Our Son, God's Child

Just over a week after his first birthday (May 10), we found out that our second son Vincent has a cancerous tumor in his liver. While there's more than enough bad news to call this a full blown family crisis, there's not quite enough to rule out the possibility of a full recovery. The scenarios are seemingly infinite at this point, not unlike the range of emotions that accompany this sort of thing. If fear and anxiety are like mosquitoes, we're navigating a swamp full of standing water.

And yet, there is light flickering in the darkness. I had no idea it was possible to feel so shocked, devastated, afraid, thankful, hopeful and at peace- all in the same moment. I'm certain it has something to do with the multitude of friends and loved ones praying for us around the globe. I suspect it also has something to do with my soul being anchored in the resurrection power of a Messiah familiar with suffering, a risen King who is before all things and in Whom all things hold together (Col 1:17).

In the midst of preparing for the worst, hoping for the best and praying for a miracle, I've found comfort from an unlikely source: theology. Yup, it turns out that theology, that supposedly dry and dusty set of doctrinal propositions, makes all the difference in the world when a crisis hits. Whether you're aware of it or not, your concept of God will affect how you pray in the midst of chaos and suffering. What kind of triune Being is He? Is the Father ultimately near or detached from those in pain? Can the Holy Spirit be called upon to work miraculous healings in the 21st century or not? Will Jesus really come back someday to vanquish all injustice and disease? Do we live with the recognition that His blood on the cross has inaugurated a reign of peace in which He is reconciling all things to Himself- including things like liver cancer?

John Stott put it this way: "I could never myself believe in God, if it were not for the cross... In the real world of pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it?"

May the supernatural, unfailing, parental love of God for Vincent be sufficient for all of us who long to see him healed.

NOTE: Please visit Vincent's CaringBrige website for the most recent updates on how his treatment is going as well as prayer requests, photos and much much more!

An ITZBEEN To Remember

As anyone with multiple young children knows, parenting can often be a simple test of survival from one day to the next. From tantrums to toilet-training, diapers to drool-wiping, mid-day messes to mid-sleep disruptions, there’s always an adventure lurking just around the bend. Unlike my wife, who has gracefully mastered the art of juggling competing needs of a toddler and a newborn, I tend to lose my bearings in the fog of perpetually unfinished tasks.

The craziest time of day in our household, 5 to 8 pm every evening, can almost be reduced to a series of questions (nearly always asked by me): Where’s Vincent’s pacifier? When is his next feeding? How long was Theo’s nap? When was his diaper last changed? And so on.

Sometimes it's the simplest things that are hardest to remember.

To preserve our sanity amid the chaos, we've come to lean heavily on an innovative new gadget, the ever-trusty ITZBEEN Baby Care Timer (pictured at right), a musubi-sized portable device that keeps track of how long “it’s been” since the most recent feeding, diaper change, nap or any other fine detail involving elapsed time. In addition to its four timers that can be individually reset with the touch of a button, I’ve even used the ITZBEEN as a handy reading light that won’t disturb anyone’s precious sleep.

And while the ITZBEEN’s backlit display provides important details to help ensure our newborn’s health and well being, it's no surprise my forgetful tendencies extend beyond my role as a parent. Even as a grown adult, I forget to put myself to bed on time. I forget to say “please” and “thank you.” I forget to floss my teeth and put away my 'toys.' I probably couldn't tell you where I last saw the ITZBEEN.

Beyond the physical realm, I am spiritually forgetful to the core.

I forget to practice God’s presence. I forget to celebrate His goodness. I forget to surrender my life daily to Christ. I forget to thank Him for the Cross. I forget the great cost of His sacrifice and consequently, I forget to tell others about His matchless grace.

Which makes me wonder: If I had a spiritual ITZBEEN, what would it tell me?

When did I last pray (not including mealtimes and church services)? How long has it been since I practiced hospitality or welcomed a stranger? When did I last enjoy the beauty of God’s creation? How long has it been since I shared the gospel (whether through actions or words)? When was the last time I gave to the poor or visited a sick person? How long has it been since I reflected on the Cross or pondered the Resurrection that changed human history?

Could it be that my drool-dispensing, diaper-soiling sons have a better grasp of their daddy's care and affection than I do of God's? As much as I adore those two boys, the Everlasting Father’s love goes so much deeper.

I think I can remember that.

Strings With No Marriage Attached

Old-school marriage is going out of style.

Last month, I was browsing through Time magazine at the grocery store when I noticed an article called "Everything but the Ring," which described the growing phenomenon of committed unmarrieds (CUs). From what I could gather, this is the politically correct term for co-habiting couples who are serious about staying together and having kids, but equally intentional about not tying the knot. According to the article, a record-breaking 40% of U.S. babies born in 2007 had unmarried parents (up 25% from 2002) and "nonmarital births have increased the most among women ages 25 to 39, doubling since 1980," debunking the myth that accidental teen pregnancy has caused this trend.

Once viewed as a moral indiscretion or a failure to properly plan, childbirth among unmarried parents has now gone mainstream. In contrast with stereotypes, minorities in poverty are not the only ones having children out of wedlock. From the middle class and affluent all the way up to gazillionaire media magnets like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, many couples are making the deliberate choice to have kids while remaining unmarried. And thanks to the tireless efforts of those in the grocery aisle gossip industry, everyone knows that Hollywood celebrities are the standard bearers of marital fidelity and lifetime commitment.

In a certain sense, it's not hard to understand why my generation of self-directed postmoderns in their twenties and thirties, burned by divorce and cynical about weddings, are choosing cohabitation over marriage. After all, if you could experience the joy of parenting, the pleasure of sex, the cost savings of shared living expenses and the comfort of knowing that your child's parents are still "together" without having to darken the door of a church (for a wedding) or courthouse (for a divorce), what's there to lose? In theory, you've got (almost) all the benefits of marriage without the religious, cultural and political baggage. Last semester, one of my classmates told me she doesn’t ever want to get married because her relationship with her boyfriend "shouldn't be anyone else's business" and marriage is a "sexist institution" anyway.

But is marriage really just a private religious ceremony that has little or no sociological impact? Is it just a profitable fabrication of the wedding industry that wants to sell more cakes, rings and pricey dresses? Is the decision to move in together just a modern equivalent of walking down the aisle or does that cumbersome and old fashioned marriage license thingy actually make a difference in people's lives? Should declining marriage rates be any cause for concern or should we just accept that we’ve "progressed" from the dark ages when unmarried people weren’t supposed to bear children even by accident, much less on purpose?

Contrary to the popular myth that getting married ruins perfectly good relationships, sociological research tells a different story. Even if you remove religious and homophobic arguments from the discussion, there is still a compelling “secular” case for why marriage is good for society, particularly the well-being of children. A nonpartisan study from Rutgers University observed, "Virtually all research on the topic has determined that the chances of divorce ending a marriage preceded by cohabitation are significantly greater than for a marriage not preceded by cohabitation." The study also found that "three quarters of children born to cohabiting parents will see their parents split up before they reach age sixteen, whereas only about a third of children born to married parents face a similar fate." Not only do cohabiting parents break up at a much higher rate than married parents, children living with stepfathers or mother's boyfriends are at higher risk of sexual abuse and physical violence than are children living with married biological parents.

Even my "liberal" social work textbooks acknowledge the irony that married people tend to live longer, earn more money and lead healthier lives than those who don't marry. Children born to unwed parents also face increased high school dropout rates and a greater likelihood of poverty and behavioral problems. Imagine you were a kid (as we all once were). Would you rather have parents who were officially married or would a really, really strong verbal agreement be good enough to do the trick? If your parents were going through a rough patch and were considering a split, would you want it to be easier or harder for them to do so? Is it too archaic to suggest that society is better off when biological parents stay together?

Don’t get me wrong. None of the cohabiting parents I know are villains or reprobates. They are kind and good-natured people who plan their kids' birthday parties and read them bedtime stories just like us married folks do. My goal is not to demonize these individuals or see their relationships fail. It's certainly possible to be happily committed parents without getting married, just as it's possible to avoid serious traffic injuries without wearing a seat belt. But the prevalence of divorce doesn't mean we should do away with marriage any more than the prevalence of car accidents means we should all switch to the even riskier habit of riding motorcycles without helmets. Walking down the aisle won’t magically turn bad relationships into good ones, but there’s something about a marriage that preserves and enhances lifelong commitment better than any other arrangement.

Instead of affirming sacred matrimony, it seems like the only socially acceptable way to talk about marriage nowadays is to poke fun at it. If I were to stand up in my office lunchroom and say, "Marriage is like an appendix. You don't really need it, but it can cause a lot of pain," I would probably get some laughs and scattered applause. Conversely, if I were to put forward the notion that getting married and staying that way is one of the best things we can do for the next generation, this would likely sound presumptuous and narrow-minded. Maybe I’m just a Neanderthal cave man disguised as a 21st century amateur blogger, but I’d like to humbly suggest that once the possibility of conceiving children is even on the horizon (much less the delivery room), the trial period for “test driving” your mate should be long gone.

If you are serious enough to move in with someone, co-sign a lease, work out the finances, share a bathroom, divide up the chores, battle for the remote, have procreative sex and raise a child together, how on earth could your relationship not be "serious" enough for marriage? If someone isn’t good enough for you to marry, what makes them good enough to be the father or mother of your child? The way I see it, the only thing riskier than bringing a helpless baby into the world is doing so without the legal, financial, social and spiritual protection of marriage. And if marriage is such a miserable, outdated, superfluous idea, why are gays and lesbians so eager to get married?

Remember that old saying, "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage?" That’s so yesterday.

A Prayer for Baby Vincent

Almighty God,
Be a bright flame before him,
A guiding star above him,
A smooth path below him,
A kindly shepherd behind him
All the days of his life.

Form him for your pleasure,
Strengthen him for your service,
Guard him for your glory,
In the power of the risen Christ.

Amen.

(adapted from a blessing by St. Columba c. 521-597)

My Wife the Preacher

Two Sundays ago (December 7), my beloved wife preached a sermon, her first ever. The text was Luke 1:26-38, the story of the angel Gabriel's visit to Mary. It was a beautiful, challenging, simple and profound message all at the same time, complete with vivid illustrations, careful exposition, reflective stories and solid theology. While it goes without saying that I am a biased listener who had the benefit of hearing her practice it several times before Sunday morning, my glowing appraisal was confirmed by the feedback she received from others who were in attendance.

Sadly, but not totally unexpectedly, a small number of people walked out of the service when she began to speak, presumably because of her gender. There were also a few complaints from others who are opposed to the concept of a woman preaching, regardless of her gifting or ability, even though the elders and pastors of our church are supportive of the idea. Since I can't pinpoint the exact reasoning and motivation behind the objections, I'm not sure if the disagreement was theological, cultural, or both. Perhaps they had never heard a woman preach before and wanted to keep it that way. Perhaps they were graciously removing themselves from an awkward situation, thereby preventing a heated confrontation so that others could listen without distraction. Either way, they missed out on an excellent sermon.

Out of respect for my complementarian friends who object to women preachers on the basis of 1 Timothy 2:11-12 which, in their view, prohibits all women from teaching or having "spiritual authority" over men, I recognize that there are mature and authentic Christians on both sides this debate. Even in 2008, the majority of evangelical churches in this country do not ordain female pastors and the debate over gender roles within evangelicalism is not likely to be resolved anytime soon. I will not take the time here to explain why I believe the Scriptures provide strong support for women preachers and teachers, but if you're interested, here's a link to a pretty good summary of the egalitarian point of view.

I don't pull any punches about the fact that I am an egalitarian, but I owe much of my spiritual growth to the godly influence of complementarian writers and preachers, most of them men. Of the half-dozen or so churches I've been a part of in my lifetime, only one has had a female pastor on staff. Of the 1000+ sermons I've heard over the course of my life, I'd be surprised if more than 5% were preached by women. I am not proud of these realities, but they have shaped who I am.

My egalitarian theological position is what it is, but what good would it do if I were to blacklist or throw shoes at anyone who is against women preaching? What would my bookshelf look like without the Reformed theological rigor of complementarians like J.I. Packer, John Piper and Sam Storms? Should I categorically write off everything they've written about the truth of Scripture because I disagree with them on this particular issue? Besides, there is an abundance of books on my shelves authored by egalitarians including Dallas Willard, Richard Mouw, Stan Grenz and Eugene Peterson to balance them out!

For better or worse, my wife and I belong to a church community that is part of a denomination that restricts the positions of pastor and elder to men only. We do not agree with this policy, but we willingly submit to it nonetheless. The rules may or may not change someday, but for now, my contention is that women should still be encouraged to develop their giftings even if the rules never change. We shouldn't need to wait for the ordination of women to come along before we can allow women to start sharpening their teaching and preaching skills. Rather than focusing on what is prohibited, we should be empowering women to use their gifts for the Kingdom wherever God has currently placed them, blooming where they've been planted.

Apart from serving as an elder or pastor, there are many opportunities and positions already open to women in our local body. Unlike more conservative churches, I'm proud of the fact that we encourage women to serve as ministry team leaders, worship leaders, small group leaders, Bible class teachers and other positions where both men and women are being taught. There is nothing in the doctrinal statements or policies of either our denomination or local church that prohibits women from leading a ministry team that may include men or teaching the Bible to a group that may include men. In the case of our particular church and denomination, the only rules against women preaching are unwritten, unspoken ones like "men should lead, women should follow" or "a woman's place is in the home."

With respect to these gender role assumptions, is it reasonable to assume that women teachers are needed for children and other women, but not for men? As a man, should I expect to gain a balanced and well-rounded perspective of the Scriptures without ever having to be taught by a woman? Are men the only ones who can ever be intellectually and spiritually gifted by God to exegete biblical texts and preach His Word? If God calls and gifts a woman to teach Sunday School lessons for children, we welcome her. If God calls and gifts a woman to lead a prayer group or start a new ministry, we affirm her. If God calls and gifts a woman to lead a Bible study, we support her. If God calls and gifts a woman to lead the congregation in worship, we recognize her gifts and cultivate a place for those gifts to be developed.

And yet, if God calls and gifts a woman to preach the Word on occasion, we dismiss this calling as "out of bounds" without even listening to the sermon first? I've heard my share of theologically irresponsible and poorly delivered sermons in my day, but I sincerely hope that I evaluated each message on the basis of its content and delivery, not the speaker's gender.

If I were to walk out of a sermon because I found out that the preacher was an African-American or a Native Hawaiian, I would hope that one of my brothers or sisters in Christ would kindly point me to the words of Galatians 3:28 where Paul writes, "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." If I were to rationalize my point by saying, "I'm just not comfortable with black preachers because I was raised listening to Caucasian preachers," I would hope that someone would be bold enough to lovingly speak the truth to correct my prejudices. I'm not a radical feminist who derives any joy from humiliating or taking revenge on the entire male species for the oppression of women that has taken place throughout history. I'm not trying to blur every distinction between male and female. I believe that God, in His infinite wisdom and artistry, created plenty of healthy differences between men and women, but the ability to preach a good sermon is not one of them. My wife's homily last week was proof of that.

So the question is this: How do we resolve the thorny issues of day-to-day disagreements within the local church? What happens when people of sincere faith disagree about the role of women in ministry? Should we call each other names like "feminist" and "sexist" and see who wins the verbal slug-fest? Should we wait until 100% of the congregation is "ready" before we allow women to use their gifts? Should we squelch the controversy and hope it will disappear if we sweep it under the rug? As Shane Claiborne likes to say, my hope is that we can learn to disagree without being disagreeable. We must learn to speak the truth in love. We must learn to tolerate, respect and even value differences of opinion when they are expressed with civility and Christ-like kindness. For the sake of our witness to the world, we must to learn to disagree well. The cost of disagreeing poorly is too great.

Theological or cultural differences within the body should not be grounds for severing a friendship or cutting off the lines of communication and dialogue. After all, if I never shared a pew with anyone who didn't have the exact same doctrinal convictions as me, I'd be missing out on a lot of great sermons.