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The Videotape Principle

When our daughters were little, Elena and I learned the “Videotape Principle.” This is the principle by which, if we were to describe a set of events to the girls (such as “we are going to have breakfast, go to the park and then buy an ice cream cone”) in their imagination, these events had already taken place and in precisely that order. It was as if they had already played the videotape of their day, complete with the brand of cereal they ate for breakfast, the games they played at the park and their favorite flavor of ice cream dripping down the cone. If we deviated from the tape – if we messed with their preferred future, they let us know! 

Even though VHS tape is now consigned to a previous century, the principle is very much alive and, I confess, still functioning in my own heart. I once passed on a small, private dinner party with Meryl Streep! We had not long been in the U.S. and finding a grocery store was enough adventure for me. The idea of traveling into New York City to meet a Hollywood icon was not in my plans. Plus, I was sure that I would say the wrong thing to her if I did go, so much to my regret, I passed up the opportunity, because, frankly, it was not on my internal videotape!

I think we are creatures of habit. We warm to the comfort and familiarity that comes with amiable predictability. And so, Mary Shelley (the author who brought us the character of Frankenstein) could write, “Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” Yet even in a sea of change, when nothing in our internal video plays out the way we thought it would, we can hold fast to the constancy of God’s love. Let me offer us three perspectives: 

1. God never changes.There is One who never changes, One who stays the same. We are assured of this in Scripture: “For I the LORD do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed,” (Malachi 3:6) and “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8). Doctrinally, this is referred to as the immutability of God. Our God is unchanging in His character, His will and His covenant promises. God’s immutability also defines all of God’s attributes. All His responses are rooted in a consistent character of love, mercy, wisdom and righteousness. 

2. God’s Word never changes.Because God never changes, His Word never changes. All that He has said about Himself remains true forever. Everything He has told us about creation, about the fall and what’s wrong with the world, as well as the initiative that He has taken to save and redeem us will never change. No matter what anyone might say to the contrary, no matter who seeks to deny or defy God’s Word, it is and will always be immutably fixed. The Psalmist declared, “Forever, O LORD, Your Word is firmly fixed in the heavens.” (Psalm 119:89). Jesus reassured His disciples of this, saying “Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away.” (Matthew 24:35).

And because His word never changes, His promises over our lives remain constant and true. Here are just a handful of immutable promises that we can lay hold of in a world of constant change.  

  • For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38-39)
  • And I am sure of this, that Me who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. (Philippians 1:6)
  • “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10)

3. God is always with us and for us. He would have you take confidence inthese immutable promises: 

  • “It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; He will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” (Deuteronomy 31:8) 
  • “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9) 
  • “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Hebrews 13:5) 

The Lord is not only with us but His promise is to guide us. Of the Lord, the Psalmist wrote, “I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.” (Psalm 32:8). Solomon assured us, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6). 

When I was in seminary, I recall a day when my internal videotape was locked, loaded and ready to play. I had, I thought, just enough time to attend all my lectures and meet numerous essay deadlines. I had it all mapped out. And then I learned that I had been listed to assist at a local homeless shelter in the afternoon. I spent the worship time in Chapel that morning fretting about how this new event in my day was not on my videotape! I recall a friend leaning over and saying quietly in my ear, “Hey, Drew, you seem a little anxious. I have been praying for you. I believe the Lord is saying to you, just put up your sail, Drew, and let the wind of My Spirit empower and lead you through your day.” It was a simple image, but it completely transformed my outlook. Rather than my day feeling absurdly busy, it felt full of promise, opportunity and blessing. 

It was a lesson I call to mind often. I can choose to be overwhelmed by change, however big or small it may seem, however fleeting or long-lasting it appears, or I can choose to put up my sail and allow the Holy Spirit to propel me across the waters of my day. It might not be the videotape that I had anticipated, but I have found that it is always a much better movie when I let Him direct me! 

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Taking the Sting out of Criticism

Let’s be honest. Nobody actually likes receiving criticism. The speaker Doug Fields wrote, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people say, ‘You’ve got to have the skin of a rhino and the heart of a lamb…’ When I was younger I thought, Well, I definitely don’t have rhino skin…maybe I’ll grow thick skin over the years. Thirty years later, I still don’t have thick skin — criticism stings! I hate it.” 

The truth is, if we are going to grow, we need to be prepared to learn from criticism. If not, we will never grow beyond the mistakes we make. The New England writer, Ralph Waldo Emerson, wrote, “Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted.” In a January 1939 interview, Winston Churchill remarked, “Criticism may not be agreeable, but it is necessary. It fulfills the same function as pain in the human body; it calls attention to the development of an unhealthy state of things. If it is heeded in time, danger may be averted; if it is suppressed, a fatal distemper may develop.” And yet at the same time, the story goes that when Churchill was famously criticized by Lady Astor for being drunk, he replied, “I may be drunk, Madame, and you are ugly. But in the morning, I will be sober.” Clearly, he struggled with criticism, too.

There are some people who appear to be permanently primed to spontaneously correct others. Dale Carnegie wrote, “Any fool can criticize, complain and condemn — and most fools do. But it takes character and self-control to be understanding and forgiving.” So, if you find yourself on the receiving end of the less-constructive kind of criticism, here are four suggestions that may help take the sting out: 

1. Pray and seek the Lord’s perspective. Prayer is not always the first place that I go, but eventually I get there! And when I do, it makes a profound difference. The Holy Spirit is very good at helping me distinguish the parts that I need to listen to (there is invariably something) and the parts I can lay at the foot of the Cross. And of course, in Jesus, we have a Savior who knows exactly what it is like to be on the receiving end of harsh and unjust criticism. Jesus Christ was put down by the religious leaders for not having the education they had, and when the truth He taught convicted them of being wrong, they criticized him and his family and followers even more.

2. Ask the Lord to give you His heart for the person who has criticized you. People in pain say things that they wish they had not. In other words, there are probably elements of brokenness and pain in a person’s life that may cause him (or her) to have broken patterns of communication with others. I was once wisely told, “Drew, there is always something you don’t know.” I have found that bearing this in mind helps when dislodging a verbal harpoon from your chest. It’s possible that what is aimed at you is not about you at all. Our harshest critic is probably no less kind to himself. You may well be someone’s misguided attempt to salve his own internal pain. Taking a moment to at least consider this possibility opens us up to the opportunity that we might also be that person’s help – and that can begin with prayer. 

3. Avoid the temptation to retaliate. We may not be able to stop someone’s careless words, but we can make a choice on how to respond. A little humility helps. A response along the lines of, “I really want to understand more fully what you are telling me, but it is difficult to hear and receive what you are saying when you speak to me that way,” could be the key to ushering in a little peace and understanding. We can also rely upon the Lord’s promise to take care of us. He is the God “who defends His people” (Isaiah 51:22, NIV). 

4. Find some wise and honest friends to talk it through with you. King Solomon wrote, “In an abundance of counselors there is safety.” (Proverbs 11:14). When you feel under fire from an unduly critical source, the honest friendship around you to both affirm you and graciously point out where there may actually be a some truth in the criticism is very sobering. A circle of trusted friends will give you a more realistic echo of your virtues and faults. At the same time, avoid the temptation to speak about your critic with bitterness or blame. This won’t help your emotional health. Why add further fire power to what has already hurt you? I ask God to help me treat my critics with the love and respect that I would like to be treated with if I were being critical to others. 

5. Change the culture. Be an encourager! Solomon knew the power of encouragement when he wrote, “The right word spoken at the right time is as beautiful as gold apples in a silver bowl” (Proverbs 25:11, NCV). Mark Twain once famously said, “I can live for two months on a good compliment!” So, let’ change the culture. Let’s be proactive about honoring what is authentically good. The apostle Paul wrote, “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” (Philippians 4:8). After all, this is in our own self-interest. As Jean de La Bruyère pointed out, “The pleasure of criticizing takes away from us the pleasure of being moved by some very fine things.”  

So, as all of us faithfully but imperfectly endeavor to be salt and light, let me leave the final word to President Theodore Roosevelt: “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again… if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”  

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Sublime Sunrise

Many of us feel nervous about sharing our faith with another person. Do we imagine that we must have at our fingertips all the answers to the mysteries of the universe? The missiologist Michael Frost invites us to envision a more empowering perspective from which we might love more loudly, to share God’s love in word and action with more freedom and confidence. 

Frost asks us to imagine that we are in a darkened room with a single window in the corner, not unlike finding ourselves in a room after fire and smoke have swept through a building. The single window is encrusted with grime and allows no light to penetrate. We know that right outside this room the most beautiful, sublime sunrise that we might ever see is breaking. What could anyone perceive in that darkened room? Perhaps it would be just the faintest amber glow coming through the soot-coated window. Now imagine that in the room’s darkness our eyes begin to make out another person, huddled in the corner, head in hands and knees drawn to their chest. 

Our task now is to help the person inside the dark room see the sunrise. We cannot do anything to make the sunrise any more glorious, and neither can we make the sun rise. Thankfully, we are not called to do either of these things. What we are called to do is much simpler, though it does require a little humility and a servant’s heart. 

Our job is to take a rag and begin cleaning the window. Maybe the grime is so hard-baked that all we can manage on a day is to unveil a quarter-inch of clear glass. Yet even a quarter inch is enough for the person in darkness to press his face against the window and begin to see with his own eyes the spectacle of the sunrise. Our job was never to make dawn break, but to clean windows so that people can see it more and more clearly. As we clean windows, we reveal His love and presence. 

We are being sent out to clean windows, confident in the sublime sunrise of the sovereignty of God’s love. In the mercy of Jesus, the words that were first spoken by Zechariah over his infant son are now ours: “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare His ways, to give knowledge of salvation to His people in the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1: 76-79). 

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The Lost Art of Social Climbing

Is it possible to escape the iMe, iFirst, I-must-be-top-dog compulsion to have the best advantages, the best belongings, the fastest lane in traffic, the shortest line at the supermarket checkout? The attitude is a universal phenomenon. So how does God speak to this rampant self-preoccupation? 

Jesus told a curious parable about a wedding feast and the coveted seat at the top table. In this parable, I can see Jesus drawing me in close and saying, “Look, this desire you have to be top-dog… Don’t do what these amateur social climbers do by taking the best place for yourself. Think about it! Another guest will enter the room who is clearly better at these social situations than you are and will get your seat. You will end up having to take a walk of shame back to the kids table! That’s not the way to do it. Instead, take the lowest place so that when your host comes, he’ll say to you, ‘Friend, move up to a better place.’ If you do it this way, ‘Then you will be honored in the presence of all the other guests!'” (Luke 14:10).

“Jesus, that’s brilliant!” I might respond. “Honestly, that’s the best self-serving, self-promoting, narcissistic advice that you have ever given me!” And just there, if I were really paying attention, I might just smell a trap.

So what is going on? Has Jesus suddenly become a wedding planner or a life coach? Did we imagine that Jesus is now giving counsel on social engineering? Of course not.

How much true humility are we showing if we “humbly” take our seat at the low end of the social spectrum, all the while hoping and praying to be noticed and led to a more socially-advantageous spot, preferably while others are watching? The parable is a trap. It isn’t advice on social advancement; it’s a teaching on humility that artfully exposes the true condition of our hearts. All we often really care about is ourselves. We might act humbly and do the right thing, but our heart isn’t really there.

So, if this is the state of our hearts, what are we supposed to do? The truth is, there is nothing we can do on our own. It isn’t just a matter of acting humbly and taking the lower position; it’s a matter of being humble. The prophet Jeremiah summed up the chronic state of our condition: “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.” (Jeremiah 17:9). Penned more than 2600 years ago, the diagnosis is still true. We cannot fix ourselves. We don’t have it in us to be more than just someone who appears humble. Only a heart transplant will do, because there is simply no cure for what ails us. Psalm 51 tells us where to look: “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” (verse 10). We must go to God, acknowledge that we are truly helpless to save ourselves, and ask Him to forgive us and help us.

Jesus’ parable ends with, “For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”(Luke 14:11). When Jesus was referring to those who “humble themselves,” his objective was to show us what true humility looks like, to help us realize our own inability to be the kind of person he was exalting, and to draw us to experience His forgiveness and help.

And if we do humble ourselves in this way, from the heart, what happens next? We are told, “For all those who humble themselves will be exalted.”(Luke 14: 11) But is the desire to be exalted another trap? What does it mean, and how do you know whether you have been exalted?

Let me offer three ways that would reassure you that you’ve been exalted before God. First, you’re going to know you’ve been forgiven and that this was an undeserved gift born out of God’s grace. Second, you’re going to be surprised by a new heart that motivates you to do things and say things for no other reason than to bless, encourage, and help another person. And finally, you’ll be really happy: not artificially happy, chemically happy, or even politely happy, but truly, wonderfully, gloriously happy. Why? Because, as the Lord said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” This blessedness increases over time as we are transformed from the inside out.

So in these ways, by God’s grace, we become ever more ready to lose the art of social climbing. We are freed from the need to be first, and from our heart, we begin to seek out the best interests of others. We can learn to be humble and know that God is right there with us, ready to exalt us no matter how low a position we find ourselves in.

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The Father, the Spirit, and an Elevator

When I was a small boy, my dad would often drop by his office on a Saturday morning, and if I promised not to do any damage, I could go with him. Part of the office complex was an old warehouse four stories high, with a basement and a large elevator that ran through its center. The elevator was an ancient relic, with large metal gates that shook the building as they manually slammed shut. To me it was more like an iron cage.

It’s amazing what captures the heart of a six-year-old boy, but riding that elevator on my own was an adventure, particularly if in my mind I was James Bond or Batman or Steve Austin, the Six Million Dollar Man. The elevator had just two buttons: a green one and a red one. My dad’s only instruction was that I was not to press the red one. I obeyed, but on the way home I got curious. I asked my dad what would have happened if I had “accidentally” pressed the red button.

“Son,” he said gravely, “if you had pressed the red button, the elevator would have come to a halt, and I would never have been able to find you!”

If my dad was seeking to put the fear of God into me, he was successful. For months all I could think about when I went to bed was pressing the red button and condemning myself to being holed up in a dark elevator shaft forever!

All children need reassurance. I see it in my own children, and notwithstanding all that Jesus did for us on the Cross, the Father knows this need within His own children. It is, therefore, a truly wonderful thing that an integral part of the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit is to continually reassure us of our status as God’s beloved children. St. Paul writes, “For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’” (Romans 8:14-15) Paul’s reference to adoption is very deliberate. To his first-century Roman readers, families were the building blocks of Roman society. Under Roman law, during the process of adoption, the adoptee received an irrevocable new identity; his old obligations and debts were wiped out. The adopted son (or daughter) became a member of the family, just as if he had been born of the blood of the adopter. He was invested with all the privileges of a filius familias. In the same way, St. Paul is able to write, “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ…” (2 Corinthians 5:17-18a NRSV)

The Holy Spirit brings that reassurance to our hearts in relation to our adoption as God’s children. “The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God,” St. Paul writes in Romans 8:16. Jane Williams, Anglican theologian and writer, states, “The Spirit’s job is to make us able to stand in Jesus’ own place in relation to the Father.” This is a profound truth. Yes, we are that loved. Yes, we are that secure. Yes, we belong that much. The Spirit embeds that assurance within us, applying a familial belovedness to our deepest place of desire.

Brazilian theologian Leonardo Boff wrote about our deep need for reassurance: “The most frightening and unbearable feeling is abandonment and rejection, knowing that we are not accepted. It is like being a ‘stranger in the nest,’ experiencing psychological death. When I say ‘Father,’ I seek to express the conviction that there is someone who accepts me absolutely. My moral situation matters little. [Because of Jesus] I can always trust that there awaits a parental lap to receive me. There I will not be a stranger but a child, even if prodigal, in my heavenly Father’s house.” 

Several months after the fated elevator conversation, my dad came home late one night from work and came upstairs to check on me. He caught me sobbing into my pillow after I had thought long and hard about the elevator, that scary iron cage, stuck, with me in it, in the dark shaft of the vast abyss of a warehouse. I imagined myself pressing the red button and was gripped with fear, in the darkness of my own room, of being lost forever. When he finally convinced me to tell him what was upsetting me, I recall his response: “Son, if you had pressed the red button, I would have come looking for you. I would not have stopped looking until I had found you — and I would have found you!”

Fear melted away. That was all I needed to hear.