With Reverence

28 January 2025

A friend recently raised the question of how to cultivate reverence for God. In a culture of therapeutic moralistic deism and “Jesus-is-my-boyfriend” music, how do we keep ourselves from treating God casually, even flippantly? This was my answer.

I remind myself who I’m dealing with: the God who made the world and everything in it (and then de-created and re-created it all in the Deluge), crushed the Egyptians’ gods and slaughtered their firstborn, came on Horeb in earthquake, fire, and storm, invaded Philistia alone by allowing the capture of the Ark so as not to reward Israel’s faithlessness, and emerged with offerings, triumphant. The God who fulfilled His promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who opened the secrets of the kings’ dreams to Joseph and Daniel, who used Balaam (1400 years before the event) and Daniel (550 years before the event) to send the Magi to fund His Son’s life-saving flight to Egypt. The God who has never failed to notice a sparrow falling from a bough, who numbers the very hairs on my head, who knows my every sin, failing, weakness, and character flaw, and has aggressively forgotten them all.

I’ve spent time with some dangerous men over the years — good men, but dangerous. (I’ve spent time with dangerous men who were not good, too, but I’m talking about the god ones right now.) Sensible people do not treat such men carelessly: you think before you speak, attend to small courtesies, go somewhat out of your way to avoid giving offense unnecessarily. And if you’ve given offense, you face it decisively and take the consequences as they come.

I remind myself to treat God at least as reverently as that. He is *for* me and He loves me, but He is not to be trifled with. Wise men remember that.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Strong Flavor

21 January 2025

For many years in my ministry, we’ve talked about taking a “craft beer” approach to ministry. A mass-produced beer like Miller Lite is designed so that pretty much anybody can drink it. There’s nothing that would bother anybody, but at the cost of being pretty tasteless: inoffensive, but insipid. Nothing memorable, nothing interesting. A craft beer like Russian River’s Pliny the Elder, on the other hand…it’s a very strong set of flavors. Set free from the burden of trying not to offend anyone, the makers of Pliny the Elder are free to execute a positive vision, to make a product that is unapologetically something in particular instead of generically inoffensive. Lots of people don’t like it, but the ones that do, like it a lot more than Miller. A liquor store near me used to limit Pliny purchases to one bottle per customer, and they’d still sell out in a day.

God has not called you to be inoffensive.

Everything you do isn’t going to be for everybody. To some we are the aroma of life, and to others the aroma of death. But what God has called you to be — be that, as hard as you can. Don’t make yourself tasteless

Go forth and be a strong flavor. If God calls you to serve a particular demographic, do what you need to do — and then be a strong flavor! Don’t make yourself tasteless.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

G-d

14 January 2025

Some believers have taken to using “G-d” and “L-rd” rather than “God” and “Lord.” What are we to think of this?

This is a modern reflection of the rabbinic practice of refusing to say the name of God. This was not the practice of the ancient Hebrews of Old Testament times (an important point, and we’ll get to that). The practice of substituting a circumlocution for God’s name developed at some point after the Babylonian captivity (I’m not sure we can pinpoint when).

The rationale given for the practice of substituting “Adonai” (“my Lord”) for YHWH is derived from the Third Commandment: “You shall not take the name of YHWH your God in vain.” If we never even say the name—so goes the reasoning—then we can’t take it in vain, and thus we will keep the commandment. This is wrong for four reasons.

First: REALLY???? Does anybody honestly think that God gave the Third Commandment hoping that we would all just stop saying His name? Does anybody really think that’s what God was after?

Second, this sort of overly scrupulous fence around the law is an unnecessary burden. God actually gave us the law that matters, and here we are making up extra regulations to keep. Why? This is the kind of reasoning that took a command against boiling a kid goat in its mother’s milk and extrapolated it so far that you can’t have a milkshake with your hamburger, even though none of that is from goats, the milk and the meat don’t come from the same breed of cattle, and it doesn’t boil in your stomach anyway.

Third, from Eve’s “Neither shall you touch it” to today’s adulterous pastor who keeps the Billy Graham rule, that sort of thing is always destined for failure. As Paul would later write, “These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom in self-imposed religion, false humility, and neglect of the body, but are of no value against the indulgence of the flesh.” It just doesn’t help. Building extra fences doesn’t stop us from eventually breaking God’s law anyhow.

Finally, this particular brand of scrupulosity doesn’t actually meet the burden of the Third Commandment anyhow. Remember the expansive way that Jesus reads the Sixth and Seventh Commandments: hating someone in your heart without cause already breaks the command against murder; lusting for someone not your spouse already breaks the commandment against adultery. Now imagine that you were to say something that would violate the Third Commandment if you used the actual name of God, but instead you substituted “G-d” or “HaShem” (Hebrew for “the Name” and a commonly used circumlocution for exactly this purpose). Do you really imagine God is going to say to himself, “Well, technically, that’s allowed”??? I don’t think so.

So this to say: If you personally feel convicted to use “G-d,” then go ahead, but don’t think that observance is protecting you from violating the Third Commandment. If you’re wondering if you should adopt the practice, you need not feel compelled, and no one should try to compel you.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

The Glories of a Good Corn Dog

7 January 2025

Imagine a friend of yours got involved in a commune, one of the really crunchy ones that does their own farming and such along with poetry nights and music and art. They’re pretty good at all this, actually. They’re using some really interesting permaculture practices at the communal farm, the poetry is actually half-decent, and they make the absolute best goat-cheese pizza you’ve ever tasted. As you ask a few more questions, it turns out that come March 21st, they’re all planning to drink cyanide in order to liberate their spirits to join the alien spacecraft that’s coming to take them away. Upon further investigation, this is the third such cult the charismatic leader has founded. He contends that the suicides of the two previous groups have indeed gone on to be with the aliens, while he selflessly remained behind to spread the good news.

How fast would you want to get your friend out of there?

So listen, I have some bad news for you. Large swathes of Western culture are that commune. We’re doing it in slow-motion, but look at the birth rates. What we are seeing is a cultural suicide pact. Hold that thought for a moment, we’ll come back to it.

****

In a post that’s worth your time to read, Michael Clary observes that one of the major objectives of neutral-world church strategy was “drawing left-leaning urban millennials, the most coveted demographic of the neutral world church planting boom.” In the interests of drawing the left-leaning urban crowd into church, we were all counseled to be “gospel centered” and “major on the majors,” setting “secondary matters” aside as “distractions.” Why were we given that counsel? Is it because our church growth experts were so taken with the gospel that for them, everything else just paled in comparison? Pretty to think so…but no, as I’ll demonstrate about four paragraphs down. Our experts knew that the left-leaning urbanites we were courting despised everything we love: backyard barbecues, fireworks on the 4th, “World’s Greatest Mom” mugs from Wal-mart, funnel cakes and corndogs at the county fair, all of it. They told us to “major on the majors” because our corn dogs offend left-leaning urbanites.

The urban elite have way fewer kids than the rest of us. It’s “grill Americans” who have the kids; the ranks of the urban elite are fed by a steady stream of young adults emigrating from flyover country. As a result, the rank and file of left-leaning urbanites didn’t grow up in that culture. They actually came from “grill American” culture, and lhey left it behind on purpose in order to fit into the elite leftist culture of their colleges. (You can tell this by their social media feeds over the holidays: they’re constantly reposting supportive tips for getting through dinner with your conservative relatives. Natives of the urban elite don’t have dinner with conservative relatives.) As young adults, these cultural emigres look back on heartland American culture with the white-hot disgust of the newly converted. In part, that performative disgust is driven by vulnerability: if you grew up slinging fries at McDonalds, you can’t afford for anybody at your art gallery job to even suspect you of plebian tastes — the accusation alone could ruin you.

I had half a mind to make this post a hit piece on that sad and hypocritical demographic. While they maybe deserve it, they need Jesus too! Somebody’s gotta go in there and get them, and the ugly truth is that unless you happen to catch them struggling to change a tire, you probably can’t make the initial approach in greasy Wal-mart jeans with a Modelo in your hand. When it comes to the logistics of winning that demographic, our neutral-world coaches were not wrong about the things they would find off-putting. But this is one of the major problems with managerial culture: it gets preoccupied with logistics at the expense of values.

Our coaches didn’t just steer us away from tailgating at the high school football game; they also told us to expunge all references to the sin of abortion from our church services; in fact, they told us not to talk about politics at all (as if the Bible doesn’t speak to such issues!) They upbraided us for big celebrations of Mothers’s Day and Father’s Day. They wrote long think pieces about the dangers of what they called “idolatry of the family” — a sneer at those who have the audacity to think growing up, getting married, and raising kids is normal. “Major on the majors; keep it about Jesus,” they said. “All things to all men,” they said. Too many of us listened.

Here’s what actually happened: Our advisers were not counseling us to “avoid secondary issues” because they cared so much about the gospel; it was because they wanted to muzzle the conservatives. Conservative values embarrassed them, and so as long as the voice of the church on “secondary issues” was conservative, no excuse was good enough for bringing those issues up. Now that left-leaning urbanites occupy positions of influence in the church, the very same advisers have suddenly discovered that there’s nothing more gospel-centered than a left-leaning take on…well, anything.

That joke about global warming on a record-setting snowy day? Total distraction. Come on, let’s keep it about Jesus, okay? But Greta Thundberg on climate change, that’s gospel-centered. Christians of all people should care about the world God made.

What are we to do with this situation? We can gather in twos and threes in desolate places and grind our teeth about the injustice of it all, but let’s not. I suggest we rethink the situation from the ground up. Let’s go back to that admonition to keep things gospel-centered, and have another look. I’m going to say something a bit controversial, and I welcome pushback, but I think I can make it stick.

I contend that we had a gospel-centered culture, however imperfect. In order to appeal to the coveted neutral-world demographic (left-leaning urban Millennials), we were urged to surrender our gospel-centered culture in favor of a different culture entirely. It is…ah, not obvious, shall we say, that the replacement culture is more gospel-centered than what we had. For one thing, that culture is committing suicide in slow motion. Remember the low birth rates? These are the people driving those statistics. Left-leaning urban Millennials are the cultural equivalent of that commune with the suicide pact.

Was existing grill-American culture perfect? By no means! But the Christian version of it loved children, honored mothers and celebrated fathers, valued and incentivized intact families, loved our country, made quilts and fluffy biscuits and plumbing that worked and sturdy front porches for the kids to play on, and had kids to play on them.

Left-leaning urbanite tastemakers don’t have kids. We traded young adults who got married and raised families for young adults who shack up, get cats, travel the world, and “don’t feel called to children.” We traded women who knew all Grandma’s best recipes for women who can’t make anything but a cocktail; men who could build a retaining wall in a weekend for inexplicably bearded men who can’t so much as change a tire. (A friend of mine asserts that today, a conspicuous beard is “the push-up bra of masculinity.” I’m afraid she may have a point.)

Conceding that someone needs to win these folks to Jesus, why would we want to adopt their culture? It’s not like it’s an improvement. So here’s my modest proposal: the gospel is indeed the center, but it is the center of something. Something good, not to put too fine a point on it. Where we genuinely fall short, let’s repent, and having repented of the evil, let’s not be embarrassed by the good things that remain. Let’s be a little loud about the beauty of marriage, the joys of having a gaggle of kids, the pleasure and difficulty of physical work, and the glories of a good corn dog. We have plenty of room to grow, but let’s not give up the good we already have for bland, HR-approved substitutes. Yech.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Death and Birth

31 December 2024

One year dies; another is born. It’s a good time to reflect and set some new goals.

Since this is going to be one of those New Year’s posts on goal-setting, I want to acknowledge at the outset that goal-setting doesn’t always make sense. Real life doesn’t always lend itself to the strategic long view; I’ve had a few years where my life was so upside-down that surviving from one week to the next was all I could do. I know some of you are in that situation too. If it doesn’t make sense to set goals for the year, may God bless and guard you. Keep being obedient in the moment, and trust that in so doing, you’re following God’s strategy, and doing better than you could know.

Now, for the rest of you who can afford a moment’s reflection, let’s reflect a bit.

Back when I was a full-time seminary prof many years ago, I found myself regularly needing books that I just couldn’t afford on my meager salary. So I put the books I really needed to own on my Amazon wish list and would check it once a week to see if there was a bargain used copy available. Every once in a while, there would be, and I’d snap it up. (I gotta tell you, when there’s a book I really needed for research, couldn’t find in the library, cost $80 new if it could be had at all, and I can grab it for $10? That’s a thrill!) Over time, I noticed that a book didn’t stay on my wish list for more than a year or two; either I’d find it on one of my weekly forays, or I’d find that I didn’t need it after all.

Meanwhile, I also noticed that I’d gone my entire life without successfully keeping even one New Year’s Resolution.

The juxtaposition of those two facts suggested to me that I can actually achieve a goal, but there was something about the “New Year’s Resolution” scheme that just didn’t work for me. So I decided to take the scheme that was working and apply it to my goals, and just like that, “Amazon Wish List” goal-setting was born.

That first year, I set 8 goals spread across multiple domains of my life (body, spirit, and career, if I remember right). I didn’t do any strategizing about how I’d achieve them–no SMART workup, no scheduling, no nothing. I just did the same thing I did with my Amazon wish list: review the list once a week. Each week, I gave myself a simple yes/no grade on each goal. If I’d made progress toward that goal that week, it got a yes; no progress got a no. I resolved that I wasn’t going to beat myself up over a no, any more than I would beat myself up over a book on my wish list that I couldn’t get a good price on. I just forced myself to notice: am I progressing or not?

With nothing but a 3-minute weekly review, I hit 5 of 8 goals that year. For those of you who are keeping track, that’s 5 more goals than I’d ever gotten making a New Year’s resolution. It was worth doing again the next year, so I did.

I’ve refined it somewhat over the years, but I still use the same basic approach, and it still pays off handsomely. Here are some of the refinements I’ve found helpful:

  • I’ve tweaked the categories a bit. Current categories are body, spirit, relationships, and calling.
  • I generally allow myself 8-12 goals. More is too much to keep in mind. I do permit subcategories where they make sense (e.g., a goal to “go deeper in my friendships” will have subcategories for each person/couple I intend to go deeper with).
  • While my weekly scoring is still a simple yes/no, I’ve moved to a different scoring system when I’m reviewing the whole year. Final grading options are 1 for an achieved goal, 0 for a failure to achieve the goal, and .5 if I didn’t hit the mark but made solid progress (= better than halfway there; no rounding up!) This year’s score is 12/20. (I don’t have 20 main goals, but there are subcategories.)
  • I take the time to look for patterns in my year in review. For example, I’ve never missed a reading goal, so I know my “3 minute magic” approach to goalsetting works for me in reading (also for upskilling/continuing ed., relational goals, and certain types of calling goals). It does not work (at least not consistently, for me) in workout or major writing goals; those have to get a spot on the calendar, or they don’t happen.

That bit about looking for patterns, especially in failed goals, helps set the next year’s goals. Nearly every failure on this year’s list is either due to a too-distracted lifestyle or to a lack of specific, scheduled time to achieve the goal. That tells me that eliminating distractions and clearing dedicated time for major tasks are going to be high priorities in the coming year.

I’m still praying and thinking, but I expect to have a solid list of goals by the end of the week. What about you? What are the big pieces in your life? Marriage? Parenting? Career? Education? Fitness? Prayerfully and thoughtfully, set some goals in each area and review them once a week. See what God will give you!

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Pax Christi

25 December 2024

“Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace, goodwill toward men.”
-the “multitude of the heavenly host” (King James translation)

That word “host” is στρατιά, and it doesn’t mean “choir.” It means “army.” See, “peace on earth” isn’t a feel-good slogan to embroider on pillows. Have you met us? Bringing peace to our world is a serious undertaking. Nobody’s successfully done it yet.

But the Man who will has already been born: Jesus of Nazareth, the construction-worker son of an unwed mother in a town 5 miles from nowhere. Even as a baby, He had a supernatural army at His back. He’s going to need one. His methods are not what we expected; instead of slaying the wicked, He died so that the wicked could live and be transformed. (That’s you and me, in case you were wondering: “the line between good and evil runs through every human heart.”)

So eat the fat and drink the sweet; taste and see that the Lord is GOOD! The eternal Son became man that man might partake in the divine nature; nothing less could get the job done. It takes supernatural power to bring peace; join His army on earth. Rebuke, convince, encourage, with all humility. Let the peace of God rule in your heart, that in your peace others may also have peace, and in theirs still others. None of this comes easy; we’re following a Man who was murdered by a coalition of the Respectable People: the mainline liberals (Sadduccees), conservative grassroots (Pharisees), the politically-connected (Herodians), the deep state (Scribes), the Roman civil power — they were all His enemies, and their spiritual descendants will hate you too.

But we keep going. We extend peace everywhere, to everyone, and in the end, there will be fewer stragglers for that angelic army to mop up, and “the earth will be full of the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as water covers the sea.” Start being part of the peace of Christ today, with your in-laws.

Merry Christmas!

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Posted by Tim Nichols

An Exercise in Gratitude

24 December 2024

Some while back, I found myself in a situation where I needed to develop a foundation of gratitude before I would know how to proceed. I created the exercise below for myself to meet that need. I hope you find it helpful.

  1. What are five things I’ve done this week that I absolutely loved?
  2. What do I love about my home?
  3. List five things around me right now that I’m glad I don’t have to live without.
  4. What are three gifts I’ve received from my upbringing?
  5. Who makes me feel seen in daily life? How they do that?
  6. What am I grateful for about…
    • my financial situation?
    • the way I handle a crisis?
    • the people I surround myself with?
  7. What was something beautiful I’ve seen recently? What did I love about it? Is there a particular sensation, or feeling, or idea?
  8. Go back through my answers to these questions and thank God for every single one of them, individually. They’re worth it, and He’s worth thanking.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

I Need Your Help

17 December 2024

In 16 years and over 700 posts, I’ve never asked for a dime. Today, I’m asking. (Names marked with an asterisk* have been changed to protect privacy.)

Every Saturday night at 5:00 pm, I open up the doors of a place down on South Broadway. It’s called Centerpoint, and it’s a church of sorts, specifically for homeless (and homeless-adjacent) folks. Every week, my friend Shawn* and a few other people will be outside waiting when we open; more will filter in as the evening progresses. The room is well-lit and comfortable enough: warm in winter and cool in summer. There’s tables and chairs and music. A few steps from the door, the smell of supper hits you. We’ve had everything from chili and fry bread to spaghetti to grilled chicken to falafel and Lebanese food. Our volunteers are amazing cooks.

For the next couple hours, this place will be our guests’ refuge from the weather, but honestly, that’s the least of it. “Tim, I haven’t talked with another human since last week when I was sitting in this same chair talking to you,” Roger* told me one evening back in 2020. “People don’t make eye contact,” he said. “They pretend you’re invisible.” I’ve never forgotten that. The most important thing we do here is treat people made in the image of God like they’re the image of God, no matter how they show up.

Some are barefoot, clothed in tatters. Some are high or drunk. “I have three simple rules,” I tell them. “Don’t come in drunk, don’t start a fight, and if you don’t start a fight, we’ll pretend you didn’t come in drunk.” As long as it’s safe for everybody, we’re here for it. We mean it when we tell you to come as you are. Even stone cold sober, some of our folks are so mentally ill they have a hard time staying in touch with reality.

Those conversations can get really wild. I’ve been told about how Martin Luther King won the Revolutionary War, how the city council is trying to sell all the parks, how all the churches and judges and cops in this town are conspiring to squeeze the homeless (it’s all about money, somehow), how the Council of Nicaea set up a satanic communion ritual in place of the Passover. Some of these we let pass; others we discuss in more detail. We also get a surprising amount of cult nonsense, both from the usual suspects and some that are new to me. Most recently, I was informed that the existence of God the Father implies God the Mother, who is apparently a Korean woman. “Jesus said He’d come back from the East,” Jack* said. “You can’t get any further east of Jerusalem than Korea.”

“You are welcome here any time,” I told him. “That stuff is not.” He ate his supper and left. On the way out the door, he looked back at me. “I’m trying to help you,” he said. I wasn’t sure he’d be back, but he drifts in about once a month. (He still believes that cult has a corner on the truth. We’re working on it.)

Some folks barely say a word to us. They’ll bolt down their food and leave as fast as they can. Or they’ll eat, then lay their head on the table and fall asleep. Our new volunteers sometimes ask if that bothers me (to middle-class people, it feels disrespectful). No, I tell them. Where else can these folks sleep safely, even for an hour? Here, you’re safe. Nobody will hurt you, nobody will steal your stuff. It’s an honor to be trusted that way; we’ve earned that trust, and I’m proud of it.

Some will ask about resources: a tarp, a sleeping bag, food, housing, jobs, socks, a place to get mail. We have strategic partnerships with organizations that do all those things, and we direct them to the right place. For the last few years, we’ve been blessed to have Micah–my daughter in the faith–work with me on Saturday nights and with one of our partner organizations, a day program that’s open Tuesdays and Thursdays. She furnishes a bridge from us to a lot of those services, and invites people from the day programs to come join us. (And we’re paying her so little that honestly, it’s embarrassing. I’d love to be able to pay her better.) Micah’s also a serious church history nerd, and it’s been great to have her bring facts and logic to the weirder conversations about church history.

Not all the conversations are weird. Some of it’s just ordinary life: romantic difficulties, friendship troubles, difficulties at work. (Not-so-fun fact: quite a number of our homeless folks have some sort of job. They just can’t afford rent anywhere.) Often a Bible study will break out as we talk about one thing and another. I’ve delivered sermons down here, but the best things I’ve ever said have probably been in the impromptu Bible studies, dealing directly with someone’s immediate concerns. Sometimes the questions are more theological, and we can do that too. I’ve been telling people for years that we only do three things: good food, good company–hey, here you are!–and a little bit of church. The Bible studies are part of that.

Around 6:30, we’ll have a brief communion service. We preach the gospel: “…we proclaim the Lord’s death til He comes, and that means we look back to the day that Jesus was nailed to the cross, and every sin, every character flaw, every weakness, every sickness, every dark thing that stands between you and God–all of it was nailed to the cross with Jesus. Died on the cross with Jesus. Was buried in the earth with Jesus. And when God raised Him from the grave three days later, He did not come out dragging a Hefty bag of your crap. It’s gone; He took care of it all. We look forward to the day when Jesus brings His resurrected people to a resurrected earth, and we live with our God forever, apart from sin and sickness, the way we were always meant to.” We commission our people: “You are blessed with the presence of Christ here so that you can go out into the world and be the presence of Christ there. So go, and be a blessing!”

Some do. Long-term, being a blessing usually means finding fruitful work and getting off the streets, but there are a lot of short-term ways to bless. I’ve seen Jesus-following homeless people share food, shelter, life-saving information. One 10-degree night, I saw Bob* give up his spot in a shelter to help a newly homeless kid who literally didn’t even have a coat. He may have saved that kid’s life.

When 7:00 rolls around, we close. After our guests leave, we clean up and debrief as necessary. We fight for every quarter-inch of growth with our guests, but our volunteers grow like weeds. It’s a challenging ministry, and it quickly and deeply teaches the value of human connection in a way that very few ministries do. Over the years, many of our volunteers have moved on to other ministries, seasoned by their time with us. It’s an honor to be part of their journeys. (A couple of them even ended up getting married! I got to do the wedding, and that was really sweet.)

A few years ago, I started a periodic study group. After Centerpoint closes, we work through a book of the Bible in Greek. It was always a very niche market, and in the end, only Micah stuck with it. Her exegetical skills have grown by leaps and bounds, and I’m proud of her progress. We’ve worked through Jude, 1 and 2 John, and we just finished Philemon. She’s been interested in tackling a longer book, so we’re starting 1 Timothy. I’d love to recruit more people into that study. (If you’re in Denver, you’ve had first-year Greek, and you’re willing to come help feed folks a couple Saturdays a month, give me a shout!)

That’s it. That’s what we do.

Look, I’ve never been good at fundraising, and I’m still not. But we get all this done for under $3,000 a month, and we need help. In the past a handful of organizations have been very generous with good-sized one-time gifts, but that money will run out in March, and as far as I can see, there’s no more where it came from.

I think this work is worth doing, and if y’all will help us fund it, we’ll keep doing it. Like I said, we can sustain everything we’re doing right now for less than $3,000 a month.

If we can’t continue, well, we can’t. Most ministries die eventually. If Centerpoint’s time has come, that’s in the hands of God. But although March is our snowiest month, April and May can be pretty rough, and I’d hate to stop when the weather’s still nasty. So the very least I’d like is $6,000 to get us through the end of May.

If you’d like to help us out, instructions are below. As my friends with the cardboard signs say, “Anything helps!”

The easiest way to donate is through our online campaign with Zeffy. Click that link, and follow the instructions.

If you prefer Paypal, the associated email address is rcvrchurchonline@gmail.com. Put “Centerpoint” in the comment box, and the funds will make their way to us. (You’ll see the church’s legal name as Englewood First Assembly of God. That’s us.)

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Reason, Excuse, and Apology

10 December 2024

A friend recently explained a situation that keeps recurring for her. In the wake of some situation or other, someone will ask her, “Why did you do it that way?” She’ll begin to answer the question, only to get cut off with “I don’t want to hear your excuses!”

“What is going on with this?” she asked. “What’s the difference between a reason and an excuse, anyway?”

Defining reason versus excuse is fairly straightforward. In a nutshell, a reason is just a factual account of the process: A led to B led to C. An excuse has an additional moral dimension to it; it’s an attempt to exculpate yourself. Put another way, “reason” is the historical explanation for why you did what you did; “excuse” is a moral explanation for why something isn’t your fault.

But of course it’s more complicated than that, because most people asking “the “Why did you do it that way?” aren’t all that clear on the distinction between reason and excuse, and often aren’t consciously aware of what they want from the conversation. There are pitfalls to navigate both in the question they ask and the answer you give.

  1. The question can mean two very different things.
    1a. Sometimes “Why did you do it that way?” is a rhetorical question, grounded in the assumption that “that way” was a self-evidently foolish decision. In that case, the question is functioning as a demand for an apology, and the expected response is something like “I’m sorry; I don’t know what I was thinking.” From within that frame of reference, describing your thought process registers as an attempt to avoid taking responsibility for your actions, and therefore triggers the “Don’t make excuses” response.
    At that point, you may be tempted to respond in anger: “If you didn’t want to know, why did you ask?” As you probably already know, that’s not likely to be productive. Rhetorical questions are a pretty normal communication strategy, even if you don’t happen to like them. Making war on an entire category of normal communication isn’t likely to take you where you want to go.
    The best way I’ve found to navigate that is to just ask: “Are you actually asking about the thought process, or are you hoping I’ll just apologize so we can move on?” If I’m not sure I did anything wrong, I’ll often add, “I’m not making any promises here, I’m just curious about what you’re hoping for.” Then we can navigate from there.
    1b. Sometimes the question really is a request for information, but that doesn’t mean we’re out of the woods. Often, even when the asker is genuinely trying to understand, they are also seeking assurance you won’t do the thing again. They often won’t explicitly tell you that’s what they’re hoping for; it’s so self-evident to them that it just won’t occur to them to articulate it. If your explanation does not provide the hoped-for reassurance, the asker can grow frustrated, and that frustration can trigger the “Don’t make excuses” response.
    If you started with the recommended clarifying questions in 1a, above, then at this point you can loop back to them. “You said you were asking about the thought process; I’m telling you, and you’re clearly frustrated with it. What are you hoping for at this point?” Please note that this response does not accuse them of hypocrisy or blame them for being frustrated; it just situates the present moment in the conversation and invites them to clarify what they want.
  2. All of the above can be rendered far more effective by three additional things.
    2a. Be the sort of person who simply doesn’t lie about this stuff. That means you don’t say you were wrong if you don’t think you were, but once you think you were wrong about something, you don’t avoid saying so, even if other people aren’t owning their part. (You can take time to calm down, sleep on it, seek wise counsel, retain an attorney, etc., as appropriate to the situation. There’s a certain personality that’s tempted to immediately assume the blame for everything in order to ease the tension in a situation; you shouldn’t give in to that temptation either.) You can and should be exquisitely clear about what you are and aren’t taking ownership of, but if you’re sure it’s wrong and it’s yours, don’t shilly-shally around, looking for a way out. This is a superpower that leads to other superpowers, and over time, it dramatically cuts down on the nonsense in your life. Being willing to take responsibility for your errors attracts like-minded people, and clearly refusing what’s not yours repels those who are trying to evade responsibility.
    2b. Have a deep understanding of apology. Not everybody is looking for the same thing. “I’m sorry” is an expression of regret. (It usually helps to be very clear about what you regret. “I’m sorry I did that” and “I’m sorry you got hurt” are two very different sentiments.) “I was wrong” is a moral or factual determination. “Please forgive me” is a request for forgiveness. “I see that my actions resulted in __ for you” is an expression of empathy. “I won’t do it again” is a reassurance. People seeking apology and reconciliation often are seeking some blend of these, and usually won’t be consciously aware what they’re looking for. Know that it can be any or all of the above, and navigate the conversation accordingly.
    In my family of origin, a proper apology was “I was wrong when I [clearly state what you did]. Will you forgive me?”
    2c. You can pre-empt a good bit of all this by being clear up front in how you answer the “Why did you do it that way?” question. I often start by saying, “Listen, if I was wrong, I’ll have to own it. I’m not making excuses for myself. But since you asked, here’s what happened….” At crucial points in my account, I often insert little reminders: “Again, I’m not making excuses here; I’m just telling you how this was for me” or “Of course I now see things differently, but at the time, here’s what I was thinking.”

Now, all this comes with an important caveat. If you need everything to be someone else’s fault, none of the communication strategies I’ve laid out above will do you any good, because in the end the problem is not in the communication, it’s in your heart. That doesn’t mean there’s no hope; it just means you need Jesus to free you from your sin and nonsense. Ask Him to; it’s a prayer He delights to answer.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Sax in the (New) City

3 December 2024

The best saxophone player to ever grace planet Earth was born in North Africa in 425 BC. She lived her whole life without ever touching a saxophone. Some day 8,000 years from now in the New Jerusalem, she’s going to pick up a saxophone for the first time ever, and we’re all going to be astounded. 

It’s going to take another thousand years before you and I get to hear her. She doesn’t like crowds all that much, and prefers to play really intimate venues. When we try to get her to play somewhere big so more people can enjoy it, she just laughs. “Are you afraid we’ll run out of time?” Gotta admit, she’s got us there.

Of course this little parable is exactly that—a parable. Even if (God’s sense of humor being what it is) every word of it turns out to be true, there’s certainly no way I could know that now. And that’s exactly my point. We live in the constant presence of an eternity so wide and deep we can’t actually know its extent, and yet we must live in a way that takes it into account.

This is one of the holy uses of imagination, as over against knowledge: imagination helps us reckon with realities too big to know. It helps us steer in the right direction, even when we don’t quite know where exactly we’re going, or what it will look like.

We know we are built for eternity. This life fits us out for eternity, but after we die, the vast majority of our life is still in front of us. (Side note: if you’re worried that you’re not living up to your potential, rest assured, you’re not. There’s not a ghost of a chance that anybody built for eternity could realize all that potential in a mere 80 years.) We know that, handcrafted for eternity, we are bound for the New Jerusalem, where we will encounter the saints of all the ages who are also bound for the same destination. What will that look like? We have very little idea, and yet we need to live our lives in light of the truths we know.

And so we feed our imaginations on the wild things that might be possible in such a reality…because the reality God made really is that wild.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

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