My wife Kristi and I have been foster parents for almost one year now. Trust me, I know how crazy this is to most people. We already had four biological boys of our own. But we didn’t feel like our family was done, even though it was done biologically (trust me, I had the surgery). So, last July we began praying for a bigger van. We simply outgrew the normal minivan. A minivan could no longer hold our love.

Last week, we pick up our new 12 passenger van. And just in time, too.

I can’t give a lot of details, but our world has became a lot more chaotic. In fact, it’s a beautiful madhouse. Late last week, we received a call asking if we could take three more foster kids. We said yes. So, we went from 5 kids (our 4 sons and Baby G, who we’ve fostered for almost a year now) to 8 kids in our home. It helps that the other kids are Baby G’s biological siblings, but It doesn’t help as much when 8 kids are fighting, fussing, whining, pottying (on a potty or in diapers) or falling asleep at the most inopportune of times.

We never set out to become a big family. But then again, we never opposed being a big family. That much should be obvious with four biological sons of our own. But there’s something unexplainable about foster parenting. Someone recently told us that as you begin to love the kids God places with you, your heart expands to love each additional child for the season they are with you. That is very true. But it’s hard. In fact, sometimes it sucks. Our house is loud. It can get messy and lots of things break. We sweep/mop/vacuum/wash dishes/load laundry/fold laundry/put away laundry/wipe privates, change diapers, wipe mouths, tables and floors, etc., multiple times a day. Every day. And, in addition to the normal household chores that any children bring with them, foster children often bring problems of their own with them (though the problems are most often not their fault) and these kids are no exception. But then again, biological children are not always a walk in the park either. This type of life requires sacrifice.

But then again, it always takes sacrifice to love others, doesn’t it? And this has led me to lots of thought and prayer lately.

I am passionate about foster care and adoption. We have four biological children of our own and then decided our family wasn’t complete. But I know people that aren’t called by God to be foster parents. And that’s OK. I am under no illusion that you are called to be a foster parent, especially of multiple children. And I’m OK with that.

Just don’t tell me how crazy I am for opening my home. I already know that. I can’t even go to Target without getting stares and comments. Even in the heart of Suburbia, large families are not the norm. I understand that you may not be called to open up your home. But I have to ask: how has God called you to sacrifice? Even though I may not know personally, I can guarantee you that God has called us to more than a comfortable American life where we put our church sticker on our car and call it good.

How has God called you to sacrifice? How has God called you to embrace and enter the suffering of the world He loved enough to send Himself/His Son to die for? Just like I believe that ”Not Every Local Church Is For Every Person,” I believe that not every Christian is called to sacrifice in the same way. But all Christians are called to sacrifice. Something.

This may seem self-evident to you, but the way Christians treat one another says to me that we don’t believe this. I am weary of Christians believing that because we’re not all called to sacrifice in the same that we’re not all loved by our Father in the same way. While most of us would never be so blunt as to word it that way, this is exactly how we treat one another. The ones who passionately sacrifice on behalf of those caught in sex trafficking/slavery sometimes look down on those who aren’t called to serve in the same way. The people giving their lives to the homeless want others to share that passion. Those fighting abortion passionately ask “Where. Is. The. Church?” Those, like me, who open up their homes for kids with no home wish that more Christians would do the same.

But instead of celebrating and encouraging and equipping the beautifully different ways Christians can and do impact our culture, we cast dispersions at those who aren’t called to serve like us.

Now, I’m going to be brutally honest; if you claim to follow Jesus and you’re not living sacrificially in some way, I urge you to repent. I’m not sure you can truly belong to God’s family and live for yourself. However, that’s really not the group I’ve been thinking/praying about.

I am far too quick to dismiss those who are not like me. But at the same time, I tire of people that are just like me. After all, “variety is the spice of life,” right? What kind of world would it be if we all liked the same music or movies or food? I am deeply concerned that we are creating non-necessary dividing lines within the big freak-show tent of Christianity. I am far too quick to think that if you’re not called to serve in the same way that I am, then you’re not called by God at all. And that’s just nonsense. We don’t all like the same music. And that’s awesome. We don’t all like the same movies and I thank God that I’ve never had to sit through Titanic or Avatar (the 3D thing, not the animated series) even though I can appreciate that those may be your thing.

Why do we all take for granted that our passion (trafficking, abortion, homelessness, poverty in all its forms, health, water, children, hospitals, literacy, etc., etc., etc., etc.,) is the only passion? If that were the case, we might make a large dent in one issue without making any dent in others and making little to no impact on the big picture. Why are we so quick to elevate our own passions while diminishing others (hint, I think it’s because, even in serving, we are arrogant)?

This whole journey has reminded me that God’s people are nothing more than a beautiful circus of crazies and freaks. Instead of judging one another for not serving in the same way, why aren’t we one another’s best cheerleaders? Instead of looking down on each other for not serving in the same way, why aren’t we reaching back to grab the hands of those who aren’t yet serving at all? Instead of believing that our focus is pitch-perfect, why aren’t we all listening to the beautiful symphony of God’s will to reconcile all things to Himself through the Son while we try to find our part in the orchestra?

If the world will know that we belong to Jesus because of our love for one another (John 13:35), I wonder what our false judgment of one another tells those who are paying any attention?

You may or may not know (and it’s honestly OK either way) that I am part of something known as the Habañero Collective.

What is the Habañero Collective, you might ask? Well, that’s still open for discussion. It began as the “Habañero Hour,” a podcast I did with one of my best friends, Mark, in which we explored, questioned and challenged the idea of “Christian music” in all its forms.

When my family and I moved back to AZ in 2008, the Habañero Hour evolved from just being a podcast to actually hosting concerts. I don’t know what it’s like where you live. And I don’t know if you love music like we do. But where we live, the “West Valley” of Phoenix (which is itself being redefined by Surprise, Vistancia, etc.), there is no quality live music. There just aren’t any cool clubs. At the risk of sounding like a hipster complainer (too late for that, though, right?!), we are literally surrounded by malls, strip-malls and wanna-be malls. Everything is the same. We have to drive to the other side of town (I know, “American Problems,” right?) to see quality live music.

My first reaction to such an obvious injustice is to blog about it. But that’s not quite enough, is it? So my friend Mark started us on the journey of hosting concerts in our homes. This grew up into a very fun, very challenging, very rewarding season of hosting concerts in homes in the West Valley. We’ve met some great people and had some life-long remembered musical moments. But as we began to host more concerts and connect with people, we began to feel that we had said everything we needed to say with the podcast. So we changed our name/identity/branding to “Habañero Collective.”

We created a Tumblr page (which curiously has become our largest “online footprint” so far) to act as an online “paper-weight,” holding our place online, until we figured out what do to next. But, at the same time, we started developing relationships with amazing songwriters and we realized that we wanted this to be something more. Something that grew through the sidewalk cracks of suburban culture. Like a weed that’s strangely interesting enough that you don’t pull it.

As we’ve found ourselves in this transitional phase, Mark took the lead in updating our look, and I am so thankful he did. We have a new logo, which means, watch for limited release Habañero Collective merchandise soon.

I’m not kidding.

Buy our stuff (please).

Oh, and by the way, what do you think of our new branding? We’d love your feedback.

In the meantime:

• Check out our Tumblr page where we pass the time with explorations in image projection.
• Visit Habañero Shows, which focuses exclusively on our concerts.
• Visit us on the Facebooks.
• Twitter with us.

Our church family is considering 1 Peter together on Sunday mornings. This past week, we began chapter two and considered verses 1-3, where Peter says:

So put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and all slander. Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation—if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.

As I was thinking and praying over these verses last week, I was struck by the fact that the way we read and apply these verses are probably not actually in line with Peter’s intention. That may or may not be OK.

When modern readers approach these words, the first thing we think is possibly that Peter is slighting his audience by comparing them to “newborn infants.” Many understand this to mean that Peter is telling his audience that they should be more mature than they are. But that doesn’t seem to be Peter’s point at all. “Like newborn infants” describes the way we should “long for the pure spiritual milk” rather than the audience.

What’s more, the command, the imperative section which actually opens this section: “put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and all slander” is subordinate to the longing for “the pure spiritual milk.” In other words, our progress in putting away malice, deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander are directly proportionate to how we long to be spiritually nourished.

And that brings me to an interesting consideration. I have heard this section and ones like it applied along the following lines: “If you don’t read your Bible everyday, you don’t love Jesus.” Yet, as Scot McKnight points out in his NIVAC Commentary on 1 Peter:

“To think, however, of personal Bible study is anachronistic; these Christians did not have copies fo the Bible and had to rely on sermons and the local archives for such things. It makes best sense to see here the spiritual nourishment that comes to Christians in various ways. If my view fo the recipients of this letter is correct in that they were socially disenfranchised, then they were likely illiterate as well.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not saying that just because the early Christians didn’t have Bibles, we shouldn’t read ours. We live in a day of unprecedented luxury when it comes to the availability Scripture. Many of us have multiple copies. What is interesting here is that we often view reading the Bible as an obligation rather than a luxury. The early Christians didn’t read it because they didn’t have it. What’s our excuse?

Something to think about is that we hear Peter’s admonition to “ long for the pure spiritual milk” “Like newborn infants” as a command to individuals to have “personal” Bible study. We maximize a meaning Peter probably did not intend while we minimize exactly what he did mean. McKnight suggests that Peter’s use of “pure spiritual milk:”

“refers to the very things that nourish the Christian community in its growth: knowledge of God, prayer, instruction in the gospel, faithful obedience, and hearing God’s preached word.”

Peter seems to assume community as the primary context for his admonitions while we assume individuality. We must understand that our individualistic mindset actually removes us from the blessings and challenges presented by much of Scripture. Peter wanted the community to crave spiritual nourishment so that they could put away the things of the old self together. We isolate ourselves and our struggles and then feel pressure to present a facade to the community. We are quick to believe that the Christians who know the most about God are the ones we should listen to. But these are not necessarily the same individuals who know God the best. Knowing that honey tastes sweet is not the same thing as tasting honey.

We must be careful of any approach to Scripture that reads it through an individualistic lens and understand that community is always the assumed context and the implication/application is rarely “just spend more time studying.” It’s telling that we so readily assume that our reading of Scripture is the intended meaning. Peter probably did not have personal Bible study in mind while we do. Peter probably assumed a community context for spiritual growth while we do not.

May we form communities that long to be nourished together so that, together, we can leave the old ways behind.

I doubt this will come as a surprise to you, but occasionally I sin. Not very often, of course, just once in a while. One of my more recent outbursts of this unfortunate side of myself happened this weekend. Our four biological sons received coupons for free kids’ meals at Rubio’s.

I didn’t want to eat at Rubio‘s and I passively aggressively let my poor wife know it. When the boys complained, saying they didn’t want to go to Rubio’s, I told them: “Too bad: we don’t get a choice, the coupons chose for us.” That wasn’t fair to her, but I didn’t want to eat at Rubio‘s.

And it wasn’t because I don’t like fish tacos. I do. In fact, I love their beer-battered fish burrito. The fact was, it was a beautiful Spring day in Phoenix and I didn’t want to spend it at some chain fast-food restaurant, regardless of whether or not I actually liked the food. I was being a spoiled wanna-be hipster (I don’t actually want to be a hipster, even if you could actually define what that means, but then again, that’s a sign of hipsterdom, isn’t it?! HELP! It’s a vicious cycle!).

To my credit (because this true story doesn’t really flatter me), I had a moment of clarity during which I told my awesome wife: “Who am I to compain about where we get to eat out for lunch? What a spoiled American I am”. But I didn’t want to eat at Rubio’s and not only am I spoiled American, I wanted to assert my individuality. I wanted to buck against Suburbia. I wanted to eat at a one-of-a-kind restaurant with a cool atmosphere, great food and good music. But I live in Suburbia.

I don’t just live in Suburbia, I live in the epitome of stereotypical Suburbia. There are malls evenly spaced every 20 malls or so, all with the same accoutrements: Best Buy, Red Lobster, Target, and then Lowes and Home Depot across the street from one another just in between each commercial section of town. Our homes all look the same. People get a block or so from their home, open the garage, pull in and close the garage before they even get out of the car. It’s not uncommon to live in an area for years and never even know your neighbor’s name. Our color palate is various shades of beige with a slight Southwest motif. When buildings get older, we tear them down and build strip malls.

I didn’t want to eat at Rubio‘s. But then again, I have visited foreign countries. I have been fed food I didn’t order; sometimes without even knowing what I was eating. And I didn’t complain. Because I was on short-term missions trips. I understood what it meant to live as a missionary, to lay down my own preferences in order to connect with another people group. What if I’m a missionary to Suburbia? If I can chomp on a chicken foot in China without complaining, surely I can eat a fish burrito even if I’d rather not. Man I’m spoiled. Rotten.

I wonder what might change in my daily routine if I lived everyday life with Gospel intentionality? I would go to the restaurant where my wife and I know the server rather than the restaurant I prefer. I would eat a burrito without being a snob. Because God has placed me as a missionary to Suburbia.

World Magazine recently posted a piece in which Anthony Bradley argues that “the push to be ‘radical’ and ‘missional’ discourages ordinary people in ordinary places from doing ordinary things to the glory of God.”

A few days ago on Facebook and Twitter I made the following observation:

“Being a ‘radical,’ ‘missional’ Christian is slowly becoming the ‘new legalism.’ We need more ordinary God and people lovers (Matt 22:36-40).”

He goes on to say:

I continue to be amazed by the number of youth and young adults who are stressed and burnt out from the regular shaming and feelings of inadequacy if they happen to not be doing something unique and special.

After considering the “anti-Suburban” bent of much moder “missional” thinking, Bradley ties the push to be “missional” and “radical” with narcissism and an unhealthy push towards being “radical.” Bradley concludes and asks:

The combination of anti-suburbanism with new categories like “missional” and “radical” has positioned a generation of youth and young adults to experience an intense amount of shame for simply being ordinary Christians who desire to love God and love their neighbors (Matthew 22:36-40).

Bradley pointedly asks:

Why is Christ’s command to love God and neighbor not enough for these leaders?

The other day, I noted that knocking down straw-men is simply not enough for humble but challenging discourse. Sadly, I wonder if that’s not exactly what Bradley has done. Bradley has presented an understanding of being “missional” that excludes and condemns everyday believers (all of us). However, I think he has simply taken a caricature of “missional” and run with it. While there certainly may be missional practitioners who foster this kind of environment, I can’t help but read Bradley’s concerns through my church family’s understanding and practice of striving to be “missional.”

I want to humbly challenge Bradley to look beyond the hype machines to the actual missional conversation that is happening behind the spotlights. His notion that being missional is not for everyone is simply ludicrous. After all, Steve Timmis and Tim Chester have presented our church family with the notion of living “everyday life with Gospel intentionality.”

In other words, the primary context for missional living is the everyday life of the everyday believer. We as a church family have intentionally sought to strip away the church calendar in order to free people up to live ordinary life; just differently. Though my main concern here is not the “new radicals” that Bradley lumps in with his missional concerns, is the call to die to self really something “ordinary” Christians are exempt from?

I have to be honest and say that I am confused by what Bradley expects everyday believers (which, by the way, his very notion perpetuates the myth of laity vs. clergy, but that’s another point entirely) to be doing and how that varies from the call of a vast number of missional theologian practitioners. Bradley concludes:

Perhaps the best antidote to these pendulum swings and fads is simply to recover an mature understanding of vocation so that youth and young adults understand that they can make important contributions to human flourishing in any sphere of life because there are no little people or insignificant callings in the Kingdom.

While I disagree that missional is a fad, his notion that “youth and young adults” can and should “make important contributions to human flourishing in any sphere of life because there are no little people or insignificant callings in the Kingdom” is exactly how I would describe missionally. Followers of Jesus should be striving to redeem the everyday. Freeing people up to live as missionaries in their everyday context is anything but legalism. In fact, I have seen numbers of people finally “wake up” from their Evangelical pew sitting slumbers.

While I appreciate the dialogue and even the pushback against “missional,” I am deeply concerned that so many well-intentioned evangelical writers simply mischaracterize what it the vast majority of people I read, learn from and interact with mean by “missional.” The thrust is exactly what Bradley says it’s not: you don’t have to be a superstar to live an extraordinary life in and for the Kingdom. In fact, that’s exactly who thrives in Jesus’ upside-down economy.

The missional types I interact with are at the forefront of regaining a healthy theology of vocation, they are pushing people to not add lots of church events to their calendars but to sieze the day, every day with the numerous ways God gives every one of us to live faithfully. They are urging people to intentionally serve others, to build relationships of discipleship and gospel fluency no matter where someone might be along the spectrum of faith.

It’s amazing to me that what one person sees as the freedom of the Christian life that’s so often lacking in modern evangelicalism, another sees as the new legalism while arguing for exactly what so many missional types are expounding. How is it that the term “missional” is now so widely used but so poorly defined in any sort of consensus. I understand the term to be exactly what Bradley argues for.

What do you think?

As I rambled yesterday, I used to enjoy controversy. This can be especially entertaining when you write a blog because , of course, you can write things just to get a reaction out of people. Those days are (mostly) gone. I don’t enjoy upset people with emotional responses to hot-button issues.

But Christians often have very real differences. Even within Orthodoxy. And that’s not only OK, it’s a beautiful thing. When you go to see the Freak Show (not that we would because that’s not politically correct), you want to see different freaks. You’ll probably be disappointed if every booth is Lobster Boy or the Bearded Lady. But to see Lobster Boy, the Bearded Lady, the Fire Swallower, the Knife Thrower and the world’s tallest and shortest men all at once, that’s a cornucopia for the senses!

I’ve been a Christian long enough to know that we all think we’re right. No matter the issue. And rather than celebrate our differences (within the freak-show tent of Orthodoxy), we megaphone our differences like the elderly couple trying to punish their neighbor by blaring Iron Maiden. We want everyone to know our theological boundaries because, once you cross them, you’re no longer in my camp and I’m not sure anything you now say is valid because you went outside of our self-prescribed boundaries.

Of course there is such a thing as Orthodoxy. There are people who are Christians and those who are not. And there are many who claim to be Christians but are not. Don’t believe me? Just visit any “Christian” bookstore. But the boundaries of Orthodoxy are not my point here. Instead, I have in mind the many well-intentioned Christians who exclude and judge one another because of differing positions within the tent 0f Orthodoxy. After all, so far as it depends on us, shouldn’t we try to get along with everyone (Romans 12:18)? After all, isn’t one of the goals of Christian maturity the unity of the Spirit (Ephesians 4:13)? It’s by our staunchly held tribal theologies that the world will know that we belong to Jesus, right (John 13:35)?

Not only have I been thinking a lot about the differences between the many Orthodox tribes, I’ve been thinking about what happens when you’re a member of one tribe but start to question its boundaries. What happens when you’re part of one tribe and the things from another tribe seem attractive? Do you leave your tribe to join theirs? Do you try to convince both tribes to meet in the middle? Do you start your own hybrid tribe? How will the people in your old tribe think about you though?!

We Christians are quick to decry religions like Mormonism and Islam that are sometimes known for excluding from community those who renounce the faith. Yet we Christians do the same thing in practice. When someone leaves our particular theological tribe or begins to question it from the inside, we are quick to protect our boundaries at the expense of relationship.

Where is all of this going, you should be asking. What theological position is Brent questioning that he shouldn’t be? What tribe is he being kicked out of? Well, none yet. But I’m glad you asked. And in case you missed the title of the post, I’ve been thinking about Complementarianism for a couple of years now. I consider myself a Complementarian. So any questioning of the tribe’s boundaries is done so from within. If you’re not familiar with the term, Wikipedia (so you know it’s right) defines it as:

Complementarianism is a theological view held by some in Christianity and other world religions, such as Islam,that men and women have different but complementary roles and responsibilities in marriage, family life, religious leadership, and elsewhere.

It all started when our Church of the Cross family studied Acts together. In Acts 2, on the Day of Pentecost, quoting Joel, Peter declares that one of the signs that it is the last days, that the Spirit has arrived is that “sons and daughters” will prophesy. Later, in Acts 21, we are told that Philip the Evangelist “ad four unmarried daughters, who prophesied.”

So we have clear biblical precedent that women can prophesy. I’m not going to spend time exploring just what this “prophecy” is or isn’t here in this post, though I recognize that this is a vital issue. I would point to 1 Corinthians 14:1-3 in our understand but that’s not where I’m want to spend time today. Instead, I want to note that Paul, quite often and very clearly differentiates between “prophecy,” “exhortation” and “teaching.” Consider, for example, Romans 12:1-8, 1 Corinthians 12:28; 14:6, Ephesians 4:11-13,”

It seems clear that Paul understood these things as separate from one another. Yet our current understand of preaching and Complementarian male eldership not only lumps them all together (prophecy, exhortation, teaching) but excludes women from the public ministry of all of them based on the Paul’s prohibition of only one element: teaching. 1 Timothy 2:12 clearly states that Paul does not permit a woman to teach or have authority over men. It’s not my point today to notice how we as Complementarians are quick to promote the literal application of this verse while we continue to let women speak in our churches despite 1 Corinthians 14:34.

Instead, I just want to openly discuss the way we Complementarians seek to complement the genders. Our implementation in local churches has been that women are only “allowed” to teach other women or children (and even then only up to a certain, undefined age of accountability when a boy becomes a man and a woman is no longer allowed to have authority over him). This is primarily based on 1 Timothy 2:12. But what if “prophecy” and “exhortation” are different than “teaching”? Are women still prohibited from publicly displaying those gifts?

It seems to me that our understanding and practice of Complementarianism has actually failed to complement the genders because it has removed the public opportunity for women to demonstrate gifts Scripture clearly says are open to women. I realize that by even entertaining these thoughts I am opening a can of worms that will likely be strung end t0 end around me to quarantine me within the the Complementarian tent. But I just can’t help but wonder if we haven’t applied Paul’s idea of “teaching” and used it to exclude women from things they were never meant to be excluded from in the first place? What if the issue is not really gender roles but the role of Sunday in general and specifically sermons?

While I am not convinced by John Dickson’s position that the role of “teacher” that Paul excludes women from is no longer in play, I do agree with him that our modern sermons have lots and lots of “prophecy” and “exhortation.” Does that mean women should be able to preach? Can a woman preach under a male elder’s “authority”? What if a local church’s main emphasis for the Sunday sermon is not “teaching” but “exhortation”? I don’t have any good answers for these questions, but I think we need to be asking them if we really want a complementarianism that truly complements the genders.

I firmly believe that however we understand gender roles, we should celebrate the differences rather than pursue sameness. I believe that there are different gender roles and that this is God’s design. But I wonder, in our zeal to protect those differences, have we gone too far? Have we not gone far enough? How and when and to whom should women exercise the gifts God has given them and how can our local churches make this a priority?

It’s interesting to think through some of the implicit assumptions we pick up along the path of life. Like that weirdly glinting rock that you couldn’t take your eyes off of it, so you put it in your pocket and them promptly forgot the reason it attracted you in the first place. The Christian life is one of growth and change. We are not the same people we once were. Nor are we now who we are yet to become. What’s best for us in one season of life may or may not be the right fit years later. It is also possible that we might not have been ready for that season, had it dawned earlier in life.

Certain things become fixtures for certain seasons of life. A certain church family might be a good fit, providing you with the challenge and growth you need for a certain phase of life, but you can’t imagine going back to it years later. And that’s OK. Because the Christian life is about growth. And just like you may need a certain church’s emphasis during a particular phase of life, not every local church is for every person.

Every local church has, for lack of a better way to put it, a “personality.” And not every local church is the best fit for every person. This was an interesting conclusion to come to as a church planter. The implicit (and sometimes explicit) advice is to get as many people as you can as quickly as you can and hold on to them for as long as you can. Because that’s “success,” right? Pardon my sarcasm.

But if the goal is to get as many people as you can as quickly as you can and hold on to them for as long as you can, then you will, by necessity, water-down your own vision in order to please as many people as possible. Thus, we have many church planters now pastoring churches they themselves might not even be a member of if it were up to them. Every local church has its own culture. There ought to be certain things that are universal to Christian communities:  love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control, sacrificial love for one another, etc. But there are also millions of possible contextual variables from that point forth.

You are not best friends with just anyone. In fact, if you’re like most people, there are only a handful of people that you really connect deeply with in your lifetime. And everyone gravitates towards different people and that’s a beautiful thing because it celebrates the uniqueness of the personalities God has given us. But it’s not just that deep-level connection that is selective and unique. Not everyone line dances. Not everyone likes football. Not everyone crochets. Not everyone yodels. Not everyone likes NASCAR or American Pickers. Some people like Bob Dylan and some people like Prince and some people like both. So we clump with those who share our peculiar particulars. And that’s OK as long as we remember that our peculiarities are no better or worse than someone else’s, so let’s celebrate all the weirdness instead of judging other people’s pop culture weaknesses.

So we need to learn to know ourselves. And we must find environments where we are encouraged to truly become sanctified versions ourselves rather than watered-down versions of someone else. And not every person is going to find that in every local church. That doesn’t mean that if you just don’t like any of the churches in your area that you can sacrifice Christian community because all of your preferences aren’t being met. That’s selfish consumerism. You may have to make compromises to be in Christian community, but remember, it’s most likely just for a season of your life. The day will come when you can’t imagine going back to be a part of that church because you’ve grown so different from that time in your life. But that day also dawns with the realization that you would not be the person you are now without that time in your life.

So be thankful now. And let’s all become sanctified versions of ourselves rather than watered-down versions of someone else.