In the wake of the horrific attacks in Paris, conversations about America’s immigration and refugee policy are igniting
memes conversations across the country. Everyone from the President of the United States to the old man with a Facebook account has weighed in on whether or not we should respond to the refugee crisis.
It isn’t an easy conversation, and there aren’t simple answers. A government is charged with the responsibility to provide for the security of its people. But a government like ours – one that has inserted itself into the diplomatic affairs of so many countries in the name of justice, one that claims to be the greatest the world has ever known, one that was founded by those fleeing their country and looking for a better life – should be willing to take in those who desperately need refuge.
Compounding the complexity of this issue is the claim that America is a Christian nation. Whether or not that’s true, we are perceived around the world as a nation with close ties to Christianity. One cannot get elected to the presidency without being a Christian. At least it hasn’t happened yet and will not happen for the foreseeable future. Our politicians regularly invoke the name of God, the Ten Commandments, and the Bible on a whole host of issues: abortion, same-sex marriage, prayer in school, the death penalty, and, oddly, gun control.
Most troubling is the fact that those who are most likely to invoke the faith in the name of policy are the ones who are most clearly denying it when thinking about immigration the refugee crisis. Politicians are proposing that only Christian refugees be allowed into the country without the approval of a top level security person. Others are threatening Christian organizations if they support refugees. Governors are working to bar fully refugees who have gone through the intense vetting process from entering their states. The leading GOP presidential candidate has suggested a special identification for Muslims.
In the name of security, faith is being replaced by fear.
I’ll admit it. I have fears.
I’m fear our country will be overtaken by fear, and everything that makes us great will be lost. I’m afraid the words etched on the Statue of Liberty – Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door! – will be rendered meaningless by our policies.
I fear our greatest values – that all people are created equal and have the right to pursue life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness – only applies to us. I fear that we don’t really believe that all are created equal, but only Americans are created equal. Only Americans have to right to pursue life, liberty, and happiness.
I fear Christians will succumb to nationalistic ideology, sacrificing the sovereignty of their faith for the sovereignty of the nation. I fear the stories we hold dear, like the Good Samaritan who helped his enemy, would lose any power to shape how we live in the world.
I fear the Bible becomes a tool used when it supports our policy. I fear our theology takes a back seat to our ideology.
I fear we would argue for the importance of a literal Bible reading on the definition of marriage, and relativize the teaching to love our enemies.
I fear we will get angry when the image of God is ignored in abortion, but look the other way when asked to take in the stranger.
I fear we will neglect the call to love because it is scary as hell.
So yeah, I have a lot of fears.
But I will not be afraid.
I will not be afraid of the person who looks differently, dresses strangely to me, and has a different faith. I will not be afraid when I hear different languages spoken around me.
I will not be afraid when asked to consider someone else. I will not be afraid when asked to embrace the other. I will not be afraid because someone sees the world differently than I do.
I will not be afraid, and sacrifice love for a little security. I will not be afraid, choosing to not to actively help the person in obvious need in front of me because of the incredibly small possibility of danger.
I will not be afraid because God does not give us a spirit of fear. I will not be afraid even though the earth should shake and the mountains fall into the sea. I will not be afraid despite the fact that the nations are in uproar.
Oh, I have fears. But I will not live afraid.
Once again the world finds itself in an uproar. The attacks in Paris have left all of us reeling. But it isn’t just Paris. It’s Beruit, Kenya, Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria. For months the nations of the world have tried to respond to the crisis in Syria. Refugees are flowing out of the region, spilling into Europe, Canada, and the United States. In the wake of the most recent terror attacks, fear has reached a fever pitch. Because one of the gunmen in the Paris attacks is thought to be Syrian (and there does seem to be some doubt as to whether he was or not) there has been a massive outcry against allowing in refugees from Syria to enter the US.
As of yesterday, 27 of the governors of the United States have said they will not accept refugees. Presidential candidates are suggesting that only refugees who can prove they are Christians should be allowed in.
Maybe it’s obvious, but let’s be clear: The Syrian people are suffering. They have been shot, killed, chemically attacked, and caught up in a five year civil war. These people have been living in the nightmare of Paris for five years. If I was there, I would want to escape too. I cannot fault the people for wanting to find peace, to gain a little more security, to sleep soundly.
“Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Would we run from the horror and look for a new home? Would we beg, plead, and do what we could to offer our children a better future? Would we fight against the cosmic game of chance that had us born in a war torn country and try and find a place where there is peace?
Hell yes, we would.
“Love your neighbor as yourself.”
I’ve been disappointed at the reaction of prominent Christians who have called for the closing of our borders, the demonization of an entire religion, and the xenophobia of a people. There is no bravery or courage in these actions. It is the abandonment of some of the clearest – and hardest – teachings of Jesus.
This brings to mind two of Jesus’ disciples: Judas Iscariot and Peter. One betrayed Jesus. One denied Jesus. Both abandoned Jesus. In a dangerous world, one in which our allegiance to Jesus is regularly challenged, we will be tempted to be Peter or Judas.
Many believed Judas to be a Zealot. His name includes the title “sicarii” which means ‘daggermen.’ The Daggermen were ultra-Zealots of the time of Jesus. Daggermen believed the Messiah would show up, raise an army, and defeat the Romans with the sword. Force was the means by which the Messiah would establish the throne of David.
When it became evident to Judas that Jesus was not going to defeat their enemies with force, Judas betrayed Jesus. Sold him out for thirty pieces of silver.
Peter wasn’t a zealot like Judas, but he was brash. Quick to defend Jesus in word and deed, Peter was convinced he’d never abandon Jesus. But, in a moment of fear, when faced with the uncertainty of his own personal safety, Peter denied Jesus.
Facing fear, will we deny that we know Jesus, belong to Jesus, and have chosen to live according to his values?
Or, in the face of fear, will we choose to love our enemies? To pray for those who persecute us? Do good to those who wish us harm? (Luke 6:27-36)
Will we carry the burden of our enemies two miles? (Matthew 5:41)
Will we give our cloak to the one who demands our tunic? (Matthew 5:40)
Or will we betray Jesus like Judas, selling Jesus out for the illusion of greater security? Will we sacrifice our greatest values – love, compassion, hospitality, kindness – so we can be less afraid? Will we deny that Jesus is who he said he is, that his values are our values for our personal safety?
Or, will we give to the one who asks and not turn away the one that wants to borrow? (Matthew 5:42)
Will we entertain strangers and unexpectantly spend time with angels? (Hebrews 13:2)
Will we feed the hungry, give something to drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit the prisoner? (Matthew 25:34-36)
For everyone person who argues back, “But what if your enemies want to kill you?” let’s remember that Jesus sat at the table with the one who would betray him.
Jesus never promises his disciples safety, nor did he say following him would be easy. In fact, he told us to count the cost. Living the way of Jesus is dangerous, upside-down, and foolish. Over and over again takes his disciples to the places where they are uncomfortable – through Samaria, to Caesura Philippi – has them interacting with those who are cultural enemies – Samaritans and tax collectors. Following Jesus takes courage and a bravery that looks like naive foolishness. It’s then, when faced with the apparent foolishness of living like Jesus that we are most likely to look for our thirty pieces of silver or a way to not be associated with Jesus.
There is definitely a time to fight evil. And no doubt, ISIS is evil. But refugees are not. That distinction is being lost and fear is blurring the lines. One we help, one we fight. And we do not sacrifice our helping those who need help because of our fear. We just can’t. Doing so will cause us to give up the greatest of our values – love. More so, it may cause us to give up Christ.
Don’t let fear cause us to be Peter or Judas. And if we’ve played Peter, let’s ask for forgiveness. There’s still time to feed sheep.
Please, don’t give into fear. Yes, there’s ample reason to be afraid. But don’t give into the fear. Fight for justice. Stand up for the oppressed. Welcome the stranger, and perhaps in the process you’ll entertain Angels. Hold on to love, compassion, and hospitality.
Nations are in an uproar. But God breaks the bow. God shatters the spear. God burns the shield.
You? Be still. Know that God is God and ain’t nothing changing that. Be still.
And love your neighbor as yourself.
Lately, the words have been harder to come by. So many times I’ve showed up at my computer, cursor blinking, and sat staring with a hollow mind. The words used to come fast. I could knock out a blog post in under an hour. Writing wasn’t the problem, finding the time to write all that I wanted to write was the problem.
Writing was easier before I was a “writer.” I was a pastor with a blog. Not a popular blogger. Not an author. Sure, I was writing, but I sure as hell wasn’t a writer. A writer knows how to use a semi-colon and, let’s be honest, those are more mystifying to me than the question of predestination. No, I was a guy with some thoughts and an internet connection. Not a writer.
Then I wrote a book and became a writer.
Have you noticed that success can sometimes be your worst enemy? When no one is noticing you, it’s easy to go about your business. It seems like it is easiest to do your best work when no one is looking, but the moment you get noticed, the moment people begin paying attention, there’s a new pressure. I think this is true whether we are talking about writing, painting, starting business, or teaching. Success changes how we approach what we love to do. There’s an expectation to keep doing what you’ve been doing, but with a new intensity. A greater consistency. Along the line something shifts, a subconscious transition that morphs the desire to create into the burden to produce.
Producing is very different than creating. Creativity is an act with intrinsic value and joy. Producing is an act that has value only because someone else has deemed what you produced has value. You don’t produce simply for the love of producing. You produce to sell. To market. To get shares. To gain follows and grow a platform. You don’t create for those reasons. God didn’t create the world to gain a world that would worship him. God created because he loves. God created because he is the Creator. And we, created in the image of the Creator, are to create for the simple joy of the act of making something new.
We are not producers, you and I. We are not what we produce. We are not even what we create. I get caught up in believing that lie. In my head, I know that I am not the crossed off items on my to-do list, but damn if I don’t feel better about myself when I’m crossing things off the list. In my head, I know I don’t have to produce to be worthy of love, but man I feel anxious when I haven’t published something in a while. I know sabbath rest is good for me, but it just makes me feel like I’m lazy. Somewhere along the way I became a producer, with my worth and my value tangled up in the value of a product.
A producer finds their identity in what they produce. They find their value in the value of their product. Which is horrible to think about since a product’s value is based on the demands of a fickle market. Think about letting your identity be determined by the same people who made the Snuggie popular. No thank you.
We are not producers.
We are creators.
As creators our identity is not in what we create or in people’s appreciation of what we create. No, we are simply creators because we are made in the image of the Creator.
So today, show up. Do what brings you joy. Do you love to write? Write. Love to cook? Cook. Do you love to figure out marketing strategies for your business? Then do it with joy. Do you love to teach? Then show up as a creator.
Whatever you do today, enter into the full joy of doing that thing for the sheer joy of doing it.
There is so much noise in the world today.
Especially on the internet.
Everyone has an opinion, and everyone can share their unfiltered thought with the world in an instant (I realize the irony here). There is a part of me that wants to abandon it all together for some quiet. But I keep sifting through all the opinions because there is some gold buried in the mud. However, lately it seems like there is more mud and less gold. And the mud is increasingly negative, cynical, and pessimistic.
My soul needs something more. I need to hear something beside the criticism.
Today, I need to hear that the church is good and beautiful.
Cheap shots at the church are a dime a dozen. Entire platforms have been built by individuals dragging the bride of Christ through the mud because she is fifteen years behind culture, too feminine, too traditional, too concerned with morals, too cheesy about it’s t-shirts. But I don’t care. I love the church.
There’s a good reason all of the above is true about the church. For starters, the church is fifteen years behind culture because the church isn’t a millennial, it’s too feminine because most of the people who show up and serve are women, too traditional because many of us grew up and love singing “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” and too moralistic because morals matters.
I can’t come up with a good reason for the t-shirts. For that we just need to apologize.
Listen, the church isn’t perfect. I get that. But I don’t need another blog post about the imperfections of the church. I need one that reminds me about why the church is beautiful. About how my idealism surrounding the Bride of Christ is deserved. Everyone wants to flip the tables. “Tear down this temple,” they cry, but no one is offering to rebuild it.
I need a few more people willing to rebuild the church.
Today, I need to hear that following Jesus isn’t about certainty.
It seems faith has been replaced by certainty. Doubt has been demonized, questions deemed unsavory, and uncertainty heretical.
We live in a day an age where what we can prove is believed. Certainty has become a manner of proof. Evidence of our rightness. And the best way to make sure people believe you is to be loud about your certainty.
I have just enough questions to keep me from being too loud. Too certain.
Sometimes I find myself questioning my goodness as a pastor/Christian because of my questions.
“If I was a good pastor I wouldn’t have these questions.”
“Real questions don’t hang out in the middle of issues like this, seeing both sides of the issue and waffling back and forth.”
“‘Faith is being certain of what we do not see.’ If I’m not all the certain, and sometimes have unbelief, does that mean I do not have faith?”
Faith and certainty are not the same thing, this I know. In fact, there is no room for faith when one is certain. Faith is completely irrelevant when our dogma’s are cocksure.
But I wonder if we haven’t made certainty an idol. In some regards, I would rather have certainty than faith. It’s easier. The more I follow Jesus the more I believe that faith is not the absence of struggle but the struggle itself. The struggle to still believe in spite of feeling God hasn’t delivered on his promises. The struggle to tenaciously believe that I am enough. The struggle to believe God could love me in Christ. The struggle to not let go. The struggle to let faith be faith.
I need a few more people willing to let go of certainty and struggle with me.
Today, I need to know that I am not what I produce.
The content I create – sermons, blog posts, articles, books – are so much a part of who I am. They are my beliefs, my hopes, my thoughts, my stories. But they are not me.
I get caught up thinking my worth and value is found in how much I produce. Taking a Sabbath day has always been hard for me. Rest of any kind has been a struggle. Here’s how hard it is for me: I hate naps. Hate them. I feel like they are a waste of time. During that hour or two, I could have mowed the lawn, fixed something, crossed of an item on my to-do list, done some work on the next book – the list is endless. And if I don’t do any of those things, I’ve squandered my time.
That’s what I’d have you believe. The truth is, under my desire to make good use of my time, is the belief that I am what I produce. And if I don’t produce enough, I am not enough. Not for you. Not for God.
I need to know that I am enough.
Today, I need to know that Jesus isn’t a Rorschach test.
Everybody has the “real Jesus”. Have you noticed that? Progressives have the real Jesus who is about justice and peace and equality; Conservatives have the real Jesus who is about morality and obedience and judgement. Jesus is pointed to by sides as the reason for their stance, and Jesus is used by both sides to show why the other side gets Jesus wrong.
We sure do seem to be using Jesus a lot.
I’ve come to believe that Jesus is much more complex than we like to admit. It is completely possible to make Jesus fit whatever agenda you have. Want Jesus to be a progressive? Done. How about a conservative? Piece of cake. A founding father of America? Why not! With a little cherry-picking, Jesus can be whatever we want him to be.
I need to know that we don’t get to decide who Jesus is. I need him to transcend tribes. I need him to call me to transcend petty tribalism.
I need to know I conform to him. I do not need Jesus to conform to me.
This list could go on. But I’ll end it here.
Today, I need to know I’m not alone.
Today, after nearly two years of writing, praying, hoping, and dreaming, my first book, Man Enough: How Jesus Redefines Manhood, releases out into the world.
It’s an odd feeling. On the one hand it feels momentous and huge and terrifying – and it is all those things! But on the other hand, today feels normal. I woke up, made coffee, took a shower, got dressed, and headed over to the high school to mentor a student like I do every other Tuesday. Today feels just like every other day. Oh, it will be different, there is no doubt about that. Writing this week’s sermon may be one of the most difficult because I will be distracted by the desire to scour social media to read all the tidbits about the book. There will be a low grade anxiety running under the surface as I imagine people getting the book in the mail, starting to read it, and then having thoughts about it. Maybe even not liking it.
Yeah, today will be the same and it will be very, very different.
But I also don’t want it to be just about me and my book. I want it to be about more. Even the book isn’t really about the book. It’s about the message I believe God has given me to steward. For it to terminate on me is to short-circuit the intent of the book which is to turn men (and women!) outward into the world. Working with the Holy Spirit, my hope is this helps release fully human Jesus followers who are willing to risk and love and generously give grace into a world that needs to know that God is near.
So on this day, I want to point beyond myself and my book and my “thing.”
First, in honor of the book’s release I want to do a couple of things. First off, there’s a t-shirt! My friend Micah helped put this together. I love the design, which is a play on the cover of the book. All the proceeds of the t-shirt sales will go to support the Syrian refugee crisis. I’d love it if we could donate $1,000 to the cause. Follow the link, get a killer shirt, and help a great cause.
Second, so many people have helped me in making Man Enough a reality. From my wife, Sarah, who supported the junk out of this project and me writing it; Jenni Burke, my agent; the team at Zondervan; and other writers. Seriously, so many writers out there helped me with edits, ideas, navigating the publishing world, and sharing about the project from their platform. I cannot thank them enough! Thank you!
I’d love to pay it forward. So here are a few books that are releasing in the next few months that I hope you’ll check out.
Coming Clean: A Story of Faith. Seth Haines. Releasing October 27, 2015
Seth is one of my favorite writers. He is a poet at heart, stringing words together in such a way that you don’t just read them, you see them. Sharing his own struggles with alcohol, Seth asks us to consider that we all might be drunk on something. Each of us has something we turn to for solace. For some, it’s the bottom of the bottle. For others, it’s the midnight scour of the internet. But we all have something. Peace comes when we’re willing to come clean.
Out of Sorts: Making Peace with an Evolving Faith. Sarah Bessey. Releasing November 3, 2015
Sarah’s book Jesus Feminist was such a helpful addition to the conversation around women in the church. In a style that makes you feel like you are sitting at the table over a cup of coffee, Sarah invites us to have conversations about contentious subjects in a way that moves the dialogue forward. In her new book, Sarah is inviting us to engage our faith. All of it. To ask the hard questions, admit our uncertainty and doubts, and feel like we are still holding on to something important. I can’t wait for this read!
Beginnings: The First Seven Days of the Rest of Your Life. Steve Wiens. Releasing January 1, 2016.
I got the privilege to read Steve’s book. It is one of the most creative approaches to the seven day creation story I’ve encountered. With the Genesis 1 account as a framework, Steve helps us to see that God is creating something new in us. Each transition in life is a new beginning if we are open to the possibility that God is still creating. Still shaping. Still saying, “It is good.”
Finding God in the Ruins: How God Redeems Pain. Matt Bays. Releasing March 1, 2016
Matt is a relatively unknown force in the Christian blogosphere. He doesn’t have the biggest following or the most read blog. But dang if he doesn’t have the ability to write and connect in a powerful way! Also, he has become a dear friend. One of the most genuine people I know. His book is going to be unbelievably encouraging and helpful for those who are walking in the valley of the shadow of death. Here’s a promo video Matt made for the book (also, he is a crazy good musician!)
These are books I’m going to be celebrating and reading. Which ones are you looking forward to?
Okay, the Donald doesn’t go to my church, the one I pastor. He goes to a church in New York City, Marble Collegiate Church, which is a church in my denomination, the Reformed Church of America. In a small denomination like ours, finding out Trump attends an RCA church was like finding out he has been slipping into the back of my church unnoticed.
I’ll be honest, my reaction to reading that Trump holds membership at a church in the RCA was visceral. When the church made a public statement distancing itself from Trump by saying that he is not active, I actually felt better. Donald Trump, from what I can tell from my limited exposure to The Apprentice and interviews, is not someone I would enjoy spending time with. He’s arrogant, abrasive, hyperbolic, and seems to lack compassion. With a high profile individual like Trump, with his name literally branded on some of the tallest buildings in the country, it wouldn’t take long for his name to overtake your church.
“Oh, you go to Trump’s church.”
“No,” I’d reply with the sidest side-eyes that ever side-eyed, “I go to Jesus’ church,” making sure to emphasize my spiritual superiority by Jesus-juking the possessive statement “Trump’s church.” “Trump just happens to show up for a little wine.”
This, admittedly, was my first reaction. See, I don’t want the Donald to go to my church. It embarrasses me that he might be associated with a denomination that I love. His attendance, in my mind, is like some sort of tarnish; a reason to classify our expression of faith as something it is not. To think that his politics of immigration might be associated with our theology of loving our neighbor upsets me. Or the possibility that his flippant remarks around the Eucharist might be confused for, and diminish our reverence for the sacrament. When I’m authentic, no, I don’t want Donald Trump to be a part of my church.
Which reveals that deep down, my heart is similar to Donald’s. I don’t want Donald in my church for the same reason Donald doesn’t want Mexicans in America: I don’t really love him and I’m not interested in trying.
Let me be clear. Love for Donald Trump isn’t about loving the candidate in a flag-waving, rally-cheering, he’s-getting-my-vote kind of way. I’m talking about loving the actual person. And when I say I don’t love him, it means I don’t love Donald Trump as I love myself. I have made Donald the other, willing and able to exclude him from fellowship because he doesn’t make me comfortable. I’m able to write him off because he thinks differently than I do. Even, willing to scoff at any claim he makes at being a Christian because he won’t name his favorite Bible verse or refers to the Lord’s Supper as a little cracker and wine.
If I am being honest, Donald’s nonchalant, nominal approach to faith is pretty common. There are a lot of people in churches across America who approach faith in a similar manner. There’s probably some in my church right now. And I gladly welcome them into my church in the hopes that one day they will have a Damascus Road experience and get it. I give them grace. But I won’t give it to Donald. Why?
I think it has something to do with the fact that Donald is so public, and that he’s a lightning rod. People love him or hate him. He speaks his mind and you know exactly where he stands. And, it seems, he isn’t going to be changing anytime soon (again, just how many people in my church does this describe? A lot, probably.). Or maybe, I don’t want Donald to be a part of my church because he is cartoonish. The hair, the over the top love of his name, having everything dipped in gold – it just seems like a grown up, cynical Richie Rich.
But, if I believe that grace is big, that everyone is deserving of it, that Jesus does not demand sinners to get right before they come into his presence, then I have to admit that that includes Donald Trump. Regardless of whether or not I want Donald Trump in my church, Donald is welcome in my church because I don’t get to stand at the door and let in only the people I like. Jesus stands at the door. Who he let’s in or keeps out is his divine prerogative.
All I’m asked to do is love my neighbor as myself.
Even if it’s Donald Trump.
Loving my neighbor one of the hardest things to do – especially when Jesus chooses my neighbor for me.
Recently, I had a lunch with someone who’s a few months out from becoming a dad for the first time. He shared how cynical he was about the world. Everything everywhere is bad, and it shows no signs of getting better anytime soon. Bringing a child into this world scares him.
It scared me.
It’s true. The world is broken, and it doesn’t take a scientist to tell us that. No one needs mountains of evidence to confirm the existence of suffering, anger, vitriol, racism, hatred, and death.
Most people have their beliefs explaining why things are as bad as they are – maybe even why they seem to be getting worse. Some will blame general human action in the world. We mess up everything: climate, rainforests, water, and MySpace. Eventually, we destroy what we love. Others blame religion. Some will point their fingers at government. In America, half the population will blame Obama for hitting all the red lights when they’re late for the Macy’s sale, even though we all know it’ really the devil’s fault.
Eventually, when talking about the brokenness of our society and world, you’ll get around to blaming men in some way. Fatherlessness, which is a significant problem, is a prime example. But we can also include men being blamed because they have become weak, wussies, lazy, feminine, and spineless. “If men were men,” the logic goes, “then we wouldn’t have problem X.”
Shaming men into action is the first play in the playbook. Guys have to prove themselves as men; we don’t just get to be a man. This leaves men wondering if they have done enough to measure up in the eyes of others, particularly other men. Tapping into this anxiety, shaming men can be a strong motivator. Men will get into action. If you wanted to get Marty McFly to do something, calling him a chicken was all it took to cause him to forget that he had to stop his mom from being infatuated with him less the space time continuum implode. If you want men to step up and take responsibility in the world, tell them they are lazy, or that they’re been chickified, or that they’re wimps. Sadly, this tactic has found its way into the church. It won’t take long to find a church playing this tune to “motivate” dads on Father’s Day.
Demanding men prove themselves is antithetical to a gospel that says we have nothing to prove. Christians should not use a tactic so rooted in American ideals to help men take effective action in the world. We should be different.
The gospel says that long before you were worthy of the title, God declared you, in Christ, to be an adopted son or daughter. You didn’t have to prove anything. This was done simply by God’s good divine choice. This becomes the reason that we act in the world. We take responsibility in the world because we are sons of God. Daughters of God. We care for creation because we are stewards. Motivating men doesn’t need to happen by shaming them, it needs to happen by remind them of who they are.
This is just one of the things I unpack in my upcoming book Man Enough: How Jesus Redefines Manhood. By contrasting American ideals about masculinity with the person and work of Jesus, I hope to help men:
- Find freedom from unattainable ideals
- Find security in their identity as sons of God
- Find confidence to be vulnerable
- Find ways they can take responsibility for the world around them.
You can pre-order the book now where ever books are sold. Man Enough would be great for men’s groups to study together. If that’s something you’re interested in, send me a copy of your receipt and I’ll send you a free PDF study guide to use.
Help me get the word out. In Christ, you’re already Man Enough.