It quickly became chaos. Before I knew it, people were interrupting each other and nearly yelling; and then, someone through a shoe. (Well, the shoe part didn’t happen, but I thought that was next.)

Some Question and Answer sessions go smoothly. Some are a bit dicey. But others are just plain chaotic. The one I conducted this week was chaotic.

I used to get frustrated when shoes were thrown, but I don’t anymore because I have realized that when chaos ensues, something incredible happens.

What Happens? There are few things that make us more uneasy than asking: “What’s going to happen next?” We all know people who read their horoscope every day, or regularly see a fortune teller. (Perhaps this is why the ancients were fascinated by prophets.) The question “What’s going to happen next?” leads to anxiety, fear and worry. It can even lead to being dishonest with ourselves. And we know: worry is like a dancing bear and dishonesty is like a monkey with clanging cymbals.

We all know being dishonest with others is wrong and unacceptable: enough said. But there’s a kind of dishonesty we usually don’t talk about: being dishonest with ourselves. It happens when we’re unwilling to admit our personal faults and weaknesses. We convince ourselves that we can overcome our greatest weaknesses on our own. We go on without accountability. Eventually, either by force or surrender, though, we have to come to terms with who we really are.

If worry is like a dancing bear, then dishonesty is like a monkey with clanging cymbals. I’m a drummer—while we’re being honest, I prefer to be called a percussionist; if you’re a musician, you will get the joke, if not, I’ll just say I do more than bang on trash cans—so I love the toy monkeys with clanging cymbals. And I love the videos of monkeys trying to play with percussion instruments. (That stuff is make your ribs-hurt funny.) But when the monkey with clanging cymbals comes on the scene, we have a hard time hearing anything else. While that monkey is telling us lies about good music, like a garage-band drummer, we can’t hear the real melody. We can’t tune for the life of us. Eventually, we end up playing punk rock and having black hair, and calling ourselves an artist. (I did that, for the record.)

Many of the problems in Christianity are rooted in assumptions.

We assume that the Bible is inerrant and infallible. (Have you looked for yourself?) We assume God is good. (Have you read Joshua?) We assume that anyone who even questions those beliefs is a heretic. (Are you thinking that about me?) Some of our assumptions are correct, but the fact that we make assumptions is not.

I used to fail in my attempts to tell people about Jesus for one simple reason: I worked from my assumptions about the Bible. It wasn’t until I really examined where the Bible came from that I was able to effectively communicate what I believed about Jesus with other people.

An entrepreneur’s book recently reminded me of this lesson. Seth Godin, in Tribes: We Need You to Lead Us, says:

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“And then she told me, ‘Your father, your girlfriend, and your brother were run off the road. They didn’t make it. They’re dead.’ I didn’t know what to say. How do you respond to hearing those words over the phone?”

As he told me this story, my friend began to subtly cry—one small tear at a time. I didn’t know what to say either. But I quickly realized, there’s nothing to say—just listen. In listening, I learned something profound.

The art of listening alone is profound. But I learned something else from my friend on Tuesday night. After telling me his story, he began to talk about something that is shockingly taboo: Christ is mystery.

The words of Paul suddenly rang in my head. Paul says to the Ephesians:

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Vision casters desire that the roots of their vision grow deep and wide. They want to see their vision catch on and grow in the hearts and minds of others like weeds. But it's easy to stray away from a central vision, and before you know it, you're growing a different kind of tree entirely.

Part of my backyard looks like this right now. My flowerbed in the back is growing ginormous weeds. You know, the type that could take over the planet if they want to. (I could personify them further, but I'll leave that to you.) As my wife and I (well mainly her) began conquering the green monsters in the backyard, I wondered, "What kind of weeds are growing inside of me? The kind of vision (the kind that bear fruit), or ones that will kill out all that is good? For this reason, I often pray, "God, help me to see the good in others today." I have realized that if I don't look for the best in other people, my vision of a better world -- a world where people search for God in everything and make him known in all parts of their lives -- will never come to fruition. 

My new website, ResurrectedServant.com is now live! Subscribe to the RSS feed today and start learning about the resurrected servant prophesied 500 years before Jesus. This is also the subject matter of my new book.

Check out ResurrectedServant.com here.

We keep our distance. We put up walls. All because we believe vulnerability will come back to kick us in the behind, or even kill us. Something recently happened that changed my mind about my new friend vulnerability.

I used to write headlines for Bible Study Magazine. I don't anymore. But I didn't figure out that I stink at writing headlines on my own. In fact, I thought I was pretty good at it. I'm not. After some critique from leaders more skilled than myself, I decided to stop writing headlines. I turned to our artists and said, "I can't write headlines worth squat. I need your help." That decision made our entire magazine better. Our art is better. Our concepts are better. The narrative arc of our magazine is better. Everything is better. We now tell a story together.

My Mother is one of the primary reasons I am who I am, so in celebration of Mother's Day, let's take a short break from "The Infinite in Everything" to pray for our Moms. My Mom has been praying for me my whole life; now I have a prayer for her.

Mom: A Simple Prayer for You

Love Your Son

That you know you are as loved, as much as you love

That you see compassion, like the kind you offer

That you feel hospitality, like the generosity you practice

That you experience comfort, the way you comfort others

God, few people pray as much for others as my Mother

Lord, few individuals empower children like my Mom

Father, few people care for your creatures like my Mother

LifeWay Research’s recent survey of 1,200 18- to 29-year-olds showed that 72% of them are “really more spiritual than religious.” Spirituality is good. But there’s a catch. (There always is).

“65% rarely or never pray with others, and 38% almost never pray by themselves either.” How can you be spiritual without prayer? I would argue that you can’t. We have to pray to reach the spiritual. Praying is certainly not the only way to be spiritual, but it is one of the primary ways we build relationship with God. “Living kindly” or “being one with ourselves” is not enough. That’s not spiritual; that’s humanitarian and egocentric. (Yes, you can be both a humanitarian and egocentric.) We have to commune with God to truly be spiritual. Otherwise, we are just being good humans. Being good humans is indeed good, but we can never be “good enough” to be accepted by God. We need Jesus. So how are we going to convince people to pray?