Are you addicted to controversy?

Just before Christmas I wrote a post discussing what we mean when we call our Bible a sword. As a postscript I added the thoughts below, but after further reflection – and as a recovering controversy-addict myself – I think these thoughts are worth standing on their own and expanding, which is the point of this post.

That said this is a scary post for two reasons: It boldly calls something out – which should always be done with gentleness and respect; and it includes some of the narrative of one of the biggest battles of my life – which is monumentally exposing. But God is good – and I hope this is helpful to someone.

Are you a controversy addict?

Do you desire the Bible to be a weapon? Do you try to justify rude, blunt, confrontational, quarrelsome, disagreements among brothers and sisters using theological language? Why?

Is it a buzz?

Wait with that thought for a second… do you get the buzz from being involved in controversy?

The beginning of addiction

I spent a bit of time on debate teams when I was younger. We were taught to exploit every possible weakness, and to polarise views to their extremes in order to win. Neither conversational progress, nor the deepening of understanding was the objective. Iron-sharpening-iron was not on the agenda. The objective was to win the argument – and I was very good at it.

The victories and the point-by-counterpoint take downs came with a surprising adrenaline rush that is hard to forget. I know exactly what it feels like to ’emerge supreme’ from a debate. It’s a buzz. A real physical and emotional rush.

After a while, this came with both a physiological release of dopamine and an existential sense of self worth. These two things made it incredibly addictive.

It felt good – and it made me feel good about me!

A growing issue fueled by discontentment

For some of us, this rush of ‘rightness’ and ‘winning’ can eventually change into a much healthier shape within the context of our faith. We grow more mature and nuanced, seeking goodness and edification over simply being right. For others of us though, it can subversively become the primary mover in our lives and as such becomes a true addiction.

As an addiction, it is fed by discontentment.

Things like bad church experiences, poor health, a sheltered or stymied upbringing, a consistent feeling of isolation, a sense that you are always misunderstood, or even an above average IQ mixed with social awkwardness – can all lead to a broad experience of discontentment.

This, when ‘treated’ by the balm of the rush of winning an argument, or trying to be always right, or constantly in the know, will turn that rush into an addictive defense mechanism. We become couch-commentators and pew-bound back seat pastors, stewing in our own hyper-logical, negative energy-soaked discontentment. And it goes unnoticed because we have dressed it up in the language of ‘holiness.’

This is probably the same thing that makes us want to pull people down rather than build them up. It’s the thing that makes us reach – sometimes desperately and wildly – for controversy over edification. It’s what makes us look for the problems with everywhere we go and every talk we hear. It makes us always need to have something to say, even if means slipping off to goggle, then pretending we just ‘knew’ it.

Subversively replacing ‘normal’ behavior

This need to be constantly right, smart, and winning, really can be genuinely addictive, and as when it becomes so, it can easily replace ‘normal’ or ‘healthy’ human behavior and it can surround us with a self-delusional air of justification. Let’s make no bones about it, it is self-delusional, and the only people who thinks it’s normal is us, or fellow addicts.

Some of us – me included – love to poke holes in a position while building a watertight alternative. There can be some goodness in that when surrendered to God to be used in its right place. However, if this is not motivated by the great commission, moved foremost and uppermost by love for Jesus and people, and then delivered in gentleness and prudence, then it really counts for squat. It’s worse than nothing – it’s actually idolatry because we’re making ourselves out to be the thing most valued and praised.

Being right, even about Gospel truths, can become sinful and disconnected from God.

Is this you?

Think about it for a minute. Do you have fake debates in your head? Do you argue with strawman opponents when alone in the car ?

Do you feel primarily compassion or urgency when you hear something you think is incorrect?

Do you sum up huge swaths of people into tightly categorized and broadly reduced a-personal units?

Do you use social media platforms, younger audiences, and impressionable people to try out your views where they are easy to defend, edit, and impress?

Do you write people off quickly, or summarize them totally before you have a chance to be a brother or sister to them?

Bottom line: Are you on a adrenaline fueled, self-image-enhancing crusade for ‘rightness’ or a compassion-driven commission by Jesus for truth? What motivates your corrections and what focuses your criticisms? Is it Jesus, or is there something else going on?

So, what do I do?

I talk boldly here as an addict. I’ve been in the worst depths of these places and know exactly what it’s like to love ‘rightness’ more than I love righteousness. Or – frankly – more than I love Jesus. I know what it’s like to appear superior, rather than pursue humility – and I still struggle with these passions daily. I’ve been praying for God to change the shape of my heart in these areas for years – which is why I quit my debate team.

This is also why I don’t debate on facebook, don’t post thoughtless provoking memes, don’t talk politics unless its face-to-face, try to hear each position for the first time when a new person shares it as their own, and try my best to ask more questions during a disagreement than just give answers. It’s flipping hard (especially that last one), but it allows me to surrender myself and others to Jesus much more readily. He really doesn’t need me to defend Him, after all. Just love Him, love others, and pursue the great commission.

If your overwhelming passion – when you’re totally honest with yourself – is to be ‘right’, then it might be that you need to take a personal inventory and rediscover your first love for Jesus.

Or – moment of truth – it might just be that this Christianity thing isn’t what you were looking for, and isn’t what you thought it was. Think about it, does your faith primarily ignite your heart or feed your addiction? If the latter, then it’s probably not the faith Jesus gave.

Maybe you need to let Christianity out of the ego-shaped box you’ve put it in and actually surrender to the living Christ afresh… or even for the first time.

I say this very carefully, but as someone who has gotten this wrong far more than he has gotten it right. I’ve decided, however, to follow Jesus – this means I have to want Him to be praised and loved more than I want to be right. Hopefully, under His grace and leading, I can be both, but I know which way I need to balance to tip. It’s a journey – but it’s the right one to walk.

I’ve been tackling this issue personally and directly for about twelve years now – since it was identified in me. I keep cutting off heads and finding new ones but the battle is well worth it and God is so good!

If this is you – please, look it in the face and seek more of God in your life and less of you. Talk to friends, seek community membership (not always leadership), listen more, speak less, slow down, and ask God to melt your heart with His love. It will be so much better!

Thanks for reading 🙂

 

Check us out on the Premier Youth and Children’s Work Podcast

It was an immense privileged to be interviewed by Ruth and Emily from Premier Youth and Children’s Work during the national Youth For Christ conference in January.

We talked about my background, the Bible in youth work, evangelism, and supporting dads. Have a wee listen here:

https://www.youthandchildrens.work/Media/Podcasts/January-2019-Issue

 

Lovin’ Youth For Christ right now…

I’ve just returned from the British Youth For Christ national conference. Three full days and an evening of just seeking God together as a national movement. I am full, I am happy, and I am motivated!

I have been with Youth For Christ for nearly eight years, and the movement has never felt to me to be more focused and more solid. It has a maturity and a faith that is blinding, and an unrelenting passion to bring young people to meet with the living Jesus.

This is a lot of adjectives from me, but I feel like totally showing off and showing up for Youth For Christ right now.

In my little corner of North Wales, I’ve often felt distant from the wider Youth For Christ body. This has not been helped by me making as little effort as possible in the last few years to reach out to national events and groups. I’m repenting of that, and I’m going to step up to be a fully-functioning member of this incredible family.

‘Aslam is on the move’, says awkward fanboy Mr. Beaver in Narnia. The air hums in anticipation of the coming lion king (no, not that one) who will end winter and bring life in all its colour. Jesus is on the move through the work of Youth For Christ, and I want in on the ground floor.

At Youth For Christ we’re about seeing young people’s lives changed by Jesus. There is an invitation here to anyone with a like mind, ready heart, and budding frustration to see more young people come into a living relationship with Jesus. Check out the website, get in touch, and get stuck in. For now, check out the video below:

 

The Scariest Verse in the Bible for Youth Workers

[The following is an extract from Chapter 6 of Rebooted]

The scariest and most challenging verse in the Bible for me as a youth worker is Matthew 19:14, ‘Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”’

What a wimp right?

I mean, this is a relatively tame verse as far as scary verses go. What about Deut. 28:53 which talks about eating children, or Mal. 2:3 where we’re told that dung will be spread on our faces? (If you don’t believe me, go find them yourself!) What about Ez. 20:26, which says that God fills us with horror? ‘Let the little children come to me is adorable, right?’ That’s why we have it painted on our Sunday School walls and crossed-stitched on pillows.

Speaking of which, in my first full-time ministry position, there was a stained-glass window set that contained this ‘adorable’ verse. In the central pane was Jesus, looking very white and middle-class, complete with perfectly straightened brown hair, a cool soul-patch, and blue birds twittering around his head. Pudgy blonde children and respectful looking teenagers surrounded him, running around his legs, clutching onto his fingers, and playing with toy aeroplanes and yo-yos.

In the left pane were the children’s parents, sharing photos from their wallets of their other children and happily looking on as this strange single man played with their kids. The right pane depicted the disciples, watching pleasantly like they were learning an important lesson.

Are you kidding?

If you are a parent or have done any children’s work you might imagine a more accurate version of this scene: bedlam. Screaming, freaked out children with goo dripping from their faces being manhandled by their parents away from the strange man, while other ‘helicopter’ parents soared in to get a magic blessing from the miracle worker for their little Beatrice. All the while the disciples – in black bow ties and florescent vests – took on the role of bouncers, forming a cordon to keep them away.

In the middle of this chaos, Jesus effectively yells “Shut up! Get out of the way, and let them come!”

This scares me for two reasons. First, Jesus says “let them come.” He doesn’t say make, bribe, force, trick, coerce, pay, or dope up on sugar. They just needed to be allowed to come. I’ve never actually met a young person who didn’t express interest when told about Jesus. They might turn off at the first mention of religion, church, or the idea of being a Christian – but Jesus fascinates them.

There is something naturally attractive to a young person about Jesus. My belief is that if Jesus was walking the streets today, young people would follow Him. They might not fully embrace, or totally give their lives over to Him – but they would totally check Him out.

The problem, of course, is that Jesus is walking the streets today – at least technically speaking. The physical embodiment of Jesus today is His church! 1 Cor. 12 calls the church the body of Christ. We are His witnesses, called to display His character and goodness to the world. If we truly are supposed to look like Jesus, then where are the young people? Why are they not breaking down our doors to figure Him out? Of course, one answer to that is our doors are often locked. Even aside from that though, if the church today truly looks like Jesus in the 1 Cor. 12 sense, then why are young people not flocking in to find out more?

When first reading that last paragraph, my wife said to me ‘you don’t have your lovely baritone voice or your outraged eyes to help you here. You need it to punch us in the guts!’ I’m hoping the idea itself is scary enough though, so please, read that last line again and consider yourself gut-punched!

The second reason this verse scares me is contained in Jesus’ second clause, “do not hinder them.” Another way of translating this might be Get out of the way!

The idea that we could get in-between young people and the Author of Life is terrifying! That our practices, attitudes, traditions and sometimes our plain rudeness to young people could actually stop them meeting Jesus is terrifying. Hungry, needy, desperate young people are looking for a direct way to Jesus – but if we are standing in the middle of that road, as bouncers or security guards, then those young people remain hungry, needy and desperate.

If the disciples, who knew Jesus best, could get this so horribly wrong, then I know that I certainly could too.

We could easily distill this down to one golden rule for church-based youth work: Point people to Jesus and get out of the way. It sounds good – and it’s a great start – but it’s not the whole story.