For as I long as I can remember, I’ve never fit in. In school, I worked hard at my grades and sports, but was never the best. I had friends, but wasn’t overly popular. When I went off to a small Bible College in the Midwest, I found I didn’t fit in there, either. Most of my classmates were from Christian families and conservative towns. I wasn’t.

Even within church, I found I didn’t fit with the “in crowd.” I didn’t fit in with the pastor, either. (Probably because I wasn’t into golf.) I’ve always enjoyed theology, but never felt I fit into a certain theological camp such as Calvinism or Arminianism.

And one day it hit me: I’m displaced. I’m not supposed to “fit in.” To be displaced means to live out of your natural environment. It’s the antithesis of conformity.

I discovered the idea of displacement when I first worked with refugees and immigrants on Chicago’s north side at World Relief, a refugee resettlement agency. Refugees are literal displaced persons. They are forced out of their environments and have to learn to live in a new one. Interestingly, I found I fit in with them very well. I learned so much from many of the refugees I worked with. I learned about hope, perseverance, adaptability, contentment… I could go on.

But the biggest lesson I learned from working with refugees is that I, as a follower of Jesus, am displaced. God’s people on earth are a pilgrim-people. We don’t fit in here because we’re not supposed to. We are refugees – exiles learning to navigate our way through the thick weeds and dense underbrush of the reality of living east of Eden.

That said, I strongly believe it’s in displacement God molds us and shapes us into the kind of people He wants: a people who are courageous and love passionately; people who take risks and realize that the kingdom they live for is subversive and doesn’t fit in to the world’s system. Displacement is where faith grows. Is it easy? Is it a seven-step-formula for a blessed life? No. But it’s real.

The last nine books of the Bible – Hebrews, James, 1st and 2nd Peter, 1st, 2nd, 3rd John, Jude, and Revelation – are all letters to instruct God’s people how to live out their faith in displacement. Each writer has a different perspective, a different lens in which they see it, but all of them see the church as transitory – a pilgrim-movement in a strange and hostile land moving toward the City of the King.

Paul Minear says, “The church is by its very nature composed of tent dwellers.” So, if that is true, are we to fit in and be comfortable in this world? How can we? We’re displaced.

I once read something by Philip Yancey that really struck me. He said, “Every writer has one main theme, a spoor that he or she keeps sniffing around, tracking, following to its source.” For me, my theme is displacement. And I sense God’s calling me to be a voice for other displaced people – literal refugees and immigrants – as well as pilgrim-Christ followers who want to make a difference in this world but know there’s so much more to come.

If you’ve followed this blog at all, you know it’s changed quite a bit: both in looks and in content. But if you sense you don’t fit in or feel you don’t belong in certain cultural and even religious boxes, than this blog is for you. I invite you on the journey I am on. A journey filled with twists and turns and uncertainties. But an epic journey nonetheless. One of great romance and adventure.

The truth is, even though we are out of our natural environment (out of the nest sort of speaking) displacement is the best environment for our faith to grow. It pushes us to rely on God more and gets us out of ourselves.

Most of our days in displacement are spent in the weeds. But occasionally, the weeds fade and you find yourself in a beautiful, lush meadow. The air is fresh, the birds are singing, and the flowers are a-bloom. At that moment, you see a little clearer and your burden is a little lighter, and “your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it’” (Isaiah 30:21).

Note: I’d love to hear your comments on how you’ve seen how your faith has grown in displacement.

As I mentioned in the last blog, what makes a good story is when a character faces conflict, when he or she is jolted out of the everyday and is forced on a new path.  And it’s in this conflict (this “inciting incident”) that God changes us and makes us into the people that He wants us to be.

Recently, too, I am reminded that we don’t change and live out a good story alone.  As Madeleine L’ Engle says, “our story is never written in isolation.  We do not act in a one-man play.  We can do nothing that does not affect other people…”

With that said, in this blog, I’ve invited a guest to post, Carl Johnson.  Carl’s an amazing guy who has a passion for God and a passion to live out a really good story.  He is an artist and poet, and started his own business called Saint Creative www.saint-creative.com 

Here is Carl:

We’re fascinated by the characters on the screen, aren’t we?

Captain Jack Sparrow. Indiana Jones. Rocky Balboa. Our eyes are glued to them, because of their magnetic presence, and because their character is so fun to watch! We admire Johnny Depp’s seemingly endless acting talents. We get swept up into Julia Robert’s world. Sometimes we wish we were them – and it doesn’t even have to be the big hero, like Christian Bale’s Batman. It could be the smaller roles in smaller movies. Even in romantic comedies, a girl might wish her luck in real life will turn out as sweetly as it does for the helplessly charming girl in the movie. We get attached to these characters.

As a movie watcher, I have always been particularly drawn to character actors. Do you know who I’m talking about? Can you envision someone in your head?

Instead of our beloved Rocky, think his brother-in-law, friend and trailer Paulie. His real name is Burt Young, and you love that guy.

A character actor is one who predominantly plays unusual or eccentric characters. The dictionary defines a character actor as “an actor who specializes in character parts, an acting role displaying pronounced or unusual characteristics or peculiarities”.

Unusual. Eccentric. Peculiar.

Character actors are usually effective because they give a consistent, dependable, even nuanced performance. They don’t need the spotlight to push the story along, but the story wouldn’t be the same without them in it. The best part about being a character actor is that you probably don’t know their name. Like have you ever been watching TV or a movie before and pointed and said, “Hey! It’s that guy!”?

Maybe it’s because I’m an artist that I gravitate towards the character actor in a film. I can move past a Tom Cruise every time and go straight to them. They’re interesting to watch. A character actor might be chosen for his or her role because they have a specific, unique look to them. Maybe a distinct voice. Some feature that makes them an obvious & natural choice. We don’t really think about it. They were built for a specific role, and we see them in that role, again and again. In a way, they fit that role so perfectly – sometimes more so than the main character himself!

I’m telling you, these character actors are unique kats.

Remember in the Bible how we are called “a peculiar people? But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light; 1 Peter 2:9 (KJV) I usually joke with my good friend Chris Waterman and tell him this verse was written for him. He is one peculiar dude. He is a saint, a stranger in a strange land, and I love him. I always felt as though it meant peculiar, like in the weird sense, but this is not the case. It’s basically referring to us a prized, purchased possession. Belonging to God.

We are His special people, called to a special role, with Kingdom work at hand.

In order to live in God’s story, and to participate in the good stuff that is Kingdom work, we don’t need to be the main character. That role has already been filled. We can learn to develop our craft at being the character actor. Our “performance”, as it were, should be nuanced, unusual and memorable. Remember, you do have a unique voice. Nobody can fill that role in God’s Kingdom like you can. We can play a unique – even peculiar role – in God’s great story as it unfolds during our lifetime. I believe He’s looking for character actors.

For those of you that have checked my blog out and have followed it, first off, thank you. Second off, I want to apologize for being so inconsistent. The combination of writing a book (which I’ve been working on since last spring) and moving to a new state have contributed to my lack of posting on a regular basis. It’s my hope, however, to change that and be more consistent in blogging.

I’d like to start a blog series on how to live out a good Story, entitled, Living in God’s Story.

The last few months or so, I’ve been thinking a lot about story. Many churches I know are using the Story as a way to teach through the main themes of the Bible and help people understand the Bible as narrative.

In addition, I recently finished a really good book by popular author, Donald Miller, entitled, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, which is about how to live out a good story.

For me personally, working with a people group that is very story-oriented, I have been challenged in thinking about how God’s story affects people’s lives – how it affects my life. And the truth is, I want to live out a really good story. The Bible says we are “God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works” (Eph. 2:10). The Greek word for workmanship is poiema, which is where we get our English word poem. Literally, we are God’s poems – His verse, rhythm and prose; and He is writing and editing our lives each day, weaving our stories into the Larger Story of His redemptive purpose. How exciting! But it’s our job, I believe, to not only understand the Larger Story of God’s purpose, but to see how He has wired us and how our story fits into that Story.

I recently came across a poem by Robert Frost that touches on this, and communicates a deeper truth that the Story, first and foremost, has to be recovered. The poem is entitled, “Nothing Gold Can Stay.”

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

The truth is, Eden has “sank to grief.” This is a huge part of the Story: a story of grief because of rebellion and sin. A loss of innocence; a great deception by a serpent. Each and every day, this same deception is played out as God’s children are tempted to believe that God is not to be trusted and that that they can be “like God.” This lie has caused so much damage in our world: wars, homicide, corruption, greed, millions of people being displaced and forced to live in poverty, abuse… you name it.

The first part of understanding the Larger Story is understanding the dark side of the story – the brokenness and pain. Frost is right, nothing gold can stay… at least not yet. But one day, we are promised, all will be made right (we will be made right!) and we will once again walk with God in the cool of the day as we were designed. We will walk on streets of gold in a City made of gold and precious stones.

But in the meantime, how are we to live in this this world of darkness and uncertainty? How can we be a part – a vital, vibrant part – of God’s story in the world?

In the blogs that follow, I will be using the narrative of a letter that God wrote His people while they lived as refugees in a world that was unfamiliar to them – in a dark and often brutal empire. The letter was a love letter from God, a letter latent with hope. Ultimately, it reveals the Larger Story of God’s purpose for His people. This letter (the first letter we see in the Bible, in fact) is found in Jeremiah 29. I believe it is a great and applicable narrative for disciples living in the 21st century longing to live out effective and meaningful stories.

So I hope you will join me on this journey. As A.B. Simpson wrote: “Like wise sailors living a life of faith, let us launch our ships into the deep. We will find all things are ‘possible with God’ (Luke 18:27).”

The biggest part of discipleship, I think, is about becoming more than about doing. What I mean is: God is more interested in us becoming (or I should say being) the right person than doing or performing or trying.

Discipleship is a journey, a journey of becoming more and more like Jesus throughout our lifetime. It is the ultimate adventure! And like Chesterton said, often adventures come on dull days not on sunny ones.

But I think if we’re honest with ourselves, many of us feel we are in a thick fog – a fog that we can almost taste, the kind that is described in Dickens’ writing when he talks about London. This fog is inevitable; it’s a result of the fall. The old modernistic mentality of “pulling up our spiritual bootstraps” just doesn’t cut it. It doesn’t work. We cannot pull ourselves out of the fog. So what do we do?

We learn to live in the fog, to cut through it by believing and becoming and trusting that God is with us. He promises that He won’t leave us like orphans (John 14:18). Jesus tells His disciples on that dark, yet mystical night in the Upper Room: “I’m leaving you well and whole. That’s my parting gift to you. Peace. I don’t leave you the way you’re used to being left – feeling abandoned, bereft. So don’t be upset. Don’t be distraught” (Jn. 14:27, The Message).

Don’t we often feel distraught, bereft, abandoned? This is the fog, the result of living in a fallen world. But in this fallen world there is peace: a peace that only Jesus can give. This alone can lift us above the fog; it clears our throats and dries our eyes. Granted, the fog is still there. But it’s manageable.

This is the journey of discipleship. It’s not fireworks, magic, or warm-fuzzies. It’s getting through the fog, day-by-day, trusting in the One who went before us and promises to come back and take us to where He is. Although we may feel like orphans, it’s not true. The god of this world (Satan) wants to do everything he can to knock us of the path, that narrow path that slashes through the fog, and get us to really believe we are in fact alone in the world – that we are orphaned.

What I’d like to share with you, in hopes that it will help keep you on the path, is how to give God our best and the reasons we don’t. This blog, then, will be covered in three different parts. The first parts I will deal with three main reasons we don’t give God our best.

I pose these reasons in questions, or doubts, that many a follower of Christ wrestles with. They are (1) “Can God be trusted? Is He good?”; (2) “Why would God use me? I’m not that important”; and (3) “I’m just too busy. I have nothing to offer.”

These, I believe, keep us from giving God our best. And by giving God our best I do not mean trying to perform for God like some kind of circus monkey. It’s not about trying to do good, not mess up, or be perfect. It’s trusting – trusting God with our lives and doing our best to being the person He wants us to become.

That’s why I say discipleship is a journey. A journey of becoming more of the person we are meant to become.

So I invite you to journey with me, through the fog, through our doubts and the lies that we often succumb to, and become more of who God wants us to be.

For those of you who read this blog, thank you. My journey continues as my family and I, in just a few short days, move from Chicago to East Dearborn, just a mile or so from Detroit. My urban discipleship-journey continues; just in a different area and with different people.

Blessings to you and yours!

What comes to mind when you hear the word temperance? Sadly, it is a word that has been lost in our day and age, a word some might consider “out dated.” But it is a powerful word – an important virtue to possess if we, as disciples of Jesus, are going to navigate our way through the murky waters of our culture.

Temperance means to be self-controlled; it is to give yourself to something, but with restraint. Proverbs 17:27 says, “He who restrains his words has knowledge, and he who has a cool spirit is a man of understanding.”

It’s an active, thoughtful resolve to restrain our wills, minds, actions, and tongues; in a word, our whole self. C.S. Lewis in his classic, Mere Christianity, calls Temperance a Cardinal Virtue. He writes that temperance is, “not abstaining, but going the right length and no further.”

In our times, it is imperative that we have temperance. Many great Christian thinkers (many who I believe were prophetic) warned us of the dangers of a relativistic, secular society. Lewis himself, Francis Schaeffer, G.K. Chesterton, William Law, all warned us of what lies ahead. Well… we are in the thick of it.

It was the German philosopher, Hegel, who opened the door to a relevistic point of view. Whether he meant to or not, he devised a thought-pattern that moved away from cause and effect (the thought of truth and its opposite, non-truth, or error) to a synthesis. A synthesis, as defined by Schaffer, is “The combination of partial truths of a thesis and its antithesis into a higher stage of truth.”
Does this all sound theoretical? It is the reality we find ourselves in. People (including many Christians) succumb to this deadly worldview that there is no truth (or partial truths). With no real absolutes, then, you can pick and choose a truth that you like, as you would at a lunch buffet. As Chesterton said long ago, the problem is not that people believe in nothing; it’s that they believe in everything.
This makes it very challenging to live out and proclaim the gospel in our secular age – especially in hyper-secular environments like urban centers. Yet our leading universities are in the world are in cities. The thoughts that shape our world are coming from the minds of these institutions. And much of what these minds absorb is that there is not one true truth; and all we can hope for is to find a truth that works for our lifestyle.

What does that this have to do with temperance? Well Paul, the father of all “Christian thinkers”, says, “See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception, according to the tradition of men, according to the elementary principles of the world, rather than according to Christ” (Colossians 2:8). And just before that, Paul tells the Colossians that he sees their “good discipline and the stability of your faith in Christ” (vs. 5).

In short, we are to be wise in the age we live in, and careful of what we allow in our minds and hearts. The subtly of relativism is very pervasive. It can creep up on us like fog rolling over San Francisco. We must be people of good discipline and stable in our faith in Christ. We must have temperance. If we live intemperate, without restraint, we will find that we are ineffective in our witness of Christ. It’s not easy; it is against everything we’ve been taught at our schools and through the media, but it is the way of Christ.

Let’s recapture this forgotten virtue, dust it off and practice it daily.