Here’s a video that I did with Steve Hiller from Unlocking the Bible. The Trinity is one of the major distinctives of the Christian faith. In the video, I describe the Trinity and then give some implications of it.
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A friend is someone who is dear or valuable to you.
I don’t know why I’ve been so captivated by this question lately. Maybe because having friends has been so hard and yet so rewarding for me over the years. I’m the kind of guy that only needs a couple of friends, rather than a bunch. The author Larry Osborn said that people are like Legos (the plastic, puzzle pieces with “bumps” on them). Some Legos have six or more connecting bumps and, therefore, can latch onto multiple friends at once. Other Legos, on the other hand, only have one or two connecting bumps. These Legos can only hold one or two other Legos at any given time. People are like Legos; some of us can connect to multiple friends, while others can only hold one or two.
I’m the Lego with just one or two bumps. I can only connect to a couple of friends and I only need a couple of friends. My best friend is my wife.
We don’t get a lot of help in this area, either. This is the other part that puzzles me. There are only a few books about how to be a better friend; there are a quite a few children’s books on friendship, however. But there’s not a lot of help for adults, especially when it comes to Christian friendship. Most adults that I talk to, tell me that they feel so alone. In a recent conference I attended, Mark Driscoll pointed out that in the last two thousand years, there’s only been one book that’s been written on friendship between husbands and wives, for instance.
Yesterday, I was talking with Paul Till, who’s a Yale grad and a pioneer teacher in the Czech Republic. His creativity and passion in teaching high school students utterly astounds me. Since he works with high school students, and since high school students seem to have a knack for making friends, I asked him to help me understand this idea of Christian friendship. As we sat together over burgers, fries, and cream soda, we both felt admittedly baffled by this topic. We could readily talk about theories of atonement, ancient theodicies, or second temple Judaism, but we found it a bit of a stretch to talk about and define Christian friendship—at least I did. Why is that?
Eventually, nonetheless, my friend Paul pointed out the “strange” ways Jesus went about making friends. In John 1, Jesus initiates his friendship with Nathaniel by giving him a robust complement, saying something like, “Here is an honest-to-goodness Israelite, who is as true as they come” (John 1:47). Imagine what it would be like if someone approached you by shouting complements? Or, in John 3, Jesus starts his friendship with Nicodemus, the one who would eventually burry Jesus, with a puzzling statement, one that was more irritating than illuminating, “I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again!” (John 3:3). Still, to the Samaritan woman, whom Jesus was supposed to avoid because of massive cultural stigmas, Jesus begins his friendship by asking her to fulfill a need that he has, “Will you give me a drink?” (John 4:7). When it came to making friends, Jesus didn’t mess around, but sought to restore the value of the other.
Philos is the Greek word for friend. Before meaning “friend,” philos was an adjective that meant “dear” or “valuable.” A friend is someone who is dear or valuable to you. Think about how you treat things of great value in your life, like a favorite gadget or car or piece of jewelry. We do almost anything to protect, cherish, and honor things of value; and it’s no trouble to do so. Because we know how valuable some things are, it’s worth the physical, social, and emotional effort. Like Jesus, we’ll not let the value of our friends go unrealized, but will do whatever it takes to treasure them.
I can’t get away from a statement in Ephesians about Jesus’ love for the church, “[Christ] loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless” (Ephesians 5:25-27). People are like treasures covered with mud; a friend is someone who washes away the mud.
And that’s what it means to be a friend, too.
© Samuel Kee, 2011
Open wide your heart.
I tried to start a wave yesterday night. It was 12:15 AM and I was in a crowd of about 400 people, getting ready to listen to a great comedian. So I figured it’d be a good idea to get those around me excited. So I started a wave.
You know, when one person stands up, lifting his hands in the air; and then the next person does the same, followed by the next person, etc.? Yeah, that’s the wave I tried to start.
We got going pretty well. I had a few dozen people in the rows around me join in. We kept doing it back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. But I couldn’t quite convince those who were about five rows away to join in. They just sat there, no matter how hard I yelled at them, encouraged them, and cheered them on.
It’s hard to start a wave at 12:15 in the morning, especially when you’re “out of context.” You expect to do the wave at a sporting event, but not at a comedy show. Were I to start the wave at Wrigley Field, I probably would have little trouble getting the other fans to join in; but that’s just it, I’m surrounded by fans, who feel the duty to root for their team.
There aren’t any fans at a comedy show; there’s no need to root for the comedian, though I think that’d be a hoot. There’s no reason to celebrate and not much is on the line.
It’s fun for me to see other people get excited; actually, it’s important to me. I love watching people get passionate for what they believe in. I firmly believe that it does us great good, to live passionately. Some people just need permission to let loose.
The Apostle Paul was trying to get the city ofCorinthto do the wave, or at least show some emotion about their faith. Paul writes:
We have spoken freely to you, Corinthians; our heart is wide open. You are not restricted by us, but you are restricted in your own affections. In return, I speak as to children, open wide your hearts also.[1]
Paul is a guy who lets it all hang out; he opens his heart and lets loose. In this verse, instead of reading “affections,” read the word “bowels,” since that’s the idea behind the Greek concept of affection. Now the passage has a whole new twist: the Corinthians are living like those with restricted bowels.
Spiritual constipation, I like to call it.
I once went on a wilderness backpacking trip with a guy who took medicine to keep him from using the restroom for a whole week. His bowels did not budge for seven days. Then when we were on our way home he let loose, he…well, you get the idea.
Paul says that he has not been spiritually constipated toward the Corinthians, but has opened his heart wide for them. He has held nothing back, living as passionately as he could. In return, he begs the people ofCorinthto get just as excited about God and his ministry as they do the fleeting pleasures of this world. I like to read these verses as Paul running up and down the city ofCorinth, trying to start a wave.
The truth is that God has held nothing back from you or me; he emptied himself by dying as an idiot according to Roman execution. God held nothing back from us, becoming totally undignified as he was crucified to the tune of thieves and mockery. As Jesus, he was naked, messy, pathetic, and hopeless.
God’s love knew no restrictions.
Paul’s message to us is simple: open wide our hearts. In other words, stop holding yourself back from God. Give yourself fully to the one who gave himself fully to you. Only then will you truly experience life, joy, and wholeness. Until then, you’ll be miserable, trying to keep it all in.
© Samuel Kee, 2011
[1] 2 Corinthians 6:11-13.
Why do anything, if everything dies?
My new bike sped down the empty country road; I felt the summer air part around my skin. Stopping for no good reason, I looked up at the night’s sky, which was littered with stars. I had just graduated from high school and was getting ready to go to college. As I looked up at the sky, my mind kept replaying some words that a coworker said to me earlier that day.
“Sam,” Ronnie said with honest pleasure. “You’re an All-American boy.”
He was referring to the fact that I had graduated with honors, was about to head to college on scholarship, had a good job working construction, had a great family, etc., etc.
But as I looked into the huge, dark space above my head, I felt tragic disappointment. I comprehended the sinister irony of it all: it didn’t mean a thing if this was all there is to life. If there is no god/God/gods and no afterlife and no purpose to my existence (outside of manmade purposes), then what’s the point? To be an All-American boy doesn’t amount to anything, if everything is forgotten in dust. I was mad at Ronnie for saying that.
School taught me that there was no God and I was about to go to a university that would reinforce the same conclusion. Yes, I had been to church growing up, but there was a disconnect between that, the media, and school. No intelligent person would believe in God, I believed.
The more I thought about this, however, the more depressing the conclusions were. If you follow atheistic and/or agnostic conclusions to their end (or even just a little down the road), you’ll paralyze yourself. For why do anything, if nothing really matters? Why ride my new bike? Why go to college? Why risk love? Why get a job? Why build or create or start something new? If the darkness around me is as great as they say and I am as insignificant as they won’t admit, then there really is no point to living. Nothing that I do, no matter how wonderful or dramatic, will really make any kind of a dent.
And I wanted to make a dent.
It was not okay with me just to be forgotten. I wanted to leave a mark on this world. But the night’s sky was so overwhelming and the dismal conclusions of atheism hammered away at my soul. It was all I could do to get back on my bike and pedal as fast as I could away from it.
Why do anything, if everything dies and nothing survives?
Why even argue with me on this point? Even if you win the argument, there’s no such thing as winning in a world of complete loss.
But if there is a purpose to life, then everything changes. And I mean everything.
© Samuel Kee, 2011
Now is your time.
I can usually work through distractions pretty well. You can put me in a cabin full of juiced-up junior high boys and I have no problem sleeping like a baby. Naturally, I threaten them and often resort to violence, but at some point there’s peace! When I worked at a nursing home, I used to give Bible studies to a group of about 15 advanced-stage Alzheimer’s residents, who would do just about everything under the sun during my lessons. You name it and they probably did it: argue, fist fight, strip, vomit (on purpose), yell, spin in circles, etc. But rarely did these behaviors ever throw me off track.
Nonetheless, there is a time in each person’s life when it’s necessary to get away from the raucus. Part of being truly human is getting alone with your Maker. Until you spend intentional time with God, you’ll never figure out your purpose or identity.
After the Israelites did an incredibly foolish thing in the wilderness, God was ready to wipe them out. Right after the greatest display of power that they’d ever seen, the parting of the Red Sea, they decided to worship a false god. They made a cow out of gold and called it their “new god.” Not a good idea.
God was mad, and rightly so. Moses was mad, but was trying to mediate between his people and their Maker. It was a mess, to say the least. There was grumbling in the camp and severe warnings from God.
Moses just needed to get away.
So he took a small tent and went outside of the camp where all the people stayed. He called it his “tent of meeting.” In Exodus 33:7, we learn that it was “outside of the camp” and “far” from everyone else. Moses would go to this quiet place to hear from God. It even says that Moses spoke “face to face” with God, as friends speak.
In these moments away from the demanding crowd, Moses would gain clarity on what was truly important in life. He had to go outside of the camp in order to get away from all the distractions, so that he could hear God’s voice over the people’s voice. Only then could he fulfill his God-given mission.
We each need a tent of meeting, a place to go to hear from God. Most often, we hear only from the crowd. Theirs is the loudest voice in our life. And when you listen to the crowd, you get torn apart, for there are dozens of voices who clamor for your attention, affection, and allegiance. The crowd will consume you if you don’t know who you are. By getting away to be with God, you find out not only who he is, but also who you were created to be.
The most human thing you can do is spend time with God. He is the one who crafted you and has set a purpose on your head. The crowd doesn’t care about you, it will devour you.
If you’ve never taken a moment to seek God away from all the distractions, now is your time. You need to find out who you are by discovering whose you are. God has his fingerprints all over your life. And if you already know God, but are flagging in your relationship with him, now is your time. Do whatever it takes to re-discover your Friend. His is the face that you long for, that you were meant for, that you’re lonely for. Christ and his cross will not keep your sin from separating you from God. Your sin is dealt with once and for all and nothing will separate you from the love of Christ.
© Ssmuel Kee, 2011
Make him the most noticeable thing in the room.
After praying together before bed, one of my kids asked me, “What does ‘hallowed be your name’ mean?” I took one of his stuffed animals and put it on the floor. Then I turned off the light and asked for a flashlight. Shinning the light on the stuffed sheep, I said, “Let’s pretend that the sheep is God. ‘Hallowed be your name’ means to put a spot light on God.”
It’s to draw attention to God and to make him the most noticeable thing in the room. “Sometimes” I told him, “we like to put the spotlight on other things and make other things the most noticeable in our lives. We don’t make God our focus.”
The first part of the Lord’s Prayer teaches us to make God the most important thing in our lives: to put the spotlight on him. When the spotlight is not on God, then we see other things more than we see God. We end up giving our hearts away to artificial gods, which is stuff in our lives that crush our spirits rather than mend them.
Artificial gods ball us up and kick us to the corner; they don’t care for us. In fact, they absorb our lives from us. Instead of helping us, they hurt us. False gods take every last drop of our lives, for they depend on our meager offerings to keep them going. They are like leaches, who suck the life blood right from under our skin.
But the true God doesn’t take our life, he gives us his life. He does not take our blood, but gives us his blood. He does not depend on our offerings, but he keeps us going with his. When we shine the light on God, we’re better able to see where our help comes from.
God does not demand that we glorify him because he’s arrogant; rather, God demands that we glorify him so that everyone might know where to run for living water. Just as a lighthouse wants to be noticed, in the same way does God want to be noticed: to prevent us from crashing our lives on the rocks.
“Our Father, in Heaven, hallowed be your name.” To pray this is like asking for more air, more water, and more food—for we’re asking for more of God in our lives and less of the things that often take his place. And nothing can take his place.
© Samuel Kee, 2011
That's just how we Christians roll.
Dear Hostile Friend,
You give Christians a hard time and make fun of us for what we believe, but I just wanted you to know a few things (since you didn’t bother to ask). I just want you to know that at any moment, I would take a punch for you. Did you know that? If push came to shove and I needed to take one on the chin for you, I’d do it. Why? Because I’m a soldier in Christ’s Army and those are my orders from him.
I would also give you my car, if you should need it. In fact, I’ve done that before. And I never got a thanks in return. But that’s okay, because I didn’t want any thanks; I did it freely, with no strings attached. That’s just the way we Christians roll. We make incredible sacrifices for others; we know that God owns everything anyway, so it is up to him to decide where his stuff ends up. If you need my television, then fine, you can have it. Do you need my washing machine? It’s yours. In fact, if you ask for the coat off of my back, I’ll give you my shirt and shoes, as well. They’re just clothes.
So while you’re mocking me, I’m thinking of ways to bless you. Sorry, I just can’t help it—for I’ve been blessed so much already. God has given me so much mercy and grace when I deserved only punishment and wrath. God sent his Son to die in my place so that I could escape from the penalty of my sin. And after I die, I’ll actually rise from the grave and live forever in God’s kingdom, a place of unquenchable love and happiness. So it doesn’t really matter what you say or do to me here.
In fact, and I was thinking about this just the other day, if the circumstances arose that should require me to give my life for yours, I would do it in a heartbeat. Again, that’s how we Christians roll. I do not fear death and I do not fear mockery. I am secure in the hands of my Savior Jesus. He will never let go of me.
So go ahead and mock me, threaten me, and push me around. It doesn’t phase me. Go ahead and make me the butt of all your jokes. Keep it coming. I don’t care. I’ll keep praying for you, weeping for you, and thinking of ways to sacrifice myself and my rights so that you can know the love of my God.
You think I’m weak? A doormat? A loser? Or is it just that I have nothing to prove? I will do whatever it takes to show you God’s unconditional love. When you strike one cheek, I’ll give you my other cheek to strike; I’m so tough that I don’t need the approval of others, unlike you. You mock others because you’ve never felt God’s love for you and you’re desperately trying to prove that you’re somebody, that you’re worth it.
Friend, I just want you to know that you are worth it. Even though you and I were both enemies of God, he killed himself on a cross for us anyway. That’s just how he rolls. Now our worth does not come from how much better than others we think we are, but from how much God was willing to give for us. And he gave his Son for us in an utter bloodbath.
I don’t know if this little note will change anything between us, probably not. But in the meantime, know that every time you make fun of me, my heart aches for you out of pure love.
Your friend,
Christian
© Samuel Kee, 2011
There are no more debts to be paid.
Every criminal who was executed by crucifixion in Ancient Rome had a “notice of charges” posted on the cross above the head. The notice of charges was handwritten by those overseeing the execution, giving a public report of why the criminal was being put to death. It told you why the person was being executed and what debt he owed. His execution was the method for paying the outstanding debt written above his head; the notice of charges was “paid in full” upon the last breath of the criminal.
Put like that, each person who has ever lived has a notice of charges, a handwritten statement of wrongs he or she has committed, hanging above his or her head. Our notice of charges is our “Admit One” ticket to destruction. It’s the debt we owe and eventually we’ll have to pay for it.
This means that now we’re as good as dead: the charges have been written out already, whether we realize it or not. We each owe a debt to God, which must be paid in order to uphold goodness and justice. My notice of charges includes all of the wrongs I have committed in the past and all the wrongs I will commit in the future. It’s a long and painful record of wrongs, proof of my rebellion against God my King. God is not dead; I am dead to God.
Now I can understand what is meant in Colossians 2:13-15:
13You were dead because of your sins and because your sinful nature was not yet cut away. Then God made you alive with Christ, for he forgave all our sins. 14He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross. 15In this way, he disarmedthe spiritual rulers and authorities. He shamed them publicly by his victory over them on the cross.
I was dead, but then God made me alive. Notice first that only God can make us alive. No matter how hard we try to “feel alive” by the things we do or consume, we will fail. Only God can make us alive. He does it by forgiving our sins, which have kept a stranglehold on our existence, squeezing the life right out of us.
He forgave our sins by cancelling the record of the charges against us! In other words, he took away our notice of charges and gave it to someone else to pay for it. On whose cross did it go? God took away our notice of charges “by nailing it to the cross” of his Son Jesus. My notice of charges was given to Jesus and he died beneath it, for it.
Jesus paid the debt that I owed. He died for my crimes so that I could go free. My debt is forever cancelled. Forever. Forever.
I owe nothing more; my debt is paid in full by Jesus. I know this to be true because of the resurrection. The resurrection is the reward of a sufficient sacrifice. When God looked at his Son Jesus on the cross, it’s as if God asked himself, “Has all the debt of all the sinners of all time, been paid in full? If so, then death can no longer hold Jesus in the grave.” Death can only keep its grip so long as there’s debt still to be paid. But if every last cent of every sinner’s debt has been paid, then death no longer has any power to keep Jesus in the grave.
That being the case, since Jesus had exhausted the power of death by exacting every debt, God said to his Son, “Rise!” There are no more debts to pay; they are paid in full. The resurrection is proof of our freedom just as the cross is proof of our forgiveness.
There is nothing left for us to do, but give our lives to Jesus and accept the payment that he has made for us. The only debt that we owe is love for God and to experience lifelong love from God.
© Samuel Kee, 2011
Now is the time to get out of the war with God.
“Jesus was God’s answer to the human dilemma” (Ajith Fernando). Jesus was/is perfect. He’s exactly what we need. We need someone who could stand in the gap for us, in our impossible situation.
We had declared war on God: that was our problem. When our ancestors chose to rebel against God’s rule, they chose to take up arms against him. They wanted out of his kingdom and out from under his rule. They wanted to rule themselves and set up their own kingdom where that could be possible. The human kingdom is not passive, either, but aggressive. It aggressively attacks the will and ways of the heavenly kingdom. We want to be at the center of the cosmos; we want life to revolve around us and our desires.
We war for the rights to the center.
If you could see the spiritual realm, you would see the raging battle, as the enemies of God relentlessly attack God’s kingdom and purposes. The enemies fight for rights, not love, for glory, not submission. The cataclysmic manifestations of our rebellion surface as molten physical disasters all over this earth, only to be echoed by equally devastating spiritual catastrophes. Faith, relationships, emotions, and earth, are all wrecked, all casualties of our war with God.
Jesus knew full well what he was doing when he left his perfect union with God in order to come be with earth. Jesus knew that he was stepping into a war; but that is what he came to do. Jesus stepped into our shoes in order to end the war. Jesus came in order to be the rebel in our place, to be the opposition. He entered the war so that we could exit. Once in battle, Jesus threw himself headlong against the armies of God, allowing himself to take the ensuing punishment of that position.
Jesus threw himself against his own Heavenly Father so that we could leave that status. He became what we were—rebels—that we might become what he was: a child of God. He was our bloody sacrifice, taking upon himself the full wrath of God that was destined for all of those at war with God.
Now is the time to get out of the war with God, to put up your arms in surrender. Now is the time to stop fighting against him, since Jesus stands in the gap in your place. Jesus has made the way out: he is indeed God’s perfect answer to the human dilemma. God doesn’t want to be at war with us and that is why he sent his Son to end the war. God loved the world so much that he sent his one and only Son, so that whoever relies on him might not be destroyed, but have eternal life.
The crux of the Christian life is humble submission to the will of God. The Christian seeks to obey God, not fight against him. The Christian knows that God is for us, not against us, for Jesus has ended the war. Therefore, the Christian knows that God’s purposes will be for our good, rather than for our ruin. The Christian trusts that God’s ways are not breaking our relationship with him, but, in fact, are doing the opposite. Whether we realize it or not, the things that God allows in our lives draw us closer to him and mend the old battle scars.
In other words, when God answers your prayer, it is for your healing; when God doesn’t answer your prayer as you’d like, it is also for your healing. Remember, he is not at war with you.
© Samuel Kee, 2011
God is not going to bash us, but bless us.
There’s a huge misconception out there about God. I hear this misconception repeated over and over again from the people I talk to. It’s said in so many ways; but the same misunderstanding is threaded throughout. What is it?
I have to be better before God accepts me.
That’s the misconception. It’s handed to us from our families, our culture, and even our religious institutions. We firmly believe that God is against us until we get our act together. Then we use this as an excuse for not pursuing God, which is completely understandable: why would you want to turn toward someone who is going to bash you?
God doesn’t want us to be better, but broken. God doesn’t measure the amount of my righteousness, but the amount of my repentance. The thing that matters most to God is not how good I am, but how sick and tired of myself I am.
And if you think about it, those two are radically different.
The great churchman and scholar John Calvin said that people will not turn toward God until they understand how beneficent God is toward them. Until we realize that God is not going to bash us, but bless us, we’ll keep running the other way.
God is good toward you, full of mercy and grace, and ready to embrace you and love you, just how you are. God knows that we cannot do anything about our sins; that’s why he did something about them. He bore them on a cross and buried them in a cave. There’s nothing that stands in the way of us now, the field is open and the Father is ready. He is ready to receive the one who is broken.
And then he will make you better. Sanctification flows from justification, but justification never flows from sanctification.
God put his Son Jesus through way too much for us to get this wrong.
© Samuel Kee, 2011
