Ripping Off The Foliage Of Our Fellowship

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We’ve been naked since the garden and we’ve been covering up our shame with the dead foliage of duplicity ever since. As a result, I believe everyone is a bit scared of being “found out.” That we’ll be exposed as frauds if people really knew what we thought about God, life and them.

Much of it is basic social survival skills. Ingrained in us as a toddler when selfish toy clinching and angry floor tirades were met with scolds and swift parental justice.

If people really knew us they certainly wouldn’t like us, we think. And so the charade goes. Our fellowship with other souls is based on forced niceties and fake smiles.

“How are you doing?” a bleached grin asks.

“Great, Great” says another struggling stumbling pilgrim.

If broken honesty isn’t the standard then fractured doublemindedness will be. It’s a catchword that’s a bit played out so I’m reserved in using it, but “authenticity” comes to mind.

Not the self-conscious introspective hipster kind of “authenticity” that plays itself out as an art and fashion snob. The kind that bares soul warts and all before a critical world irrespective of what the cultural cool kids say or think.

A lack of courage in us, and lack of safety in our environments, keeps other people at a safe arms distance from our heart issues.

This is where church should come in. This where a community of fellow strugglers should work to foster a safe place where stumblers can unload all the latent weakness and nastiness they keep bottled up inside. But religion and performance keeps these vices bottled, and the toxic effects of these airtight soul traps are seldom seen by brothers and sisters.

Until it seeps out in the open by scandal. By then it’s too late. No one saw the divorce, or drug addiction, or child abuse, or tax cheating, or extramarital affair coming. It was hidden for years under the painted up facade of spirituality and social skills.

The modern church, and religion in general, is most susceptible to these unexpected explosions of toxicity.

That’s why grace has to reign in the context of an assembly. Planned events and potlucks where grace is not the center may be a cute social gathering, but it will never be true fellowship. Fellowship is the result of relational intimacy, and intimacy is a result of shared trust. Trust will never happen where grace is not  given to bruised and broken hearts.

We can’t trust people who are violent with our deepest hidden hurts.

Following Christ is not just about receiving grace from Him.

It’s also about learning to give and receive grace from others, in real-time, in real vulnerability.

Every moment of every day is the perfect time to give or receive the grace He’s given us. This is the basic way we are His body in this world. 

God help us (me) do it.

Bryan Daniels

When We Fall Into A Ditch (We’re Not Ditch Fallers)

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prodigal son

Not too long ago we were visiting at my parents. They have a small battery-powered four wheeler for the kids that reaches about 2 MPH top speed. I stood on the front driveway watching my two-year old, Gideon, manipulate the little red toy between the yard’s pine trees. He was getting good at steering.

On the side of their yard runs a steep ditch the county dug obnoxiously deep. A few inches of water and muck had developed at the bottom from previous days showers. In my youth this ditch was a consistent summer playground for water moccasins.

My two-year old was heading right towards the ditch on his four-wheeler.

Surely he’s going to turn….I thought…Surely.

He didn’t turn.

“Gideon!” I yelled.

But no brakes were administered, no turns attempted, just a toddler plodding headlong to the edge of moccasin cliff.

I activated my awkward adult sprint but it was too late. Head over hills Gideon fell, about four feet down. When I got to him he was straddling the four wheelers handle bars with his legs and bracing the side of the ditch with his hands. He was letting out a scared whimper. I scooped him up.

Not a mud spot.

Not a scratch.

Within seconds he was completely unaffected by the great fall.

I can’t help but strain an analogy. The way we view God almost always has more to do with our personal projections than actual truth. We believe we are defined by what we do. Culture tells we are the sum of: Our careers, our good deeds, our sins, our addictions.

Businessmen.

Homeschoolers.

Writers.

Philanthropists.

Alcoholics.

So when we slip and fall and fail as humans tend to do, we stop and define: We’re “stupid messups”…”clumsy idiots”…”abject failures.”

But the beauty of the gospel says we’re never defined by what we do, only by who we are in Christ.

I didn’t see a failure falling into that ditch, I saw my precious son.

My heart jerk reaction wasn’t to scold him, it was to protect him and hold him tight in my safe arms.

And I’m an evil father. At least according to Jesus:

“If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him” (Matthew 7:11)

What is a perfect Fathers heart towards children who stumble and fall? Does His holy heart of concern surpass mine in care and provision? Of course it does.

Times a billion. At least.

When we find ourself in the bottom of snake infested ditch. When our worst enemy has been self. When all we can do is groan over the plight we’ve put ourselves in.

God’s not shaking his finger at us like a disappointed school teacher.

He’ running to us.

With an open heart of unconditional love.

No questions asked.

No strings attached.

Just a child scooped up in the good Father’s strong embrace.

Bryan Daniels

How Football Makes Warriors Out Of Peter Pans

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Mosley Football Dline

My D-Line from last year

I’ve been an assistant football coach at the high school level for four years now. I played the sport in high school. I appreciate the benefits of football now as an adult coach much more than I did as a player.

If my two sons have an inkling to play football when they get a few years older, I will encourage it.

Here’s why:

Football makes boys become warriors

I don’t want to over-exaggerate my case with legitimate military vocabulary, but I believe this is true: Football instills a level of toughness most modern boys would not experience in their natural climate. Especially considering when their natural climate is playing Call of Duty 24/7, eating Cheese Puffs, and being coddled by an over protective mother.

There are too many Peter Pans living in a fantasy world who should be young men taking real initiative and responsibility to protect and provide for their family and futures. With the passing of World War Two’s “Greatest Generation”, football is the closest most boys will come to experiencing a battlefield.

There is a fierce fighter lying latent in every chubby adolescent couch potato. That warrior inner man can be beckoned by the stiff demands of sweltering two a days. That future responsible family man can be refined by the daily grind of stingers, head aches, and swollen knees.

Football makes individuals become a team

When done right, a coach can tear down an individual in the heat of battle and build him up afterwards. Tough coaching can help kill ego, laziness, and general selfishness in boys who sincerely believe they are the center of the universe. Football is a constant reminder that players belong to their teammates, coaches, and community.

It helps cast a vision greater than self.

No player is an island. Every player needs the cooperation of his weakest teammate to be succesful. In a generation that is becoming increasingly isolated by the dull glare of a smart screen, boys need community more than ever. They need interpersonal life skills that will help them become better teammates and co workers.

Football makes boys witness and model men

Ask any grown man who played sports: “Who affected you most in early life?” I can almost guarantee a coach will be mentioned. In a modern society replete with absentee dads (physically and emotionally) coaches are often the only solid male authority figures young boys will ever see growing up.

Coaches are the men who will help raise up the potential men who will serve the next generation.

Coaches have a ripe opportunity to speak life, encouragement, structure, and discipline into a boy’s heart very few parents even do. The coach takes a natural authority position most boys will respect, even when they have little respect for the rest the world.

Lost boys fed a steady cultural diet of women chasing, drug consuming, and stuff gathering have a complete lack of father figures to steer them towards true wisdom.

Football (and team sports in general) can help fill that void.

Bryan Daniels

What are some positives (or negatives) you see that team sports may play in an individual’s development?

 

The Gosnell Abortion Trial And The Blood That Speaks For Us All

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Abortion Doctor Kermit Gosnell

Yesterday Dr. Kermit Gosnell, the maligned Philadelphia abortion doctor, was found guilty of murdering three babies who survived botched abortions in his clinic. The testimony of co-workers and patients about the clinic’s grimy condition was chilling and brutal: Blood everywhere, severed infant body parts in jars, even cats roaming the premises.

We seem to have some wicked inconsistencies when it comes our threshold for such news. Thousands of Infants were killed in the womb within American “health clinics” yesterday. No word was uttered for them, partly because the clinic they perished in was “safe” and “sanitary.”

Safe for whom?

In America alone, over 100 infant lives were terminated this past hour with no court proceedings or justice for their spilled blood. Their doctor wasn’t a cold heartless monster in the ilk of a Gosnell. He was probably nice and professional. He stabbed the infants in the neck or suctioned their brain with a gentle smile.

That the child’s life begins at some arbitrary 24 week standard, or in the inches of proximity to the womb, is a sad attempt of justification. The death is just as painful for that child no matter where or when it happens.

I’m not merely trying to be provocative.

I just want to bring to light what I believe to be a torrential infanticide of tiny souls. Modern day abortion was born in the twisted barbaric pseudo science of negative eugenics and spread with the racially charged propaganda of Planned Parenthood’s founder, Margaret Sanger. Logically and scientifically speaking, hardly anyone can deny abortion is the taking of a unique human life anymore. But “education and care for the mother should be the focus, not Roe V. Wade,” they may say.

Education and care for the mother is not contradictory to caring for the unborn. The only teen pregnancy resource centers I know of in my area are also staunchly pro-life Baptist and Catholic ministries.

We can speak grace to the mother while speaking life for the child. There should be basic constitutional rights that protect all of life, especially the voiceless innocent kind.

Telling a black slave in the antebellum South that the law that made them “subhuman” was inconsequential to the slavery debate would be a bit disingenuous. Imagine if abolitionists only posited the “education” of slave masters as the best tactic to end slavery. How much longer would America have tolerated this abusive form of chattel slavery?

Was the “Emancipation Proclamation” necessary or not?

Our laws must reflect our value for all life.

The preborn child is a precious life with unique DNA

a unique heartbeat

a unique calling. (Psalm 139:13-14)

If it takes the Gosnell trial to capture the public’s attention about this ongoing tragedy, so be it. If it takes a shop of horrors so brutal and horrifying and real, worse than any “Saw” or “Texas Chainsaw” screening, then God use it for Your glory.

The light shining onto the utter ugly works of darkness will not reveal a bed of roses. Initially, it will be painful to watch.

So I’ll continue to strive to plead the blood of Christ over the blood of millions lost. That His perfect blood would continually “speak a better word” on our behalf than the blood spilled in murder (Hebrews 12:24).

For this nation.

For the infants.

For the broken mothers.

And for the souls of doctors like Hermit Gosnell.

God’s mercy is the only hope we all can cling to.

Bryan Daniels

The Sad State of Fred Phelps And Me

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 Fred Phelps and Westboro Baptist Church

America’s favorite villans, Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church, have committed through press release to visit my sleepy neck of the woods: Panama City, FL. They have three large churches, Tyndall Air Force Base, and Bay High School in their incoherent sights.

Some well-meaning souls have planned peaceful counter pickets against them. Instead of “God hates dead soldiers” posters, “God Loves You” posters and the like. Instead of handing out condemnation, handing out reconciliation and a bottle of water.

The local media, for the most part, has taken a discerning stance: Ignoring is the best policy. The less press WBC gets the less likely they even come. Half of the “church” has law degrees. These aren’t just a few dozen ignorant sheep being duped by one shady wolf patriarch. Most of them know exactly what they’re doing to maximize public and monetary impact.

So much is wrong about WBC’s message. So much is wrong about WBC’s tactics. Namely, everything.

But my anger can only go so far with that maligned family. The temporary spike in blood pressure inevitably gives way to a lingering sadness.

Not just for Fred Phelps.

For humans.

For me.

On my worst (and maybe even best) days I have a little incoherent red-faced Fred Phelps bottled up inside me.

A little Westboro Baptist Church trouncing and soap boxing around my cerebral cortex.

Sure, I dress it up and mask it better than they do. I’ve figured out how to soften my critical spirit with just a careless glance or unspoken thought. My personal mode of self-expression would be seen as socially acceptable by the majority.

But I have my own sick fascination with the Law’s demands, especially when applying it to others. Grace is not the default mode of my life projection, and it’s easier to speak as a distant armchair prophet than get dirty as an involved burden sharer and fellow sinner.

I have my own knee jerk judgments:

That people have the audacity not to live out my strict interpretation of the law and Christian ethic.

That my preferential truth is the standard God adopts to judge others.

That mercy is something I love to receive yet rarely express.

The WBC doesn’t just highlight how so many modern expressions of the “church” are un Christlike. If anything, the WBC highlights how un Christlike I am. We may reject their message while simultaneously rejecting any claim to our own self-righteousness.

The distance between opposing picket lines is narrow as a sidewalk. And it’s wide as an ocean.

It’s grace.

Only grace that separates, and reconciles, those two ends of the same fallen human spectrum.

Bryan Daniels

My Pithy Answers To Anonymous Googlers

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Is Tim Tebow a bad Christian

One of the mysteries of blogging involves the enigmatic role of SEO (Search Engine Optimization) in sending internet searchers your blog’s way. Many come with disturbing dark searches I’ll leave unmentioned, some come with weird puzzling searches that leave me wondering for more (IE “Rastafarian Polygamous Women”).

Many are in the form of questions, questions I’m not sure they received clear answers for in my disjointed ramblings. So here’s my attempt to pithily answer a few random search engine questions that have popped up on my stat radar the past month. I’ll keep it short and non nuanced. If you need clarification ask and a longer post shall be heretofore granted to you.

What does the gospel of grace say about leaving a church that preaches the law?

If it strictly ONLY preaching law (like women being unclean in their time of month, or shrimp being off-limits to Christians) then lovingly share the gospel with the leadership while you share your reasons for leaving (first of all, any kind of shrimp makes me rejoice).

If it preaches what seems like a mixture (which is what I think you’re saying) then sit down with the leadership of the church over coffee and learn about their story and testimony. See where they’re coming from. Most preachers see the ten Mosaic Commands as a rule of life for believing Christians, and as a result sound more behavior modification than grace in their public speech. That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re placing the cart of works before the horse of faith. It may mean they haven’t found how revolutionary, freeing, heart changing, and permanent the undiluted gospel of grace is for all of life. Help them with that by modeling it.

Why be an educator?

It’s challenging, rewarding, discouraging and incredibly interesting. Teachers (and coaches) will absolutely have a greater impact on youth than physically or emotionally absent parents. You want to be a light in the midst of the demonic darkness? Come to public education. Future lost generations need mentors to sow love and time into them.

What has been done for justice to the holocaust victims?

I don’t know if anything can be done on this side of eternity concerning real justice for over 20 million lives brutally cut short. Tribunals? Reparations? Band Aids on gaping flesh wounds. My best offer of justice is that of a coming perfect Judge and King, who can make indescribable beauty out of the most ugly heap of ashes (Isaiah 61:3). King Jesus will judge rightly those criminally guilty, and comfort perfectly those lives shattered by tragedy.

I was a bad witness as a christian can i fix it?

Absolutely not. But God can. That’s where grace comes in and murders the shame of being a “bad witness.” You will continue to fall short in your life and that will continue to highlight your continual need of Christ and his daily grace. The best you can do is point to his perfect life and death and life again on your behalf. His gospel doesn’t make you better, it gives you life. This living mercy is new every morning, which is the greatest news for mess-ups like me (Leviticus 3:23)

Is Tim Tebow a Bad Christian?

No. He seems like a bold, genuine, pleasant Christian young man. He seems like the type of positive role model kids need in this day with replete cautionary tales like Snooki or Lindsey Lohan dominating culture. Tebow relies on the same grace we all must be given day to day. Reference “Tim Tebow and How to Be a Bad Christian Witness” for more thoughts.

Should 55 yr old men wear skinny jeans?

No. Never. Absolutely Not. No comprende. What is wrong with you people?!

Hope that helps some of you Internet searchers and lurkers.

Peace and grace,

Bryan Daniels

Confessions Of An Ordinary Non Radical Christian

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Antony Bradley, in a recent World Mag article, makes a relevant point. I don’t know if I agree with all of Bradley’s conclusions surrounding David Platt’s “Radical”, but I love this verse he expounds on:

But we urge you, brothers, to do this more and more, and to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, (1 Thess 4:10-11)

Other than the pet sins of lust and laziness, this is what I’ve struggled with more and more through out my adult years: Living an ordinary life. In our culture, there is a consistent torrential message of “living dreams”, “being awesome” and “setting the world on fire.” The general message is the people who do something extra ordinary (as culture dictates) in their life are the only ones not wasting their vapor. And, meanwhile, everyone else is regulated to spectators of this greatness.

At nineteen I had delusions of “conference headlining”, “bestselling books”, and “mission trip leading” grandeur. Now at twenty-nine I just want to see my famiy protected and provided for and my two boys fall in love with Jesus,,. and maybe at night catch a “Frasier” re-run with my wife. I’m woefully aware of how un extraordinary that sounds.

The church has adopted this same fervor with varying results. When I first became a Christian the common catchphrase was being “sold out.” Being sold out was usually directly correlated to how many people you witnessed to or invited to church. I’d be at visitation on Monday night, youth group on Wednesday night, and worship service twice on every Sunday. I was found at every lock in, mission trip, and ancillary bible study on the bulletin.

I was on point.

The tides have shifted slightly since then, but our fascination with extra biblical catchwords hasn’t. Now the focus is less directly church related and more about being “missional” or “radical.” Church folk, to express with greater accuracy the life of Christ in Scripture, are now beckoned out of the church walls to: adopt a third world child, start an inner city ministry, or go live amongst the tribal guerillas of the Congo.

There is definitely something to be said of souls committed to local church bodies and international missions. But these catchwords can muddle our spiritual vision and make us tragically far-sighted.

I can attempt with grand boldness to save the world and yet lose my family. This can easily happen if I’m so enamored with the extraordinary call of reaching the lost out there that I neglect the extraordinary call of sacrificial love for my wife and little fallen boys in my home. The ordinary faithful life needs to be lived by the Christian, even the Christian called to the “comfortable” suburbs: Doing quality work at whatever job, paying the bills, protecting family dinner time, replacing light bulbs, sowing gospel seeds into one church.

Paul says strive to live “quietly”, while working and minding our own business. So much of missional/radical Christianity tells us to make the biggest counter cultural splash we can muster with our message and medium and life. But what of the small town boy who gets married at 19, has three kids by 25, and works as a car mechanic until his last days on earth? What of quiet faithfulness to a small family, a small church, and a small community for 50 years?

What if he likes Sarah Palin and spends his whole life voting Republican?

Can our modern artsy narcissistic hipster sensibilities handle all this?

Missional Christianity will probably only celebrate the life of that mechanic if he writes a book on missional life, starts a conference with missional headliners, adopts 15 Chinese children, or dies in an Indian leper colony.

Cause I mean, his family is kinda boring but social justice is the new Nintendo, right?

But the meaning of extraordinary should get turned on its head. It’s more extraordinary to be faithful to one wife until death than write a New York Times bestselling book on marriage. It’s more extraordinary to pour your love and leadership into your two children than lead a mega conference on parenting. Sometimes, it takes more spiritual backbone to share Christ to your nameless suburban neighbor across the street than confront a demon possessed Shaman in an African jungle.

So here’s where we are at: In the tenuous position between two ditches, balancing the commands of Christ the best we can. To not be overcome by the toxic materialistic fragrance of the American Dream on one side. And to not be discouraged by the heavy legalistic demands of radical/missional/sold out Christianity on the other.

To live faithfully in the ordinary

is the new extraordinary.

Where grace is the center and that is the only thing that will keep us from falling. Whether it happens to be in small towns, inner cities, suburbs, or third world ghettos.

Bryan Daniels