And He loved him.

How do I get back up onto the path?

I don't know. How far off am I? In what direction?

The beautiful thing about the system down here is that when you feel yourself changing, you can attribute that change to maturing in Christ (and be upheld socially in doing so). So, as you slide slowly into the culture, there is a reward for giving in. Social acceptance. Feelings of comfort, and security. But that change might not be Christ. It could just be culture.

As I've watched this happening in myself, I've known, to a degree. Some of the changes were good, so I opened the doors for them, thanking God along the way for good things. Spending more time with people who would bring me away from the collegiate drinking culture, and less time with those who would bring me into it. Reading scripture with an understanding of God's sovereignty, and not just with a desire to be well-versed. Coming to love people with whom I had little in common, and had felt were destroying the faith.

Some of the changes were not so good, but I let them happen because they seemed so comfortable, and I could hide behind others in accepting them. I have found myself making excuses for the financial aspects of the culture. Buying into the "it's ok to be rich" arguments, even as every part of my being thinks that's not true. Thinks that none of us has earned the right to have over-abundance, when others among us are dying. I have changed myself, in response to implicit social pressure. I don't actually think that cursing is wrong, in itself! I don't think that drinking is wrong. I think this dating scene these people have going is whacked out. And it's more than just preference. I have intelligent things to say about these issues, but have kept a lot of it under wraps so as not to rock the boat. Though the Palin thing is too much for me--I have spoken out on that topic several times.

I have started to give in to the culture. Because it feels good. To be accepted. To have a church home, finally. To get a chunk of that certainty, and security.

But I don't think that's real. Deep down. I've known it. Christ is real. In so far as I can discern Truth now, atonement is real. But this modern megachurch, capitalistic culture is not real. It's a construct. And, if I'm honest with myself, though it feels terrific, I don't think it's the end point for me.

I've always felt that the power of Christ is a radical power. But that the majority of us are choosing to live outside of it. So we create these big experiences, with music and lights, to convince ourselves we've tapped into the power. When in reality, the power of Christ is so much closer, so much simpler, and perhaps quieter than that. I thought that James River's Christmas show was majorly problematic, for that reason. The people were wicked talented. But the focus was off. It felt so empty. Beautiful, but empty. I kept thinking, Shut all of that noise down, and just tell people the story. Tell them why it matters.

Someone would come along, and point out that the show is an outreach, and people enjoy those things. Those are the methods these days by which people are changed. Guess what? They're not. Not really. Maybe the church has lost some of its truly saving power, and resorted to that nonsense, because The Church is not doing what it ought to do.

We think we need light shows and music to catch peoples' attention, and change them. But how much more powerful could the church be if a millions-strong movement of people who were truly sacrificial? Who gave so much that they all lived without the majority of creature comforts? Who could point to real change in the world, and not just the drops in the bucket?

I think this is what we're called to. To redefine the concept of "need." To slash through our lives with a determination to save the world, and not just a half-hearted resolve to give our 10%, and live the American Dream.

One of my favorite stories in the bible is the parable of the rich man. And my favorite version is in Mark. The guy comes to Jesus, and he asks what he can do to inherit eternal life. And Jesus says, (skipping some stuff), that the kid should go and sell all of his crap, and then come back to follow Him. The guy is understandably upset, he has a lot of junk. And Jesus turns and says that it's hard for rich men to get into the Kingdom of God, so hard that it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.

Now the reason that Mark's account is my favorite is because as Jesus is talking, it says that He looked at the guy, "and He loved him." And I love that. It kills me every time, because it's so compassionate. It's not judgmental. He looks, He sees the predicament, He understands what he's asking of the guy. And He loves him. There are only two other parts of the gospels that I love as much--when Jesus weeps with the crowd at Lazarus' tomb, and His cry to His father on the brink of death. Good stuff. Anyway, when I read this, I wonder why we are so arrogant as to think that if Jesus seemed to think it would be near impossible for rich peeps to enter heaven, that we're up to the challenge.

Seems as though we're just trying to comfort ourselves. To hold on to what we want. That's not very humble. It's not teach-able. Also, it's just downright funny to me that people will not drink, for fear of tempting themselves or others. The single ones won't be alone in certain situations with the opposite sex, for the same reason. But, with regards to wealth, they will put themselves directly in the line of a temptation that Jesus and the gospel writers felt so strongly about that there's a parable to warn against it! That's effed up. And a handy bit of loose (ultimately illogical) interpretation. But mostly effed up.