Author: Jon Gauger

The back cover of a new book on prayer caught my eye.  The question is asked, “Does Prayer Work?”  The more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable it made me.  “Does prayer work?”  The question seems problematic on several fronts.
 
First, it seems to reduce praying to an exercise for which there is an objective measurement, as if we can assign a scholastic grading scale to our praying:  This prayer gets a “C”…but this one gets an “A”–presumably because we got exactly what we asked for. 
 
Second, asking if prayer “works” implies that prayer itself possesses power.  But the power to help or heal or rescue is not in the spiritual discipline of prayer, but the One to whom we pray.
 
Finally, asking “Does prayer work?” aborts the relational aspect of communion with the Almighty and jumps right to the self-centered implied inquiry: “Does talking to the Divine Genie really get me the stuff I want?”  Don’t get me wrong—it’s biblical to ask God for help.
 
But God wants our friendship first and most.  And that should be the basis of our praying.
 
Asking “Does prayer work?” is like asking “Does your friendship work?”    Of course it works.  Friendships are good.  And a friendship with God?  Well that's the ultimate.
 
The fact that you and I might benefit from that relationship in some way is—and must be—secondary. 
 
God wants to be friends…to spend time together.  Not in the chummy way we pal around with our best buddies.  He is the Almighty, let’s not forget.   But still, it's a relationship—a friendship of a sort.
 
How different this is than the please-gimme-grocery-list kind of praying that so many of us are accustomed to.
 
The crass reduction of prayer to a list of stuff I want….and heading straight for that list without just enjoying time together….this is not really prayer.
 
Me? I'm trying to learn all of this.  Haven't mastered it, mind you.
But I'm just beginning to learn…
So…what about you?
 

A working gun…created by a 3D printer. By now, of course, it's old news. 
 
Eight months ago, Cody Wilson–a 25 year old University of Texas law student–set out on a mission: to make the world's first workable hand gun using only a 3D printer—a device that creates solid objects by printing layers and layers of special plastic. Turns out, Wilson succeeded in what one columnist calls the newest “Shot heard 'round the world.” 
 
An article in Forbes points out there isn't a single shred of metal in the whole thing…except for the nail that fires the bullets.  The sixteen pieces that make up Wilson's gun, he calls the “Liberator,” are made from ABS plastic.  They were created on a 3D printer costing less than two thousand dollars. Those printers, by the way, can currently be had for as little as $800. 
 
If plans for this CAD-based design are made available on the web, who knows what could happen in a world of non-detectable plastic weaponry.  So naturally, lawmakers are anxious to…ur…pull the trigger on legislation to outlaw the plastic pistol. 
 
It's ironic.  3D printers have the potential to create so much good.  Everything from inexpensive parts for cars and electronics to replacements for human body parts.  Yet there stands the solid rock reality of Jeremiah 17:9: “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.  Who can know it?”
 
Something tells me we're about to encounter “desperately wicked” in a few shades darker than we've ever seen it before.  It's tempting to hurl blame at the plastic gun's designer. But how then shall we account for…

• Jim Jones and his Kool-Aid that killed 909 back in 1978?
• Or the box cutters that ultimately brought down 3 jetliners and 2 towers on 9-11?
• Or the Boston bomb that murdered three and maimed dozens of others?

 A pill, a pressure cooker, a blade, a bomb…or a gun. In a world of evil, a darksome thought in the mind…is as good as a weapon in the hand.  
 

Time out for some buzzkilll.  As in, I'd like to kill a buzz word…or at least reduce its heavy usage.  Call me a skeptic or cynic if you will, but I strongly reject the stampede toward bizz babble.  You know—expressions like….

“Paradigm shift”

“Tee it up”

“Over the Wall”

“grabbing the low hanging fruit” or…

“get together and blue sky”

“getting the right people in the right seats on the bus.”

Now some of those are older expressions, for sure.  But one I've been seeing a lot of lately is “reach out.”  America is now practically daily overdosing on “reach out.”

Internal emails invite us to “reach out” with any questions about corporate policies.  Public service announcements on TV implore us to “reach out” and express our compassion.  Junk mail is full of offers imploring us to “reach out” and get the help or goods we need (ur…for a price, that is).   With all the “reaching out” that's going on, it's a wonder we all don't bang arms merely moving down the hallway, as we “reach out”–whether at work or at home.   And don’t forget about church—where board meetings and committees now invite us to “reach out” with our thoughts.

Now is it just me or are more and more people sucked into the expanding world of meaningless corporate speak? Even in churches and ministries? I suspect the answer is yes.

People are so desperate to “fit in” they'll happily take up the language of biz-babble.  But why must we be like a herd of mindless elephants  ….?  Why must we all use the same trendy talk?  Why can't we learn to express ourselves uniquely?  You almost pick up on a “Hey, bro—I really get you” kind of look that passes between brethren and sistern who insist on speaking biz-babble.

In a world of wars and woes, I suppose my complaint is a small one.  Yet…please…could we all just STOP reaching out….and simply say what we mean?

I wouldn't try to build a theology on it, but I can't help wondering if Jesus' advice in Matthew 5:37 is something we ought to consider in our corporate—and ministry– dialogue: “Let your yes be yes…and your no be no.”

Thanks for letting me…ur…reach out …with that thought!     🙂

If you've never played Jenga, you ought to give it a shot. This challenging game starts you off with a tower of wooden planks.  Each layer is made up of three planks that lay right against each other.   So it's a loose—but solid—tower to start with.  Plenty strong.
 
Everybody takes turns removing one of the three planks that make up a layer…and placing it on top of the tower—to make it grow taller. You quickly learn that if pulled out slowly and carefully, the tower can stand on a layer of just two…or even one plank.  The net effect, of course, is that as the tower grows taller, the thing grows wobblier.  And you don't even notice the transition from sturdy to wobbly.   But eventually it collapses with a crash. 
 
This is exactly what has been happening to issues of morality in America.
 
Within the lifespan of most anyone able to fully comprehend this little piece, sex outside of marriage was viewed by the majority culture (not just the Bible, but the culture) as wrong. Same for divorce.  Same for homosexuality.
 
NOW, the most vocal (though NOT the most numerous) segment of our culture blazingly insists that to DENOUNCE homosexuality is wrong.  That sex outside of marriage is a RIGHT….that it's WRONG to repress sexual urges of most any kind.  Do you see how the planks have been removed?
 
Previously, these things definitely went on: divorce, cohabiting, gay marriage….but now they are being touted as normal.  Good.  Even noble.  And anyone who would oppose them is bigoted, close minded, stupid, and narrow.  Not to mention boring.
 
I'm not suggesting that these kinds of behaviors didn't go on 30 or 50 or 100 years ago.  But there's an enormous moral difference between a culture that tolerates these things as opposed to a culture that celebrates them.
 
Said another way, our culture's truth tower has gone wobbly.  To the point we are approaching a certain collapse.
 
It's odd how those in the very act of making the tower weaken are least able to see the wobble.  All of which illustrates the biblical claim, “There is a way which seems right to a man.  But its end is the way of death.” 

Are we sure we're doing church right?

Let me cut to the chase.  I'm uncomfortable with the way we've divvied up the typical church service.  In an average 75 minute service, we American evangelicals typically do 5 minutes of announcements, at least 20 minutes of singing, 30-40 or more minutes of preaching.  Throw in the offering, a greeting time and benediction… and that leaves about 5 minutes for a pastoral prayer and two minutes for a closing payer.  Meaning we spend about as much time on announcements as we do on prayer.

Does that strike you as out of whack?  Don't answer until I respectfully remind you that I Thessalonians 5:17 urges us to “Pray without ceasing.”   Philippians 4:6 instructs us that “in   everything by prayer and supplication” we ought to seek God.  Could I further gently add that despite our modern penchant for worship music, Jesus never said, “My house shall be a house of singing.”  But Jesus DID say, “My house shall be a house of prayer.”

Let me take in a breath…possibly freak you out…and suggest that we need to do less singing—perhaps even drop a few illustrations from the message—and do more praying in church.

There's only so much space in a given church service.  And if we've assigned so much of it to music that it squeezes out prayer, we're out of biblical balance.  Search the book of Acts—the most complete blueprint we have for doing church—and you'll find a heavy emphasis on prayer, on breaking bread, on fellowship, on instruction in the Word.  But what you DON'T see is a huge emphasis on music.

That's not to say we shouldn't sing…or have sermon illustrations.  Of course the biblical precedent for worship music is clearly there. And illustrations provide a window into understanding God's Word. But not to the extent that they upstage significant prayer. 

Truth is, it's tough to honestly study Scripture and disagree with the conclusion that in general, we're not praying enough. 

It's time we gave prayer in our Sunday assembly the same emphasis the Bible gives it. A given church service has only so many slots…so many minutes.   It's time our church services emphasized more of what the Bible emphasizes more of:  prayer.  

 

 

As I write this, the nation’s third largest city is under siege.  Or, perhaps more accurately, under sieve.  To use the adjective, “rainy” is to describe the sun as merely warm.

Schools are closed. Streets are clogged.  And announcers on radio and television beg us to “Please stay home!”  But crises large and small have a way of yielding defining snapshots.  I saw one the other day.

As gallon-sized drops of rain blasted the army of downtown commuters, we besieged soldiers bolted the last steps of our maneuvers toward the train station portico. Safely under the cover of stone and cement, our soggy platoon holstered weapons of defense—umbrellas dripping impressive rivers of their own.

Only then did I notice our ranks had been infiltrated.  The peddlers and beggars who normally position themselves on high-traffic corners just outside the station had come inside the station.

The guy with the cardboard sign asking for help to—quote—“keep my place”…he was there.  Then I saw the young blind man who jangles his cup on the corner.  The familiar cast of panhandlers was all present and accounted for.

The scene was mildly humorous and profoundly telling.  Here were bankers and lawyers and high flying business folks of every stripe with hair and clothes as matted and soggy as…the homeless people who shared their space.

For the briefest of moments, the labels and assumptions and baggage were stripped away.    There under that merciful portico, we were all just survivors.  Human beings equally wet—and more equal than the proudest of us cared to know.  What a picture of our moral standing before God:

For ALL have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.

There is NO one righteous…not even one.

Yet there it stands: the portico of God’s grace—shielding, protecting and—best of all–open to beggars of every kind: the earthly poor, as well as rich folks who know just how impoverished they really are…apart from Christ.

Hey interesting people—go make babies!

Have I shocked you?  The words aren’t mine.  That’s an actual quote from an actual ad campaign for a national public radio station in Chicago.

If you’re offended, you ought to be.  Quite apart from the crassness of the remark, the statement,” Hey interesting people—go make babies”…raises questions on several levels.

First, there’s a complete lack of connection between being married and being parents.  “Hey interesting people—go make babies.” Whether that statement merely reflects societal trends or is itself causative, is a whole separate discussion.  But no biblical definition of family encourages pregnancy outside of marriage.

While the ad campaign fails to list the one biblical requirement for starting a family—being married—it oddly sets up a rather capricious standard when it says, “Hey interesting people.”

Now…who decides who’s interesting and who’s boring?  Employees at National Public Radio?  “Hey, interesting peole.”

You know what, I’ll be honest—I’m not sure I’ve met too many boring people in this world.  Truth is, just about everyone and everything interests me.  I could interview a garbage collector for an hour—without preparation—and be thoroughly entertained.

But what about people who would describe themselves as “less interesting”?  Should they refrain from having kids?  What about those who society would not call beautiful?  Should they refrain from having kids?  What about those who believe that there should be tolerance even for those who aren’t tolerant?  Should they refrain from having kids?

When an ad campaign proposes a disregard for biblical morality, while at the same time off handedly promotes a pop cultural form of eugenics, it’s time to call it what it is.  Beyond tacky, this campaign is just plain inappropriate.

And to anyone who would label my reaction as a tempest in a teapot…maybe you’re right.  I fully get the idea that this ad campaign is intended as tongue-in-cheek.  On the other hand, it seems to me that ideas—even those suggested partly in gest—really do have consequences.

A word about elections, if I may.  Oh, I know it's not November—which makes this the perfect time to say what I'm about to say.

A recent mayoral election in my hometown caused the usual stir of interest—but with one twist.  One of the three candidates running for the town's top spot was reportedly a Christian, so this juiced an extra voltage of voter involvement (at least in some circles).

Let me express clearly that I believe part of Christ's mandate to be salt and light is to preserve the culture and bear the image of Christ in all segments of society—including the realm of government.   Christians should support just laws, advocate for moral positions, and exalt righteousness wherever it can be found.   So Christians should vote—and run for office.

Back to what sparked this little piece in the first place. Turns out, several Christian friends sent mass e-mailings reminding their Christian friends (and acquaintances) urging them to vote for the Christian candidate.

But think about the message behind such an action.  To send ME an email urging me to vote for a specific candidate suggests either:

A.  I really haven't thought through the issues.  I need outside helpers to assist in informing my opinion.

B. I maybe don't possess sufficient mental clarity or judgment to form a reliable voting decision.

C.  The only candidate a Christian should vote for is a Christian candidate.

But is that true? What if I knew that the Christian candidate was simply not cut out for managing in government?  What if I knew that a moral non-believer would actually be more effective in passing Christ-honoring laws ?

Doesn't it seem just a teeny bit arrogant for me to tell someone else how to vote? I think so.    Rather than tell me how to vote—as in give me a name—I'd much rather have a reliable guide to a candidate’s position on issues.  How she has voted.   Policy statement she or he has made.

Jesus never endorsed a candidate by name.  Yet He DID endorse a moral code.

Me?  I will…elect…to follow that course.

 

The Millennials are leaving the church!
The Millennials are leaving the church!

Seems like every blog, every book publisher is trumpeting the ecclesiastical crisis of the moment: younger folks are leaving church.

We hear all about how they're sick and tired of the veneer that boomers have called Christianity…how they're weary of being “hurt” by church…ignored and even judged by the previous generation. We read surveys that highlight the mass exodus of Millennials. But I, for one, want to say, “Just hold on a minute!”

It's one thing to say, “I'm in a bad marriage.” Or “I wish this relationship didn't strain me.” It's quite another to get a divorce and universally declare the idea of marriage itself as broken.

But in unplugging from church as an institution—that's what many Millennials are really doing–they're divorcing themselves from church.

When you receive Jesus as your Savior, you—in effect—are saying, “I've signed up for a relationship that I intend to honor…until death us do part.” That relationship is with the bride of Christ—inevitably and only expressed in the church universal AND a local fellowship. Even if—and when—the church fails us, it is never an option for us to simply unplug from the idea of church itself.

Understand I'm not saying it's wrong to switch churches—and maybe find a local fellowship that's more millennial oriented. But I AM saying that throwing out the entire notion of church is biblically wrong.

So while I feel the pain of the Millennials (I actually find myself more aligned with their frame of thinking than that of boomers), I find their exodus from church untenable and unacceptable.

Because Dad and Mom might have called it quits over “irreconcilable differences” in their marriage, doesn't give Millennials the right to do so with church. Neither choice is biblical.

Someone needs to say “While you have the right to express your pain, your dissatisfaction, you do NOT have the right to walk away”–to throw the bride of Christ aside in search of a self-actualized spirituality. So I say, let's get together—Millennials and boomers—and fix what's wrong…rather than abandon it.

“Do not forget to assemble yourselves together” is not optional advice. It's a command—not just for boomers, but also Millennials.

You've heard the expression, “there was an awkward silence.”   Or… “There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation.”  Increasingly, I'm noticing that ANY silence is awkward for most people.

Imagine eating out a restaurant…without music blaring in the background.  Heaven forbid we should actually be able to hear each other converse without straining.  (By the way—exactly what IS the advantage to it being so loud that you have to yell to be heard?).

Or try to imagine shopping in a store without a pulsing pounding musical background that's really in the foreground.  

But the assault on solitude has likewise infiltrated the church.  Take communion service for example.  I've probably taken part in communion in 50 different churches.  And almost every single one of them features music as the bread and juice are shared.   This is supposed to be the time when we follow the exhortation of 1 Corinthians 11:28 to “examine ourselves” lest we fail to discern “the Lord's body.” 

I'm not suggesting that music in the background at communion is wrong.  But I am suggesting it's a problem when we can't NOT have it.  When we can’t just have silence….and pray. 

The reality is, we're so used to getting into our cars and turning on the radio…so used to hitting the health club with our ear buds and smart phone or mp3 player…calm is no longer calming. We have so jammed and crammed our lives full of iTunes and iPhones and iPads, there's no room left for “I pause.   I ponder.”  And  silence—valued as “golden” in previous generations–is seen today as a rusted relic.  Just plain awkward.

But how can we expect to “Be Still and know that God is God” if the soundtrack of our lives is always pumping?  How can we learn to meditate on the Word of God…when we've already allowed other background sounds to compete for part of our meditative focus? 

We need a return to quiet.  Planned pauses.  Sacred solitude.