Paying Love’s Cost: Journeying through the Valley of Misunderstanding

Sometimes there are no good choices, only a choice between something very bad and something even worse. Sometimes the most loving choice you can make involves the certainty that the person you love will misunderstand your actions, will think you have abandoned them, when in fact your motive is to protect them from a greater harm and create a better possibility for them. A possibility is all it is, not a certainty, but you reach for it. Not to do so—that would be the betrayal. You pay the price of releasing someone you love, knowing they will think the worst of you, knowing they will experience your greatest act of faithfulness to them as abandonment because they cannot see the bigger picture behind your actions or perceive the kind of love that will give up what is dearest to it in order to provide for them a chance available no other way.

That kind of relational divide, enduring the cross of being misunderstood by someone who is heart of your heart, dearer to you than your own life, is an excruciating form of dying on behalf of that person’s best and highest interest. It is a wound that does not easily or quickly heal, and I think that for most who have experienced it, it never heals completely. You die twice. The first death is your own heartbreak; the second death is knowing the heartbreak your loved one experiences. And the second death is more agonizing than the first.

But there is this: Paul’s prayer “that I may know [Jesus] and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death; in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead” (Phil. 3:10-11 NASB).

The fellowship of his suffering. It is a comfort to think of and a promise to hold onto: that when we pay love’s high cost, we enter into the heart of Jesus, who gave his utmost on behalf of what he loved best—you, me, and those we love. In making that same choice in the way that is allotted to each of us uniquely, we enter into royal fellowship with the King of Love, who is also the Prince of Peace and our great and wise Healer.

If you are one who has had to choose between great pain and greater pain for your loved one and yourself, may the Lord’s love and reassurance rest on you. If you have known what it means to wonder whether you made the right choice, may the peace that comes through entrusting your loved one to him soothe the questions that have no answers in the face of things you could not, and cannot, control. And know that you yourself are greatly loved, more than you can imagine; known and understood better than you know and understand yourself; and blessed and cared for by the One whose opinion of you is far higher than your own, and is the only opinion that matters. His verdict of you, and his word to you, is not “Failure.” It is “Well done!”

Welcome to the fellowship of his suffering, in which you will come to know him in ways you never can otherwise. And look for the power of his resurrection–for there is peace for you at the end of the journey.

Worship: It’s about the Heart, Not the Music

Yesterday a friend of mine shared with me about a conflict he’s been facing as a worship leader. Seems that certain members of his church have been quite vocal in their disapproval of his choice of music, instrumentation, level of musicianship, and so on. Recently they took it to the point of actually mocking some of the young musicians in the midst of praise. It was tremendously injurious. As my friend described how he had wept over the hurt one of the kids had expressed to him, my heart ached and my anger rose.

As I understand it, the critical faction in this church is concerned that the kind and quality of musicianship isn’t going to draw younger people to the church. I don’t know that there’s any formula that will draw young people, or people of any age, to a church, but that kind of attitude will most certainly drive them away. I know this story has been duplicated for years in churches all across the country, but it still amazes me—and disgusts me—that it’s even an issue. So-called Christians tearing down other Christians over music and musicianship: there is something so wrong about it that I want to puke.

Ladies and gentlemen, let me point out the obvious: God is a whole lot more interested in what comes out of our hearts than what comes out of our church’s sound system. As a jazz saxophonist with over forty-five years’ experience, I’ve played with a lot of truly superb musicians, the kind most churches only wish they could have on their praise teams. I’ve played in black churches and white churches, keyboard-led praise teams and guitar-led praise teams. I’ve played in jazz combos, blues bands, variety bands, polka bands, big bands, all kinds of bands in all kinds of settings ranging from clubs to concert stages to recording studios to private parties to wedding receptions, and, yes, to churches. I love musical excellence, and I strive for it in my own playing.

But in the church, it’s not my first concern. My first concern is, do people love God and do they love each other? If not—if there are people who bite and devour others over music—then those individuals have missed the point entirely, and their hearts are inclined toward idolatry, not worship. They’ve made a god out of their preferences and opinions, and they sacrifice other hearts that Jesus died for on the altar of their idol.

There’s nothing wrong with preferring some kinds of music and not caring for other kinds. Find a church that has the kind you like if you’re not happy with what you’ve got. What you shouldn’t do is criticize and attack others because the way they’re handling the worship doesn’t suit you. Don’t go bashing young teens and twenty-somethings who may not be Nashville material but whose hearts are filled with genuine worship and passion for God. They just may have a gift to impart to your own heart if you look beyond the surface to what really counts.

You want real worship in your church? You want to draw young people who are searching for God, or who are at least open to the idea that God might be real? Then don’t look to the music. That’s the wrong place to start.

Start here: “Let no foul or polluting language, nor evil word nor unwholesome or worthless talk [ever] come out of your mouth, but only such [speech] as is good and beneficial to the spiritual progress of others, as is fitting to the need and the occasion, that it may be a blessing and give grace (God’s favor) to those who hear it” (Eph. 4:29 AMP).

And start here: “If you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another” (Gal. 5:15 ESV).

And finally, here: “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (Jesus in John 13:35 ESV).

Don’t kid yourself that worship is about the music. It’s about your heart. And what is in it will show in the way you treat your brothers and sisters.

Just Another Window?

Dads Old Office WindowA window—that’s what you see, right? A nondescript pane of glass in the side of an old factory building. Passing by, you wouldn’t even notice it. It’s just another window.

Or is it?

Simple things become significant, even extraordinary, when you know their stories. I know the story of this window.

Behind it, a young man with a new family to support once served as his company’s first marketing manager. Rising from the status of draftsman, he convinced his boss that the company needed a marketing department; then, with no degree and little in the way of a college education, the man went on to create that department. On the other side of the glass, sitting at his desk, he developed award-winning advertising that gave soul and sentiment to a dry, technical business.

Sometimes the man would bring his little boy to work with him and take him through the factory. The boy loved those times with his daddy. The workers were friendly, and the boy was captivated by the massive industrial fans and blowers that were under constant manufacture. Sometimes he would reach into one of the smaller turbines sitting on the floor and give one of the blades a shove and watch the fan spin.

So you see, this is no ordinary window. It is a glimpse into the past of a life being lived, a family raised, and memories made. Fifty years ago, it was my dad’s office window at Garden City Fan in Niles, Michigan.

My father is long gone and the company has changed hands and location, but the window remains, as do the memories.

Nothing is “just” anything. A single blade of grass is an astonishing thing. It all depends on how you look at it. Do you have eyes to see?