Silent Evangelism

by Mentanna Campbell “If Christians in the US would be quiet for a year and only do good works, that would be evangelism. Our actions are way behind our words.” —Dieter Zander I came across this statement in a book a few days ago, and it has been haunting me ever since. My first reaction, and maybe yours as well, was a negative one. My inner dialogue went something like this: “We need both! You can’t divorce words from actions. They are the flip sides of the same coin.” Although I still believe that to be true, I realized that in my hasty analysis, I had completely missed the heart of what this author was trying to communicate. What reality is being exposed here? What truth is there for us to contemplate? And perhaps even more importantly, what sin is there for us to repent of? First of all, I think Zander is right in the sense that we as Christians have the tendency to exalt words over actions. Most evangelicals hold to the belief that the spoken gospel is the most important thing we can communicate. After all, how can anyone come to a saving knowledge of faith in Christ without hearing the proclamation of God’s word? (Does this terminology sound familiar, fellow evangelicals?) Reacting against the social gospel of the 1920s, we have often regulated “works” to an inferior domain. Words became the venerated method of evangelism and the social implications of the gospel were left to the liberals. Where does that leave us today? I believe that we are left with something far less powerful than what Jesus intended. Essentially, we have proclaimed the gospel of “right belief” and divorced it from right conduct. I am not just talking about hypocrisy. We all know people who profess one thing and live another. Hypocrisy isn't a new problem. What I mean is that we say that if someone believes a certain set of doctrines then he is saved. His lifestyle could communicate other things, and he could never let that knowledge transform any aspect of his life, but he has right belief; therefore, all is well. Is that true? That is my question. In the West (meaning the US and Europe), the problem isn't that the gospel hasn't been communicated, it’s that the gospel hasn't been lived. As Christians, we have a lot to account for in our past: racism, religious wars, discrimination—all in the name of God. We tell people they need God but we don't necessarily feel a need to be Christ to them. I’m talking about a lack of incarnational witness. It is much easier to talk about being a Christian than it is to live like one. I firmly believe that this generation needs to see Jesus and not just hear about Him. They need to see us caring for the poor, treating others as more important and pursing spiritual life over material wealth. They need to witness our concern for injustice, racism and the shoddy way we have of taking care of God's creation. When did we as Christians give up on these things? When did we quit? Why have we regulated to the government what we, as the church should be spearheading? We are the redemptive force in this country, not the Republican party, not the Democratic party. So I do agree with the heartbeat of the above statement. Personally, I am ready for people to evaluate the depth of my walk with God not by how many minutes or hours I spend in my quiet time or by how well I can cite the tenets of my faith, but rather by how much His truth overflows into every aspect of my daily life. I get convicted just writing that and even a bit scared when I think of all its implications for my own life. But just think about how a seeking world would respond if we started living out in detail what we spout off so easily. Now, that would be radical. That would be attractive. That would transform this world. Article from Relevant Magazine

Role Reversal

As a kid, I was raised in a pretty tradtional home in the sense that my dad did the "man" stuff and my mom did the "woman" stuff. You know, my old man would get under our broken sink and cuss at it for 45 minutes before he dialed a plumber, or my mom would bake a cake and cuss at it for 45 minutes before she would just go buy one at HEB. I'm just kidding about the part about my mom. She'd go to Albertson's. With my dad, any household "fix-it" issue was generally met by him with an elevated blood pressure level and a vocabulary that held an array of zingers within its verbal quiver should such an occasion arise. Honestly, I've never seen more inanimate objects called more names by any other person than my dad. I remember one time my old man hit his head on a cabinet door in the kitchen , as we're all destined to do at least once, and you could see the dawn of a storm brewing in the horizon of his eyes. It was as if my dad had a sixth sense to where he could literally look into the very soul of that cabinet door (or any other object over the years that he deemed "unfit") before he unleashed a tornado of words that could make that cabinet door weep, if that were possible. When one gets to the point where they believe a cabinet door is truly a tool of Satan, you've got "issues" and some time on a doctor's couch wouldn't hurt. This isn't the point, forgive me. This entry isn't as much about tempers as it is about masculinity, or the lack of it. Before anyone starts jumping to one side of the fence or the other here, I'm not trying to really say anything. Let me tell you about last night... Sarah and I went to Target and got an armoire and a slip cover for our couch. Our couch started out as an off-white khaki color but, over the past 10 years, it has taken on more of an earth tone. Anyway, we get home and Sarah is foaming at the mouth to get started on "her" project: Fighting with the slip cover? Nope. Putting the daggum armoire together. With my help? Are you kidding? No, I was working with the slip cover and she's over on the other side of the living room with her cordless drill, open toolbox, and an acetylene torch teaching that armoire who's boss. Meanwhile, I'm over here positioning pillows and tying bows on the slip cover as I survey our living room to make sure the position of the couch doesn't interfere with the Feng Shui. Huh? What the heck happened here? This is the thing, the assembly of the armoire wasn't even open for debate and honestly, I really wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Sarah's just better at this stuff than I am. When our toilet broke a while back, guess who fixed it? Yep, momma did. When we moved into our new house and had to have a new cord put on our dryer, guess who replaced it? Momma. This is my point: I'm not really good at the girl stuff either! With one hand Sarah can be fixing our carburetor and with the other making up a batch of killer oatmeal cookies! mmm...Oatmeal cookies. I guess, when it's all boiled down, Sarah rocks and I'm glad to have her. Although, I just can't help humming Paula Cole's "Where have all the cowboys gone" in my head when I look at this couch with its new slip cover. We're in the new millenium aren't we? The bra burners from yesteryear would be overjoyed to think this soft-handed neanderthal took a back seat to a hot chick with a cordless drill. I'm game!

Unos, dos, tres, catorce

Last Saturday, we were doing a car wash fundraiser for my youth group Soul Asylum Youth. I stood up quickly after cleaning the lower portion of a grill guard on a pick-up and felt as if the pavement under my feet was quickly turning to jello. So, I held on for dear life and 4 seconds later the pavement became, well, pavement again. "Maybe I'm just not getting enough water", I thought. So, I woke up Sunday morning and my bed, instead of it tradtionally being a stationary object, felt more like a hammock in a wind storm. You see, I get motion sickness anyway and this sensation made me feel as if I needed to use the trash can for other things than trash at that moment. Anyway, my dizziness progressively got better through last night but, boy howdy, it's back again. So, I made a trip to the doc and found that I've got Vertigo. It's not nearly as bad as it could be but not nearly as cool as U2 makes it sound like. I've got some sort of inner ear something or another and am taking meds and steroids for it. Alfred Hitchcock's poster of Jimmy Stewart on it is a pretty accurate portrayal of the expression on my mug the past 5 days. A very uncool version of the "oh" face.

May I brag?

O.K. My little 4 year old niece, Taylor, is destined to be a superstar. These pics below were taken with no coaxing on my part. She's a natural.

Defy Yourself

I guess I'm on a blog roll today but read below what I found on Misty's blogsite (Misty is one of the coolest chicks on the planet, by the way): Martyn Lloyd-Jones, a minister at Westminster in London from his book "Spiritual Depression"..."(reflections on Psalm 42, 'why so downcast oh my soul..') "Have you realized that most of your unhappiness in life is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself? ...The main art in the matter of spiritual living is to know how to handle yourself. You have to take yourself in hand, address yourself, preach to yourself...instead of muttering in this depressed, unhappy way, and then you must remind yourself of God, who God is, and what God has done. Then having done that, end on this great note: defy yourself, and defy other people, and defy the devil and the whole world, and say 'I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance, who is also the health of my countenance and my God."

Back in 60 Seconds

In a previous blog post I shared about little Dave's obsession with horsepower. This kid is very advanced in his knowledge of automobiles. In his freetime, he lives at the Concept Cars website. Dave and I are on a first name basis at the Mercedes dealership in Boerne and at the Ferrari dealership in San Antonio. We have what we call "Daddy/Punky" days where we'll go and basically do whatever he wants to do. Inevitably, we'll hit one of these dealerships for a good ol' fashioned droolfest. When the sticker says $270,000, it's hard not to be in awe one way or the other! Anyway, Dave's dream, naturally, has been to ride in a Ferrari. Well, since his old man is a minister with a musician's credit, I won't be stepping up to the counter to buy one of these for myself anytime soon. (The picture below was taken during one of the many trips to the beloved Ferrari dealership.) So, we dream together and talk cars. Good dad and son stuff. Well, last week we're at the Starbucks on the north end of town. We're sitting outside and he's doing his homework while I'm sitting back and enjoying the evening. Then a Ferrari pulls in to the parking lot. Of course, what little interest Dave was forcing into his math paper quickly dissipated at the sight of this red wonder. So Bob, the distinguished owner, winds up sitting at the table next to us and we start talking cars. Come to find out, he's one of the CEO's at Valero. We talked for about an hour and then "the offer" came. He offered little Dave a ride in his Ferrari. Now, before you call child protective services on me for allowing my son to get into a stranger's car, it was only in the parking lot and the access road in front of the Starbucks. The other assurance is that a $300,000 red Ferrari with a wide-eyed 9 year old boy is kinda hard to miss. So, Dave hops in and off he goes. Living the dream. There's really nothing like the sound of a Ferrari. At low RPM's, it has this whine like "Oh please, punch the freakin' gas!". So, Bob punched it a little bit on the access road and the tires spun a little. Less than a minute later, Dave was back and he literally floated out of that car. He visited Cloud 9-ville and hasn't come back since. I snapped a pic with my cell phone to commemorate the moment. It's true that the little things we experience really wind up counting the most to us. A stranger took one minute to make a little boy smile and Dave will never forget it. A little unwarranted goodness really does go a long way. Thanks, Bob! (Dave taking his first Ferrari ride...awwww yeah!)