The irony of making fun of people who are gay is similar to the irony of making fun of anyone. That is, we make fun of people, ideas and cultures that don’t align with our agendas, personalities, and belief systems. This is the essence of making fun. At the heart of bullying is misunderstanding and a lack of relationship to that which we choose to ridicule. We make fun of people because we don’t genuinely know them, care about them or love them. We would rather waste time posting status updates on Facebook, lambasting those we despise, than actually going out and learning about their hearts, lives and histories. It’s easy to bully and tarnish others from a distance, easy to throw stones at people we do not understand, but it is in no way ever the appropriate response or right thing to do.

People bully others out of personal fear and insecurity. We fear that which we do not know, and in the midst of fear and insecurity, we many times respond with hate which often times showcases itself through bullying.

The irony of anyone making fun of anyone else is that no one actually enjoys being made fun of. We degrade others even though we would hate it and despise those doing the degrading if it were us being made fun of. The irony of Christians making fun of anyone, especially the gay community, is that we follow and believe in the most loving person to ever walk the earth, Jesus. I’ve read the gospel–the story of Jesus, his love and grace–and never have I come across an instance where He made fun of another person. He engaged in healthy debate, sure. But never did he publicly or privately make fun of someone because they believed differently, dressed differently, or dated differently. Instead, he talked to everybody, he befriended those he disagreed with and loved those the rest of the world did not understand. He was completely comfortable around those who made the rest of society totally insecure. He was loving toward those the rest of society feared.

Criticism is one’s ability to complain about anything not personally appealing by wrapping harsh, hyper-emotional rants into slick, counter-cultural, spine tingling rhetoric. Criticism is perceived as–for lack of a better word–edgy. To criticize is to stand in opposition, to evoke a seemingly preeminent attitude against the establishment. And where we stand in opposition is where the ever elusive, always shifting, expanse of cool, consists.

Destination cool is not just the pursuit of floppy haired teenagers hanging onto Lady Gaga’s every tweet. Cool is not just for creatives, Tom’s on toes, reaching for meaning while wandering through. Cool is not just for young professionals, MacBooks in hand, climbing the corporate ladder to riches and oblivion. Cool is not just for Glen Beck and his army of book-buying baby boomers, their re-emerging, retro-seeking parents close behind. No, the pursuit of cool plagues us all. Our differing styles of cool and rebellion fight against each other, annihilating any underlying similarities we may have had. Critical words evoking hate and disrespect, we bend our minds toward the destruction of those whom we appose.

One man’s disrespectful rebellion is another man’s edge.

Verbal criticism from within the church is gaining in popularity because it is the easiest way to be heard. Requiring little effort, sacrifice or self divergence, hate-filled critics abuse words to produce and sell their stories of self-composed worth. They make fortunes criticizing their own vices in others, concealing their flaws with bronzer and blush.

Genuine, Christ-centered leadership is not, nor has it ever been, based upon one’s singular capacity to speak critically, in disgust, about other people. Authentic leadership–the willingness to show real, life altering love–is based upon one’s willingness to act. Doing as Jesus did–dying to self for the sake of others–is the beautiful medium through which to challenge and criticize our all too comfortable ways of living and hopeless commonalities.

The religious pursuit of Christian domestication is not what Jesus died for.

The book of Acts regularly identifies scholars and gurus of the law; religious lab rats of the day spinning round and round on self-invented wheels of spiritual disconnect. Religious advocates of self-centered irrelevancy based their lives on comfortable yet mendacious realities. Contradictorily, the apostles lives were defined by persecution. Not comfort, political harmony or fallacious speech. Religious officers of the law held strong disdain for followers of Jesus. Even at inception, the church struggled with religion and its teachers who still believed in and spread passive, status quo forms of faith free of intimate, supernatural relationship with God.*

The Holy Spirit may be real, but would you know it by watching us?

Paul was traveling down a road through the interior of Ephesus. Along the way he found a group of disciples–Christians–followers of the Way. Paul asked them, “Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you believed?” They responded, “No, we have not even heard that there is a Holy Spirit.” These disciples didn’t even know there was a Holy Spirit to be had.

Do we?

Paul proceeded to baptize them into the name of Jesus, and they received the Holy Spirit. Before the Spirit, they were merely faith based bystanders. Love-motivated movement and prophesying came after they were filled with the Spirit, the same Spirit that fills Christ followers, today.

Making Christianity into a religious pursuit is spiritual prostitution–like exchanging sex for money. You may get paid at the end, but the act is free of passion, deeper connection or even the slightest hint of intimacy. Religious Christianity is rote business, a duty to perform and thus satisfy other peoples expectations. Religious Christianity is like transactional sex–no surprises, no heart, no desire–it’ll make you sweat, but you’ll never be satisfied.

* Thoughts generated while reading The Barbarian Way, Erwin Raphael McManus, 2005. Pages 60-61.
Quotes taken from Acts 19: 1-22, New International Version (NIV), Italics added, Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica.

Let’s face it, there are people in our lives whom we consider to be our friends, and then there are people we don’t care about. We maintain and regulate our few, coagulated homies like Mr. Rogers used to maintain his golden, button-up sweater and blue suede shoes–daily and exclusively–the same, basic outfit every single show.

Walking into a church for the first time on a Sunday morning can be a terrifyingly strange experience. Taking the big leap of faith into the trying-a-new-church-for-the-first-time-since-your-mom-made-you-wear-a-sailors-suit-and-bow-tie-to-church-on-Easter-Sunday can quickly present itself as a situational discomfort unlike any typically sought after weekend activity. In order for most “churched” people to really start befriending you, Newcomer, you’ve got to attend regularly and somehow push into at least one of the more predominant, preformed, circles of friends.

How do most churches get around this “welcoming challenge”? With a committee strategy, of course. We send enthusiastic people highly trained in the ways of smiling and hand shaking around the room to intercept any newcomer-esque attendees. Church leadership usually determines which people will go, and those selected will work the room, cautiously introducing themselves to you–The Newcomer–welcoming you into the wonderful world of the church. (Take note of how people have to be assigned to do this task.) If the welcoming committee people seem a little distracted, don’t hold it against them. Remember, their real friends are still out in the foyer drinking coffee and eating tasty fruit tarts.

The welcoming committee, or your new “fake-friends” as I like to call them, do their part to make most guests feel as comfortable as possible, like you’re now a part of something truly cool and culturally relevant. But the real situation, and this is why you the Newcomer can’t quite seem to connect, is that most of the friendly church people are busy being friendly with the friends they already have. And how do we convince our churches friendliest members to go and be friendly to those outside of their well groomed, established groups? We don’t. We usually just send the committee because it’s the committees job, and jobs are easier to establish and enforce.

If you’re new to the church, and you’re experiencing this weird activity, please take my advice: Don’t worry; it’s not you. Well, it is you, but it’s not really you. What I’m trying to say is that it’s not your fault. You don’t smell too badly, and your clothes are actually spot on. Your hair is fine, and as far as we can tell, you’re probably educated and employed. So everything is in line for you to eventually become a friend of the church and maybe even an active, sought-after member! But for now, don’t worry, it’s not your fault. It’s ours. We’re a little insecure when it comes to what we believe, and we don’t want to be too joyful or too loving toward anyone we don’t already know and care about. And, apparently, the fruit tarts are really good.

Talk of generosity is on the rise. All the indie kids are singing about it in their basements. Like Donald Trump on a good day, we can’t spend our generosity quickly enough. We’ve more generosity than we know what to do with. Generosity lining our pockets, spilling from our cars; we’re up to our ears in the stuff. We’re saturated. Our cups runneth over. Generosity here, there, everywhere. We’re generillionositaires. We eat generosity for breakfast.

There’s so much potential for generosity.

The challenging aspect of generosity is that it almost always asks us to repeat. Again and again. Once we’ve seen generosity work (it almost always does), we can’t help but start to notice other opportunities to be generous. Once our eyes have been opened, it’s a crime to choose to be blind. You can’t listen to just one song off of The Suburbs. You’ve got to listen to the entire album. Consistency means time and time again. If we invest in consistent generosity, in doing the right thing as often as possible, than we’re stuck giving ourselves away for, well, a lifetime.

Have you ever been stuck following someone into a building? You’re a bit behind but getting that first door for you is no problem. No problem at all. Their pleasure. It’s the generous thing to do. Most people will wait, even smile. The second door, really, isn’t too much of a hassle, either. By the third door, however, most door holders not getting paid to do so start increasing speed to avoid that hurry-up-I’m-tired-of-holding-this-door-for-you awkwardness. By that third door most people have forgotten you even exist. If you’re lucky they’ll punch the handicap button as they run away.

It’s the same way with generosity. That first time is awesome. People are rocking the boat, hands in the air, breaking a sweat; real change is coming. We feed a hungry guy a few times a year, go on an annual “missions trip” to some impoverished country, strike up a conversation with our lonely neighbor every few months and think we’re pretty generous. We’re releasing some of our extra, saved up generosity. Jesus is smiling down upon us. Dalai lama is secretly jealous, Gandhi is so proud, and Mother Teresa will probably greet us in the afterlife.

But what would happen if generosity was our life as opposed to a defined, sectioned off, weekend getaway to the hood? What would happen if we began molding our lives in such a way so as to center them around caring for others in need. What would happen if we composed our lives and careers and churches and hobbies and organizations in order to allow ourselves the most freedom to live generously, full time. What would happen if love was the ultimate motivator for absolutely every decision we made?

{If you live in Indy, definitely don’t go here to get more info. Also, I would stay away from these people if you’re looking to be influenced by some truly generous folks. I warned you.}

Our love either is or is not enough depending on who our love points to and guides others toward.

There are a few options

1. Our love can point those receiving it back toward their own selves.
2. Our love can point those receiving it toward us.
3. Our love can point those receiving it toward Love.

In regards to the first two options, our love is not enough. Options 1 & 2 will always, eventually fail. Guiding people back to themselves with our love only provides them with a false relief composed of temporary facades of undulating self-esteem. Likewise, pointing others to ourselves with our love eventually fails. Let’s be honest, we can provide only so deep a love. Our manufactured depths of care are limited to certain levels and degrees. Pointing others to our own selves with our fabricated love is a selfish act filled with underlying greed and egotistical longings for self-relevancy.

The third option is where our love truly is enough. I John 4:7-8 says, “Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.”

Christ followers, if our love points other people–friends, family, co-workers, enemies–toward anyone or anything other than Christ, then we are failing them in our love. We show true love by showing Christ to others, pointing and directing them to him and him alone. If your love–no matter how great, magnificent, worthy, or action packed–does not point others to Christ, than it is a failing love, and it is not enough.

Another follower of Jesus said it this way:

Does being loved mean being made much of? For many people, this is not obviously an act of love. They do not feel loved when they are told that God created them for his glory. They feel used. This is understandable given the way love has been almost completely distorted in our world. For most people, to be loved is to be made much of. Almost everything in our Western culture serves this distortion of love. We are taught in a thousand ways that love means increasing someone’s self-esteem. Love is helping someone feel good about themselves. Love is giving someone a mirror and helping him like whet he sees.

This is not what the Bible means by the love of God. Love is doing what is best for someone. But making self the object of our highest affections is not best for us. It is, in fact, a lethal distraction. We were made to see and savor God–and savoring him, to be supremely satisfied, and thus spread in all the world the worth of his presence. Not to show people the all-satisfying God is not to love them. To make them feel good about themselves when they were made to feel good about seeing God is like taking someone to the Alps and locking them in a room full of mirrors.

Quote from Don’t Waste Your Life by John Piper, page 33, paragraphs 2 & 3. Copyright 2003 by Desiring God Foundation, Published by Crossway books, Wheaton Illinois

I John 4:7-8 as taken from New International Version. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica. As found on Bible Gateway.