It is so common among the church culture that I grew up in and now pastor that few, if any, notice it. An overly harsh judgment would declare this behavior as pseudo-humility, even willfully fake humility. A more gracious judgment would recognize a need for a better and deeper understanding of what salvation does to sin and our lives. I am talking about how many Christians speak with hopeless defeat about their struggle with sin and obedience to God’s word. There is even an overly used, often misunderstood, and theologically deficient phrase that embodies this issue – “I am just a sinner saved by grace.”

Sometimes “just a sinner saved by grace” is employed to excuse or rationalize the behavior of an unrepentant sinner. However, more often, it is spoken by one who truly desires to live righteously before the Lord but feels a need to show humility rather than confidence. Sometimes this same sentiment shows up more subtly. A teacher teaching on an issue of sin will preference their comments with “I fail at this all the time.” A preacher proclaiming from a text that calls the saints to a specific response may temper his words with “we all fall short of this.” In all these things, there is a prominent attitude of defeat. There is an assumption that failure, disobedience, and inadequacy are the norm. Such an attitude recognizes that we should feel bad about not perfectly obeying the commands and expectations of scripture but offers no hope that anything, but a perpetual state of disappointment, can be known.

Years ago, after moving to a new town and a new ministry position, I decided that it would be good to meet the other pastors in the community. One church in the community I recognized was a significant connection to make. This church was of another denomination than my church. Yet, our two churches had historically partnered in community service endeavors because of our proximity to one another and equivalent prominence in the community. Knowing this history, I thought a relationship with this church’s pastor would be beneficial. I called the church and made an appointment. The pastor’s secretary greeted me and escorted me to the pastor’s office when I arrived. I imagined that the pastor would be welcoming, warm, and open to connecting with me. I was unpleasantly surprised.

When I entered his office, his disinterest was apparent, and he seemed annoyed that I had bothered to interrupt his time. I told him who I was and how I hoped we could be good partners for the gospel in our community. To say he was not interested would be a gross understatement. He made it clear that I could do whatever I wanted, but he was not interested in participating. He explained that he was within a year or two of retiring and was biding his time until that day. I was flabbergasted. He was not ashamed nor secretive about his plan. He intended to perform the minimum requirements of his pastoral duties until he could retire and move on to other things.

I thought about using the title "That Time I Got Arrested in Prague," but being arrested is not actually what happened, but it does make for a more dramatic title. Here is the real story.

In 1996 I traveled to Europe with the Shorter University (then Shorter College) Chorale. The choir sang in wonderful venues in Austria, Germany, and the Czech Republic. While we were in Prague, we had time to explore the ancient city and take in the beautiful architecture and history.

After a full day of exploration, the day grew short, and we realized that it was getting close to the time we needed to be back at the hotel to prepare for the next event. We could have walked back, but the fastest way was to use public transportation. The problem was that we did not know how or where to purchase tickets to ride. We had been told that tram tickets were sold in many of the shops but not knowing the language meant we were not able to read the signs or ask for directions to find a shop that sold tickets. Our inability to read signs, along with feeling pressed for time, led us to make a very poor decision. Without much forethought or planning, we got on the tram without a ticket.

A friend of mine once told me that they were planning to take a family member out to dinner for their birthday, but they were not looking forward to the event. I assumed that this meant that there was an ongoing conflict between the two and asked what the source of the conflict was. My friend told me that there was no conflict but that when their family member interacted with servers at a restaurant, they often were overly demanding, hyper-critical, and rude. He said that it seemed that his family member was never satisfied and consistently critical to a point that he was embarrassed to share a meal with him.

I fear the consumer-focused world we live in encourages a complaintive spirit. Business owners rightly are concerned that a bad review, fair or unfair, could hurt their business. Consumers today are well versed in all the ways that opinions and reviews can be posted online about businesses. This, along with the often-repeated mantra that “the customer is always right,” creates an atmosphere where entitlement and selfishness can run amuck.

Things are sad at my house this week. Our 11-year-old golden retriever died this past Monday. Copper came to our family as a gift from friends and proved to be a gift of God’s grace. When he joined our family, our oldest was eight years old, and our youngest was two years old. With such a young family, Dana had a lot on her plate. She was home with the children, and a new dog would only add to her responsibilities. Because of this, I felt that the decision of when (or if) we would get a new dog should be hers. It had been a while since our first dog had died, and other than saying she wanted our next dog to be a small breed we had talked very little about getting anything new.

Then one day, Dana called me at church to tell me that the Hancock’s had offered to give us a dog. Mike and Cathy Hancock were members of our church and good friends. I had been to their home many times and knew that the dogs that they bred were beautiful golden retrievers and that the father was large for the breed. A little surprised that Dana was considering having another large breed dog, I asked if she was sure she wanted a golden retriever. She countered that she thought a new dog would be good for the children. I was happily surprised both by the gift of the Hancocks and the receptiveness of Dana.

This weekend I am in Atlanta, GA for the Georgia high school state swimming championship. Our son, Micah, is competing in the meet. I will spend the weekend with parents from all over the state, cheering on our kids with great enthusiasm.

It does not matter what the sport or activity is, most parents happily spend great resources in time, effort, and money to support their children’s interests. Our family has spent hours and hours at rifle ranges watching air-rifle matches, in the unforgiving heat of softball tournaments, and swim meets that seem to go on forever. I have waited at the finish line of cross country meets anxiously scanning the distance for the first site of our runner. I have held my breath as our daughter went in for a basketball layup or sprinted from first base to steal second in softball. I have shouted until my voice gave out at swim meets, trying to motivate our swimmer to give that extra effort to cut a fraction of a second off their time. I have experienced moments of great anxiety at rifle meets when the accuracy of the next shot would be the difference between a great win or a disappointing loss. There have been moments of wonderful joy when games were won, and there has been long silent car rides home because of the sting of losing.

We talk a lot about our bodies. We talk about what hurts. We talk about what is not working as it should. We talk about the things we are doing to accommodate injuries or treatment for maladies. We are embodied beings. We relate to our world and all that is in it through our bodies. We know the world around us by what we see, hear, smell, and feel. Our life is dependent on the well-being of our bodies. For these reasons and many others, we tend to be very aware of and concerned for our bodies.

My wife and I are both runners. We regularly talk about how our recent runs have gone. We also talk a lot about how well our bodies are doing. Daily exercise makes you very aware of the ever-changing state of your body. You become aware of new pains and discomforts. You notice when a run goes well and when you struggle to finish. You pay close attention to how different shoes affect your speed, endurance, and recovery. As with any regular physical activity, you develop areas of soreness and related injuries. You tend to track if particular areas of discomfort are improving or growing worse. When runners get together, a large part of our conversations is about our bodies. We discuss injuries and share treatments we have found to be helpful. We discuss training regiments and how these can improve performance. We discuss shoes and other running-related equipment and how they can help performance, address a chronic injury, or provide comfort.

I have often heard it said that sheep are dumb. Generally, this assessment of the deficient intelligence of the ovine mind is used to explain the propensity of sheep to wander off from the herd and become lost. The Bible often uses sheep as a metaphor for God’s people. As such, when biblical passages are taught that deal with the imagery of sheep and their shepherds the negative assessment of being dumb and stupid is often applied both to the sheep and to Christians. This negative description of sheep is so commonly used that it gives the impression that the biblical perspective of sheep is universally negative.

Several years ago, a friend allowed me to use his river cabin for a week to study and write. During that particular season of my life, the pressures of ministry were heavy and unpleasant, and I very much needed a moment of respite. The use of the cabin was a welcomed gift. I was thankful for the opportunity for the respite, and I was thrilled by the opportunity to enjoy this particular place. My friend’s river cabin had been the place of many church events and gatherings during my childhood and thus held happy memories for me. These memories, along with my awareness of how much I needed the opportunity to momentarily step away from the difficulties of ministry, filled me with hope, that the week I would spend there would be a blessing to me.

Looking back, I think I was in a more precarious situation mentally, spiritually, emotionally, and even physically than I realized at the time. The particulars and causes of why ministry was so burdensome during those days are no longer important. What is important is that every area of my life was being consumed by these burdens without any relief or space for other things. Though others contributed, the fault for this lay with me. I had not actively created healthy boundaries and space in my life. Having dangerously neglected my own need for these things, I was hopeful that a week alone at the lake would provide a lifeline that would allow me to persevere. The use of the cabin was a gracious gift. Even the timing of the week I would spend there was ordered by God’s grace. I arrived late in the afternoon of Labor Day. This is the last day of summer fun on the lake for many who have houses there. Not only did I have the cabin to myself, but because there were so few there after Labor Day, it felt like I had the whole lake to myself.