In his book, The Luminous Dusk, Dale Allison tells of a study that was conducted among scientists, a poll to determine how many of them believe in God. He says that among those who do believe in a supreme being, most of them are cosmologists — someone who studies the universe as a whole and, by extension, humanity’s place within the universe.

More cosmologists than biologists believe in God. But more biologists than psychologists believe.

Could it be that the closer your field of study takes you to people, the less likely you are to believe in God?

I’ll admit here that when I get alone, say, at the beach or on a mountaintop, I can sit still and contemplate the beauty of creation. This naturally leads me to a deeper contemplation of the Creator. I find peace readily at hand. I experience contentment. The light and momentary troubles of this world seem just that: light and momentary. Perspective returns, and I know the truth of Jesus’ statement, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

But add a few people into the mix — a nagging wife, her defeated husband and whiny children in tow, or an old bickering couple or a loudmouth businessman yammering away on his cellphone about his fantasy baseball draft or some other strange nonsense — and my “peace like a river” easily turns into a stage-5 rapids.

It’s just harder for me to be a good Christian when there are people around.

Perhaps this is why I chose to become a preacher instead of a counselor. Instead of patiently listening to others tell me about their personal problems for 50 minutes, I’d much rather make them sit and listen to me tell them what to do.

I don’t think I’m alone in this struggle. I spent a lot of time last week with other professional Christians — preachers, professors, authors, etc. And I noticed something strange. When they talk about God, their eyes light up. Their energy level rises. They love talking about God, about the Bible, about Jesus, the Holy Spirit and salvation. They positively glow when they talk about what God has done for us and what a magnificent person he is.

But when the subject changes to church or — more specifically — people in their church…well…their countenance falls. There’s always someone stirring up trouble or threatening to leave. Someone just got a divorce. Someone else is having an affair. A child has been abused. Lies have been told. Money is missing. Forgiveness is withheld. Factions form.

It would be so much easier to be a good Christian if there weren’t all these broken, messed up people around!

And yet, for some strange reason, God refuses to let me deal with just him. He insists that if I’m going to be in a relationship with him, I must also be in a relationship with his people.

So, how do you balance it? Do you ever find spending time with people takes you farther away from God?

This will be a long-ish story. And — I’ll just go ahead and warn you — I got a little “link happy” in this one.

So…LV Hanson works for Catalyst — as in the Catalyst Conference. I’ve asked him several times what LV stands for. He told me — I’m not making this up — that it stands for Luscious Vernon. When I started calling him that, though, he told me it didn’t really stand for anything — that it’s L(only) V(only).

Now I’ll call him Lonely Vonely Hanson. But I’ve digressed already, haven’t I?

Catalyst has decided to do some regional conferences in 2009 and will be doing one out here in California in April. Luscious Vernon is the guy Catalyst sent out here as some sort of advance scout. At least that’s the best I can figure.

And some folks in Atlanta suggested to him that when he got out here he should contact me — that somehow I’d manage to connect him with people.

Well, Lonely Vonely called me a couple of weeks ago and said he wanted to meet some influential church leaders and some people who have fascinating stories about what God is doing in their lives. Now, I’ve lived out here all of three months now. I don’t know anybody. I’m an introvert for crying out loud. But as we talked, I thought about my friend Andy Vomsteeg up in Sonoma County — who may be the boldest leader I’ve ever met. Then I thought about my friend Jay Loecken — who sold his house in Atlanta to buy an RV. He travels the country with his family just looking for people to help.

Oddly enough, when I told Luscious Vonely about Jay, he said, “You mean Chad, right? The guy from Idaho?”

I said, “There aren’t two of these guys doing the same crazy thing, are there?”

Turns out…yes.

So, yesterday afternoon, I had Lonely Vernon and his Volkswagen Vanagon, Jay and his family and their gigantic office-building on wheels, Chad and his family and their slightly less unwieldy RV, Andy Vomsteeg and the staff from River Park Community Church…all sitting in my living room talking about what God is doing out here on the west coast.

The afternoon started to get away from us, so I said, “Why don’t you all stay for dinner?”

Andy had to catch a plane home, and the River Park people said they should get back to their families. But everyone else said, “Are you sure?” And we made dinner for all these crazy vagabonds parked in my driveway.

When dinner was done, dishes were washed, the evening wore on, and I said, “Why don’t you guys just stay the night?”

Everyone said, “Are you sure?” And suddenly there was our family of five, Chad & Amy Houck with their two kids, Jay & Beth Loecken with their four kids and Luscious Lonely Vernon Vonely — 16 people total! — hanging out, talking, laughing, sharing, eating, drinking. It was like something from…I don’t know…the Bible…from the Book of Acts or something.

I was telling this story with my friend Andy Sikora earlier today, and he made a great observation. He said, “I need to hear stories like this too because I can get pretty rigid in my schedule and miss opportunities for sweet community and the encouragement that comes from being in the middle of these kinds of things.”

My life is crazy and unpredictable. Things sometimes blindside me. But it’s the things that blindside me that leave a lasting mark and change my perspective the most. It’s the crazy and the unpredictable that lead me to the place I want to be. And it all forces me to walk by faith and not by sight, to listen and follow the guidance of the Spirit, to be open for whatever God has in store for me today.

Hey, when’s the last time God totally interrupted your routine to do something cool?

As of yesterday, we had received gifts from 12 different families in the total amount of $1,040. Some folks have said that they would send checks, so I’m still waiting on some of that to come in.

I want you to know that every dime of this money is going to this family. That seems important to me to assure you of that. Some of it will cover this month’s rent. The rest will go for groceries and possibly some Christmas gifts.

I did receive one email from someone who is really hurting right now. The email was filled with the kind of bitterness and anger that come only from feeling trapped and alone and scared. It was from a man whose family faces thousands of dollars in medical expenses. He said he’s tired of seeing all these websites that are set up to help families in need because no one ever set up a website to help his family. They’re just having to tough it out and go it alone. They’ll probably have to file for bankruptcy. It won’t be much of a Christmas for them.

I didn’t post his email as a comment for a number of reasons. Mostly I wonder if the person who wrote it might look back on it in a couple of years and be embarrassed. Painful circumstances often make us extremely self-centered. It can become difficult or impossible to celebrate with others. We just want everyone to weep with us.

And yet…perhaps there are some lessons we can learn from his message. I am so incredibly grateful for this community who has proven willing to rally around a family you’ve never even met. I bet there’s a family just like them in your own backyard. There are people everywhere right now who are hurting and feel alone and afraid.

How can we get better at noticing the people all around us who need our help?

Oh, and the thing that really stuck out to me from this man’s email was that he really did sound like it was him against the world. I started to wonder if he goes to church or has a group of friends who support him — emotionally if not financially. I honestly don’t know how people get through life without that kind of support. It made me grateful for the friends I have — in different parts of the country.

Dane. Hal. David. Jerry. Phil. Tim. Josh. Rick. Steven. Kevin. Andy. Damon. James. Scott. Wade. Ken. John. Nick. Michael. Jay. Pete. Jeff. Derrell. I’m leaving people out I’m sure. This is all just off the top of my head here. Danita. Denise. Jenny. Kelli. Madeleine. Connie. Janna. Shanna. Dawn. Christy. Jenn. Julie. Lynne. Lisa.

I am so incredibly grateful for each and every one of you — for your generosity and your kindness.

And it makes me realize again just how important it is to create places where people can connect with each other, do life with each other, share their hopes and fears, bear each other’s burdens.

How about today we list the people for whom we’re most grateful? My list above is pretty big because I was making a point of it. Yours doesn’t have to be long, but who are some folks you’re really, really glad to know and be doing life with these days?

I voted today. On the official election day, I walked from my office to a local Lutheran Church and made my political will known. There was no line to speak of, the staff was mostly elderly women, and they were happy and polite. The process was very smooth.

There was a young woman with an Obama t-shirt in front of me. Another young woman with a tattoo of a musical treble clef between her breasts was also there. Two friends from River Park were there. A young man who was nervous and unsure of how to proceed. An elderly gentleman dressed in a red, white and blue shirt was there. A few different skin tones, different hair styles, different generations — some voting for the first time; others voting for perhaps the last time.

I could tell you who I voted for. Actually, most of you could probably guess. But, as my friend Stephen Mansfield often says, who I voted for isn’t as important as who I voted with.

I voted today with millions of people from all around this great nation of ours. Black men voted today with tears in their eyes, pulling the lever or checking the box or connecting the line for an African-American presidential nominee. People from Canada or Mexico or India or China voted today for the first time as citizens of the USA. Veterans, wincing in pain, placed votes they took bullets to safeguard. Little old ladies voted, wanting to help shape the future of the country for their grandchildren.

Look, I know it’s been an angry, messy campaign season. I know there is fear and there is rage. But none of that was at my polling place this afternoon. This afternoon, Americans voted their conscience, and then they held doors for each other and shook hands with strangers or talked about how good voting made them feel.

I broke a glass yesterday — two glasses, in fact.

Never mind that I did it on purpose to prove a point, breaking a glass still filled me with a sense of failure.

Glass is fragile — these glasses especially so. I bought them at a thrift store near my house on Friday. They were the kind of glasses a young couple receives at their wedding. Tiny cups suspended by thin stems with a gold rim around the top. I can imagine that young couple opening the box and looking at them. Maybe they ran into the kitchen to get something to pour — just to celebrate.

Young couples are just waiting for an excuse to celebrate.

I bet they kept those glasses someplace special — someplace high in the cupboard or maybe in a special cabinet. These aren’t the kind of glasses you pour Diet Coke into or water or orange juice. You drink something special from special glasses and you keep those special glasses in a special place and you only bring those special glasses out on special occasions.

And I found them in a thrift store for a dollar a piece.

It made me wonder how they got there. Sometimes I can’t help myself; I think about such things. Did they not like the glasses? Maybe they got too many of them. Maybe someone gave them an entire set of new, better-looking glasses.

Probably not.

Probably something happened. A divorce. A death. Tears and anger and packing boxes and someone asks, “What should we do with these?”

“I don’t know. Do you want them?”

“I’m not going to take those. Those were a wedding gift.”

“Then take them down to the thrift store. Bring back a receipt.”

I was talking about gentleness yesterday, and I used the glasses to illustrate the way we treat things that are precious and valuable. I held the glasses with both hands and demonstrated the way we place them on the table and carefully wash them by hand, placing them in the cabinet until the next holiday or birthday or anniversary.

And then I dropped one.

People gasped and laughed nervous laughter. They thought these glasses had been a wedding gift to us. I let them off the hook pretty quickly and told them about going to the thrift store. Everyone had a really good laugh then — the laughter of relief.

But the thought keeps nagging at me: How did they get to the thrift store in the first place?

No one buys glasses like these thinking, One day no one will want these and they’ll end up collecting dust on a thrift store shelf.

And yet you can find glasses just like these sitting on thrift store shelves all across America — testaments to lifelong promises that lasted considerably shorter than imagined.

It happens. People get sick. People tell lies. People fall down. People get pushed.

I keep wondering, How did they get here?

I can’t help but think that something was probably broken a long time before I dropped those glasses yesterday.

When Dr. Luke tells us the Christmas story, he gives us some background information to set the stage. He begins, “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world” (Luke 2:1).

Caesar Augustus was a fascinating character who did two remarkable things. First, he had himself declared “Savior of the World”. That takes some…uh…guts.

Second, he declared World Peace (it was known as the pax romana). In 27 BC he closed the temple to the Roman god of war, and, in doing so, made a statement: There will be no more war.

Interestingly, the way he maintained the peace was to kill anyone who stepped out of line in the most violent ways imaginable.

We’re going to have world peace if I have to kill every last one of you!

That’s one way of doing things. And it continues in some places today. I don’t just mean governmentally or militarily. I’m thinking of households where peace is kept through manipulation, bullying and violence.

As I mentioned yesterday, we all want peace in our homes. We want peace on earth this Christmas. And one way of going about it is to simply declare it and rule with an iron fist. But there is another way — a better way.

Later in the same chapter, Luke tells us about the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night. You remember that part, right? It’s the part Linus reads in “A Charlie Brown Christmas”. Notice what the angels say to the shepherds: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests” (Luke 2:14).

Peace to whom? Those on whom his favor rests.

Jesus comes into a world where people in charge are screaming, “We will have world peace if I have to kill every last one of you!” And the One who is the true Savior of the World brings peace through acceptance, unmerited favor, grace.

Who deserves this favor from on high? Absolutely no one.

Who gets this favor from on high? Absolutely everyone who will receive it.

Caesar Augustus offered to kill in order to get this peace.

Jesus of Nazareth offered to die in order to get it.

Guess whose peace is still around.

We’re under three weeks from Christmas! Have you got all your shopping done? I must confess that I haven’t even started.

If any of you do any shopping at outlet malls, you’ll recognize the term “As Is”.* Frequently, you can get great deals on clothing or other items. They’ll be stacked together in bins near the front of the store with tags on them that say: “As Is”.

That’s kind of a “buyer beware” euphemism for: “Something is wrong with this, but we’re not going to tell you what it is.”

Sometimes they’ll call these clothes “Slightly Irregular”. One sleeve will be longer than the other, or a stitch will be out of alignment. Zippers won’t zip. Collars won’t flip. Buttons won’t match. There is likely to be a stain or defect in the dye. Something will be wrong, and you will find it. When you find the flaw, you cannot bring it back to the store and demand your money back. The only way to get that item at that price is to buy it “As Is”.

In the next few weeks there will be people gathering at your house. Or you’ll be gathering at their house. And maybe everyone around your Christmas table will be a paragon of mental and emotional health. If you’re like the rest of us, though, there will be at least one person sitting there with an “As Is” tag sticking out from under their sweater.

They’re weird (if they’re poor), odd (if they’re middle class) or eccentric (if they’re wealthy). They’re slightly irregular in some way. They’ve got a bruised ego. They feel comfortable sharing intimate details in public. They don’t have all the filters most of the rest of us have. And we don’t always know what to do with them.

We all want peace in our homes during the holidays. But it escapes too many of us too often, and I think there’s one primary reason for it. We fail to accept one another “As Is”. We penalize others for failing to meet our expectations, or we put up with things and put up with things and put up with things until we finally explode.

Over the next few days, I want to talk more about this idea of accepting one another with our foibles and failures, with our brokenness and our irregularities. I want to try and figure out what it means — and what it doesn’t mean.

And here’s why it’s important: Your weirdo aunt isn’t the only one who has an “As Is” tag sticking out from under her sweater. Take a good look at the family photo from last year. Look at yourself (come on, that’s where your eyes went naturally) and notice what’s sticking out from under your collar in the back. Do you see it?

Odds are there was at least one person sitting somewhere around a table somewhere who thought that about you.

In fact, look closely enough at everyone around the table, and you’ll see that they’ve all got their tags showing. Some are just more visible than others.

The truth about human beings is that we’re all slightly irregular, and what we all long for most of all is for someone to accept us “As Is”.

*This image comes from John Ortberg’s book, Everybody’s Normal Till You Get to Know Them.

In the beginning, when God was busy creating everything, there is a clear pattern to the Bible’s recording of the events. God spoke things into existence, examined them and declared them: “Good”. Then, he would do it again.

Over and over this happens in the first pages of the Bible. God speaks, things appear, he examines them and says, “That’s good.”

Everything’s good — until he sees something that isn’t. Anyone remember the first thing about which the Bible says, “That’s not good”?

“It’s not good for man to be alone.”

Think about this for a minute. This is before the Fall. Adam exists in unbroken fellowship with God. There is no sin, no shame, no separation. We would be tempted to have a conversation with Adam that looks like this:

US: What’s wrong with you, Adam?

ADAM: I feel like something’s wrong.

US: Wrong? What could be wrong?

ADAM: I don’t know. I just feel alone sometimes.

US: Oh, Adam, as long as you have God, you’re never alone.

The problem with that conversation is that it is God himself who chooses the words in this portion of Scripture. And the words he chooses to describe a sinless Adam at this point in time include “alone” and “not good”.

In other words (and I think I have borrowed this phrase from either John Ortberg or Gilbert Bilezekian), while there is a God-shaped hole in the human heart that no one else can fill, there is also a human-shaped hole in the human heart that not even God himself will fill.

And this relates to what we’ve been discussing here for the past few days. One man, rightly related to God, with no communal experience, is not good.

When the thought first surfaced about salvation being primarily communal in nature with individual implications (rather than the other way around), I wasn’t necessarily thinking about how one “gets saved” as much as I was thinking about how we live out our lives as saved people. But since a number of folks brought it up, maybe I should spend some time unpacking what I believe the Bible teaches about this.

I do not believe in the doctrine of individual election. I don’t buy the idea that in eternity past God went down an aisle of people made in his own image and said, “That person is elect, and that person is not. This one’s in, and that one’s out.”

Rather, I believe that God’s election is corporate in nature. Every time the adjective “elect” is used in the NT, it is plural (except for Romans 16:13 and 2 John, where the references are still not to individuals as elect). Nowhere does the Bible refer to one person as elect and another person not elect. The elect is always a group of people.

So, I believe that in eternity past God decided who he would save: those who are in Christ. And then he revealed how we who are helpless can get “in Christ”. Oddly enough, it is through surrender. Throughout the Bible, it is made clear that there is only one kind of person who receives grace: the humble. It takes a humble person to realize that they are helpless and must surrender to God.

I realize that there are really smart people who don’t agree with my take on this theology. That’s okay. There are other equally smart people who do agree with me. I still think the folks who disagree with me are saved, and I hope they think I’m saved. None of this is really the point I wanted to think about. The practical question I want to think about comes next.

What’s the difference between these two?

1. I am saved because God called me, and I responded.

vs.

2. We are saved because God called us, and we responded.

Clearly, there’s not a total either/or here. But mostly we concentrate on that first one. What would happen if we concentrated more on that second one?

Something bubbled to the surface the other day while I was reading Conrad’s book. We have traditionally thought of salvation as an individual thing that has implications for the community of faith.

But what if salvation is primarly a communal thing that has implications for us as individuals?

I’ve been really mulling that over in my head the past couple of days. I’m not even sure what it means. Anyone want to weigh in on this one?