Episode 07—Debates and Home Runs

I know, I know. You hate me for writing a post when I am really giving you something to listen to. It is in bad form—I’m sure of it. ”

“Hey, here’s a post!”

Just kidding.

“Hey, here’s my talking with my brother for 40 minutes.”

Oh. Great.

Dale and I are getting together via Skype on Tuesday nights and recording. As it currently goes, we spend one segment on newsworthy (to us) events and another on some take on life or ministry. We do it for us. I think we average about 20 listens per episode and most of those are Dale and me accidentally hitting play. In this episode:

  • Dale and I don’t remember what an oligarchy or aristocracy is.
  • At the 8:00 mark we start talking about the presidential debate from Monday.
  • at the 33:30 mark we turn to Pastor’s Corner, where we discuss the death of a baseball player and an unreal home run.

Since I reference the video multiple times, check below to see what I’m talking about.

If you want to watch the home run uninterrupted, check this out (keep your tissue nearby):

I also referenced this video about Donald Trump sniffing a whole bunch. Go here for that beauty.

Four Thoughts from a (White) Baton Rouge Pastor

I’m grateful for my church. Though we, a largely-white congregation in a largely-white part of Baton Rouge, have many things to learn about how the gospel can bring racial healing in our church, we have been trying to better unite with and support the work of our African-American brothers and sisters in the city. One of our strongest relationships is with Pastor Donald Hunter at New Beginning Baptist Church (in the middle, below, during one of our partnered workdays [credit: The Advocate]).

DH Advocate

Thus, when in the middle of the week when Baton Rouge was trying to process the death of Alton Sterling, Donald came over and recorded a message that we played on Sunday for our services that then launched into a prayer time for our city. I was grateful that we did not have to ask, “Hey, who knows any of the African-American pastors in town?”

I am not an expert on the racial tensions in the city. I have watched the events of the past week and prayed for Baton Rouge, for St. Paul, and for Dallas. I have tried to make sense of the protests, night after night. I ache for Baton Rouge, but not as much as Christ does or has. What I bring are these four thoughts.


I remember being an LSU student and seeing where the black students spent time in the quad and the white students spent time (it wasn’t often together). I remember hearing older folks that I know flippantly using a derogatory word for “black” as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Oh, that’s just what we say, it doesn’t mean anything.” I disagree (but, unfortunately [and to my shame], remained awkwardly silent, only enabling the behavior). Words always mean something (Prov 18:21). I recall numerous times being told stories and hearing something like, “I saw this guy, you know, a big black guy . . .” as if that detail were helpful or necessary in the telling of the story. I don’t recall being told many stories where someone says, “I saw this guy, you know, a big white guy,” or “a big asian guy.” A teacher in one of my communication studies classes I had at LSU highlighted that the word “articulate” is often used to describe black people, as if the one using the word is surprised that a black person could speak articulately.

Yes, we have a problem.

The city is divided over race in many ways. Not in every way, but in many. Even the census data, when color-coded for demographics, reveals the divide. Compare that to Baton Rouge’s homicide map (2012-2014) and tell me if you see a correlation. We may not even recognize it, but the racial divide in Baton Rouge—our geography, our language, and even our churches—exists. Events like last week do not bring new issues to the surface, they just surface the issues. And the issues are numerous.


It becomes so easy processing these things to simply say, “Let’s wait until we get all the facts,” or, “Man, that guy was a criminal.” I agree, let’s get facts; and, yes, he did have a criminal history. But as a Christian, those responses can be so callous. Can we have room in our hearts for both incredible sorrow and prayers for justice? Can we long for racial reconciliation in our city and support law enforcement? Can we admit there are broken parts of our city and talk about how we contribute to its brokenness? Can we be broken for families that have been shattered due to violence? Can we, at the same time, hurt for police officers who one week ago were not known by the nation for shooting black men or, in the case of the five in Dallas, were still alive?

Christians, of all people, should understand that, if not for grace, we would stand condemned. The case against us for our condemnation is large, and yet Christ forgave—wholly and completely. That should change how we react, it should help us to feel. Christians will never hear Jesus say to us, “Well, if only this part of your life would’ve been better.” That’s works-based, and it is wrong. As a church, can we grieve over death because it is evidence that sin still exists in our very broken world? I hope and believe we can.


Bryan Loritts is a pastor that I listen to in times like this. About two years ago he wrote a blog post entitled “It’s Time to Listen” over on Christianity Today. Part of his post has stuck with me, and I’ll share it here:

If you sense exasperation from we African-Americans over yet another news story of a black man slain at the hands of a white man, this is a wonderful opportunity to grab some coffee and seek to understand our hearts. I need my white brothers to know how I felt as I sat in the preaching classes in Bible college and seminary not once hearing examples of great African-American preachers. I need you to know how I felt when I was forced face down on the hard asphalt of Crenshaw Boulevard in Los Angeles, all because I was nineteen and driving my pastor’s Lexus, a year after the 1993 Rodney King riots. I need you to ask how I felt when I walked into a Target recently behind a white woman who took one look at me and pulled her purse tightly to her.

However, as much as I am an African-American, I am even more so a follower of Jesus Christ. The death, burial, and resurrection of our Savior demands that I subjugate my cultural hermeneutic to my gospel hermeneutic. In other words, my Jesus-ness must trump my blackness. As Dr. Tony Evans says, “Black is only beautiful when it is biblical.” This is at odds with the teaching of liberation theology, where you had black theologians like Dr. James Cone who wrote that the gospel is essentially for the oppressed and not the oppressor. Not true. If I understand the gospel right, Jesus died for Michael Brown and Darren Wilson (his shooter); slaves and slave masters; the lynched and the lynch mob. My new gospel hermeneutic, therefore, leaves no place for hatred, bitterness or unforgiveness.

In these times the church must listen. Everyone wants to be heard, and subjects like race are ones that we don’t often try and listen to. There are many in the African-American community who love Jesus deeply and have an entirely different experience than my own—than many of the folks who read this blog. Is it too much to ask them what life is like?


The doomsday folks look at this and say, “What is this world coming to?” But for the Christian, I hope we never lose hope in what Jesus can do in our world—and the world that is to come. Truly, the gospel message is the only message that can bring the necessary redemption. It doesn’t say of any one people group, “They are superior. Be like them.” No, instead it says, “None of you are right, but God will become like you so you can become like Him.” Paul speaks of this Jew/Gentile relationships in Ephesians 2.

13 But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. 14 For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility 15 by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, 16 and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. 17 And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. 18 For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. 19 So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, 20 built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, 21 in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. 22 In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. (Eph 2:13-22)

Last week I was taking my six-year-old to camp. I was trying to tell him of what has gone on in the city that week, and how it was a sad time. When I told him that there are people in our city who don’t like others for the color of their skin, or where they live, or some other reason, he replied with, “That. . . That doesn’t even matter to me.”

If I could bottle up that perspective and spread it around my whole family, then my whole neighborhood, then the whole world, I would. But, for now, we watch and we pray and we work for Jesus to be more fully known.

Three Responses to the Same Comment (Or, How the Lord is Changing Me)

“Hans, when I first met you I didn’t think you liked me.”

That’s what my friend David told me back in my seminary days. I’ve had some variation of that comment given to me at different times since I was in college. It doesn’t happen with a lot of frequency, but it happens enough to notice. It might be, “You looked at me and didn’t say anything,” “You walked right by me,” “You weren’t friendly,” or some similar statement.


Others who know me find those comments completely out of sorts—and are surprised others would feel that way (thanks guys, I owe you one). Still, I have gotten the comments enough that I’ve wondered the past few months if there is something to it, or a better way to respond. As I’ve tried to think through it recently, I’ve found that I have responded to such a criticism in three different ways—and with each one the Lord shaving one more rough spot off of my personality.  Continue reading “Three Responses to the Same Comment (Or, How the Lord is Changing Me)”

Your Story Affects What You Expect

Last night, after the kids decided to do their usual firestorm in the house and right before heading to bed, I saw this. Look at it quickly and look away. What do you see? Do you see what I see? Probably not.

It took me no time to realize that shortly before this alphanumeric pyramid showed up, Asher was spelling his name. A-S-H-E-R. See it now? Of course you do. How could you have missed it . . .
Continue reading “Your Story Affects What You Expect”

The Series I’m Nervous Preaching . . .

When I went to seminary I was taught the proper definition of expository preaching. I had to memorize it. However, for this post, I simply cut and paste it from the notes. (And don’t worry, I will not make you memorize this.)


That’s it. Preach it like that and you’re good. But many say, “Don’t take people where you haven’t been.” The only problem is when I read passages like this past Sunday (Luke 9:57-62) I wonder how well I have applied it. This series has been on my heart for quite some time, and yesterday was the first of four passages where Jesus says things that are not the most comfortable for comfortable people.

Even as I prepare for the series I get nervous. Even while I preach it I am nervous. Jesus did not equivocate on things I wish he would’ve. He spoke very clearly—too clearly, in my opinion—about following him. But I think this series is necessary for us, and here is why. . . Continue reading “The Series I’m Nervous Preaching . . .”

Sunday Debrief: A New Kind of Normal (2/9/14)

This past Sunday we kicked off our Transformation 2014 campaign. This isn’t your mama’s stewardship campaign. This is an all-out, months-in-the-making, idol-crushing look at how we handle our finances in light of Jesus and all he has done for us (not the “please give us your money so we can build a new building” campaign). 


This campaign idea actually started years ago in the minds and hearts of many in our church (though we’ve been working diligently the past eleven months in this unique expression). For years The Chapel has had folks who counsel people financially, and time and time again they’ve encountered people of all ages and financial situations who are in terrible—even idolatrous—financial situations. 

My brothers, this should not be. 

Rather than just preach at people and tell them to get their house in order, we wanted to take it a step further. We are also offering a tool to help our families consider their finances. That tool is Financial Peace University. So while we preach on Sundays around the issues of the heart regarding finance, our whole church is going through FPU at the same time (or as many as possible—currently around 600). . .

Continue reading “Sunday Debrief: A New Kind of Normal (2/9/14)”