Not too long ago I was at a big Christian event and one of the topics of one of the breakout sessions was actually titled, “It’s All About Souls.”

I want to be clear here: No, it’s not.

As we try to get a clearer understanding of the Bible’s take on human nature (which must include equal parts dignity and depravity), we must acknowledge that people are more than souls. They have bodies, too. And those bodies are important. They’re also social beings. It’s never been good for man to be alone.

I came across this quote from John Stott that I think is apropos:

These human but godlike creatures are not just souls (that we should be concerned exclusively for their eternal salvation, not just bodies (that we should care only for their food, clothing, shelter and health), nor just social beings (that we should become entirely preoccupied with their community problems). They are all three. A human being might be defined from a biblical perspective as “a body-soul-in-a-community”. That is how God made us. Therefore, if we truly love our neighbors, and because of their worth desire to serve them, we shall be concerned for their total welfare, the well-being of their soul, their body and their community. Our concern will lead to practical programmes of evangelism, relief and development….

So many Christians have been involved in coming alongside the poor and powerless, the sick, addicted and imprisoned since the time of Christ, not only serving their immediate needs, but also seeking justice on their behalf. Why have they done it? Because of the Christian doctrine of man, male and female, all made in the image of God, though all also fallen. Because people matter. Because every man, woman and child has an intrinsic and inalienable value as a human being. Once we see this, we shall both set ourselves to liberate people from everything dehumanizing and count it a privilege to serve them, to do everything in our power to make human life more human.

So, here’s a question for you: How is this kind of thinking about humans and humanity distinctively Christian? How does it differ from other views of humans?

So, apparently, I got hacked.

A few weeks ago, one of my faithful readers found something suspicious in my “page source” and alerted me. I chatted briefly with my webmaster, and we deleted it as quickly as we could.

But that’s when the problems really began. Something in the code of that malicious material told my website that if anyone ever deleted it, all hell should break loose.

Which it did.

We tried deleting the files and reinstalling them. But that didn’t work. Eventually, Jeremy had to rebuild the whole thing from scratch. We’ve moved to a newer version of WordPress and switched to a better/faster server. All of that should take care of the problem. Thanks for your patience.

Also, if the above paragraph doesn’t make any sense to you, don’t feel bad. It doesn’t really make that much sense to me, either. Jeremy told me that he actually learned a lot in this process.

I thought that was good. This is the teaching ministry of John Alan Turner, after all!

Tragedy last week kept us from furthering our exploration of why Christians should help people.

See, we’d spent a few days talking about God and what he’s like. That was important because in our desire to imitate him we should find ourselves becoming more and more like him — especially in the way he relates to people.

But I also think it’s important for us to think about humans and what they’re like. Obviously, the main reason God has chosen to serve people (especially the way he did when he was on earth in the flesh) is because it is in his nature to be a servant.

Certainly, we are called to follow the example of Jesus and serve others. So, one reason we help others is from a sense of obedience.

Furthermore, serving others is actually beneficial to us. We become better people by serving and caring for the needs of others.

But is there something more? Is there anything resident within humans that makes them worthy of service?

I think there is.

Human beings are made in the image of God and possess certain inalienable qualities which set them apart from the rest of creation. Obviously, for those who believe the Bible (or pay attention to human nature, human history and current events), human beings are fallen, and the divine image has been defaced. But — this is important — while that divine imprint has been defaced it has not been destroyed (cf. Genesis 9:6; James 3:9).

This belief is why Christians have always considered human life sacred and why Christians engage in charitable work.

In other words, we don’t honor people simply because it is what Jesus would do. And we don’t honor people simply because it’s good for us.

We honor people because they are worthy of honor and respect and dignity.

I know many of you have tried to leave comments and been thwarted by my website’s server. I assure you that my ace webmaster is in the process of taking care of the situation, and we should be back up and running at full speed soon.

Those of you keeping score at home will be aware that I turned 38 this year. If you’ve had a chance to peruse the website of the new church I’m part of you may also have noticed that I’m actually the senior member of the leadership team.

Now, 38 is not that old. Of this I am keenly aware. I have many friends older than I, and many of them are still full of vim and vigor. But 38 has been the magic year for me. That year which provides a potential tipping point that threatens to alter the course of the rest of my life. I’m different. Physically.

I have to shave every four or five hours now.

I sweat like a pig when I do anything more strenuous than tying my shoes.

I have begun finding rogue hairs in non-hair-appropriate places (shoulders and ears being the most common).

And…I’m fat. I have never been as heavy as I am right now. I am not quite round, but I’m pear-shaped — Grinch-shaped — reminiscent of a bowling pin.

The other day it was hot as blazes in my house, so I went looking for a pair of shorts. I found a pair of khaki shorts that looked vaguely familiar and began to put them on, but I realized they were too big for me. Knowing my current shape, I was befuddled at this until I realized that they were a pair of shorts that had been loaned to me by a friend of mine. This friend (who shall remain nameless so as to protect his dignity) is and has always been somewhat larger than me.

But the thought occurred as I hitched them up: These shorts should be much larger on me than they actually are. I’m closing the gap between me and my husky friend. Rapidly.

I have not been to the gym in 2008. Not one time. I have not worked out once in more than five months.

And it shows.

The only consolation is that I spent some time at my neighborhood pool this weekend and found that I am far from alone. Everyone in my neighborhood is pasty, paunchy and nearly 40.

Still, this is no excuse for my slovenly behavior. So, as my blog is my witness I vow to get back into shape this year. I will begin working out again. I will stop eating cereal after midnight. I will not grab any more Hostess Apple Pies while I’m standing in line at the grocery store. I will lose 10 pounds this summer.

But first I think Jill just pulled some brownies out of the oven.

Well…it would be rude to not have a tiny bite, wouldn’t it?

I should not have to write this. I don’t like that I have to think about this or feel this or cry as much as I have in the last 24 hours. It’s upside-down. It’s inside-out. It doesn’t make sense. It messes with my emotions. It messes with my theology. It makes me want to curse and spit and shout and throw something or hit something. It’s not right.

But it’s truth, and we can only live in the darkness of denial for so long before — cold and blind — we come groping back towards and warmth and light of God.

I have a friend named John Dobbs. I’ve known him since seminary. And I associate him with mixed feelings.

He’s big and loud, and he laughs a lot. He’s like Falstaff — only sober. But — like Shakespeare’s character — he’s got a melancholy lurking just beneath the surface. I’ve had conversations with John punctuated by humor and pathos. We’ll be laughing so hard we can barely breath, and then tears spring out of our eyes without warning.

I remember sitting in Dr. Petrillo’s Advanced Biblical Hermeneutics class with John on a Tuesday morning in September. I was doing my best to remain civil during a discussion of the tired, old tripartite formula (which is neither advanced, nor biblical, nor even really a hermeneutic) when someone knocked on our door and said there had been some sort of plane crash in New York. We found a television somewhere and watched in horror as the second plane crashed into the World Trade Center.

We’d been laughing and gritting our teeth and thinking through really complicated issues a few minutes ago — John and I had shared more than a few rolled eye moments that morning. And now here we were watching people jump from burning buildings, panic in the streets, thousands of lives lost. Laughter and tears.

John had spoken in chapel the day before. I spoke the day after.

I remember seeing John the following spring at a big hoot-nanny in Tulsa (The Tulsa International Soul-Winning Workshop — which sounds far more grandiose than it actually is — it is a great family reunion type event for many of us who grew up in the Churches of Christ, though). John had no idea what I was wrestling with — both with my personal calling to stay in the denomination and with several other personal things as well. But it didn’t matter. John was just John. He was kind and caring and compassionate and funny and a little cynical about some things (again with the eye-rolling). We laughed, and we laughed.

I left his presence less tired than I was before.

It wasn’t long after that I moved here to Atlanta. And then I got talked into blogging. And John got his website up and running. I think he started his at the end of July 2004. I started mine about three weeks later. John was one of my first commenters.

I got the chance to come visit John in Pascagoula. Back in June of 2005 he invited me to come and speak at a large gathering for high school students on the gulf coast. This time he was the tired one, and I did my best to do for him what he had done for me at Tulsa. I remember going to a Chinese restaurant where there was some shouting back and forth between what I can only assume are the only two Chinese people in Pascagoula. It ended with at least one customer storming out in a huff.

John looked at me and said, “That’s bloggable.”

More laughter. I remember a late dinner with him at Sonic. Quiet conversation. Probing questions. Now he was the one wrestling with calling.

Two months later John’s home was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. I was scheduled to come back and speak at a camp down there — some men’s retreat that my father and I were going to tag-team. But everything was interrupted now. John Dobbs — a man of laughter and tears — became a one-man wrecking crew, a one-man band, a force of nature. More relief efforts poured through him to more hurting people than anyone else I know of. He was always on the go. Going to the hospital. Going to oversee food distribution. Going to churches to raise money. Going to pick folks up. Going to take folks to the doctor. Going. Going. Going.

And sometimes he’d call me. He’d sneak away to the water’s edge and call from a picnic table. He sounded so tired. He sounded so confused. He sounded hurt. But he’d always find something to laugh about. He’d find something to be positive about in the midst of so much tragedy. It was as if there was some hidden inner reservoir of hope that he’d tap into.

Two summers ago I was teaching a series of classes on Wednesday night for a church in Nashville. I was driving over Monteagle and saw John’s church van/bus. So, I called him on his cell phone. Then I got right in front of him on the highway. It took him the longest time to figure out how I knew where he was and what he was doing. We laughed and laughed. Later that night I brought him a hot donut from Krispy Kreme, and we stood outside sweating in the heat and humidity of a Nashville summer night. He was worried about someone close to him. He was afraid of the choices being made. He asked me to pray. I told him I would.

I remember John calling me to tell me about his upcoming interview with a church in Monroe, LA. He was nervous. We talked about the worst things you can say in an interview, and we laughed at all our crazy ideas. What if you just get up to preach and start cursing a lot? Then tell them you’re just trying to relate to non-Christians! Or what if you get a copy of the previous Sunday’s sermon and preach it exactly — word-for-word? Would anyone notice? Well, they would if the previous guy tried the “cursing to relate to non-Christians” approach.

He told me how much he would miss the folks in Pascagoula, and I knew he meant it. They’d been family — even before Katrina. But when the folks from Monroe called him, I knew he would go. And he did. But it’s been complicated — trying to sell his rebuilt house in a Mississippi that’s still not fully recovered from the devastation of nearly three years ago. And his son, John Robert, was a Senior in high school.

So, John and Margaret have been living in two places at once — splitting time between Louisiana and Mississippi.

And now this happens.

John Robert, scheduled to graduate Friday night, is dead – struck by an 18-wheeler on a dark and lonely piece of highway in the middle of the night.

It’s too awful to contemplate, to close to every parent’s deepest and darkest fears. It’s like a punch in the gut. It makes me want to retch. It makes me want to ask questions for which there are no answers – at least no answers that will suffice. Questions like, “Why?” and “How much longer, O Lord?”

It makes me want to shake my fist at the sky and demand an account, and it makes me want to fall on my knees and give thanks for the fact that our God promises us that no goodbye is final and no loss will go uncompensated. It makes me feel so sorry for John and Margaret. And – truth be told – it makes me feel a little guilty for having three beautiful and healthy children and for having suffered so little in my own lifetime.

It makes me want to run and scream, and it makes me want to sit still and shut up.

I have a friend named John Dobbs. I’ve known him since seminary. And I associate him with mixed feelings.

He’s taught me so much about how humans deal with tragedy, about how we can show compassion and mercy, about how to weep with those who weep. He’s shown me that life’s too short not to laugh every once in a while and that there is no shame in a grown man shedding big, fat tears in public.

More than anything else, John has shown me that no matter how dark the sky, no matter how cold the night, no matter how far from home, how lonely and empty we feel, there is always room for optimism, there is always a ray of light, a tiny crack into which the word of God may drop and out of which a whole new world of possibilities may spring.

John Dobbs has taught me that even out here…hope remains.

I think we’ve been experiencing some technical difficulties here at the Faith 2.0 website. My highly capable webmaster is investigating it, and we may end up moving to a new server or something. I apologize if you’ve had trouble. We’ll get it fixed as quickly as we can.

In the meantime, I invite you to check out River Park Community Church’s website. There you’ll be able to get up to speed on what’s going on with the next chapter of my life. Oh, and we just got a blog up and running over there. Join in the conversation when you have a chance.

We spent a good part of last week talking about God. We said that God is not just interested in “spiritual” things; he’s interested in everything. We also said that God is also not just interested in “his” people; he’s interested in everyone. Finally, we said that God is not just a God of mercy and compassion; he’s a God of justice, too.

But, while I think a deeper and richer understanding of God’s character and nature is vitally important, I think we also need a better understanding of humans, too. After all, the way we offer service to people will be based in large part on our understanding of basic human nature and basic human need.

So, let’s talk about this for a while.

Why should Christians help people? Why not let them fend for themselves? Why do churches have benevolence ministries and prison ministries? Why do Christians support and volunteer to work in soup kitchens and orphanages? Why should we care about the plight of the homeless or unwed mothers? Why go halfway around the world to dig wells in African villages? Why speak out against the violence of places like Rwanda or Darfur?

Why not let humans fend for themselves?

Oh, and what kind of aid and assistance should we provide? Should we be working so hard at providing physical aid? Or should we focus first on evangelizing these people?

What makes humans worth helping? And what kind of help would be best?

I have a meeting this morning with the marketing folks from my publisher, Regal Books. I’ve not always been pleased with the way publishers handle the marketing of books, but Regal has really been great to work with thus far. I’m very eager to hear what their plans are, and I’m honored to be invited into the process.

Before my meeting begins, though, my wife is scheduled to meet with some of the folks who work on their curriculum side, Gospel Light. As some of you know, Jill is a fantastic writer and editor. She has some wonderful ideas of her own, and I’d love for her to get the opportunity to create something new and exciting with the people there at Gospel Light. It would also help our impending move westward if she could secure some work out here.

Needless to say, it’s a big morning.

But wait…there’s more!

This evening at 7:00pm, my publisher has graciously agreed to let us use their large conference room for a dessert reception (read: fundraiser) for River Park Community Church. We’re expecting close to 100 people there. The band will play. I’ll speak. We’ll give away some doorprizes. We’ll talk about the state of Christendom in our county (declining/marginalized). Then we’ll talk about a possible solution (planting relevant churches). Then we’ll remind folks that our cause requires funding.

We’d like to raise a million dollars.

We’d be content with 10% of that.

If you’d like to get us started with, say, 1% of that — or less — or more — whatever you feel led to give, you could go here:

Give money to River Park Community Church

(if you go ahead and give now, it will save you from receiving the dreaded fundraising letter we’re about to send you).

It’ll be a big morning. And it’ll be a big evening. All in all, a big day. So, if you would pray for us…that would be greatly appreciated.

God is not just interested in “spiritual” things. He’s interested in everything.

God is also not just interested in “his” people. He’s interested in everyone.

And God is also not just a God of mercy and compassion. He’s a God of justice, too.

Of course, God is full of mercy and compassion, “the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6).

But this is just one facet of God. We must also wrestle with the fact that

He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The Lord sets prisoners free, the Lord gives sight to the blind, the Lord lifts up those who are bowed down, the Lord loves the righteous. The Lord watches over the alien and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked (Psalm 146:7-9).

This is an equally valid description of the kind of God he is.

So, we’re called to become increasingly more and more like him. That means we should become more and more merciful and compassionate. It also means we should be more and more concerned with justice and fairness for those who are marginalized in our world.

And I’m not just talking about us as individuals. And I’m not just talking about us as churches.

I’m talking about a corporate, federal, governmental level as well.

Have you ever read the Book of Amos? This Old Testament prophet from the southern kingdom was sent to his northern cousins with a blistering message of judgment (Amos 2:4-8. But before he delivers it, he pronounces God’s judgment on the surrounding nations (Amos 1:3-2:3). He criticizes Syria — as a nation — for their cruelty. He criticizes the Philistines for the practice of slavery. He criticizes Tyre for breaking their treaty. He criticizes the Edomites for their hostility. He criticizes Ammon for war crimes. He criticizes the Moabites for desecrating the bones of a neighboring king.

Each of these criticisms was made against a nation for actions taken by their governments.

Have you ever read the Book of Nahum? It contains a message of judgment for the people of Ninevah — not just because they were enemies of God’s people (Nahum 1:9ff; 2:2ff) — and not just because they practiced idolatry (1:14). The city of Ninevah was a “city of blood, full of lies, full of plunder, never without victims” (3:1). The government itself had become corrupt, so God says, “I am against you” (2:13; 3:5).

Now, if we believe that God isn’t just concerned with “spiritual” things but with everything — and we believe that God isn’t just concerned with “his” people but with everyone — and we believe that God isn’t just concerned with offering mercy and compassion to people but ensuring justice and fairness on individual, corporate and national levels — why would we think Christians absolutely shouldn’t be involved in politics?