Character Matters

Character is destiny. At least, that's what the Greek philosophers since the time of Plato and Aristotle believed. The philosophers didn't believe destiny was predetermined by some outside force; rather it was largely shaped by one's inner character. For centuries, intelligence, ability, experience were all essential aspects of a person, but they weren't sufficient. Character mattered above all. Character, more than fame or fortune, was worth seeking.

But character can be hard to come by these days. In nearly every sector of society;business, government, even non-profit; we witness leaders with alarming deficits in character. The consequences of their deeply-embedded flaws often have a ripple effect not only on those closest to them, friends and family, but also entire organizations and even society at large.

One misconception about character is that it's instantaneous: that we can, like Clark Kent, just step inside the phone booth and turn into Superhuman, full of goodness, faithfulness, humility, courage, honesty, patience, or generosity. But human hearts don't mature like microwaves. There's no such thing as "instant character."  We may shake our heads when someone is caught doing something wrong. But we don't realize that their "fall" actually represents a series of small decisions made on a daily basis that led them to that point.

That's because character is about so much more than behavior; it's about our inner hearts and longings.  Jesus taught this to us, Luke 6:45, even as he demonstrated what it meant to live a truly moral life. And Jesus taught us also that we can grow in character. It can be learned. Change is possible. But it will affect every aspect of our lives and it will require a lot of small decisions along the way.  

So join us for the next eight weeks as we look at one character trait each week. We've built this series with summer schedules and young people in mind. So if you miss a week with travel, you can just jump right back in. We'll find that character matters not only because it's right morally but also because it's a good way to live. Indeed, it's the only way to experience true joy, peace, and fulfillment in life.

The Table

The table. It conjures up wonderful images.  From the formal Thanksgiving dinner or wedding banquet, to the informal meal shared with friends or invitation when you’re new in town.  It’s not so much about the food, but about the warmth, the conversation, the connection we enjoy.  But the table can also elicit deep pain: think junior high lunchroom, or awkward meal with conflict, or even, empty chairs.  Sometimes the table communicates loneliness, brokenness, exclusion.

It is striking how much of Jesus’ life is told in settings defined by meals.  When the Son of God came to seek and save the lost, he did so often in the context of meals.  And his choice of dinner guests both surprised and angered the religious people around him.  Meal tables define the boundaries of our community.  And Jesus was constantly broadening and expanding the table.  For Jesus, the table was never full. There was always room for one more.  Family, friends, skeptics, strangers, sinners . . . all found a place at his table.  

The table is a metaphor for the way of life all Christians are called to—not just the entertainers or extroverts among us.  Entertaining gets in the way of true hospitality. This includes, but isn’t limited to hosting people in your home.  It’s a daily posture of openness, inclusion, welcome, generosity. Extended to friends, family, and church, but also colleagues, neighbors, other acquaintances . . . even those outside our natural connections.  The broken. The awkward.  The stranger. Even the enemy.  God’s hospitality knows no limits. 

For the next four weeks, I invite you to have a seat at the table.  Drink deeply and be satiated by the God’s love for you—this is His table.  We’ll reinvision the table He intends—one where all can come to be fed, healed, loved, forgiven.  And then we’ll look at how we can follow in his way—always looking outward, drawing others inward toward this love, giving generously of ourselves.  But it’s not easy: we’re limited in time, energy, and resources.  It’s costly.  It’s uncomfortable.  We’ve got to take risks, and yet be street smart.  But the reward is great. This is one meal you aren’t going to want to miss.

Keep the Faith

For years my father wrote me every Sunday evening. In these letters he'd update me on family news, tell me what he was reading and thinking about and answer any questions I might have. I've saved all of them and someday plan to reread them and the advice he had for my younger self.

The book of 2 Timothy reminds me of my dad's letters. Written not to an individual church, as many of Paul's letters were, but to Paul's young friend and protégé Timothy. And it's likely the last letter Paul wrote and, arguably, his most personal.

Paul wrote from prison in Rome during a trial that wasn't going well. In fact, he was fairly certain he wouldn't survive. He wrote Timothy with advice on how to pastor the church in Ephesus that Paul had left in his care.

It wasn't an easy job and Paul knew it. Timothy faced challenges from some who wanted him to change the message Paul believed came directly from God along with pressures from the outside from those who hoped the church would fail.

To make matters worse, Timothy felt inadequate for the job. He was young and inexperienced, had health issues and, unlike his more assertive mentor, was shy and introverted. But Paul believed in Timothy. He felt he had the gifts to do the job, and more importantly, believed God would empower him to do what needed to be done.

In the 2000 years since Paul sent this letter, his words have challenged and encouraged countless young and not so young followers of Jesus. We, like Timothy, face the pressure of public opinion to change what we know to be true. And we face hardships that tempt us to believe the lie that God has abandoned us, when in reality, it is in precisely these moments that the love of God becomes most tangible and real.