I’ve been teaching through the Bible for the past two years at the North Atlanta Church of Christ. Each Wednesday night we spend about 45 minutes looking at a different story or paragraph from the Bible. It’s been amazing to see others grow nearly as much as I have grown preparing the material.

Several months ago, people began requesting CDs of the classes, so I went out and bought a little recording device. Then more people started asking for them, and I got a nicer piece of equipment. Then we started recording them on video as well. Then I got someone to give me the money for this website, and now you can actually listen to them in streaming audio or download them in .mp3 format.

There’s a minimal fee so we can maintain the technology, and all our transactions are protected by Bank of America. If you’re interested, go here for more details.

There’s an entire series on the Book of Daniel, and we’re starting to post the material for the New Testament now.

She had baggage. There was no avoiding that. She’d been married five times and was now living with a man to whom she was not married. That’s odd in our times. We can only imagine how deviant it must have seemed to people 2,000 years ago.

We don’t know why she’d had five different husbands. Maybe they all died. Maybe they all left her. Maybe she left some of them, and some of them left her and one of them died. We don’t know, but there are several combinations, and they all lead to the same outcome. She’d had her heart broken more than once.

It’s important to remember that once upon a time she was a little girl. She had dreams. She had hopes. She thought about what it would be like to get married, what she would wear that day, who would be invited, what the party would be like, how long it would last. She may have played that scenario out in her mind as the day drew closer and closer.

I doubt very seriously that she ever stopped to think that it might not last forever.

The end of a marriage is like a death in the family. Nothing prepares a person for it. And, to some extent, it doesn’t matter whose fault it is; when a marriage ends, a heart breaks. Maybe it was her fault — maybe it wasn’t — maybe it wasn’t anyone’s fault — maybe it just happened. Regardless, when it ended, she must have been devastated.

Now, can you imagine what she must have thought and felt when someone — after what they considered a proper amount of time had passed — asked her to do it again?

“I know your first marriage didn’t end up the way you had hoped, but would you marry me?”

Maybe she jumped at it and said, “Sure!” Or maybe she thought she wasn’t ready. Maybe she felt the icy grip of fear leap into her throat. Maybe every fiber of her being screamed out how there was no way in the world she would ever put herself in a position to go through that nightmarish hell again.

But somehow she manages to wrestle down the fear, put her past behind her and get on with her life. She says, “Yes.”

And how long was it before her worst possible case scenario began to play out in front of her very eyes?

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Five times she gave her heart away. Five times she’d had it broken. Now she’s only willing to go halfway — she’ll live with the guy, but they’re not married.

Angry? Bitter? Frustrated? Probably.

Thirsty? No doubt.

Now you know why the Bible says, “Jesus had to go through Samaria” (John 4:4).

The only thing more conspicuous than a woman going to get water from a well at high noon would be a Jewish rabbi actually talking to a Samaritan woman who had been married several times and was currently shacked up with a guy. That’s exactly what we find in John 4, and it gets even stranger! Jesus asks her for a drink, but she notices he doesn’t have anything to drink with — no cup, no bucket, nothing. Does he intend to drink from her water jar?

Doesn’t he know how gross that is?! She’s a Samaritan. She’s a woman. She’s living in sin. She’s practically wearing a scarlet “A” on her chest. You couldn’t get any further “outside” for a typical Jewish rabbi.

Ah, but Jesus is far from typical.

The story of the Samaritan woman at the well is remarkable on its own merits. But read alongside the previous chapter — the bit where Jesus has his encounter with Nicodemus — it’s earth-shattering. Here’s a Messiah who comes to the upper-uppers and the lower-lowers, the high and mighty as well as the down and out.

Men and women, wealthy and poor, moral and immoral, proud and ashamed — no matter where you’ve been or what you’ve been up to, Jesus, the Equal Opportunity Savior, comes for you.

Zacchaeus chose a strange profession. It’s not like being a tax collector was forced upon him. He did choose it willingly — with full knowledge of the social ramifications of his choice. He chose the life he lived, and he lived with the consequences (both positive and negative) of that lifestyle choice.

But something was missing.

There was something about Jesus that drew people like Zacchaeus. He was clearly from God; look at all the miracles he did. But he associated with sinful people like Zach.

Still, Zacchaeus wasn’t sure he wanted to get too close. He wanted to see Jesus, but he also wanted to be able to keep a safe distance. That’s one reason he climbs the tree — he wants to see without being seen.

And he probably thinks his plan is going to work. Jesus comes right up next to the tree, and Zach is probably thinking, “This is great. I can see him. I’m going to be able to hear every word he says.”

But then Jesus stops and actually looks up in the tree. Now, the plan has backfired. There’s no escape. Jesus has the wee little man up a tree.

“Zacchaeus, come down from there.”

Notice that Jesus does not say, “Zacchaeus, don’t make me come up there!” Nor does he say, “Peter? John? Go up there and get him!”

Jesus invites Zacchaeus to come down, and then it’s Zach’s choice. He could have stayed up there. He could have held on for dear life, and Jesus would have probably gone away eventually. But then there would have been no healing, no restoration.

The first step is always this: Will you come out of hiding?

Until you do, there can be no real community, no real intimacy with God or others. Unless you’re willing to come out of hiding, you’ll be forever stuck up a tree.

Let’s just start by saying that this is too hard to call. There is absolutely no way to comb through the grand history of baseball and say with any level of certainty who the top five pitchers of all time are.

There was a time when baseball was only played during the daytime. There was the deadball era. There was a time when they would use as few baseballs as possible. By the end of the game, the ball was mushy and dirty, and the sun was going down. There was the day of cavernous ballparks like the Polo Fields. There was the onset of astroturf and cookie-cutter parks. There was the ever-shrinking strike zone. There was the time of small ball, and now there is a liveball era of steriods, weight training and happy Haitians (HT: George F. Will).

Still, we are witnessing something amazing in our day: two no-doubt, first-ballot, warrior pitching phenoms.

Roger Clemens and Greg Maddux

Power vs. Grace

Force vs. Finesse

Roger Clemens can still bring mid-90s heat. Greg Maddux might not be able to break a pane of glass with his batting practice fastball. But they’re both out there making major league hitters look stupid.

Maddux has 329 wins with 3,148 strikeouts and a lifetime ERA of 3.06.

Clemens has 346 wins with 4,564 strikeouts and a lifetime ERA of 3.11.

Did anyone see that game Maddux threw against the Giants a couple of weeks ago? It was August 13. He threw eight innings of two-hit shutout baseball, and he only threw 68 pitches — 50 of them were strikes.

One week later, Clemens pitched seven innings, gave up one run, struck out seven and threw 108 pitches — 80 of them for strikes.

So, in mind we’ve got two of the top five pitchers of all time pitching for us today. If you want to say “Top Five Pitchers of the Modern Era” I’m fine with that. But here are your two questions for today:

1. If we agree that the top three pitchers of the last 35 years are Nolan Ryan, Roger Clemens and Greg Maddux, who rounds out the top five?

2. Who is better: Roger Clemens or Greg Maddux?

Hi. My name is John. I’m a…biblioholic.

Fellow blogger Wade Tannehill has tagged me. And it has to do with books! So, here goes.

1. One book that changed your life: No Wonder They Call Him the Savior by Max Lucado. I can still remember where I was when Jeff Walling told me to go to a bookstore and get this book. My entire life kind of pivots on that moment.

2. One book that you’ve read more than once: The Divine Conspiracy by Dallas Willard. I’ve internalized so much of this book that I find myself quoting bits of it without realizing it. I’ve probably read it four times and have practically underlined the entire book.

2. One book you’d want on a desert island: Thomas’ Guide to Practical Shipbuilding (HT: G.K. Chesterton).

3. One book that made you laugh: The Book of Guys by Garrison Keillor. No one tells a story like Garrison Keillor.

4. One book that made you cry: The Gospel of Luke. Every time.

5. One book you wish had been written: Hearts and Minds: Raising Your Child with a Christian View of the World. Oh wait….

6. One book you wish had never been written: Mein Kampf by Adolph Hitler.

7. One book you’re currently reading: The Voice of Jesus: Discernment, Prayer and the Witness of the Spirit by Gordon T. Smith. Here’s how the book starts: “Every Christian should be able to answer two questions. First, what do you think Jesus is saying to you at this point in your life, in the context of the challenges and opportunities you are facing? Second (and just as critical), what indicators give you some measure of confidence that it is indeed Jesus speaking to you rather than someone or something else?” I was hooked from the very first paragraph.

8. One book you’ve been meaning to read: A Generous Orthodoxy by Brian McLaren. I know. I know. Everyone else has read it already. I just don’t see what the big deal is. I have it sitting here, and I’ll get around to it. I promise.

9. Tag five others: I’m not sure I have more than five readers, so — if you’re reading this and you have a blog — consider yourself tagged.

Jesus looks at Zacchaeus, sitting in that tree, and he says, “I must stay at your house today.”

Sometimes things happen that cut you off from community. And it’s completely out of your control.

Sometimes you intentionally choose to do something that you know will result in you being cut off from community.

I want Jesus to reach out and touch the leper. I want him to heal that man born blind. Neither of those guys did anything to deserve their situation.

I want Jesus to explain things to Nicodemus. He’s a good guy with a good heart. He just has some misguided beliefs and bad theology to work through. He’s been blinded to the truth, but if someone will explain it to him in language he can understand, he’ll come around.

But when Jesus goes out of his way to call out Zacchaeus, there’s something in me that cringes. Zach had chosen his situation. He brought this upon himself. He knew the right thing, and he chose to do wrong anyway.

Still, Jesus says, “This is what I must do. My mission will be incomplete unless I go to your house today.”

This is how grace is revealed. This is how the kingdom of God breaks into our world. This is the work of God — not some kind of distraction from it.

Jesus must offer acceptance, community, fellowship to those on the outside — even those who have done it on purpose!

Jesus says, “I must.” And, as those who claim to follow him, we must as well. We must go and find those whose lives are in shambles through no fault of their own. We must go and find those who are mistaken in their thinking and blind to the truth.

But we must also go and find those who chose to do wrong even though they knew better. And we must offer grace and healing to them all.

I had someone ask me this weekend what I want to be when I finally grow up. They weren’t trying to be condescending; they were just pointing out the fact that I don’t have much of a “real job”. I bounce around here and there as an itinerant kind of guy. I don’t have an office or a company car. I don’t have a corporate expense account. I don’t have a 401k or insurance plan provided for me.

Don’t get me wrong. I make a living. Sometimes we squeak by, but sometimes we have plenty of margin. I have a job, it just doesn’t look like anything you would call “normal”.

BTW, if any of you would like to contribute to the “Make Sure John Can Feed His Family” fund, you can make donations to Faith 2.0 — they’re tax deductible. Or you could just bring John in to speak for your church or organization. It’s fun!

Anyway, the question got me to thinking about what I wanted to be when I was a kid. I know I wanted to be a Police Man for a while. I wanted to be a trash collector because I thought they only worked on Tuesdays. I wanted to be a professional baseball player or a professional football player.

I never once thought, “I’d like to grow up and work for the IRS.”

In fact, I have never heard anyone say, “Working for the IRS has been a dream of mine since I was a child.”

Doctors. Nurses. Astronauts. Firemen. Veterinarians. Rock Stars. Rodeo Clowns. Yes.

IRS agent. No.

In ancient Israel there were certain jobs that were not just distasteful; they were downright despised. In fact, some rabbis actually maintained lists of jobs that were unacceptable. For example, physicians and butchers were considered socially despised trades — because they were constantly handling blood and guts, and they generally showed special treatment to wealthy people.

Tanners and dung collectors also made the list — for obvious reasons. There was even a special dispensation for women whose husbands became dung collectors. They could divorce their husbands with none of the normal social and religious repercussions.

Then there was a whole other category of jobs that were actually considered immoral. People who gambled with dice. People who were involved in usury (lending money to people). Pigeon trainers (pigeon racing was a common form of gambling at the time).

At the bottom of the list: Tax Collector.

It’s hard to imagine just how deeply the hatred ran towards people who earned their living as tax collectors. They were not only avoided and despised, they were also deprived of many of their civil rights. They couldn’t testify in court. They weren’t allowed to serve as judges or elders. A devout Israelite wouldn’t even allow the hem of his robe to brush up against the robe of a tax collector.

All of this background makes what happens in Luke 19:1-10 so remarkable. Jesus encounters this wee little man named Zacchaeus, who has climbed up in a sycamore tree. Zacchaeus wasn’t just a tax collector; he was “a chief tax collector”. That means he has ascended through the ranks of the other run-of-the-mill tax collectors and had distinguished himself as one of the best tax collectors there were. That means most Jewish people would viewed him as one of the worst people in the world.

Jesus looks up into the tree and says to this man who is despised and shunned by his own people: “Zacchaues, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.”

Not, “Come down here so I can give you a thrashing.” Not, “Come down here and apologize for what you’ve been doing to these people.”

“Come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.”

Not, “I want to.” Not, “I’m going to.”

“I must.”

This is what Jesus came to do. This is one of the reasons he was here. He came to show kindness to people who would never receive it elsewhere. He came to offer acceptance to people who did not deserve it. He came to bring grace and mercy to sinful little people like you and me and Zacchaeus.

When I finally manage to grow up, I don’t intend to be the next Billy Graham or Max Lucado. I don’t need to get a job that pays gobs of money and provides me with the kind of security most people have. Those things are nice and all, but I’ve set my sights way higher than that.

As cheesy as it sounds, when I grow up I want to be like Jesus.

It’s been a while since I posted something about Aquinas, but his arguments for God’s existence still occupy my thoughts. These days, the debate over whether or not God exists has shifted. We don’t hold a medieval worldview anymore. Aquinas believed his proofs were as much scientific as they were theological, but now there is an ever-widening gap between scientific language and theological language (not necessarily science and theology — just the language the two camps tend to employ) which many people have a difficult time bridging.

Many contemporary thinkers think it’s unlikely that a scientific demonstration of God’s existence can be given. They point to Aquinas’ prior faith in God as the basis for the proofs he offers. In other words, Aquinas believed in God and reasoned from that belief to a pre-determined conclusion. Of course, the same can be said of Hume and others on the other side of the debate. People tend to believe what they believe and reason outward from the belief.

Some have even come to question what terms like “God” and “exists” actually mean. If God exists, how does God exist? The traditional notion of God as a personal, loving Father and all-powerful Creator who is actively involved in our world, who desires community with humans is now seen as naive or superstitious.

Paul Tillich (1886-1965) was one of the most important and influential theologians of the last century. He suggested a new definition of faith: “Ultimate Concern”. Tillich was an existentialist and claimed that God doesn’t exist in the same way everything else exists. But he followed that up by saying that if God doesn’t exist in the same way everything else exists, then maybe God doesn’t really exist at all.

Tillich came to believe that the representation of God in the Bible is really a picture of ultimate human experience. He rejected the belief in a personal God and said that God was really just “the ground of our being.”

If that language sounds a little inaccessible, it is. It took a man named John A.T. Robinson to translate these ideas into popular language. In 1963, Robinson published Honest to God. In it, Robinson suggested that the life of Christ contains an example for all to follow and insights for all to share. Rather than viewing Jesus Christ through the lens of deity, he said, we should view him through the lens of human potential. The truly good life became actualized in Jesus and was now possible for the rest of us. That, he said along with Tillich, is the real truth and strength of Christianity.

The language and nature of the debate over God’s existence has shifted substantially, but the fact of the debate has not. People exist. The world exists. But does God exist? And if so, how does God exist? And how do you know?

When I was a kid, we used to sing a song called “He Lives!” The chorus went like this:

He lives! He lives! Christ Jesus lives today!

He walks with me and talks with me along life’s narrow way.

He lives! He lives! Salvation to impart.

You ask me how I know he lives?

He lives within my heart.

This is what is known as “The Argument from Religious Experience”. I know it because I’ve experienced it. But is that a good enough reason? Would that kind of argument ever convince someone else?

So, this weekend I went to Cleveland, OH (again). It’s becoming a habit.

I spoke there and then met with some of the leadership team from this church I’ve visited five times now in the last 18 months. I’ve grown quite fond of them.

Before the meeting with the leadership team, they had arranged to go out to a nearby lake to baptize folks. They immersed 56 people yesterday afternoon — which is pretty incredible. But that’s just the beginning….

After our meeting adjourned, I poked my head into their singles’ ministry’s worship time. It’s called 707, and I’ve spoken for them a couple of times, so I know lots of folks there. It’s really great to see nearly 1,500 young adults who are totally sold out to Jesus.

Last night they were getting ready to baptize some folks when I crept into the auditorium. It was packed — people sitting on the floor and lining the walls. Dan Burgoyne was on the platform talking with several guys and girls about why they wanted to be baptized and what it meant to them.

He took them out the side door to get to the baptismal pool and I caught his eye. He said, “Are you going to be around afterwards? I’d love to grab a bite when we’re done.”

I said, “Sure, I can hang out until then.”

Little did I know what was about to happen.

After Dan baptized 16 young people, he looked out at the crowd and said, “I think there are more of you who are ready to do this. There’s no need to wait any longer. As I read the Bible, this is the right thing to do. When people ask what they must do to be saved, this is what they told them. There’s nothing magic about the water, and it’s Jesus that does the saving. But this is an outward sign of what’s going on inside of you. If you’re ready to do this, come on up to the front and let’s do it!”

Forty-five people walked to the front of the room. Then a few more. And a few more.

By the time it was all said and done, 77 people spontaneously made a decision to enter the waters of baptism during the 8:30 service of 707 last night. If you count the folks who were already scheduled and the folks who did it at the 6:30 service, there were 113 people baptized last night. I was standing out in the hallway, and people were getting in line saying, “I’ve never been here before, but I kept saying one day I would visit to see what it’s all about. Something just made me come tonight. Now I know why.”

There were 56 in the afternoon and 113 last night. That’s 169 baptisms in one day. At one church. In one city. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Cleveland rocks!