I angered a friend the other day. It turned out to be a fantastic experience.

I meant to encourage him and came off like I was ball-busting. My friend has a lot of stress in his life right now, and that was just enough to push him over the top. I was oblivious, of course.

Not 30 minutes had passed when he caught up with me again and said “Can I talk to you soon? Now’s not a good time, ’cause I’m kind of pissed off… but soon, after I’ve had a chance to think about it?”

I wasn’t even sure what he was talking about at first – whether what he was upset about had something to do with me or he just needed to talk. Over the next day I gave it some thought and realized how I had probably come across in my intended encouragement; and by the time we talked he was able to acknowledge that I probably hadn’t intended to be a butthead. So I was able to apologize for my poor communication and explain what was behind the words I said, and we ended the conversation closer than when I gave offense.

Why is this notable? Well, stuff like this happens all the time between friends. In a healthy relationship, particularly one that’s important to you, this is how things are done. But in an unhealthy relationship or one that’s not valued by one or both parties, the offended person just stays offended until there’s little to no friendship left. And that, unfortunately, leads me to think that many of our relationships within the family of the church are either not healthy or not valued.

I’m the son of a pastor, and I grew up in church, and I’ve seen more relationally unhealthy behavior than I like to remember. When people get mad at someone in church, they ignore them… or they just leave the church. I was reminded recently that our actions always reflect our beliefs – so I can only conclude that most believers do not actually believe that God who is our father has made us one eternal family. If we did believe it, we would treat each other differently.

This is probably why Jesus and Paul and just about every writer of the New Testament spent words to tell us that God has made us one family, and that we are called to love and serve each other wholeheartedly.

For God’s sake, for the gospel’s sake, and for each other: may we have the faith to learn to love well.

I don’t know what, at the moment. But I’m sure it’s true.

Darrell over at SFL posted yesterday inviting people to share some of their less-than-finest moments. The comments range from funny to poignant.

It reminded me of how many things I’ve thought, written and said in public before that now make me wince. As a young teenager, I wrote opinion for our city newspaper’s teen page on things like why Christian rock was no better than worldly rock, and why 7-day young earth creationism was the only way for me. I think the newspaper’s circulation range was in the neighborhood of 50,000 which means more people saw those than will ever read this. (I would link to them, but they’re safely behind a paywall now.)

That’s gotten me considering how my thinking on stuff from music, to education, to theology has shifted, changed, expanded over the last 10 years. Part of that may be my time of life – I’m turning 30 this year – but I think there’s more to it than that.

I hope I am always willing to reevaluate, to learn, to grow. I don’t want to be static.

I still have plenty of firmly held convictions. My goal is just to be humble as I hold them.

I know, I’m supposed to complain about how Valentine’s day is just a commercial creation of greeting card and candy companies. Of course it is. It’s also a great opportunity to praise my wife publicly, so I’m gonna do that now.

We have been married almost 7 years, and the love I felt for her on our wedding day is vastly outclassed by the love we share now.

She has an unflagging, consistent faith that God is going to take care of us.

She never stops believing in her husband. (Or at least in moments of doubt, she hides it well.)

I have never once questioned that she will always be faithful to me. She is loyal, devoted, loving, constant.

She has given me the two most beautiful little girls I’ve ever met. And she cares for them well, sometimes around the clock. On weeks when I work 65 hours, she gets it done at home and I while I miss my kids, I don’t have to worry about they are doing because they are in the best possible hands.

She keeps the medicine cabinet stocked so well that stuff falls out when I open it about 50% of the time. I can triple-check, get mad, and complain to her at which point she will go in bathroom and pull it off the shelf. Actually, this principle applies to most items in our entire house.

She loves breakfast food. She eats cereal multiple times a day, and she especially loves the sugary stuff that’s meant to make your three-year-old act like she’s on crack. I scoff at the sugary cereal she buys, and then eat it at night after she goes to bed.

If it weren’t for her, I might not not live in New Hampshire. We’ve been here more than five years now, and it’s more home than home would have ever been. I hope I get to be a New Englander til I die.

She turns the heat up entirely too high, and I only have the heart to turn it down about 60% of the time. Thank God for budgeted billing from National Grid.

Did I mention how loyal she is? I have done some stupid stuff in the 8+ years we’ve been together, and she’s always forgiven me – eventually – and never put me down. She only builds me up.

I should not neglect to mention that she’s a good-lookin’ woman. I know you know this if you know her, but I will take this opportunity to remind her. She is beautiful, and more beautiful now than when we met.

Now I’m going to break a rule and change voice:

Becky, I love you. I am incredibly thankful that you are my wife and deeply honored to be married to you. I hope we get another 60 years together, and that we are sitting together on a porch swing  looking forward to our 90th birthdays.

Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the LORD has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.
(Isaiah 53:4-6 ESV)

The final chapter in the Mark Driscoll/Gerry Brashears book ‘Death By Love’ speaks of Jesus as the truest revelation of the nature and character of God. They share several ways in which Christ’s life, death and resurrection reveal the Father. They highlight this passage, which reveals God as our healer and the self-sacrifice of Jesus as the means through which we are healed.

There is a bone-level brokenness in everyone I know. We don’t do what we should, we do what we shouldn’t, we hurt those who should receive only love from us. We are greatly sinned against; we are great sinners. Human darkness is evident from the evil that so regularly invades our news headlines and our lives.

Into that brokenness comes Christ – not at first as the sword of judgment, but as another who is greatly burdened. (He has borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.) But I deny my brokenness, and so I scorn brokenness in others. Instead of seeing God, I see one on whom rests God’s judgment. (yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.)

In the end (it seemed) God’s judgment did rest on him. But it wasn’t for his own sin; he was the only true innocent. It was my judgment that was poured out on him, and in taking it he became the source of healing for me, and for all who are broken. (By his wounds we are healed.)