A couple summers ago I took in a Styx concert. You remember Styx, right? “Lady,” “Come Sail Away,” & “The Grand Illusion.” The feeling of a warm summer’s night and music that magically transported me back to the 70’s was a glorious thing. Oh man… it all just took me back to days gone by and romanticized memories of when a severe lack of maturity reigned. Oh man.

At the concert, it seemed there were many other people around me… much, much older than me… who were trying very hard to relive those some days of immaturity. It was a sight not-so-beautiful to behold. Compromised tank and halter-tops paired with the betrayal of gray roots simply didn’t have the umph I remember as a hormonal teenager. Beer bellies and raised-fist rock salutes just weren’t as powerful as they use to be. Who were these people trying to kid? They weren’t fooling me, but was I just as foolish?

Maturity, it would seem, is highly overrated. Not too many are interested in the pursuit unless it has to do with our kids. I certainly want my teens to be mature, but I’m not confident it has the same value for me. Ironically, I even know the many necessary pains of life my kids must endure in order to mature into their twenties and thirties. I just don’t know if all that maturation muck is still for me. Why else would I pray for short cuts and comfort that can only short circuit my path to not lacking anything?

A hunger for maturity seems to be missing in our churches as well. How else do you explain the explosion of a soft, small-God gospel of prosperity? Book sales and packed churches are off the charts with people wanting a pain free way to be the best “they” that they can be. Selfish religion, not rock-solid maturity, becomes the sad end product of our current, Western, American masses. It’s as ugly as a 65-year
classic rock star still sportin’ the expanded spandex.

Real maturity, however, can result in healing, depth, wisdom, and staying power. This is the stuff most people say they want, but few have the stuff to actually realize. Maturity requires testing. Maturity is married to difficulty, which is why we divorce ourselves from any semblance of pain and suffering. Again, we know this to be true for our kids and their development, but somewhere in our own growth we decide our own definition of ripeness is sufficient.

I’m not preaching at the masses as much as I am realizing what a pain avoidance freak I am. And why not? Wouldn’t it be equally freakish for me to look for new and exotic ways to experience the joy of pain and suffering?

Somewhere in a healthy middle, there is a kind of joy to be found when life gets hard. When I can see God trusts me with a hard circumstance and silence, then a deeper well of joy begins to bubble. When I understand my current “life sucks” situation can lead to a perseverance and maturity, then I’m able to bask in the glory given to the Jesus I follow and trust. Then, I can soak in a Styx concert and not feel weird that I’m not weird like all those other old people around me trying to rock like we use to rock. Thank Jesus for that!

Beyond a receding hairline, increasing uncool clothes, and music tastes stuck in a time warp, maturity has a definite price to pay. It’s a bitter-sweet thing. I can only pray that I, and a few around me, will still see the ultimate payoff as something to grasp.

Alan’s Study Break Book List:

1. AND: The Gathered and Scattered Church by Halter & Smay
2. The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism by Timothy Keller
3. On the Verge: A Journey Into the Apostolic Future of the Church by Hirsch & Ferguson
4. Decision Points by George W. Bush
5. Church Planter: The Man, the Message, the Mission by Darrin Patrick

Starting June 4th, and going through June 18th you can read my daily blog.

I can’t wait to interact with you while I’m away seeking God’s direction for CCC.

To read my latest Blog, see below…

I just read the cover article of the latest Rolling Stone.

Steven Tyler is quite an interesting read. His use of the colorful side of language is legendary. In fact, recent American Idol tapings included extended and faked audience laughter to mix with bleeps and facial expressions to magnify Tyler’s art of the “F” bomb. Apparently this is very good for ratings.

Just yesterday someone asked me to give them an objective critique of a sermon from another preacher I have never actually talked with. With nothing to lose and no dogs in the hunt, I ripped this guy apart. Honestly, I just thought it was bad. In the name of a Biblical mandate to test spirits, is this allowed? We’re my words appropriate or set on fire by hell itself? I smelled no smoke or sulfur as my computer screen filled with professional opinions and insights.

I yelled at our dog last night. I really let it fly. She had dug up our finely manicured island… again. Sometimes my complete disdain for that dog, and my sweet emotions for a gardenesque back yard tend to clash. My words of discipline mostly likely fell on deaf dog ears, but my anger was very real. Can I yell at my dog so that a real person doesn’t catch my venom? This is allowed, right? Doesn’t this seem to be a reasonable and smart release?

I’m confident Steven Tyler doesn’t have any remorse over certain, questionable words most probably introduced to him along side classics like “Run, Jack, run” in the 50′s. So it seems, an “F” this or that to the Aerosmith front man is just as innocent and expressive as an “awesome” or “cool” in my world. I’d bet the ranch that Tyler’s heart remains relatively innocent with his language. We can argue whether a heart is innocent or seared, but my real concern is the condition of my own.

Along with some Rolling Stone, my devotional time this morning included the first twelve verses of James 3. This is the classic text about the power of the tongue. It gives me pause. It makes me think. It nails me.
As much as Steven Tyler is innocent (or seared… depending on how you like your meat cooked), I can have twinges of doubt with my words. Those are Holy Spirit induced heart pains attached to words that make me reflect what a beast is housed inside my mouth.

I am not a perfect man, just ask my wife. I can struggle with my words. I don’t launch “F” torpedoes. I’m not even prone to an occasional “freakin’.” I can’t hang with the verbal colors of Aerosmith. I just set whole forests on fire. I can paint myself as bigger and other folks consequently smaller. I can be very right, and make sure most know it. I completely understand my lack of innocence and still let’er fly. I’m also fairly certain God doesn’t flinch as much at Steven Tyler’s bleeps as he does my gossip.

I want to regain an innocence of language where I can say to a few around me, “Walk (or talk) this way.” I would like my heart and words to NOT condemn me like Tyler’s heart doesn’t condemn him. I guess I really do want to be a rock star. As much as the American Idol star’s innocence is washed clean by his ignorance, may my heart and words be washed with water through the Word. I want my words to be Jesus’ words. Then I would be a Rock star.

ISAIAH 43

God continues to pledge allegiance to me whether my past is tainted by sin or with success by His very hand.
I have seen God’s hand directly involved in my life. Just last night a tree fell in our backyard. Had it crashed to the west, it would have come through our bedroom window and jumped in bed with Sherry and I. It lays in our backyard this morning pointing directly towards the east. Should I attribute this to an unusually kind wind, or providential care?
About two years ago, we were able to buy our house for some $50k less than what we had been trying. Was this a freakish reaction of a recessionary market, or God’s really cool enabling help with our finances?
My daughter recently had her wisdom teeth taken out. One in 25,000 die from going under the influence anesthesia. My daughter is perfectly fine. Was this fine-tuned medicine, or God’s loving care of my precious first born?
I am a witness of God’s hand in my life. I have seen it over and over, and yet I forget. God always approaches me from a very intimate position. He knows my name, and yet I tend to forget to speak His as I fly through my days. God has provided me with water during desert times, and I can still remain unexhausted and unused as an unappreciative recipient of grace. I have unwittingly brought God my sins and desperation, but not my sacrifice and worship.
Why is this? How can this be?
Maybe I’m stuck in the past. Perhaps past sin continues to grip and cloud my ability to see God. It’s possible that past success keeps me from seeing His current, new activity. That’s certainly a strange dynamic, isn’t it? I loved and am now warmly romanticizing the coddling events of the past so much, that I am unmoved by a living and present God today. To neglect and shade my eyes from God’s current activity, can mean I’m locked into distant memories. Gratitude is a Godly trait that lets me remember the past with open hands, but fear is a non-God characteristic that entrenches me in the past without a desire to peek ahead into the glory of what God is doing right now. One approach helps me to be a living sacrifice that offers continual worship. The other takes me off the altar completely so that I can’t even see the spiritual reality of a fallen tree, healthy finances, or common anesthesia.
So do I argue this with God? Do I state my case otherwise? I can. I can review my past in a peculiar way that rationalizes and approves my inability to make the most of my opportunities now. However, I would bet before I start, that this would be a losing effort on my end.
God knows my name today. He knew it yesterday, and I am grateful. He also knows my name today. He’s doing a new thing with me today. That resilient fact must spur me towards gratitude and worship.