Daniel Rose

Episode 5

Episode 4

Episode 3

Episode 2

Episode 1

…or all of life is sacred.

Last night I spoke at an event called, “The Merge: Where faith, culture, and art meets.” For just a few minutes I spoke about the reality that all of life for the person of faith is sacred. This was in the context of being a person of faith in the public forum.

As the conversation after the talk developed it ceased to be a discussion about living life as a sacred whole and became a discussion about how Christians have conversations with non-Christians. It almost felt like a sales seminar. I have been thinking about this response to the talk (and my attempted questions after) trying to discern why this is what happened.

I think it is because people of faith in America, particularly evangelicals, have lost their sense of identity. We struggle to understand that living as a Christ-follower is to live this way,

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” Colossians 3:17

We have come to believe that to “do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus” means that we must include some sort of gospel speech. But that’s not it. It is first to understand that all of life is sacred. All of life, every aspect of life is sacred space and time. Working, playing, sleeping, studying, it is all sacred.

Second, we must come to grips with the fact that being a person of faith in the public forum is to be one who lives the gospel. This means we live truth, grace, mercy, love, and faith. Jesus said,

“In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” Matthew 5:16

One of the people in the room challenged the direction of the conversation last night. He said, “You say you don’t want this to be a sales pitch. But, you all are talking like it is a sales pitch and trying to figure out how sell people. If it really means so much to you, you don’t need to do that.”

He was right.

That’s it isn’t it? Is following Jesus who I am (who you are) or is it something that you put on? If it is who I am then I can go be a great architect or doctor or student or salesman. If it is who I am then my faith, my identity, will become clear to those around me. I don’t have to pitch Jesus. In the same way that I don’t have explain to everyone how much I love my wife or my kids, my love for Jesus needs to be demonstrated in my life.

When our love for Jesus is not demonstrated in our lives, that’s when we have to pull out the sales pitch.

…how to get out of your spiritual rut.

Part of being on mission with God is our continued growth as a follower of Jesus. It is realizing that we have not arrived nor will we fully arrive with God. As we are on mission with him we must continually hear from him, change, and draw ever closer to him. How do we do it?

When you first start following Jesus it seems like everything is exciting and new. Your spiritual life feels fresh and real. The Bible “comes alive.” You’re reading it and praying. You and God feel super close. It is almost like you can audibly hear his voice.

Then something happens. Those books in the Bible like Ephesians and Philippians feel stale. You try to read some Old Testament and it’s just confusing and hard. So you read a Gospel and it seems really long. All of a sudden your prayers feel like they are bouncing off the ceiling. You start going through the motions of church attendance and maybe a Bible study here or there. You take Instagram pictures of your open Bible next to a steaming cup of joe, that was made from locally roasted beans, but you don’t really read it.

You’re in a rut. You’re stuck in a moment that you can’t get out of (you even tried listening to U2 and it didn’t help).

How do you break out of it?

First, we need to understand that our spiritual growth was never intended to be a “me and Jesus” kind of thing. It was always intended to be an “us and Jesus” kind of thing.

With this in mind, I want to challenge you to enter more fully into the community of believers. For us to break out of a spiritual rut we need other people. When we study the Scriptures it is best done in the company of other believers. We gather around the Scripture and pray and talk and challenge one another.

Second, we need to realize that our spiritual growth is wrapped up in stuff that is everywhere. It’s wrapped up in the small, every day, seemingly meaningless kinds of things. As one ancient writer said, “Do not despise the day of small things.”

We need to slow down and catch on to the things that God is doing in our midst. When we are at a stop light and we catch some beauty or a thought pops into our mind, will we hold on to it or will we ignore it? It is in these moments that we experience kairos moments. A kairos moment is the in-breaking of God into our lives. Too often we ignore it and move on.

Third, the Bible is not Jesus. The Bible is not God. We do not have a relationship with the Bible, we have a relationship with God. While we believe the Bible to be the very word of God and that it is authoritative, we must understand that the Bible reveals God to us but it is not the end all in our relationship with God.

Along with the Scriptures we need an abiding prayer life. If we are all study and no prayer, then our spiritual life will grow cold. Prayer brings us into the spiritual presence of God. It is in prayer that we are changed deeply. Spending time in prayer transforms regular space into sacred space.

Community is the oxygen, the Scriptures are the fuel, and prayer is the match that lights a blazing fire in our soul.

In the dark we just need a glimmer of light…

I rolled over and opened my eyes. It was dark. The darkness seemed to drip from the ceiling. My body ached and my head was pounding. The gentle sound of my wife’s breathing was the only comfort in that moment. As I lay there the anger raged inside me as I thought again of my friend dying, as I sat next to him praying for a miracle.

Staring at the imperceptible ceiling listening to her breathe in and out, listening to the fan occasionally creak, his face flooded my mind. The smile. The coy eyebrow raise when he knew he got you. The excitement of some new trinket in the man cave. There was a joy and a glimmer in his eye that always drew me in. He was a man. He laughed like a man. He cared like a man.

She continued to breathe quietly. The fan continued to gently creak. The darkness continued to close in. The rage was replaced with grief which was replaced with questions.

As I lay there praying for sleep in the darkness, I also prayed for light. I prayed that God would show himself and help me understand why this all happened. There was no “still small voice” only the breathing of my bride and the creaking of the fan.

I prayed until sleep finally came. It was one of those sleeps that felt like it lasted only a moment though in reality it lasted hours.

Sitting on the edge of the bed staring at my feet it still seemed dark, even though the sun had risen and light was streaming through the windows. There was a strange warmth there in the sun. My thoughts went to all the times that God had answered prayer, big and small. I was reminded how he repeatedly showed care for us and our little congregation.

I smiled.

I felt a bit more hopeful.

I still wanted to know why. I desperately want a reason. Even right now.

A couple days ago an older pastor said, “Sometimes it seems like it would be better for God to answer all prayer or none. Do miraculous stuff all the time or never. Yet, he doesn’t. God is God and we are not.”

Where is God? It turns out he is in the sunshine that cracks the darkness to warm the room. He’s in the gentle breathing of my wife and the consistent creaking of the fan. He’s in wise and honest words from a man who has lived a life with Him.

He shows himself in these tiny moments.

Where is God?

He’s there. He’s speaking. Even if he’s not giving me answers. He’s opening his arms and embracing me in the darkness. He is doing the same for you too.

Just look. You will see him.

Some days, that’s all you got.

I have spending quite a bit of time in the Psalms. More and more of that time is spent in Eugene Peterson’s, The Message. He gives words to my soul. Today it is Psalm 77 and it’s all I got.

I yell out to my God, 
I yell with all my might, 
I yell at the top of my lungs.

He listens.

I found myself in trouble 
and went looking for my Lord; 
my life was an open wound that wouldn’t heal.

When friends said, 
“Everything will turn out all right,” 
I didn’t believe a word they said.

I remember God — and shake my head. 
I bow my head — then wring my hands. 
I’m awake all night — not a wink of sleep; 
I can’t even say what’s bothering me.

I go over the days one by one, 
I ponder the years gone by.

I strum my lute all through the night, 
wondering how to get my life together.
 
Will the Lord walk off and leave us for good? 
Will he never smile again? 
Is his love worn threadbare? 
Has his salvation promise burned out? 
Has God forgotten his manners? 
Has he angrily stalked off and left us?

“Just my luck,” I said. 
“The High God goes out of business just the moment I need him.”

Once again I’ll go over what GOD has done, 
lay out on the table the ancient wonders; 
I’ll ponder all the things you’ve accomplished, 
and give a long, loving look at your acts.

O God! 
Your way is holy! 
No god is great like God! 
You’re the God who makes things happen; 
you showed everyone what you can do — 
You pulled your people out of the worst kind of trouble, 
rescued the children of Jacob and Joseph.

Ocean saw you in action, God, 
saw you and trembled with fear; 
Deep Ocean was scared to death. 
Clouds belched buckets of rain, 
Sky exploded with thunder, 
your arrows flashing this way and that. 
From Whirlwind came your thundering voice, 
Lightning exposed the world, 
Earth reeled and rocked. 
You strode right through Ocean, 
walked straight through roaring Ocean, 
but nobody saw you come or go.

Hidden in the hands of Moses and Aaron, 
You led your people like a flock of sheep." (Psalm 77, The Message)

Honestly, theology is pretty useless.

There, I said it.

I have wanted to say it since seminary.

Now I’ve said it.

Theology is pretty useless.

Well, let me clarify. Theology that isn’t applied is useless. Doctrine that is aloof and disconnected from the everyday life of the believer is pointless. It is nothing more than a noisy gong.

Paul writes,

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:1–3)

I think we can rightly understand “love” here as living out the gospel in real life. Apart from this, we are nothing.

Theology that is trapped in the classroom is useless. Theology that is trapped in the intellect is nothing.

For theology and doctrine to be worth anything they have to be applied and lived out in our lives.

Those of us who are teachers of the Scriptures are teachers of theology too. Our goal is not simply to rightly interpret the Bible. Our goal ultimately is to help the people of God apply it to their lives so that they have a deeper understanding of their identity.

Who we are is shaped by what we believe and what we do. What we do is usually determined by what we believe.

But, if what we believe is simply trapped in our minds then it is nothing.

Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless. Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. 
(James 1:26–27)

Acta non verba, action not words, a friend is fond of saying.

What good is theology? It’s worthless unless it moves to our hands and feet.

…10 Things We Do As Parents

I’m not an expert. I’m not even close to being an expert. I have a son who is 16 and a daughter who is 14. Both of them are excelling as human beings (in my all too biased opinion). They each have passions that they are pursuing with zeal. I think both of them are becoming good people. They have friends, they respect adults, they are both people that my wife and I enjoy being around.

Any time I ask people what they think I should I write about, one of the most requested topics is, “How do I raise my kids?” I don’t think people ask me this because they think my kids are angels and they want to know how we did it. I think anyone who is raising a child wants help in making sure that they don’t screw up. In our culture we get more training to drive a car than we do for marriage and child raising. So, when it comes to these two most important skills we go in blind.

Pastors, teachers, school administrators, pediatricians, are all people that folks look to for some tracks to run on. We desperately want to avoid screwing up our kids and having them become mass murderers or worse, sanctimonious idiots.

So, how do you do it?

I haven’t finished the process of raising my children to adulthood yet. But, over the last sixteen years I know that we have made some conscious decisions that I think have helped.

1. Their sin is not our sin. That is, we hold our children accountable for their actions and we choose to not feel guilt or shame for their actions. We can’t make choices for them.
2. Ask for forgiveness. We as parents make mistakes, it feels like all the time. When we do mess up, we ask our kids to forgive us. As my son learns to drive, I think I’ve apologized to him more than ever.
3. Be consistent. When we say something needs to be done, we don’t count 1,2,3 or whatever. No, we expect it to be done when asked. When we say that there will be a certain consequence we hold to it. This means that we also “under punish”, so to speak. We don’t give punishments that we as a parents can’t hold to.
4. Extend grace. Sometimes we choose to give grace to our kids. When we do, we explain what grace is, again. We point them to Jesus as we do. Our desire is for them to know that God gives grace and God gives mercy. As parents, we model this attribute of God for our kids.
5. Speak to them. We tell our kids we love them. We tell our kids we are proud of them. We need them to hear those words. There are many other things going into their minds. Our desire is to be the competing tape that says, “You’re loved. We’re proud of you. You have great value. You have purpose. You have meaning.”
6. Choose experiences over stuff. In our family we have chosen that experiencing life and the world is more important than material goods. Our excess money goes to traveling because of sports and vacations. We are intentional about time spent. Even little things, like making time to hit ground balls or play cards, communicate that experience and time spent is the more valuable than things.
7. Have expectations. We have expectations for our kids. They know what the expectations are and they are held accountable to them. As a result, they meet or exceed those expectations.
8. Don’t make excuses. This is hard. But, we have made a decision not to make excuses for our kids. If they succeed, they do so on their hard work and merit and we will support them all the way. If they fail it’s because they didn’t put in the work, didn’t have the God given ability, or because they decided to go in a different direction. But, their failure will not be blamed on anyone.
9. Model love, authenticity, respect, integrity, etc… The vision that we have for our kids is one that we must model for them. They will become the kinds of adults that we show them. We set them up for the best possibility of success by modeling for them what we want them to grow to become.
10. We are not raising children. We are raising adults. This is one of the most important things that we have come grips with. To succeed at almost anything in life you have to a vision of the end. What do you want to accomplish and then figure out how to get there. As parents, our responsibility is not raise children. Our job is to raise adults. We decide what kind of adult we want our kids to become and then we put the things in place to help them get there. With the end in mind you can design a plan and come up with a road map to get there.

I’m not perfect. This isn’t a recipe. But, these are the things that my wife and I have been doing over the last 15 years or so. We’ve learned them from our grandparents, parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, pastors, and friends. So far, our kids are turning out OK. To this point it appears that we have not completely messed them up. We make mistakes, many of them, but we try to own them.

I’d love to hear some of the things that you’re intentionally doing or did in raising your kids. Comment below…

When you write a blog some people typically want to know about your credentials. Credentials are pretty big deal and people who care about such things, really care (and those who don’t, really, really don’t).

I am a graduate of Central Michigan University with a B.S. in Psychology and a Minor in Religion. I also hold a Masters of Divinity from Michigan Theological Seminary. I am an ordained Teaching Elder (a fancy term for pastor) in the Evangelical Presbyterian Church.

I am the lead pastor with the Antioch Movement and I am a part-time teaching pastor at Cornerstone Evangelical Presbyterian Church. The Antioch Movement is a church planting movement that is focused on “sending the sent.” I am hopeful that the kingdom of God can expand in an organic and missional way in the local church. Before launching the Antioch Movement, I served as Assistant Pastor at Grace Chapel in Farmington Hills, MI and before that I spent ten years on staff with Cru serving in Central Illinois and Metro Detroit.

My journey includes an amazing bride, Amy, along with two kids, Ethan and Libby. Living life alongside of these three amazing people reminds me daily of the necessity of the subversive mission of my King and his Kingdom.

Did I mention I like coffee, beer, whiskey, film, music, fiction, and when I jog I chant, “Let’s go Red Wings” under my breath.

While the above paragraphs don’t make me quite as awesome as the Apostle Paul, they provide you a little snapshot of who I am.

…or when things don’t go as planned.

You’ve worked hard all week on an amazing message. The illustrations are poignant and powerful. People will get teary eyed when you drop your perfect tweetable line in the conclusion. You can’t wait to preach. You know this will be one of the most life changing messages you have ever communicated.

Then it happens.

It.

Whatever “it” is.

It happens.

You have to zig instead of zag. The entire night has to be changed because your pastoral heart knows that the people need something else. They don’t need your life changing sermon. They need a different message. Maybe they don’t need a message at all, just time and space to be together. Who knows? But what is evident, is that you have to flex.

Many of us pastors create strategic plans. We have plans for three, five, ten, and fifteen years out. We know exactly how we want everything to work out in our ministry.

The strategies, we believe in them.

The principles, we own them.

The language, we can communicate it.

The passion, we exude it.

The vision, we proclaim it.

We are leaders and we know it. We are the alphas and we will lead our people to the promise land. We will change the world.

God often has other plans for us though. Or maybe it’s just that we live in a broken world and our plans, strategies, and principles are for the ideal and we don’t live in the ideal.

When you are doing life and ministry in the real world, not in the vacuum of a book or seminar, things are messy. Life is messy. People are messy. Messiness means that we have to hold things with a loose grip. There will be times we must be flexible.

Yet, in the midst of being flexible we must also seek to obey. There is an obedience of faithfulness that we have to embrace. Our calling, our vision, our passion, our principles, assuming they come from God, are good and we need to faithfully pursue them. Flexibility in ministry does not mean that we abandon what God is calling us to do in the big picture. Flexibility in the moment allows us to remain obedient in the long run.

Flex and obey, there is no other way.

Choosing Joy

Joy is a decision.

Every day you have to make a choice.

What will you choose?

Will it be anger?

Will it be frustration?

Will it be sadness?

Will it be joy?

Joy is hard to choose.

Joy demands faith.

Faith in the midst of pain is hard.

If we are honest with ourselves pain is where we live most days.

Pain seems to be the water we swim in.

Pain seems to be the air we breathe.

Pain seems to be everywhere we look.

Joy subverts pain.

Joy takes pain and flips it on its head.

Joy makes pain look alien.

Pain is.

Joy is a choice.

What will you choose?

I choose joy.

Every once in a while you come face to face with a brokenness that overwhelms you. It seems that lately this has been the case more than not. I look around and people are not being healed, they are losing jobs, they are experiencing death.

This all sucks.

I know, I know, I’m a pastor and my Mimi would be mad that I just used the “s-word.” But, you know what, it does suck.

That’s the truth of the matter.

The brokenness of this world is overwhelming at times. I am so mad and frustrated with it. I wish God would simply do what I want him to do. When I pray for him to heal someone, I want him to do that. When I ask him to save a marriage, I want him to do that. Every once in a while, I want him to supersede the secondary causes of human sin, frailty, and brokenness to make this world how I want it.

He’s sovereign and good I remind myself. But, dang it sure does not feel that way at times. Not even a little. I don’t really doubt his goodness, but there are times when I wonder if he really does have control of this ball of dust.

Intellectually, I know he does.

Intellectually, I know that everything has purpose.

Today, as I drink my coffee, it doesn’t feel like it at all.

Emails, phone calls, texts, Facebook statuses, they all point to something else.

Even now, I am thinking about all the times God has responded. All the times when it made no sense for something to happen apart from God’s miraculous intervention. That makes me smile.

A few months ago my son said, “Dad, if I need something important to happen, I am asking the church to pray. God listens to our church and does stuff.”

It doesn’t feel that way this morning. But, I know it to be true. Me and God have history. But, I have a short memory.

“When my heart was grieved and 
my spirit embittered, 
I was senseless and ignorant; 
I was a brute beast before you. 
Yet I am always with you; 
you hold me by my right hand. 
You guide me with your counsel, 
and afterward you will take me into glory. 
Whom have I in heaven but you? 
And earth has nothing I desire besides you. 
My flesh and my heart may fail, 
but God is the strength of my heart 
and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:21–26

This morning I was reading this Psalm and this section struck me. I am still in the, “I was senseless and ignorant” stage. I am working my way toward the “Whom have I in heaven but you?” stage.

Even so, God can handle me saying, “This sucks.”

Two young black men were riding home from football practice in my car. The four of us were laughing, cutting up, and making fun of each other. We came up on multiple police cars and officers investigating something. These two young men immediately folded their hands in their lap, became quiet, stared straight ahead, and were silent.

After we passed the officers there was a moment and then the teasing, laughing, and cutting up began again.

My brother and many of my closest friends are police officers. I love police officers. I am grateful for them and the service they provide. We could not live the lives we do without them.

But, in that moment it, there was fear, a raw fear that sucked the air out of my car. This fear demanded two young men to immediately become silent upon seeing officers even while being in the car of a white man.

We can love and respect and support our police officers and still recognize that there is something beyond broken in our culture. This fear was real.

But we need to make changes. Those of us who are white need to learn. We need to listen. We must not marginalize people’s experiences.

As a pastor, I have to lead in the pursuit of justice. I’m still learning what that means. I know that it won’t be done on social media. It will be done in relationships, relationships that I pursue. I will be able to lead only as I change.

All I know, is that there are good young men, honorable young men, hard working young men, who live their lives in fear. They know a fear that my son will never know.

*Originally Published: September 21, 2016

Originally published at danielmrose.com.

When I was on staff with a large college ministry we spent a lot of talking about how to help college guys become men. We did men’s retreats every year. There was a very specific model that we thought these men had to fit in; tough, rugged, and macho.

We also spent a lot of time trying to teach college girls to be women. This focused a lot on their outward appearance teaching them to dress modestly so they didn’t cause the “men” to “stumble.”

Summer mission trips had female dress codes. No bikinis. No tankinis. No “cheek leak” in your one piece. No spaghetti straps. No “shorts that were too short.” No. No. No. No.

I’m now the father of a teenage son and a teenage daughter. My perspective has radically changed as my wife and I are trying to raise a good man and a good woman.

As I look back at that time with college students I need to ask these women forgiveness. I shamed you. I didn’t mean to, but I did. I put a burden on you that was not yours to bear. As I spoke at retreats and in small groups, I made it seem like you were responsible for the holiness of the men around you. You are not. How you dress does not determine the way a guy looks at you, he does. He is the one who chooses to objectify and drool over you. I’m sorry, deeply sorry for creating an environment where you experienced shame and guilt. I’m sorry that we communicated to you that men are animals and can’t learn to control their urges. I’m sorry that we made you feel like some sort of a temptress simply because you are a woman. I was wrong. I see that now. Please forgive me.

We are subtly and (at times) overtly teaching boys that men are not to be held responsible for their urges. We have created this environment that says, boys and men are animals. They can’t control themselves. “Boys will be boys.” I’m so disgusted by this. I am not an animal. My son is not an animal. He can make choices and decisions not to be lewd, disgusting, and lecherous. The girls at his school are not responsible for what goes through his mind or the minds of his friends. We work hard to teach him that to be a man is to honor and respect women. Can he and his friends appreciate beauty in a woman without being a lust crazed maniac? Yes. Boys can learn to control themselves.

There is a culture of rape in our society. This is born out of the perspective that women are somehow responsible for what men do. It’s wrong. Boys and men are responsible for themselves and their actions.

We tell girls and women to be comfortable with their bodies out of one side of our mouth. Then out of the other we say don’t be too comfortable. If you dress that way you’re slutty. If you wear that boys may think you want them to have sex with you. If something bad happens to you, “you brought it on yourself.”

I want my daughter to know that she is not simply her body. I want to her to know that she can wear a sundress or leggings and is not a distraction to some animalistic male. She needs to know that if a guy objectifies it’s not her fault, it’s his, regardless of what she was wearing.

We need to raise the level of expectations for our sons. I want my son to be a man. This means that he takes responsibility for himself. It means that he owns his thoughts and actions. It means that he doesn’t shift blame to anyone.

Let’s teach them to be men.

Originally published at danielmrose.com.

You know that time when you watch a television show and it shakes you up a bit? Sometimes works of fiction do that to me (A Brave New World rocked my world). Sometimes it’s reading history. Other times it is talking with a new friend. In this particular moment, it was a television show.

We were watching Madam Secretary and one of the plot lines revolved around the middle daughter, Ali, and the youngest child, Jason, going to a school dance. Ali was wearing a slightly provocative dress and attended with a senator’s son. Jason overheard her date in the bathroom talking about how he was going to “get some.” Jason didn’t do anything.

That evening Jason and Ali were talking and Jason learned that Ali had to fight her date off so she didn’t get raped. She challenged her brother for not doing something or saying something when he heard the boys talking. Ali said something like, “There will always be boys like that until boys like you stand up to them and stop them.”

It got me thinking about all the women in my life. I had strong independent grandmothers. My Mom raised three boys on her own. My wife is amazing beyond my ability to describe. My daughter is a force in this world. Beyond them, there are so many others too.

Recently, I read through the Twitter #ThingsOnlyChristianWomenHear and my heart broke. Then I got angry. Then I realized how I’m complicit to everything that those women hear. I am complicit because I haven’t spoken up. It’s similar to how I am complicit in racism when I don’t speak up for my black friends.

A few weeks ago at Doubt on Tap I was gut punched because one of our attendees held a mirror to my face. In the moment, I ignored it and simply argued it away in my own head. Someone had made a crack about hurting a woman to “keep her in line.” The room groaned disapprovingly but nobody said anything. The attendee called us on it. She was right. In that moment every man in that room became complicit in violence against women.

Originally, this post was going to be much more theological. It was going to be about where I’m at theologically on the issue of women in church leadership. I think that will need to come at some point. However, in light of some of the recent things happening within the Christian sub-culture and our broader culture, I realized that the first thing that needed to be said is this: I will stand with you. I will speak up. I will not let side comments just slide by.

Men, we have, by and large, created a culture of putting women in a second class. It has been intentional. As a friend of mine has said about other issues, “It is the determined default.” We like power. Our societal and cultural systems were put in place by white, male, landowners. It is what it is. The question now becomes, what will we do about it? What will we teach our sons? What will we teach our daughters? What will we model for our sons and daughters?

As a pastor, one who has some sort of public authority, I am coming to an understanding that one of my most important roles is that of one who will stand in the gap. We are told that pastors are “under-shepherds” and that we are to feed the flock. Shepherds do more than that. They protect the flock from the predators too. A shepherd must be willing to protect the flock or they are not much of a shepherd. Women, for far too long in the Western church, have been marginalized, ignored, or fed to the wolves.

Not on my watch. I stand with you.

Originally published at danielmrose.com.

If the first step into the mission of God is showing up, then the second is to begin paying attention to the people around you. What are they passionate about? What are their hopes? What are their fears? What are the areas in their community that are broken? What are people worrying about? Who are the people that are trying to fix the brokenness of the world? Who are the people who know these people?

These people are called, “persons of peace.” In every mission setting we need to find a person of peace.

“From Troas we put out to sea and sailed straight for Samothrace, and the next day we went on to Neapolis. From there we traveled to Philippi, a Roman colony and the leading city of that district of Macedonia. And we stayed there several days. On the Sabbath we went outside the city gate to the river, where we expected to find a place of prayer. We sat down and began to speak to the women who had gathered there. One of those listening was a woman from the city of Thyatira named Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth. She was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to respond to Paul’s message. When she and the members of her household were baptized, she invited us to her home. “If you consider me a believer in the Lord,” she said, “come and stay at my house.” And she persuaded us.” (Acts 16:11–15, NIV)

Paul and Luke (at least Luke, we don’t have an exhaustive list), show up at the river. They were going to pray but there were a number of women there. So they begin talking with the women and a woman named Lydia comes to faith (and so her whole household is baptized). Paul and his companions stay on with her.

They have found a person of peace.

Lydia was a saleswoman. She would have been known and connected in her town. As a saleswoman she would have access to marketplace and other places in the community that an outsider like Paul would not have had access to. Lydia was able to connect Paul with others.

Who are the Lydias in your community? Who can help connect you with others?

I remember when we launched Doubt on Tap, Mike and Tom were persons of peace for us. We had met them at our local coffee shop and invited them to join us at Doubt on Tap. They in turn began inviting everyone in their sphere of influence. They provided Doubt on Tap with amazing momentum.

A person of peace of mission critical.

After you show up, find a person of peace.

Originally published at danielmrose.com.

Do you like to learn? I pretend to like to learn. Learning requires me to change. It demands that I do something different from what I used to do. Learning requires me to change my mind, actions, and possibly even beliefs. So, I pretend to like learning. I listen intently and nod my head at appropriate times.

Every once in a while go next level with a well-timed, “Hmmm…”

I’m a master at being a fake learner. Particularly when I know that I know something or that I know that I know more than the other person.

You’re probably a better person than me. Actually, I am confident that you are because if there is something that I know it my own thoughts. Inside me is a darkness that if you knew about it would disgust you. You are probably not like that.

Being a fake learner is really hard when you’re a Christian. To be a Christian is a call to being a learner from the Master. We come to Jesus with nothing and he fills us and changes us through his Spirit. The problem for me is that I know that I come with something and I know that I’m right about all that I know.

When I stare into the face of Jesus through prayer, the Scriptures, and the Church, I’m undone. I realize my emptiness. Begrudgingly I come face to face with my ignorance. The things I was so sure of become mists that I try to grip.

To be a learner demands at least that much. It depends that I repent. The lowest common denominator of being a learner is to repent of my self-indulgent pride.

O my Savior, Help me. I am slow to learn, so prone to forget, so weak to climb;I am in the foothills when I should be on the heights;I am painted by my graceless heart, my prayerless days,my poverty of love,my sloth in the heavenly race,my sullied conscience, my wasted hours,

my unspent opporunities.

I am blind while light shines around me:take the scales from my eyes,

grind to dust the evil heart of unbelief.

Make it my chiefest joy to study thee, meditate on thee,gaze on thee, sit like Mary at they feet, lean like John on they breast,appeal like to they love,

count like Paul all things dung.

Give me increase and progress in graceso that there may bemore decision in my character,more vigour in my purposes, more elevation in my life, more fervor in my devotion,

more constancy in my zeal.

As I have a position in the world, 
keep me from making the world my position;

May I never seek in the creature
what can only be found in the Creator;

Let not faith cease from seeking thee
until it vanishes into sight.

Ride forth in my, thou King of kingsand Lord of lords, that I may live victoriously, and in victory may attain my end.

(From The Valley of Vision, 334–335)

Originally published at danielmrose.com.

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Every Wednesday I post what passage of Scripture I am thinking and meditating on. This week, it is the story of Jonah. One verse in particular has me stuck,

But Jonah set out to flee to Tarshish from the presence of the Lord. He went down to Joppa and found a ship going to to Tarshish; so he paid his fare and went on board, to go with them to Tarshish, away from the presence of the Lord. (Jonah 1:3)

I am so very much like Jonah.

Every week it seems that there is a new preacher, televangelist, or “numerologist” proclaiming that the end is here. If you walk around many cities or college campuses you will find someone screaming that, “The End is Nigh!”

It seems like everyone is looking for “the end of the world.”

Like we will miss it or something.

Christianity teaches that the end of things will be a noisy, noisy day. We won’t miss it. It’s a day that will come. We just don’t know when. It will be on us like a “thief in the night.” But it won’t be quiet. You absolutely will not miss it. I promise.

So what do we know about the end? We know that Jesus will come back, bodily and personally. We know that when he does he will judge the living and the dead. We also know that he will reconcile the world and make all things new.

Check out this bit from Revelation 21,

Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” Revelation 21:1–5

There was “no longer any sea” means that all the chaos of the world was gone. Everything was set to rights and order.

How amazing will it be to hear, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

This calls us back to Jesus being called, “Emanuel” or “God with us.”

The promise of the culmination of time for the Christian is not “escape.” It is the opposite, it is eternal presence.

Eternal presence.

If eternity is about “presence” then how does that shape who we are and what we do now?

Simple.

It means that we are to be present. We must open spaces for one another and others in our lives. To be present in the lives of those around us is what it means to pray, “Your kingdom come.” When we are present in the lives of one another and others, we are bringing the kingdom to bear right here, right now.

I am watching my social media feed fill with a singular hashtag, #MeToo. Friends, dear friends, are sharing it. Women in my congregation have been sexually abused or sexually harassed. I didn’t know. They had never shared that with me. Nor would I expect them too.

Yet, there it is, #MeToo.

I am shaking in sadness, anger, rage, and frustration.

My eyes are welling with tears as I think about my friends being treated this way. The lump in my throat is growing as #MeToo pops up next to more and more of my friends.

Then it hits me, my God, my daughter.

What would I do if I saw the #MeToo next to her name? How can I protect her from this terror? Is there some way to keep her from this evil? Has it already happened? Would she know she can tell me? Would my precious daughter trust me enough to share this with me?

What about my son? Have I raised him to know that he is not to be a predator? Does he know that he is not an animal and that women owe him nothing? Will he know to treat women with honor, respect, and kindness? In other words, will he treat them as people, not as objects to be used and discarded?

Do men experience sexual abuse? Yes. Do men experience sexual harassment? Yes. The rate at which we do is so much less than that of women though.

One in three.

1 in 3.

One in three women are sexually abused. Let that sink in. 1 in 3. I can not wrap my mind around this reality. When my daughter has friends over, 1 in 3. When I am with women in my congregation, 1 in 3.

As I look at my son, I know that I must speak into his life. Over and over again, I have to remind him what being a man is all about. Being a man is to control himself. Being a man is to see women as human beings, created in God’s image. Being a man is to protect those around you. Being a man is to stop other men from doing this to women. Being a man is to raise the next generation of men to never do this.

Men, we have to change.

Women, it is not your fault.

To those of you courageously saying, #MeToo, I believe you. It was not your fault.

“God is sovereign so we don’t need to tell anyone about Jesus.”

“I’m not called to be a missionary.”

“I’m not gifted in evangelism.”

It seems that there are more reasons not to talk to people about Jesus than there are reasons to do it. Everyone is looking for an excuse. Some folks are more theologically astute and make arguments trying to leverage doctrine. It turns out that all of us are invited into God’s mission.

So why are we always trying to get out of it?

I think there are two major reasons. The first is that we are afraid. We fear being rejected. We fear being asked a question for which we don’t have an answer. There is the fear of conflict. Many of us think that if we talk to someone about Jesus it will turn into a fight. Our fears are probably unending.

The second is more insidious. We simply don’t care about people enough to invite them into the kingdom. Even worse, there are people with whom we don’t want to spend eternity. Those people shouldn’t get the chance to be reconciled with God. We have so much anger and hatred in our hearts that we refuse to invite those people to know Jesus.

Each of us has to deal with our sin sick hearts. We have to ask the question, “Why don’t I proclaim the excellencies of Jesus?” Do we fit in the fear category or hate category? Ultimately it is one of the two. We can sugar coat our reasons in some way. The reality is we are either afraid or we lack love, or both.

Which is it?

To be on mission with God means that you have step out in faith courageously. It means that you have to love by faith, even those people.

Will you?

When it comes to being on mission we often miss it because we are so busy. We have little to no time to simply be with people. There is no opportunity to listen, pray, or to just look around. Every day we rush to the next place, to the next appointment, to the next meeting, or the next event. How can we possibly be on mission if there is not time or space to simply, “be”?

I am often struck by looking at Jesus’ life and seeing that he was a master of the “margin.” Many stories in the Gospels start with, “As Jesus was walking…” There was a pace of life that Jesus practiced where he had margin to converse and to be present with the people around him.

You are reading this thinking, “Yes, yes, yes, but that was the first century. There were no cars, obviously he was walking. There were no travel sports. There were no school events. People didn’t have to commute to work. The list could go on and on. How can you possibly draw any parallel to Jesus’ pace of life and ours? WE ARE BUSY!”

I hear you. I feel the crippling weight of busy-ness too. My family sits down for dinner together one or two nights a week, if we’re lucky. It feels as though we are in perpetual motion. My wife and I joke and make light of the situation by occasionally introducing ourselves to one another, “Hello, I’m your husband, and you are?”

Sad? Yes. Normal? Yes.

The modern life is life at break-neck speed.

Here is the dirty little secret though: there is nobody to blame but ourselves. We choose what we get involved with. We choose what our kids will participate in. We choose where we will spend out time. We choose.

To truly be on mission we must learn to master the margins. Step one is making sure to have some margin. This can be hard. It means saying “no” to good things. For example, last year I volunteered in our local school’s concession stand for sporting events. I loved doing it. I enjoyed the camaraderie with the other volunteers. I felt useful. This year, I took a second, part time job at another church. I just added twenty hours into my schedule, minimum. Something had to give so that I could have some margin in my life to be present with people. Therefore, I said “no” to volunteering with the concessions team again.

What do you need to say “no” to so that you can have margin?

Step two is that our margins need to spent with people and not just taking naps and chilling on our couch. It’s healthy and good to take a break and recharge. We need Sabbath rest. However, that rest ought to compel us to action and engagement. There will be times that we must step out into our margin times even when we are a bit tired. We will have to trust that the Holy Spirit will provide us the energy and power we need to do so.

What do you need to “yes” to so that you are engaging in the margin?

Margin is necessary. Jesus was a master of the margin. We too can make decisions about margin. Mission takes place in the margin. Choose to create margin and then step into it.