By Age 33 . . .

Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence when he was only 33 years old. That's how old I am right now. What did you accomplish by age 33?

The Tyranny of the Tiny

He who lightly esteems hand washing shall perish from the earth – The Talmud

“Then some Pharisees and teachers of the law came to Jesus from Jerusalem and asked, ‘Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? They don’t wash their hands before they eat!’ Jesus replied, ‘and why do you break the command of God for the sake of your tradition?’” (Matthew 15:1-3)

In his book, A Church That Flies, Tim Woodruff tells of a devastating controversy that erupted in the Russian Orthodox Church in the 17th century. The accepted way to make the sign of the cross was to place the thumb against the ring finger and raise the remaining three fingers. Certain outlying churches, however, began a practice of placing the thumb against both the ring finger and the little finger, only raising two fingers. In 1684 these “schismatics” were outlawed. They were arrested, tortured, dissident priests were executed, churches were burned, and entire communities were wiped out!

We could so easily dismiss these people as confused or tragically off-center, but to them, this matter was critical – it was a test of “faithfulness.” We could multiply stories of religious people consumed with tiny things. For centuries, the Catholic Church insisted that services be conducted in Latin – long after that language was dead. Quakers still used “thee” and “thou” long after Elizabethan English had passed from use. The Amish still cling to 19th century modes of transportation. Why? They will all say, “faithfulness.”

I call tiny things tyrannical because of the disproportionate amount of time and energy we spend on small things. Jesus criticized this kind of spiritual microscopia in Matthew 23 when he told the Pharisees they strain out a gnat, but swallow a camel! That’s what the tyranny of the tiny does – it makes one blissfully ignorant of what’s important. It focuses on a tree rather than the forest. The tyranny of the tiny persuades one that small things are important. This is why Jesus despised Pharisaism. That is what he found so pernicious about their faith. They ignored what mattered, they deified details, they valued what was worthless – and in so doing they turned God’s Kingdom on its head. In our efforts to be “faithful” let’s not fall into the same trap as so many others. Let’s see the big picture. Let’s join with Jesus in his mission so seek and save the lost!

Finger Wagging and Trite Morality

I've been thinking a lot lately about how Christians interact with culture. Two of my favorite movies are Love Actually, and Saved - both have been hammered by Christians. Why? Because Saved makes fun of the whole "Jesus is my personal savior" shallow, and, ironically, judgmental evangelical culture, while Love Actually is replete with bad language and some nudity. These same people will watch Facing the Giants and tell all their friends to do the same. That's odd because the message of Facing the Giants is unChristian! One Christian review site site this: "I saw absolutely nothing offensive to mention. There is no violence at all, other than normal football play. I saw nothing of concern in that. One player was hurt in a game and helped off the field. There is no profanity, no sexual situations, and no scantily-clad or half-dressed people in the movie. It was a good, clean family film; and I recommend it for viewers of all ages." So, Christian theology holds that if you pray hard God will let your football team win and you'll make more money and everyone will love and respect you? Where? In what gospel? Meanwhile, Love Actually presents a profoundly Christian message about the primacy of love - and the many expressions of love.

So, in this context I found this quote from ethicist Christian Smith: "When it comes to the relatively important things in life – basic values and behaviors concerning power, prestige, justice, peace, security, work – most Christians are indistinguishable from the world. Still, Christians know that they should be different from the world in some way, and so in an effort to establish some kind of Christian distinctiveness, attention is focused on the trivial, which by it’s very nature does not require us to make difficult changes in our lives. In the end, it’s entirely okay to be captive to the idols of mass consumerism, as long as we don’t watch R-rated movies; it’s perfectly acceptable to spend our lives pursuing a cozy affluence, as long as we don’t mow our lawn on a Sunday; it’s just fine to live a life completely indifferent to systematic starvation around the world, as long as we don’t drink a beer. We, like the Pharisees, strain out a gnat, but swallow a camel." I tend to agree. How about you?

My Life

This is what I feel like right now! Questions? Comments? Encouragement?

House Hunting - The Pain and the Pleasure

Today Holly and I spent the day in Kaufman looking for a new house. As you can see in the picture, we probably can't afford the one we both want, so now we have to resolve a long-standing point of contention between us: Holly likes old (she uses words like "antique," "historic," and "full of charm and character"), I like new things.

But first, let me rewind . . . I have accepted the position of "Senior Minister" with the Kaufman Church of Christ. How did this happen? I wasn't looking for a new church or a new job. This one kinda came looking for me - this is usually very good! This is especially good when you are a preacher because so many preachers have to leave churches under very bad circumstances. So when the Kaufman elders decided to plant a new church, they called Charles Siburt's office at ACU. He recommended me - I met with the elders, the office staff, the current preacher, I preached for them - and the rest is history!

I really struggled with this decision. Life in Abilene is very comfortable. We have a nice house, I'm close to ACU, Holly loves her work, our best friend (Jennifer) is here, and I'm fairly happy at Baker Heights. But at age 33, you can't make carreer choices based on comfort and security. What Kaufman offered me is about as exciting as it gets - I am the new Senior Minister, a 30-year-old is the new Spiritual Formation Minister, and a 23-year-old from the Southern Hills church is the new Youth and Worship Minister. Plus, this church has three new elders. They are a more "progressive" church than where I currently preach. I feel honored that they have asked me to lead this team of young ministers and this vibrant church. I really could not say no! I feel so blessed that I am leaving Baker Heights with the blessing of the elders and the respect of the congregation.

I feel so honored and so blessed and so excited, and yet hurt and scared at the same time! Please pray for me, Holly and William as we begin this new and exciting journey. Oh, and that we find the right house as well!

The Day My Life Changed

I am a different person than I was two years ago. No really, I am. Sure, everyone grows and changes and matures, but I am fundamentally different – to the point where I have done a lot of soul-searching. It’s not that I have just grown – the whole trajectory of my life has changed. And it’s not just because we now have our own child and I am a father. Things I used to be “hardcore” about have no effect on me anymore. It’s not that I want to take the other side now – it’s that I don’t want to argue at all. I don’t feel like I have to be right. I feel more compassion. I have more tolerance and understanding for people who do wrong. I don’t get angry in the way I used to. I feel less selfish and materialistic. My priorities are different. On and on I could go. Now before you think I ought to get on Oprah, I want you to consider something: I believe that when someone’s life changes fundamentally, they ought to be able to know themselves well enough to pinpoint the moment it all changed. I call these “hinge moments.” To quote Ruel Lemmons: “The greatest forces of all time do not come with powerful explosions or the noise of racing chariots; they come on silent wings. The power of love is such a force. And grace and goodness make little racket.” I have thought about this, and I keep going back to the same place. Here is one of my journal entries from our last trip to Zambia:

“Tuesday, June 28th, 2005: Today we drove to the Chadiza district on what may or may not have been a road to do two medical clinics - one in Chadiza, and one in a little village called Kabvuwa right on the Mozambique border. James and I rode point with Wellington, but we still managed to get lost getting there, so we showed up fairly late in the afternoon. Being lost on the Mozambique border is not good! Trust me on this. You cannot imagine a poorer or more remote place on earth. The villagers had been waiting for hours, but when they saw our van kicking up dust on the road, they got up, and welcomed us with joyful singing. And then we got to work. I preached (arduously, through a translator), we gave out pills, we cleaned sores and burns, and we pulled lots of teeth. As the sun started to set we worked frantically to help as many people as possible – even pulling teeth in the dark with only one small flashlight. With my preaching duties done for the day I decided to help Laurie with wound care. A young girl, maybe 9 or 10 years old, wearing a bright blue shirt came to us with a severe infection in her eyes. They were swollen, and full of puss. With water and cotton swabs we cleaned out her eyes. The poor girl was clearly in severe pain. But when I looked her in the face, and we made eye contact she flashed me a beaming smile like I had never seen before. It was a look of relief and gratitude and true happiness. In the poorest, most remote spot I have ever been to a little girl showed me true happiness. The emotion of the moment flooded over me, and I couldn't hold back the tears. I had to sneak around the corner and sit in the van for a few minutes so the rest of the team wouldn't see me not smiling. They don’t know that the constant smile is a mask I wear for their benefit. I am heartbroken. I'll never know that little girl's name, I’ll never see her again, but she’s why we keep coming back to Zambia.”

After that trip I split off from the group and went down to my hometown in South Africa for 5 days. I sat on the beach one morning, all alone, and cried! About what? About everything! Every failure I’ve ever had, every mean thing I’ve ever said, every argument I’ve ever won because I know big words, every person I’ve ever disappointed, every bad decision I’ve ever made, every good thing I’ve ever lost, every callous thought I’ve ever had. And much more. I came home cleansed, and with fundamentally altered priorities and motivations. It was a rebirth.

My Son - One Degree Removed

Our son, William Riley North, was born in Abilene, Texas on February 22nd, 2007. I was born in Port Elizabeth, South Africa in 1974. My father was born in Port Elizabeth, South Africa in 1952. No, this isn’t simple genealogy. At no other time in human history has so much change happened in two generations. The world that my father was born into does not exist anymore. 1952 may as well be 500 years ago as far as my son is concerned. In two generations everything has changed - culture, technology, politics, communication, travel, and religion. But here’s the big thing that I’ve really thought about lately. My son was born an American. That may not be a big deal for most of you, but it is for me. I was not born an American. I spent years of my life dreaming about going to America. I went through many hoops to become an American. I only became an American on February 22nd, 2005 – at age 31. This is really a big deal for me! My son’s formative experiences will be radically different from mine in so many ways. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far.

My son will not know Port Elizabeth, South Africa. This is my hometown. This is where I was born, where my father was born, where his father was born. In fact, my family has lived in Port Elizabeth since 1820. We settled in Port Elizabeth with the earliest British settlers. My great-grandmother’s grandparents (Benjamin and Ann Leach) arrived in Port Elizabeth on Monday, May 15, 1820 on board HMS Weymouth from Portsmouth, England. My son will not have that rich family heritage in terms of a “hometown.” I will take him to Port Elizabeth someday and show him where I grew up.

My son will not know his relatives in South Africa as I know them. People I love dearly and grew up with will be complete strangers to him.

My son will not grow up speaking two languages fluently – English and Afrikaans (Dutch) as I did. It’s hard to explain what it’s like to live in two very different worlds, and feel comfortable in both.

My son will not know or appreciate the heritage of a British colonial education – the School Houses, the discipline, prefects, and uniforms.

My son will not understand rugby and cricket. He’ll play football and baseball.

My son will not know the comforting smell and sound of the ocean. People laugh at me when I say, “The Sea is in my blood.” But it’s true!

My son will not know the sights and smells of Africa. Africa is a world of enchantment that cannot be explained to someone who has never gone there.

My son will not have the stigma of apartheid as I had growing up. When I was a kid white people were only 13% of the population, but we had all the power, and the rest of the world hated us.

My son will think it odd to drive on the left side of the road. I used to find it odd to drive on the right side of the road.

Can you think of anything else?