A Tale of Two Rivers

As the bus rumbled down the dusty dirt road, a girl with black hair slouched forward in one of the seats that lined both sides of the vehicle. It was teeming with sweaty, grimy people who had just spent the afternoon riding an inner-tube down Wisconsin's Apple River. Some were talkative, but most clutched their tubes tiredly as they rode back to their cars. The girl with black hair was young, but there was no youthful enthusiasm in her face. Her eyelids struggled to stay open as her face bumped against the black tube in front of her. The expression they revealed was vacant and distant -- the bleary haggardness of a woman overdosed on alcohol and drugs. She was sitting just to my right, and as the bus made its turns on the return trip she clutched at her more-sober girlfriend to keep from falling over.

My mind was a bit numb too. Not from alcohol, but from the display of human depravity I had witnessed floating down a dirty river in a tube. It had sounded like a fun trip when we planned the weekend with a few friends. I pictured relaxing while meandering down a quiet stream. Instead it turned out to be a full-fledged illustration of 1 John 2:16: "For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world." I was prepared for a few boozers, but I didn't know it would be Mardi Gras on water. So as I trudged out of the river, I felt a bit sorry for myself and the peaceful lazy float that didn't materialize because I had to put up with drunken debauchery. I felt a bit guilty because I didn't find out what it would be like beforehand. But I also felt a bit of pride creeping into my mind--pride that I wasn't like all those others living their life like there was no tomorrow.

Those thoughts disappeared as I sat next to the girl with black hair. My self-righteousness turned to pity. Here was someone who had drank in all the world had to offer (literally), and where did it leave her? There was no joy, no happiness. Just a blank stare and a splitting head. The promise of the earthly river had come--and left her with nothing. And my heart ached to see it.

I wanted to tell her that there was a better river out there than the dirty stream we had just come from. A river coming down from the throne of God through the holy city. A river flowing past the tree of life which brings healing to the nations. A river watering a land with no night, no death, no sickness, no pain, and no tears. A river filled with the water of life--clear as crystal.

Not that she would have understood any of that, as she sat in the bus next to me with the fog of confusion encircling her. But I pray someday she does understand, and hears the words of the One who would lead her to the River of Life: "Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life."

As we left the bus, I felt a longing for that river and for the day when I will drink deeply from its depths. And I wonder if in eternity I will ever think back to yesterday when I floated down Apple River? If so, I will lift my gaze to the throne--thankful for the One who led me to the heavenly stream.


O Christ, He is the fountain,
The deep sweet well of love!
The streams on earth I've tasted
More deep I'll drink above:
There to an ocean fulness
His mercy doth expand,
And glory, glory dwelleth
In Emmanuel's land.

The Predicament of Preaching

Every so often I get the chance to speak on Sunday at the church where I grew up, and this coming weekend is one of those. This happens maybe 3 or 4 times a year, and is always a humbling experience for me. James said that "not many of you should presume to be teachers", and when these occassions arise I understand where he was coming from. There is an added weight of responsibility on the shoulders of one who would teach--and when I look at my own heart the weaknesses I see there seem to disqualify me from the job.

It's not for a lack of knowledge that I feel this way. I was homeschooled by Christian parents. I went to church every Sunday morning and every Wednesday night. My two years at Bible college were good ones. I learned Greek. I listened to Dr. McLeod. I wrote a research paper on Daniel's 70th week.

It's not for fear of public speaking either. Though I may have been shaky the first few times out, I have always had generous and helpful feedback. I am grateful for the mentorship of a gifted teacher and Bethel seminary grad who has given me valuable insight on forming a sermon from exegetical study. Others have told me that this is one of my spiritual gifts.

The trepidation I feel comes from a knowledge of myself. I think about my appetite for God, and how meager it is compared to the unfathomable depth of His love. I think about the pure gold of Scripture penned by the ink of those who gave their life for the truth. I think about Reformers who faced the fires of martyrdom because they would not compromise what they held so dear. I think of a guy like Jim Elliott who said "He is no fool if he would choose to lose the thing he cannot keep to find what he can never lose". People like that are qualified.

I, on the other hand, have trouble getting out of bed early to pray. I struggle to show the love of Christ to my next-door neighbors. I am too selfish with my time and money. It is hard to maintain a vision for what God wants that is bigger than the daily routines of life. My thoughts can go on and on like this.

But then God reminds me that I have never been sufficient. And if I have ever felt sufficient, I was merely being blinded by human pride. My need for the cross will never disappear while I live on this earth. To think that God has taken my filthy rags (and continues to do so) is an amazing thing. Even more amazing is the fact that He has clothed me with the bright white covering of Christ.

I'm still humbled by the responsibility of teaching. I can't imagine being a full-time pastor and feeling like this all the time. But I'm also thankful that God uses these experiences to refine me. I'm thankful that He puts my heart under the scalpel of the Holy Spirit. Going through this process is hard, so it's good that God always teaches me so much more than any scraps I may pass along to others.

PS -- I might link to the mp3 afterwards for feedback (positive or otherwise), but I'll see how it goes. I reserve the right to redirect you to a quality offering from John Piper if I see fit.

Alter Ego

I saw the new Batman Begins movie earlier this week with my wife and a few friends. First off, let me say that while I thought the Michael Keaton films were OK, I have never been crazy about them. They were entertaining escapism, but not much more than cool gadgetry and special effects. Of course, the last couple films (Batman Forever and Batman and Robin) aren't even worth mentioning, they are so bad. So I didn't regard the new film with much expectation, and might not have went unless a couple friends recommended it. I'm not going to write a review (you can read plenty of them at Rotten Tomatoes), but this movie is great. Excellent story, acting, and cinematography. I loved it.

And as a bonus to being entertained, something in the movie got me thinking about a slightly deeper topic. Like pretty much any super-hero story, Batman deals with the idea of alter-ego. Just as Superman is Clark Kent, and Spiderman is Peter Parker, Batman is Bruce Wayne. It seems that those who would save the world on a regular basis also need a day job. And this always leads to a necessary question for the central hero: "who gets to know who I really am?". Usually the love interest either knows the truth or at least is suspicious (how Lois Lane could be fooled by the glasses I will never know). And if the bad guys find out, they usually die before they can call the local newspaper.

Director Christopher Nolan does something interesting in his version of Batman that I hadn't noticed before. He makes Bruce Wayne a jerk. This is different from your typical Clark Kent or Peter Parker. They are nice guys, and people don't suspect them because they are clumsy or shy or whatever. But they are likeable people. Not so with Bruce. When he is in public, he plays the part of the spoiled, shallow, egotistic, womanizing millionaire to perfection. He feels its necessary, but that doesn't mean he likes it. At one point, he runs into his childhood sweetheart when he is making a fool of himself. In his embarassment, he tries to tell her that he isn't really like that on the inside. "It's not who you underneath," she says, "but what you do that defines you."

The nature of the alter ego in super-hero stories is obviously exaggerated. But the basic phenomenon is very true to life. We all have levels of our personality that we choose to hide or reveal in different situations. Who I am at work is different from who I am when I am with my family. Who I am at church is different than who I am when I am drinking a beer with the guys. Who I am at a football game is different from who I am when I go to a Broadway show.

Have you ever noticed it can sometimes be strange when you mix different groups of friends? Like when a friend from college goes home with you for the weekend to stay with the family. You are joking around with each other and using your college lingo, and your parents are thinking to themselves "what the heck are you saying to each other?". Then you go to hang out with your old highschool friends and you slip into your familiar topics while your college buddy is wondering why you have never talked about those things before. Those situations feel weird and I think it's because we're feeling the pull of alter egos.

This is why it is easier for me to pass out gospel literature in Central Park than mention Christ to the guy in the cube next to me at work. I have my work identity already and it's hard to say something like "oh yeah, you might not know it, but I'm a co-heir with Christ." It's not that I'm trying to be deceptive, hypocritical, or two-faced. But we would rather be like Bruce Wayne. We would rather not mention the fact that when we aren't at work we are out trying to save the world from the devil. Or at least helping with AWANA.

Paul came down pretty hard on Peter and company for this kind of attitude. More honesty and fewer personas is a good thing to strive for. But then I wonder about whether there is also wisdom in not putting everything out there all the time either. There seemed to be aspects of Jesus that He only revealed to his disciples. When the crowds went away He sat and answered their questions about the parables and let them know what He was really saying. By the same token, we all have parts of ourselves that we will only reveal to those who are closest to us.

Or to everyone on the web.