Of Basketballs And Jesus’ Rescue

Mike Leake

Spalding basketball in courtWhen I was a little boy, and reader I mean little boy, I was at the park playing basketball by myself. A group of bigger kids came and took my basketball and started playing a game, quickly edging me to the sidelines. I think I just accepted it. “This is your place,” I told myself in ways a child communicates to his own soul.

But then something happened. A bigger kid than the big kids used his strength to give me my ball back.

There I stood, basketball back in hand, with an important choice.

What do I do with this rescued basketball?

Do I go to the other end of the court and start shooting baskets alone? It’s my ball. This would ensure that I was able to be the center of the game. I could once again escape into my imaginary world where I was both Michael Jordan and Charles Barkley in an epic battle.

But something told me that when the bigger kid gave me my ball back it somehow was no longer my ball. It’d been transformed somehow in that moment. Was it our ball now?

The only other option I could see was to reject the rescue and give the power back to the bullies. “It’s alright you guys can play…I was enjoying just watching and playing with this worm over here in the dirt.” That’d be a lie. But it feels like the safer option. I guess sometimes it’s more comfortable being the victim than it is to risk being an active participant.

That’s the way you think when you’ve been told repeatedly that you are “less than”. A bigger guy stepping in to give you your ball back doesn’t immediately fix those things. Deeper work is required. His initial rescuing action doesn’t automatically communicate that you’re worthy of rescue. So it’s understandable if you give the bullies the ball back.

At the time these were the only two options available to me. I want to change the story and make myself a wise sage at a young age—one who chose a third option.

I didn’t.

If my memory isn’t too blurry, I think what I chose was a little of both. I started by playing alone but that option, I quickly realized had been shattered. Alone wasn’t a thing anymore. So, I capitulated. I gave them their ball back and went and played something else. I thought myself noble for letting them make my ball their own.

It wasn’t noble.

The noble option would have been to use the basketball the way it’s meant to be used. Basketballs are meant to bind. To build community. A basketball used correctly will value the 3 point shooter, the rebounder, the tall one who plays closer to the basket, the passionate defender, the passer.

That rescued basketball held power. But I used it on myself. And then I gave it to a group of bullies to use it on themselves. The rescued basketball wasn’t really rescued until it was used for the right reason.

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I’m sharing this story because I have an image in my mind this morning.

I’m picturing a group of women who’ve been battered and broken by men using God’s Word as a club. They’ve taken her Word and pushed her to the sidelines. But it’s worse. This Word has been used to abuse her. Making her sit on the sidelines is bad enough—but this would be like throwing a basketball at her face repeatedly. And then using the Word to tell her not to mop up the blood but to let it dry as she sits on the sideline and watches the boys play.

And I’m picturing Jesus stepping in and telling the bullies (dare I say us bullies?), “Give it back to her!!” The Word isn’t meant for those things. “Give MY Word back to her!”

I think that’s what Jesus was doing with that woman caught in adultery. I don’t know what he was writing in the dirt but I know that he was giving her life back to her. They were using God’s Word to pick up stones and wreck her. He was using God’s Word to restore and redeem her. He always used God’s Word how it was supposed to be used.

I also know that when Jesus was doing battle with the devil in the wilderness, and Satan was using the Word to try to manipulate Jesus, Jesus was also giving us the Word back. He didn’t capitulate. And He did what you’re supposed to do with a rescued Word—rebuild community.

I’m grateful that there seems to be a movement afoot where Jesus is stepping in and saying “Giving it back to her!” And when she is holding it in her hand, I’m hoping she realizes that third option.

But it’s her rescued basketball to use now. 

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Tortured Longings

Mike Leake

grayscale photo of woman looking at the windowThere is a question that Jesus asked of a couple of his disciples, that honestly scares me.

“What do you want me to do for you?”

That’s an incredibly probing question. How I answer that, I know, reveals a great deal about me. It reveals my treasure, my trust, and also exposes places in which I’m broken. To really wrestle with that question is to risk opening your heart up for longing.

I hate it that this scares me so much. My reticence to really deal with this question is telling. For me, it is not so much that I am afraid my desires are contrary to his kingdom. It’s not as if I could pull out of my pocket a list of desires that I’d really like but I’m too afraid to ask for because they aren’t spiritual enough. In reality, I can’t pull a piece of paper out of my pocket because it’s too tattered and filled with deep disappointments and the ink has now dried up on my pen. I feel, at times, like I’ve lost the drive to write a new list.

“What do you want me to do for you?” feels like it touches a part of my soul that needs reawakened. I thought of this question when I read a brief devotional by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

A Tortured Longing

In January of 1943 Dietrich Bonhoeffer was engaged to Maria von Wedemeyer.  Bonhoeffer was arrested in April of 1943 by the Gestapo. Though he was not yet married he certainly had his fiancée in mind when he wrote this to a friend:

“When a man enters on a supremely happy marriage and has thanked God for it, it is a terrible blow to discover that the same God who established the marriage now demands of us a period of such great deprivation.” (Bonhoeffer, 14)

Bonhoeffer would go on to say that “nothing tortures us more than longing”. In order to answer Jesus’ question you need to have longing. For James and John they had a twisted longing (self-glory) but they still had it. What does Jesus’ question do to somebody who has been broken and battered?

A question like Jesus’ puts a finger in the wound of unmet longing. It feels like a torturing question. “What do you want me to do for you” threatens to awaken desires we’ve long ago laid to rest. 

I think Bonhoeffer is correct when he says,

“It’s not true to say that it is good for a man to have suffered heavy blows early and often in life; in most cases it breaks him. True, it hardens people for times like ours, but it also greatly helps to deaden them.” (14)

Bonhoeffer goes on to say that one of the strategies of a dead heart is to try to find a substitute. But it never works because “substitutes repel us”. The thing we are longing for cannot be replaced. And so “there is nothing worse in such times than to try to find a substitute for the irreplaceable.”

The Solution to Tortured Longing

Substitutes will never give us the strength needed. It will only make us more miserable and cut out the legs of our endurance in hardship. Instead Bonhoeffer, as Bonhoeffer said, we must “[look] the longing straight in the face”. (15) By acknowledging our longing and learning to lament and mourn and wait for Jesus will we find help and healing.

There was another man in that story of James and John requesting to sit at Jesus’ right hand (Mark 10:32-52). He was a beggar sitting by the roadside and when he heard that Jesus was coming he “began to cry out” and asked Jesus to give him mercy. The crowd tried to shut him up but he persisted.

Then Jesus asked him the same question that he asked of James and John.

What do you want me to do for you?

And his answer is so simple. “I’d like to see”. His list isn’t long. It’s pointed. Sight. That’s what he wants. Bartimaeus is “staring” longing in the face. He doesn’t want a substitute. He knows his longing and he brings it directly to the one who can help.

Conclusion

I find Jesus asking me that same question today, but I’m timid in my response. I don’t have the youthful ignorance of James and John. Nor do I seem to have the faith and desperation of Bartimaeus.

Am I scared to be that vulnerable again? Am I afraid that if I answer those questions I’ll be met by a frustrated longing? Am I addicted to substitutes? Am I worried that my answer might reveal that I’ve moved away from a Christ-centered longing? Or am I afraid that I still am longing for Christ and I don’t know what to do with those frustrated hopes?

I don’t know.

But I’m going to risk asking those questions. If Bart can see again, maybe I can hope again.

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Photo source: here

On Fasting and Fences

Mike Leake

white wooden fence near green grass fieldThe most heated arguments usually come from those with whom you are closest ideologically. This may come as a surprise but this is part of what was happening with Jesus and the Pharisees. Of all the religious groups in the world during the time of Jesus, he likely had the most in common with the Pharisees.

Pharisaism was mostly a lay movement. And according to the early Jewish-historian Josephus, they numbered about 6,000 people or 1% of the population. Though smaller in number they were according to Josephus, “extremely influential among the common people”. These guys were the authorized successors of the Torah and as Jesus said they were the ones who “sat in Moses’ seat”.

The Pharisees and John’s disciples were seen by the people as the ones most dedicated to their religion and to the Lord. In fact if you would have rewound history a little, Jesus might have fit in quite nicely with some of the Pharisees. But as any movement tends to do, by the time of Jesus, their original passion had grown stale and it became more about following rules and regulations than about issues of the heart.

The original intention of the Pharisees was to preserve the Torah—the Law—to honor God and to draw people back to holiness and following YHWH. And their theory was to erect fences around the original rules so that you didn’t even come close to breaking God’s commandments. Over years the fences became just as important as the Torah itself and so they erected fences around the fences…that process continued until the Law or at least the law that the scribes and Pharisees had written—the oral tradition—had become a huge burden to the people. We certainly see this on issues of the Sabbath but you can also see it in their observance of fasting.

How Fasting Was Sidetracked

In the Old Testament there are fasts prescribed for various things. Fasting—in case you did not know is depriving oneself of food (or possibly other things) for a spiritual purpose. There was one required fast that was called in the OT and this was on the Day of Atonement. The Mishnah (which is part of the Jewish oral tradition) prescribed three types of fast. One for national tragedies, another was in times of crises (war, famine, drought), and the third type were self-imposed fasts for any number of personal reasons. That is what is being described in Mark 2:18-20. The Pharisees fasted on Monday’s and Thursday’s every week.

Fasting moved from a place of longing for God into an outward display of dedication to God. It moved from pursuing God’s attention to seeking the approval and attention of the people. In Jesus’ time, if you want to be considered a serious religious leader then you and those that followed you would fast. It was a prerequisite to religious commitment.

So Why Do Jesus’ Disciples Not Fast?

That question that is asked in Mark 2:18 is essentially saying, “How can you call yourself a religious leader of any import if your disciples aren’t fasting? What kind of commitment are you calling people to if they aren’t even willing to fast?” 

Given the context, it is a valid question. The problem, though, is that Jesus isn’t just another religious leader. That is why he responds by giving them an analogy of a wedding feast. Those are a big deal and a time of celebration. It’s wrong to fast when you’re supposed to be celebrating.

Jesus is the bringer of good news. Why would we put on sackcloth and ashes in order to receive good news?

The Deeper Reason For Not Fasting When Jesus Is Present

In this analogy Jesus is saying something deeper than merely it being a time of celebration instead of mourning. In the OT there was no explicit reference to Messiah being bridegroom. But in Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Hosea we see that God Himself is called Israel’s bridegroom. If Jesus gives himself this title He is making quite the claim. He is God in the flesh. And when that happens you don’t mourn…you celebrate.

Or think of it this way. What is the purpose of fasting? It is an outward expression of an inner hunger. It’s saying I want you more than food. I want you more than Mountain Dew. I want you more than television or video games. Whatever you are fasting from, it’s communicating outwardly what your heart is saying inwardly; namely, “I want God more than this thing”.

But when the Bridegroom is right in front of your face…when Jesus is right there, then fasting is silly. It’s legalism. It’s meaningless asceticism, hypocrisy, pride, whatever you want to call it but it isn’t true fasting. To fast with God incarnate in your midst is to say, “God this isn’t enough—I want more”.

He isn’t encouraging His disciples to fast because to do so would be to deny the incarnation. Fasting is a way of saying “Come, Lord”. If He is present, you don’t fast. There will be feasting and not fasting in heaven.

Why Do We Fast Now? 

If Jesus has already come and given to us the gift of the Holy Spirit, why are we fasting again? Jesus spoke to this as well in Mark 3. There will be a day when we are once again crying out, “Come, Lord”. That’s why Christians fast. Because even though we have the Spirit, we live in an age where we still ache for the fullness of Christ to come again. We long for His return. And so we fast, and say come Lord Jesus come.

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The Invisible Enemy Killing Your Congregation

Mike Leake

man in black jacket sitting on chairPastor, what if I told you there was a mostly unseen enemy that is harming your flock and potentially hijacking your ministry to them?

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It the late 1800s it was a massive gamble to get surgery. Many would survive the initial procedure but would contract a deadly infection from the surgery that would lead to their demise. It was so bad that at one point they considered outlawing surgery altogether.

What was happening?

While not nearly as efficient as our laser procedures in the 21st century, 19th century surgery was not as archaic as you might imagine. They knew how to effectively do surgery. Their equipment wasn’t the problem either…well, not entirely. The tools themselves were fine but the problem is that an unseen enemy was attaching itself to those tools as well as the very hands of the doctor administering “care”.

One prevailing theory was that the culprit was the air in the operating rooms. So after an operation they’d open the windows and have the “bad air” leave and hope that “good air” came through the windows. But in reality what was happening was that germs were contaminating the entire operation.

Lindsey Fitzharris, author of The Butchering Art, explains the condition of hospitals:

The surgeons wore these aprons that were encrusted with blood. They never changed them. They didn’t wash their hands. They didn’t wash their instruments. And these operating theaters were filled to the rafters with hundreds of spectators, some of them just curious bypassers who came in with tickets to see the life-and-death struggle play out on the stage. So there was no sense of hygiene. This certainly wasn’t a sterile place.

It wasn’t the environment. It wasn’t the tools. It wasn’t even the surgeon. None of these were the direct reason why these patients were dying. It was that little invisible creatures were killing their patients.

Today’s Little Invisible Creature

It may not be entirely accurate to say that trauma is an invisible creature. In one sense we see trauma all around us. But in another sense it impacts things in which we aren’t readily aware. A husband and wife arguing about an insignificant placement of a remote control is possibly tainted by trauma.

In his book The Body Keeps the Score, Bessel Van Der Kolk, argues persuasively that trauma reshapes the brain and the body. It impacts things like pleasure, engagement, self-control, and trust. It attaches itself to everything.

Let me illustrate by using a day to day example.

A man grew up in a home with quite a bit of yelling and angry arguments. He wasn’t certain what one day to the next would bring. Would it be a happy evening or one filled with things which made him fearful? Without it even knowing he was learning this, there would be certain sounds which would serve as a warning to stay in his room.

Now fast forward this story to the first few years of marriage and his wife is doing the dishes. She’s a gentle woman who would never throw a plate across the room. But she also does the dishes with vigor. Plates are rustling around in the sink, pots and pans banging against one another.

What happens to this newlywed? He is immediately afraid. He doesn’t even know why, but figures that his wife must be upset about something. Those are sounds of anger to him. And so he is put on edge and either works up the courage to ask his wife why she is angry, snaps at her in self-defense, or withdraws completely. All the while she was just moving a skillet from the top to the bottom to load the dishwasher.

Trauma attaches to everything and it is often unseen.

Enter Joseph Lister

There had been theories about germs around for years. In the 1540s it was thought that unseen germs could be causing widespread disease. But that theory had never been associated with wounds and surgery until Joseph Lister. Lister took the work of Louis Pasteur and developed a procedure of sterilization which would kill the germs on surgical instruments, doctors hands, and the entire room.

But his recommendations were not widely received. For one, he was a young doctor trying to teach several seasoned surgeons that what they were doing might be harming their patients. That’s a tough sell. To admit that something as simple as washing their hands could have saved lives was apparently too damaging to their pride.

In fact many of these doctors took it as a great measure of pride to be able to wear surgical gowns covered in blood (and unbeknownst to them) many germs. They felt as if their whole industry was being questioned. Are their tools not sufficient? Is this young man trying to say that the problem is with us instead of the environment? No way!

Thankfully, Lister’s recommendations slowly won acclaim. But will we begin to take trauma serious in the church.

Trauma in the Church

Let’s only take the trauma of something like molestation. Statistics tell us that 1 in 5 people have been molested. That means that for every 5 people you interact with in church on a Sunday morning 1 of them will have this particular trauma in their background.

Now add other traumas. Add things like living with an extremely depressive parent. Add physical abuse. Add emotional abuse. Add alcoholism or drug use. Add a suicide in the family. Add the death of a parent or caregiver. Add having to move every year or two. Add to the equation being bullied. On and on we could go…

Do you really think that people in your church have not had experiences of trauma? Do you honestly think that you are immune from trauma? No. We have all been impacted in some way. Perhaps we have not had significant trauma. But there are many within your congregation who have. And it is going to impact them.

Isn’t the Bible Sufficient?

I’ve spoken in the past about how this precious doctrine has morphed into something different than it was originally. And I’ve specifically shown how this relates to biblical counseling. I believe this is also going to impact how we handle trauma in our churches.

The Bible is sufficient to tell us how to please God. A person who has been traumatized (even traumatized by someone using the Bible in their abuse) has everything they need in the Scripture to connect them to Jesus—the ultimate healer. And there is everything in Scripture they need to know in order to please God as they walk through help and healing.

But the Bible does not claim for itself sufficiency or supremacy in all things. The Bible does not claim to be the best resource for learning to hit a fastball. It is not supreme in that regard and does not claim to be. Now, God Himself is supreme. Christ is supreme. And I suppose, we could say that He is the greatest teacher of how to hit a fastball—if that was what he was concerned with. But learning to hit a fastball is not why God gave us the Bible.

Likewise, Jesus Christ is the ultimate healer of trauma. Some day all trauma will be healed as Jesus wipes away every tear from our eyes. There will be no more trauma responses in the New Jerusalem. And the Bible is sufficient to lead us to Christ and this healing.

Do You Need to Be Trauma-Informed?

In my more thoughtful moments, I’m pretty hesitant to use a word like need. Can Christ provide significant healing through somebody who has never once been trauma-informed? Absolutely. Likewise, people did survive surgery in the 1800s. In that sense they didn’t need sterilization.

But is that really the right question?

What if being trauma-informed is like the sterilization practices of Lister? People have trauma. Just as there were germs. And being trauma-informed helps us to recognize those things, it helps us listen effectively, it helps us know how best to apply the truths of Scripture, and even how to speak in a way to be heard. And, dare I say it, there are insights in something like The Body Keeps Score that may help provide substantial healing for trauma.

I liken this to being a missionary in a foreign-land. How silly would we be to think that “speaking Bible” means you have to say those words in English and cite chapter and verse before you’re being faithful. You learn their language, you speak their language. That is what it means to be trauma-informed. It’s learning a language so that you can effectively speak the healing words of Christ.

Refusing to be trauma-informed is about as ignorant and harmful as the doctors who refused to wash their hands before surgery. I’m glad Lister won out in the realm of medicine. I hope something similar happens in the church.

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Photo source: here