Advice to Christians from the World's Leading Hindu

E. Stanley Jones was a widely respected Methodist missionary of the last century (and, I am proud to say, a fellow alumnus of Asbury College, although he graduated ninety-three years before I did). During his ministry, he had influence all around the world, from counseling American presidents to being an evangelist in Japan, but most of his efforts were focused on India. He even came to have the reputation as “the Billy Graham of India” because of how deeply he impacted the country.

During his time in India, he became a friend of Mahatma Gandhi. Jones’ autobiography, A Song of Ascents, recounts stories of their interactions with one another. Jones says that once, while holding a series of lectures with a group of students, it came to his attention that Gandhi was nearby and that he had been invited to visit. During their conversation, Jones wanted to ask Gandhi, at that time the nation’s leading Hindu, what he believed Christians should do to contribute to India’s uplift and redemption. Gandhi immediately replied:

“I would suggest four things: First, that all you Christians, missionaries and all, must begin to live more like Jesus Christ. Second, that you practice your religion without adulterating it or toning it down. Third, that you emphasize love and make it your working force, for love is central in Christianity. Fourth, that you study the non-Christian religions more sympathetically to find the good in them, to have a more sympathetic approach to the people.”

Jones goes on to talk about why, despite Gandhi’s tremendous admiration for Jesus, he never became a Christian: while living in South Africa, Gandhi saw Christians do horrible things in their religiously backed support of apartheid. In other words, although he had a great deal of respect for Jesus, he could never see the value of the Christian religion because he saw so little of Jesus’ character in the lives of many who claimed to be followers of Jesus.

Even though we are now so far removed from this conversation between Jones and Gandhi, both in time and culture, we would still do very well to heed his advice. If we are going to always seek to show God’s love to others in practical ways, people must be able to see Jesus’ character in us. We must begin to live more like Jesus Christ, practice our religion without toning it down, and emphasize love in all that we do. Imagine the impact it could have if even just ten percent of the people in your community resolutely decided to live this way. The impact would be staggering. If we continue seeking to find ways, big and small, to let others know that they are loved by God, while seeking to pattern our entire lives after Jesus, life as we know it would be radically different. Our families and friends would change, our communities would change, and we would never know the extent of how far around the world the ripples of such a commitment would reach.

We are sure to find that as we try this, God is there helping us. It is the life God wants for us, and grace to strengthen us is abundantly available along the way.

I'm Just Here for the Food

Dr. Roy Lauter was a professor at Asbury College while I was a student there. He grew up in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, spoke with a thick mountain accent, and loves to tell stories (some of them true- others just because he's a good preacher) about the life he knew growing up there.

One of his stories had to do with a cousin, Rembrandt Tacket. Rembrandt was not his real name, but that is how he came to be known to family and friends because he was an enormously talented painter. Although he never had any desire to give up his hillbilly lifestyle, he became known as one of the most talented folk artists in Kentucky.

A wealthy horse farm owner from Lexington became familiar with Rembrandt’s paintings, and wanted to hire him for a project. So she drove out into the mountains one day and tracked him down, finding him sitting in his yard in his overalls. She introduced herself and explained that she would like to hire him to paint a portrait of Jesus’ last supper with his disciples.

Rembrandt began to protest, saying that he wasn’t much of a religious guy, but when the wealthy woman mentioned that she was prepared to pay $25,000 for the work, he agreed and said he would have it ready in a week.

The week passed, and the wealthy woman returned to see what Rembrandt had been able to do. He unveiled the painting, and it was beautiful. She had trouble believing that an artist with no training and so little education could produce such a wonderful piece. As she studied the painting, however, she noticed something wrong. She double-checked to make sure, “1,2,3,4,…13! Mr. Tackett, there are 13 disciples with Jesus in your painting!”

“Is that a problem?” Rembrandt responded.

“Yes, it’s a problem. I’m not paying you $25,000 for a picture of the Last Supper that has 13 disciples!”

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I can fix it. Just come back tomorrow, and I’ll have your painting with 12 disciples.”

She left and returned the next day. What was Rembrandt’s solution? He had taken the extra man in the painting, and added a sign hung around his neck that said, “I’m not a disciple. I just came for the food.”

The author of the book of Hebrews gives us a similar image to encourage his readers to go on to maturity in Christ:

Land that drinks in the rain often falling on it and that produces a crop useful to those for whom it is farmed receives the blessing of God. But land that produces thorns and thistles is worthless and is in danger of being cursed. In the end it will be burned. (Hebrews 6:7-8)

It’s easy in our Christian lives to settle for showing up for the food, or to be the land that drinks in the rain without ever producing the appropriate fruit. In a culture like ours, where even in financial times like we are experiencing now the large majority of us still live very comfortably and free from persecution or danger in our lives with God, it seems that the option will always be available to us to show up, enjoy the good things about being a Christian and being part of a good church, but never seriously enter into Jesus’ school of living as one of his disciples.

The author of Hebrews goes on to say that we cannot stay where we are in our relationship with God, but that we must continue pressing on, all the way to maturity in Christ. May it be so for each of us.

Imagine what it would be like if all of us decided to fully pursue the life that God has for us: if we set ourselves to learning daily from God how to live our lives through reflecting on the Scriptures, if we committed ourselves to finding ways to do good to others around us, and if we took any means necessary to rid our lives of the things that hold us back from God’s best for us.

It is wonderful to think about, and the best part is that because of God’s limitless grace given to us in Jesus, it is possible. For you, for me, and for all of us together, full and abundant life in Christ is available, at hand, and waiting to become a reality among us.

We can begin by thinking of a way that each of us can live our lives as God wants today, and then make it happen. We will all be in it together, and God is with us.

Pecan Orchards and Holiness

[This is one of the posts telling a story from the life of my Dad. Click here to see the others.]

My Dad has poured the majority of his adult life's work into his pecan orchard. It's a great place. 53 acres of land and about 2,600 trees in an area where we don't see much water or enjoy many trees is remarkable. More remarkable, though, is how peaceful it is there. It isn't very often in the kind of lives most of us lead that we get to be somewhere where it's quiet enough that we cannot hear the sound of any car, machine, or other person, but it's like that in the orchard. Often the only sound you'll hear is the breeze blowing in the trees. We had some friends in the orchard with us on Saturday, and we all noticed the lack of the sounds we were accustomed to and the presence of more natural ones. One of them said the breeze sounded like God was breathing on us. I'd never thought of it like that, but it's certainly a place where I've been aware of God's presence, so his description fits.

As we were there last weekend, I thought about how similar that orchard is to our lives in God, particularly in understanding God's role and our roles in our growth. There are plenty of things in nature that God has accomplished on his own, but that orchard isn't one of them; my Dad has put nearly 40 years of constant work into it. It would not have just popped up without him. Yet regardless of how much effort he put in, neither could my Dad make those trees grow. All that he has ever been able to do is to put into place the conditions in which growth will occur naturally. The planting, watering, pruning, and harvesting have all required his effort, but all of them together cannot produce a single pecan tree. My Dad has put in plenty of effort throughout the process, doing his part, in order to give nature the opportunity to do hers.

In her book, Sacred Rhythms, Ruth Haley Barton describes the same characteristic of the spiritual life: “In the end, this is the most hopeful thing any of us can say about spiritual transformation: I cannot transform myself, or anyone else for that matter. What I can do is create the conditions in which spiritual transformation can take place, by developing and maintaining a rhythm of spiritual practices that keep me open and available to God.”

That is what we do as Christians, "create the conditions... that keep us open and available to God." In fact, it is all that we do. It can, and will, take a lifetime of effort on our part, yet in what seems like a paradox, it requires much effort and yet we are utterly powerless to make ourselves grow in any measure. We cannot force any more love, joy, or peace into our lives. Thankfully, though, just as there are natural processes in place in nature that have allowed 53 acres of pecan trees to grow in this "dry and thirsty land," God's grace is dependably available to work in us when we arrange our lives accordingly. We have to put in effort throughout the process, doing our part, in order to give God the opportunity to do his.

"...work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who is at work in you..." (Philippians 2:12-13)

Congratulations, Elmer!/¡Felicitaciones Elmer!

Among the friends I am privileged to have in Guatemala is a man I particularly enjoyed spending time with while we lived there, Elmer. Elmer is on staff at New Life Children's Home, where we were very thankful to have the opportunity to serve for two years. His job description there is hard to define: he is one of the workers who can drive, so he spends a lot of time fighting traffic in Guatemala City running errands for the home and also helps with maintenance and construction projects. More than those things, though, he is a mentor to many of the boys who live at NLCH.

Elmer and I got along well because I'm not sure which of the two of us is more laid back. (I might have thought we were related if he weren't a foot and a half shorter than me.) I enjoyed life at the Guatemalan pace, and (other than the speed at which he drives) he exemplifies it. I remember riding with him on some errands in the city one day, when in the small Ford Ranger-type pickup he was driving, we drove over a huge, deep pothole (more like a sinkhole) in the middle of the street. Because of the traffic, we couldn't see it until it was right in front of us, and our truck had to have just barely been wide enough to clear it. My eyes got huge, and I looked at Elmer, who had no reaction whatsoever. Didn't say a word. After my heart resumed beating, I asked, "Did you see that?!?" In his normal voice, without ever looking back at the street or at me, he said, "Sí... Muy peligroso/Yep... Pretty Dangerous."

Elmer and his family live in similar conditions to many Guatemalans. I don't know what his salary is, but an average Guatemalan lives on something around $2/day. Yet he's very content. He told me "Sometimes guys try to tell me that I should go work with them, doing this or that and make more money. But I have what I need. My family has a place to live and my kids are fed. Everything else is in God's hands."

As Elmer and I got to know each other, I discovered a love for learning in him, which furthered our friendship. As a boy, he attended school through the third grade, then his father told him, "now that you can read and do math, it's time to go to work," and his schooling was over. As the older boys at NLCH would occasionally complain about having to go to school and complete their studies, Elmer was always quick to remind them how privileged they were to have the opportunity, and would talk to them about the possibilities that education could open for them.

He particularly wanted to study the Bible. Not long before we moved back from Guatemala, I learned that he was one of the leaders in his church. He told me that he had heard of courses being offered for those who wanted to become ministers and he really wanted to participate but hadn't been able to yet.

This past June, we returned to visit NLCH for the first time in the two years since we left. I was thrilled to find out that Elmer's church had been offering ministry classes and that he'd been able to participate. He invited us over for dinner one evening, and we had a great time with his family. His boys were all dressed up for our visit (see photo below) and his wife had a good meal of taquitos, fried plantains and coffee ready for us. Elmer proudly showed me his study materials. It was obvious he had been working hard, because the courses were pretty in-depth: New Testament, Old Testament, Church History, and some good material on ministry skills. One section of his material dealt with "success in ministry," and we had a good conversation about that. I told him I'd recently read an article by Dallas Willard with the best definition I'd heard: success for a pastor is having a vital relationship with God and the capacity to pass it on to others. That's important (and difficult) for any pastor to hang on to, regardless of which culture we're in.

Elmer's graduation from his ministry courses was Sunday, August 22. I wish I could have been there to see it, but look forward to celebrating with him the next time we visit.

Elmer, yo quería traducir esto en español también, pero ya es tarde y mi cabeza no me sirve. Te lo prometo que todo lo que dice es amable, ¡y no tenía que mentir! Que sepas que celebramos contigo. Que los estudios que has cumplido te sirven para seguir ayudando a otros conocer mejor al Señor, igual como me has ayudado a mí. Que nosotros dos siempre recuerdan que el éxito para un pastor es tener una relación viviente con Dios y la capacidad de pasarla a los demás, y también recordar que nuestros ministerios primarios siempre son nuestras esposas e hijos. Cualquiera cosa más de esto no es central. Hasta que nos vemos, mi hermano, que la gracia y paz de Jesucristo sean tuyos en abundancia.

Completely Unhelpful Things to Say to Someone in Grief, Part 1

[This is the first of a series of posts on completely unhelpful things to say to someone in grief. See the others at the bottom of this page.] Since learning of my Dad's cancer, we have had some very well-meaning people say utterly unhelpful things to us in an attempt to console us, or encourage us, or... something. In no means do I intend to be hard on these people. In ministry, I've been with people in life's worst moments and the search for something to say is inevitably difficult. Rather than being resentful of their comments, or intending to be critical, I've started keeping a list for two purposes: the humor of it, and so that I and others can learn more helpful ways of being with someone who's going through a bad time.

Third Place: "I have a cousin who several times in the [same body part as your loved one] has had to have a [different procedure than your loved one], and is doing just fine." Well, good for them. This is more rare and just as unhelpful as closely related comments, which consist of people's tendency to describe the worst thing they have ever heard of happening to someone in a similar situation to what you're describing. When we were preparing to move to Guatemala, we would often hear something like, "My brother-in-law's cousin went there in 1962 and got gangrene and he had to have several amputations." Or with medical issues, "Wow, you'd better get a second opinion, because a guy at work had that and he was gone a week later."

People do say these things out of genuine concern, either to point out something that may be a danger we haven't thought about or to try to assure us that things may turn out better than we're expecting. At least in the comment above, the person is trying to be positive. I really was glad to hear that their cousin was doing fine, but it was not relevant to my situation, and didn't serve to encourage me like they'd hoped. Whether it's the positive or negative form of the comment, whatever happened to the person that you've heard of (whether they got better or came to a horrific end), they are not the same person, nor facing the same situation, and therefore probably will not have the same outcome as the person I'm talking about.

Second Place: "Sometimes you just have to have a good attitude about these things." I'm not sure how to have a good attitude about losing someone that I love, but thanks for the suggestion. If I give the benefit of the doubt here, I'll say that the intent was to point out how much the way we choose to look at a situation impacts us. For example, it's my choice whether I will only think about the sad parts of losing my Dad or whether I will think about how grateful I am for his life and example and continue looking for ways to treasure the time we have left together. I've had to learn to pay attention to how much the way that I approach this situation mentally makes a difference.

I guess that may be what they meant, but it came across as if the person was telling me, "Buck up and get over it. Everybody goes through stuff." Not helpful.

First Place: "I know what it's like. I've sat in your seat twice. Actually three times." The biggest lesson I've learned in dealing with people through this is our tendency to try to communicate to someone else that we know what they're going through, but how that is never true. Although you may have lost someone, even in a similar way, you have never lost the person I am losing just like I never lost the person you did. None of us have really ever sat in another person's seat, walked in their shoes, etc. Even within a family, everyone has their own relationships with everyone else. My brothers' relationships with my Dad are similar to mine, but not the same. We all have different memories, experiences, etc., so none of us are in one another's seats.

I certainly can't condemn any of these comments, because I haven't done any better in trying to console people. Especially with this grand-prize winner, because I know that I have said to people at times, "I know what it's like to go through that." We want very much to assure people that they aren't alone and that there is life on the other side of awful situations, but the reason that I, or anyone, is in grief, is because the person we're losing is like no one else. Our relationship with them cannot be replaced, and so the well-intended comparison to someone else's situation just isn't the same thing.

Not all of the comments we've received have been unhelpful. The things that actually give comfort are simple and go something like this: "That stinks, Daniel." I realize that another person cannot fix the situation, and I don't expect them to do so. What I most need is for others to acknowledge that the situation is hard and sad, that I won't always be able to function as if it isn't happening, and that even though it can't hurt them in the same way it hurts me, they recognize that it stinks. These kinds of comments, along with people just continuing to be present, check in with us, and continue being our friends as they always have been are what helps, and I hope to learn from them. Other ways that people have done this are:

• My pastor saying that he has never experienced such a profound loss as when his father died. That wasn't putting himself in my place; rather, he just recognized how hard it is.
• My old basketball coach still calling to check in on me 15 years after I played for him. He doesn't have any answers- he just genuinely wants to see how we're doing, and after I give him an update, he gives me someone to talk about sports with.
• People who have known my Dad for a long time coming to see him, tell old stories, and by their presence let us all know how much he means to them.

See these other posts on completely unhelpful things to say to someone in grief:

• Part 2
• Part 3
• Part 4