “point/counterpoint” messages in which David (the pastor) and I take opposite theological sides on a given topic. All that’s great stuff.
The issue I take with Galli’s God Wins has nothing to do with what he may or may not say in the book. Instead, there’s three aspects of this particular book that leave me with a sour taste in my mouth.
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Here’s the slides and notes from my recent sermon on joy that I gave at Cana Community Church.
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Experimenting with iMovie…
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. It just depended on who you were talking to … Charles Francis Adams was a prominent political figure during the mid-nineteenth century. Politics was in his bloodline—he was, after all, the grandson of President John Adams. But it was also his passion. Armed with a Puritan’s work ethic and sense of duty, Charles believed his time and energy should be devoted to public service and government. His resume speaks to his devotion—Massachusetts state representative, state senator, vice presidential nominee, congressman, and U.S. ambassador to Britain during the Lincoln Administration. Charles was the father of four sons, but given his preoccupation with work, he was not around his family that much.
However, because the members of the Adams family were regular journalers, we know that on at least one occasion he managed to take his eight-year-old son, Brook, fishing. Brook was deeply affected by the experience and wrote in his diary about his father-&-son outing when he returned home that evening, “Went fishing with my father; the most glorious day of my life!”
When I first read Brook’s account, I thought that Charles, as busy as he was, was able to relax and enjoy the brief time away with his son and give him his full attention. Perhaps Charles even got a bit misty-eyed thinking about how quickly Brook was growing up. But when I dove further into the story, I discovered that I was plain wrong. Charles may have been pleasant enough with his son, but his mind was somewhere else. He logged an entry in his diary for that day saying, “Went fishing with my son today; a day wasted.” Clearly, Charles would have rather been at the office getting work done than fishing with his son.
Continued on New Man web site >>
Back in 2008, my family and I rode across the country on our bikes on The Expeditionary Man Bike Tour. Symbolically beginning the journey, we dipped our rear tires into the Pacific Ocean and then straddled our bikes and pedaled eastward. Riding 10-12 hours each day over the next three weeks, we had a single, all-consuming cycling goal: to dunk our front tires in the Atlantic Ocean to complete the crossing.
Purpose-Driven Creatures
When I look back today on that bicycle trek, I don’t much think of that finish line anymore. Yes, I appreciate actually making it all the way across, but what I truly relish are the experiences, many of which were difficult, that we had on route. I recall that dreadful first day in the California desert thinking I’d never survive the 115 degree temperatures; the climb up Mt. Evans, the highest paved road in North America; and the ride across the Oklahoma plains in a 30-mph headwind. At the time, I didn’t savor these events much, given my preoccupation with the finish line. But, these hard times are exactly the memories which linger in my mind as the years go by. For it was in these tough moments that we were all stretched, pulled, and tugged – ultimately growing individually and collectively as we persevered through them.
I think a Christian walk is much the same way. We are purpose-driven creatures living in a goal-focused society. We are consumed, even obsessed by finish lines. Yet, as I study the Scriptures, I am learning to realize that God does not give much importance to end goals like we do. Yes, God is concerned about our aspirations, but I suspect He is far more interested in the growth that occurs in our lives in pursuit of these ends compared to the actual goals themselves.
Pitfalls of Finish Lines
In reading Paul’s epistles, it is clear that the overarching ambition of a disciple should be to become more like Christ today than we were yesterday. However, in real life, we allow ourselves to become preoccupied with far more practical, down-to-earth finish lines. These can be grouped into two categories.
In our walk with Christ, we need to stop thinking of the time before the finish as an ordeal to withstand while we await the outcome. Instead, the pursuit needs to be seen for what it actually is: God’s gift to us as believers. For it is in precisely these times that we choose whether we are to become more like Christ or more like the world; whether we will find more of our security in the Lord or in our own crafted solutions; or whether we will choose contentment today or hold out for a prize at a later time.
Learning To Embrace The Race
When you face uncertainty and trials in daily walk, consider four practical steps that you can take “embrace the race.”
First, recognize the growth opportunity. Whether we are faced with a big decision or are focused towards a long-term goal, we first need to discern the Lord’s hand in the situation and realize it as an opportunity to grow in Christ.
Second, trust Him. It sounds simple, but trust is surely the biggest obstacle to getting rid of this finish line obsession. If I earnestly believe God is leading me along towards the finish line, insecurity and uncertainty will be removed. Oswald Chambers offered a great outlook on trust when asked about how he was dealing with an unsure situation in his life:
I do not know [what the outcome will be]. However, He knows and I know He knows, and I know that I’ll never think of anything He will forget, so I just go steadily on as I have always done, and He will engineer the circumstances.
As Chambers says, we have a God that engineers circumstances. But until I fully believe that promise and live it out in faith, I will never be able to take my eyes off of the finish line. Without this level of trust, I will inevitably feel compelled to manufacture the result rather than relying on God to do so.
Third, get perspective. Uncertainty and goal quests have a tendency to become all encompassing, causing me to lose perspective. Yet, in the midst of the race, we need to step back and look at the situation in light of eternity. When I get to heaven, I don’t suspect that I will dwell too much on my earthly finish lines. Instead, I think we will be relishing the journey we made towards those ends, for that was when we grew the most in our relationship with Christ.
Fourth, commit to the only finish line of importance. Each of us need to get focused on our true aim in life as a disciple – throwing out, one cell at a time, our sin nature for a Godly nature; this commitment should also transform my prayer life. So, when I pray, I need to pray not just for the outcome, but for the race as well. Praying for contentment and trust on route regardless of the outcome is a true litmus test of where a disciple’s heart is. If all I really long for is the finish line, then perhaps I am really using God purely as a means to that end. But if I properly balance the end goal with my pursuit of it, then I can fully experience the growth God intends for me in the midst of this race.
One of the biggest snares is the idea that God
is sure to lead us to success. —Oswald ChambersNever put your dream of success as God’s purpose for you;
His purpose may be exactly the opposite. —Oswald Chambers
I received some tough news from my publisher this past week: “The Expeditionary Man has dropped below our benchmark for annual sales, and will be considered out-of-print.” Out of print? After only 2 years? I’ve had books go out of print before — that’s just part of the publishing business. But never so soon. And never a book so close to my heart.
You see, The Expeditionary Man was the book I felt like I was born to write. It was the most personal, most auto-biographical of all of my books; in its pages, I shared candidly of my past failures and eventual successes as a husband, father, and man. In some ways, maybe it was even “me” in book form. As I wrote the manuscript, I labored, quite literally, over each and every word choice, transition, and simile; I spent many late nights struggling to bring nuance to the text. Whether the end result was good or bad, nothing in that manuscript could be described as haphazard.
When The Expeditionary Man was released in 2008, it had far more going for it compared to any other book I had published before. My first hardcover. The first with a significant marketing budget assigned to it. The first one with memorable “expert” reviewer quotes adorning the back cover. My publisher and I truly felt like it was a legitimate follow-on and companion to John Eldredge’s phenom best-seller Wild at Heart. Sure, I recognized the fact that I was a no-name author writing to a target audience who rarely buys books (men), but I was optimistic.
Yet, less than 24 months later, this same book, with all that potential, is being laid to rest. Not surprisingly, I have been wrestling with and searching for reasons over its lack of success. Did I write a forgettable book, a yawner? Did I fail to properly communicate what I wanted to? Is the book poorly written? Maybe the book’s underlying message is just too subversive and difficult for Christian men to swallow?
Maybe it’s one of these factors; more likely, it’s a combination of them. But, whatever the exact cause, The Expeditionary Man never seemed to generate lasting enthusiasm from the men who read it. There was no “word of mouth” — that phenomena of a reader passing a book enthusiastically onto his friends and then other men in his church. While Wild at Heart delivers an intuitive message (do what makes you come alive) that naturally empowers men, The Expeditionary Man’s message (find true adventure at home, not in your career or ministry) seemed to go against the grain of what men strive for.
In the end, The Expeditionary Man is a reminder to me that the walk of a believer is gritty. God doesn’t just rubberstamp my best laid plans. I can pursue “what makes me come alive” all I want, but that doesn’t mean God will shower my ventures and ministries with success (at least my understanding of success). And, for whatever reason, God may allow other factors, even the free market, to trump my passions and desires to make an impact.
But as I live within this gritty reality, I am reminded that there’s no time for moping about. We’re called to be faithful regardless. To paraphrase Oswald Chambers, I cannot measure my life by spiritual success, but only by what God pours through me, and I cannot measure that at all.
