Thank You for Flying Calvin Air

“Welcome to CalvinAir. We ask during the flight that everyone please refrain from smoking. There are two restrooms; one located here in basic seating and one up front in select seating. For reasons of safety we have anticipated your every need. You will be allowed to leave your seats when we reach cruising altitude. At all other times we ask that you keep your seatbelts tightly fastened.”

“In case of an emergency there are four exits; two located here in standard class seating and two up front in select class seating. Only those doors in select will actually open. Those in standard are welded shut.”

“If the cabin loses pressure then face masks will automatically drop from the bulkheads located above your seats. Only those masks in select class will provide oxygen. The face masks in standard class are not connected.”

“If we are forced to land on water then your seat cushion may be used as a flotation device. Only the cushions in select class will actually float, those in basic class are filled with lead.”

“Please enjoy your flight and, speaking for the captain and crew, thank you for flying CalvinAir.“

The Helper

(High above the Earth)

A lone spectral figure races against the dark backdrop of the heavens, relentlessly scanning the planet. Suddenly up ahead a beam of light shoots up from the depths of Middle America, piercing the clouds and fading into the ionosphere. Instantly accelerating to blinding speed, the ghostly entity dives towards the light’s source, a long, glowing, meteoric tail stretching brightly behind him.

(Meanwhile, somewhere in the American Midwest)

“Call on him! Call on him! That’s all you need to do. He will help us.” The young girl was breathless with excitement.

The boy knelt on the floor, his head bowed, hands clasped together with fingers pointing skyward. His eyes were closed and his lips moved in a fast and urgent whisper.

There suddenly came the sound of a roaring wind, rising louder and louder, like a fast approaching freight train. The window curtains began to wave about crazily and a pile of papers on a nearby desk fluttered around the room like moths in a whirlwind. A blinding white light filled the space and both teenagers threw themselves down on the carpet, hands over their eyes. Instantly in the middle of the room there appeared a man of light, hands on hip, cape swirling about his shoulders. On his chest were written the bright glowing letters; H.G.

The girl peeked up through her fingers. “He’s here! He’s here! He has come to help us!”

(Later, at the dining room table)

“So now you see why we called for you. We need your help” said the girl. “If we don’t pass this exam then we won’t be accepted to Canon College next fall.”

“The temptation to cheat is so strong. Can you please help us!” His eyes wide in panic, desperation filled the boy’s voice.

The figure seated across from the boy and girl was so bright with light that it was impossible to look directly at him, yet no visible features were discernible and he seemed to lack material substance. There was a soft filminess about him, a somewhat translucent quality to his presence, like maybe he was there yet also somehow not there. A low voice emanated from deep within.

“You were right to call on me, kids. With my help you will be able to accomplish your task. Here, take this and keep it someplace safe.” He reached across and placed something in the girl’s hand. “Now that my work here is finished, I must be going.”

“But why can’t you stay with us? When will you be back?” the girl cried.

“I can’t stay; others need my help. But remember; I am always there for people of righteousness. Just call on me and I will come!“ At that moment he rocketed out of his chair and in a rush of blinding light and energy shot through up through the ceiling, leaving behind a swirling mist of shimmering particles.

The room began to settle back to normal. “Holy smokes! He’s gone!” said the boy breathlessly. “What was that he gave you?”

Slowly opening her hand they saw a square of folded paper. Carefully she opened it up and, reading what was on it, she began to smile, tears of joy running down her cheeks. “The answers! He gave us the answers to the exam! Oh, thank you! Thank you!”

They both ran to the window and looking up they saw a blazing comet streaking towards space, and a voice crying “Up, Up and Awaaay!”

Painting by the Numbers

When you first decide that you want to be an artist you might pick up a “Paint by Numbers” kit. Each ‘painting ‘ is really a diagram full of many differently shaped and numbered spaces, each number representing a different color in your paint box. By religiously applying the correct color to each numbered shape it is possible for the budding ‘artist’ to create a colorful painting that should be a very closer rendering of the picture on the kit’s lid. If done carefully it could easily be hung on someone’s wall with little or no apology.

But with all due respect to those “Paint by Number” aficionados out there, it is not art; any more so than coloring in a coloring book is art or completing a jigsaw puzzle is art. It is a craft. And just as the completed puzzle needs to match the box lid, so the “Paint by Number” painting needs to replicate the next person’s attempt at the same picture. You are not allowed to paint outside of the lines.

To artfully paint a picture is exceedingly difficult for someone who does not have the eye for it (take this from one who has failed miserably in this regard). Skills are important (the craft part of painting) as well as technique. But to create a work of art requires vision as well as the ability to lose oneself in the painting, to become a part it, a creative act akin to love. The beauty of great painting is that it never is identical to another work and the visible outcome can get the ‘message’ across to different people in different ways.

I think the “Law” of the Old Testament is much like what we find in a “Paint by Numbers” set. The Laws are very important because they help us to paint a picture of what someone who loves God looks like. But it can be very trying to stay within the lines and at times we may even mistake one color for another. More often we end up painting a picture of ourselves, someone who has yet to realize a love (as opposed to a fear) of God. It is an attempt, through attention to detail, to create something worthy of being called Love.

On the other hand, a picture painted with Christ as inspiration may still have flaws of perspective but will not exhibit the structured choppiness of a ‘Paint by Numbers’ work. There will be a smoother blending of the colors, softer pastels may be used as well as bright primaries, all suffused with a light that only the Spirit can provide. The result is a unique and heartfelt work of art instead of the more commonplace attempt at making a rigid and orderly reproduction. The goal of every ‘Paint by Numbers’ picture is to look exactly like the next, whereas original productions will vary from artist to artist.

There is a lot to be said for this orderly and systematic way of developing the discipline for art; following instructions, holding the brush properly, laying down the paint and paying attention to the finer details. Hopefully learning to see the whole picture by not focusing on the many small parts. But at some point the fledgling artist will need to throw away the props and find the faith to start learning from the Teacher. God allows many canvases on which to make many mistakes and in the end we should be painting beautiful pictures with the goal of pleasing the Master.

As my friend Jason said, it’s like “The difference between looking at a Seurat from 10 millimeters or 10 meters.”

An Afraid New World

A New York Times headline today says;

SCIENTISTS USE MONKEY CLONES TO EXTRACT STEM CELLS

Not only is this the first time such cells have been produced in any animal other than a mouse, but the method, the researchers say, should also work in humans.

“We hope the technology will be useful for other labs that are working on human eggs and human cells,” the lead researcher of the group, Shoukhrat Mitalipov at Oregon Health and Science University in Beaverton, said in a telephone interview. “I am quite sure it will work in humans.”

Not everyone is happy about this development. Rev. Tadeusz Pacholczyk, director of education at the National Catholic Bioethics Center said:

“I certainly think that this represents a new threshold in the entire discussion,” said the Rev. Tadeusz Pacholczyk, director of education at the National Catholic Bioethics Center. “At this point, it becomes essential to ask a question as a society: Are there ever going to be circumstances where it is morally justifiable to clone human beings?”

What do you think?

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/15/science/15primate.html?ex=1352782800&en=64dd27c654844c3a&ei=5089&partner=rssyahoo&emc=rss

The Old Man’s Rules

“Why do you have so many different rules, anyway?”

The young girl looked up at the old man, frowning.

“I do?” he asked, smiling down on her.

“You sure do. Dozens, maybe hundreds of ‘em” she said.

“Well, actually, I really only have one rule. Some people have trouble with this one so they turned it into two rules, to make it easier to understand”.

“Two! What about all those rules about no fightin’ and no cussin’, no lyin’, no cheatin’and no stealin’? And that’s only a couple of ‘em. No eatin’ too much, no dancin’, no watchin’ TV. No fun!” She folded her little arms across her chest and stamped her foot.

“Those aren’t my rules, dear. I didn’t make them. You did.”

“What? We did? What are you talkin’ about?” she cried. “ Those are you’re rules. It’s what we hafta do to make you happy”.

“No, my rule is only this; Love me with all your heart, mind and soul. It’s not too hard, really”

“Huh? What does that mean? I already love you a lot. Infinity! I can’t love you any more that that” she cried.

“Really? And what about that little girl that just moved into your part of the garden? The one with dark hair and pretty eyes? Do you love her?” he asked.

“Her?! You must be kidding. Didn’t you hear what she said to me? And her friends are mean, real mean. And they’ve been mean to my friends. If her friends hurt my friends then there is no way that I can be her friend. I hate her!” she said.

“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t feel that way. You see, I love her and her friends, as much as I love you and your friends. I think of all of you as my children.” With that he looked up from the little girl to watch the other children playing in the garden.

“But she isn’t nice! She doesn’t deserve my love. Or yours.” she insisted.

“Are you being nice by saying you hate her? Does this deserve my love? But I forgive you and love you just as much as ever. This is why some people find it easier if they turn my first and only rule into two parts. To love me you must also love all my other children as well. Even those you don’t like. Do you understand this?”

“I can’t do it. It’s too hard.” she said, looking down at her feet.

“But it’s what I want. If you love me then this is what you will do. Don’t you love me?” he asked.

“Yes of course I do.” She was quiet for a moment. Slowly her eyes opened wider. “I get it now! That’s what all those other rules are for. Us kids who can’t figure out how to love the losers have come up with a bunch of rules to  keep us from bein’ mean to ‘em. “

“Well, that’s the idea” he sighed. “I wish you didn’t think you need these rules so much. I wish you could just try doing it my way. Just once. It gets much easier with practice. It’s a lot harder to keep track of 1000 or 100 or even 10 rules than it is to obey just one or two. So many of your rules are so foolish, so many people waste their time trying to please me by obeying them. They can’t really. All I want is for you to love me by loving each other. I know you can do it.”

“But how? I don’t even know what it looks like. No one is doing it” she said.

“Remember my son? The one who died to save your life? Just remember him and how he acted. Let him be your model.”

“Him? Oh no. He was your son, he was special. I can’t do that. I’m not your son!” she said.

“You could be” he said. “You could be.”

Towards a More Liberating Imagination

In talking with a number of people about the possibility of lasting social change, I mostly encounter pessimism. People often shake their heads, shrug their shoulders and say, “Well, what can we do? Jesus does say that the poor and oppressed will always be with us.” Thankfully, there is a growing movement of Christians who are imagining a brighter future for the world.

I’ve nearly finished Brian McLaren’s new book, Everything Must Change and so far have found it to be a very good read. Later I hope to present a more complete review but for now I would like to share some quotes from the 29th chapter of the book, entitled A New Kind of Question. These are not McLaren’s thoughts but those of others who have influenced Brian’s writing.

McLaren quotes John Stott, who the fairly conservative journal Christianity Today has called the ‘Guardian of God’s Word’ saying that he has been ” preeminently a steward of God’s truth and a herald of the biblical message”. (September, 1996)

“What will posterity see as the chief Christian blind spot of the last quarter of the twentieth century? I do not know. But I suspect it will have something to do with the economic oppression of the Third World and the readiness with which Western Christians tolerate it, and even acquiesce in it. Only slowly is our Christian conscience being aroused to the gross economic inequalities between the countries of the North Atlantic and the southern world of Latin America, Africa and most parts of Asia. Total egalitarianism may not be a biblical ideal. But must we not roundly declare that luxury and extravagance are indefensible evils, while much of the world is undernourished and underprivileged?”

“Many more Christians should gain the economic and political qualifications to join in the quest for justice in the world community. And meanwhile, the development of a less affluent lifestyle, in whatever terms we may define it, is surely an obligation that Scripture lays on us in compassionate solidarity with the poor. Of course we can resist these things and even use (misuse) the Bible to defend our resistance. The horror of the situation is that our affluent culture has drugged us; we no longer feel the pain of other people’s deprivations. Yet the first step toward the recovery of our Christian integrity is to be aware that our culture blinds, deafens and dopes us. Then we shall begin to cry to God to open our eyes, unstop our ears and stab our dull consciences awake, until we see, hear and feel what through his Word he has been saying to us all the time. Then we shall take action. “

http://intervarsity.org/ism/article/1952

He also quotes Brian Walsh and Richard Middleton from their book “Truth Is Stranger Than It Used to Be”:

“It is only when we can imagine the world to be different than the way it is that we can be empowered to embody this alternative reality which is God’s kingdom and resist this present nightmare of brokenness, disorientation and confusion…..A liberated imagination is a prerequisite for facing the future…If we cannot have such a liberated imagination and cannot countenance such radical dreams then the story remains closed for us and we have no hope.”

It’s about being pro-active versus re-active, isn’t it? Not a call for more charitable giving, but a call for changing systems that create these problems. Blaming the flaws (even when they are real) in the systems of other cultures tends to take our focus off of the systemic flaws of our own culture. We need to ask ourselves the hard question of how we personally are benefiting from the suffering of others. Just asking these types of questions is a start and worth the little effort it takes. At least more worthy than throwing up our hands over the world’s despair. I am glad that people like Brian McLaren , John Stott and others are encouraging me to think about my complicity as well as offering me a vision of hope for the future.

How will future generations look back on the Christians of this age?

Thanks, But I’ll Pass on the Turkey.

Yep, we’re finally doing it. Bev and I are checking out of the Thanksgiving Day scenario. We’ve been talking about it for a couple of years but were afraid of making too many waves among our extended families. Our kids are just about grown now, both young adults, so if they want to continue with the tradition it’s up to them.

(First off, I just want to stress that this is a personal ideal of ours and we are not saying that it’s the right thing to do for everyone. So please, enjoy your Thanksgiving Holidays with family and friends.)

For some time I’ve been thinking that this holiday is the epitome of irony. I won’t take the time now to discuss the historicity of the tradition – like many great symbols it may be based upon myth, but myth is often  a good way of remembering some very valuable truths.

The Thanksgiving story that I grew up with went something like this; in their first year in North America the pilgrims almost died, basically because they were unprepared. Fortunately for them, the local “Indians” were friendly and they helped the Pilgrims survive and in the process showed them how to live off the land. Instead of starving, the pilgrims enjoyed a great harvest and in celebration of their good fortune they prepared a feast of thanksgiving for themselves and their new hosts. They were grateful to God for saving them from misery and death and, with the help of the natives, even realized an abundance of riches.

Flash forward nearly 400 years to what Thanksgiving is today. A great meal prepared lovingly by the family matriarch, tremendous quantities of food served to relatives gathered about the dining room table, Dad preparing to inflict his carving abilities upon a beautiful roasted turkey. But first, all heads bow in prayerful thanksgiving for the blessings that God has bestowed upon everyone at the table. Thanks are given for the great good fortune of being born American in a world that is sorely lacking in health, wealth and happiness.

Second and third helpings are served, followed by pumpkin pies and coffee. Grazing upon leftovers throughout the afternoon, friends and family enjoy each other’s company, often while watching the traditional football game on TV. A cozy fire is on the hearth, candles flicker on the mantel.

Cartoon by Ramirez

Here is the irony – what about those not at the table? How can they be thankful for their blessings, especially if they cannot nearly enjoy the same fruits of prosperity as we do? What about those who made this tradition possible, the Native Americans – will they also enjoy a feast giving thanks to the God of the Pilgrims? Should they even consider it? Unlike the Pilgrims, most of us sitting down to this meal,  grateful for our good fortune, have never experienced hunger or poverty. Most of us have never had to rely upon the humbling assistance of others to stay alive, as the Pilgrims had to do. And yet the descendants of those who helped our forefathers carve out a living on this continent are forced to live on the worst land our nation is willing to give back.

As important as the topic is I don’t want to focus on the abuses, past or present, suffered by Native Americans in the aftermath of colonialism.  There are many people in America and around the globe that find it impossible to provide their families with the kind of banquet that many of us  (in spite of its name) take so for granted. Millions can barely scrape together one lousy meal a day.

So, we’re backing out – we can’t do it anymore. And honestly…. it won’t be much of a “sacrifice”. The holiday season has become taxing for us (as well as many other people). It’s like some great frenetic conveyor belt, pulling us along toward goals of decreasing significance in our lives.  We feel it’s high time for the two of us to get off and start looking at where we’ve been going.

Blood Bananas

I found this article by Ryan Beiler on Sojourner’s website:

 www.blog.beliefnet.com/godspolitics/2007/11/blood-bananas-by-ryan-rodrick.html

A recent USA Today article summarized the scandal well. This was my quote of the week for SojoMail today:

Chiquita’s money helped buy weapons and ammunition used to kill innocent victims of terrorism. Simply put, defendant Chiquita funded terrorism.

That’s the U.S. Justice Department, in court filings last month against Chiquita for paying off right-wing paramilitaries in Colombia. Here’s the rest of the story, Harpers Index-style:

• $1.7 million – amount Chiquita paid the Self-Defense Forces of Colombia, (Autodefensas Unidas de Colombia, AUC), a right-wing paramilitary organziation responsible for the majority of human rights abuses in Colombia’s armed conflict
• $25 million – amount Chiquita was fined after pleading guilty of paying money to a terrorist organization
• $49.4 million - profits reaped by Chiquita from its Colombian operations between Sept. 10, 2001, when the AUC was designated a terrorist group, and January 2004, when its payments stopped. That’s a number to keep in mind when Chiquita protests that it was merely trying to protect its workers.
• 173 – Colombians allegedly murdered and in some cases tortured by right-wing militias that received payments from Chiquita, whose families are now suing the company.
• 4,000 - number of people killed in the Uraba banana-growing region during the period when Chiquita admits to paying the AUC.
• 1989 until 1997 – years during which Chiquita paid left-wing guerillas before the region in which they operated was taken over by the AUC

And if this makes you not want to eat Chiquita bananas, here’s some more bad news:

A spreading investigation in Colombia into what is being called the “para-politics” scandal may ensnare other corporate targets. Former AUC leader Salvatore Mancuso in May told the newspaper El Tiempo in Bogota that all banana producers had paid for protection, including Dole and Del Monte. Mancuso, who was jailed after turning himself in as part of an ongoing government-backed demobilization, said his group received 1 cent for every dollar of bananas exported. “All of the banana companies paid us. Every one of them,” Mancuso told the newspaper.

And one more closing thought:

“It may be true (that) you could not operate in these areas without paying the AUC. If it were al-Qaeda, that wouldn’t be a defense,” says Terry Collingsworth, an attorney with the International Labor Rights Fund, which has filed lawsuits against several corporations, including Chiquita, over their activities in Colombia.

Ryan Rodrick Beiler is the web editor for Sojourners. He traveled to Colombia in 2003.

Christian Chameleons

Tonight I will once again sally forth into the fray, exposing myself to debauchery, drunkenness, sacrilegious song and other temptations of the flesh. I just hope I have a good time.

There was a period not too long ago, just after I had my conversion experience, when I was a bit unsure as to how a Christian should behave. I think my confusion was due to where my spiritual home was at the time; a fairly conservative Methodist church (pretty hard to find these days). Confronting the challenges of Methodism’s fading Puritanism along with the ‘old time religious’ habits of my congregation, I felt like my lifestyle might be inconsistent with someone who claimed to be born again. So I faked it. I was a chimera – the owner of separate personality characteristics- some reserved for my church, some for those who knew me to be a Christian and some for those who did not know me at all.

I’ve talked about this at other times and places so I don’t want to bore anyone with the details. Suffice it to say, I was masquerading as what I thought a Christian was supposed to look like. I am embarrassed to tell of some of the silly things I did. For example; when friends from church would visit we would hide the wine, the wine glasses and the corkscrew, lest anyone get the ‘right’ idea. I began to think of myself as a clean cup with a permanently stained bowl.

You can imagine my relief when I found out that I need not become a 21^st century disciple of Carrie Nation in order to be a “good Christian”. I remember the pivotal point as an enjoyable evening spent having cocktails with another Christian couple while listening to live music at a local…(gasp!)….bar. No lightning bolts fell from the sky and it was not the slippery slope to hedonism that I’d heard about. (Or more likely what I thought I had heard.) That was a few years ago and since then I have grown in my faith and, losing some of these hang-ups, learned how to enjoy life in the process. I’ve also had more opportunity, through the casual acquaintance of people I’ve met in “secular” venues, to talk about Jesus.

A friend from work has a band, a classic rock- heavy metal type band that will be playing near my home tonight. He’s had a fairly difficult time of it lately. About a year ago he had his own ‘conversion’ experience and, like so many of us, went through some significant lifestyle changes. The partying he once enjoyed has fallen by the wayside, with the smokin’ and the drinkin’ that go along with it. He’s had some influence on the band as they no longer play music that employ lyrics of a violent or overly sexual nature and any song that even hints of insulting God has been kicked off the play list.

Yet the people of his church are telling him that he is sinful and the Bible is very clear in its condemnation of bars, bands and beer. In the process they use terms such as; sinners, fornicators, profane, drunkards, depraved, sluts and whores. I guess I should take offense, since these epithets are also directed towards people like me and my wife, since we will be in attendance this evening. But that doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is that these words, these bigoted thoughts, are being directed at anyone at all. None of the patrons at these clubs and bars are known to his congregation yet they have been conveniently labeled and filed away under the heading “unsaved”.

It is also disappointing that, when confronted with a man in their midst, who has grown closer to God through Jesus, they demand an immediate and visible change in his habits and appearances. This change needn’t be something that mimics Christ, who was also labeled as a glutton and drunkard as well as someone who consorted with prostitutes and the unclean. He need only mimic those in his congregation, becoming a born again chameleon. To avoid being preyed upon it may be necessary for him take on their colors, blending in with the ecclesiastical scenery. To his credit, he refuses to be this type of hypocrite and suffers even more scorn and derision.

I wonder how many other Christian chameleons are out there. For those of you who find yourselves in this type of scenario, weary of always having to be ‘on’, censoring your speech and playing at being holy, I heartily recommend coming in from the cold. The company is warm and the beer is cold.

The One Minute Evangelist

SCENE 1

The new girl, Mary, walked briskly into the office carrying a stack of file folders. She was smiling cheerfully and wearing a bright yellow dress with a vibrant floral pattern. Martha looked up from her desk. “What in the world are you wearing? That dress is not appropriate business attire for this office –besides, it’s way too tight.”

Mary dropped the folders on an empty desk and rushed from the room.

“Where do we find these people?” muttered Martha.

SCENE 2

“Well, what do you think?” Mary asked her new supervisor, Martha. Smiling, she spun around lightly in her new sun dress. Although a pretty outfit, to Martha it looked to be painfully tight on her. And much too casual for this type of office.

“Mary, you look beautiful!” she said. Mary gave her a quick hug and dashed back to her cubicle, excited to start a new work week. Martha made a mental note to invite Mary out to lunch and have a tactful conversation about the office dress code.

Please bear with me – I do have a point, somewhere….let me see….

Lately we’ve had some heated discussions on this site, over such issues as the doctrine of hell and the nature of evangelism. Rarely does one side seem to get the other to see it their way, including those times in which they actually are in close agreement.

I realize now that we’ve been arguing about the wrong thing. It’s not the message, but the messenger (as I suggested in an earlier post: http://sharpiron.wordpress.com/2007/07/09/shoot-the-messengers-why-fire-and-brimstone-preaching-is-evil/#comment-1788) More precisely, it’s how we put the message across that seems to really be the issue. I don’t think that it is always the truth of Christian doctrine that may repulse so many people (although that is often what we have been told) but more likely it is our delivery that needs to change. Of course we need to choose the right words but it is also important to take into consideration who we address and when we address them.

To criticize or rebuke someone we do not know well, someone who has yet to garner our trust, is often an exercise in futility. We must first take the time and effort necessary to convince someone that we really do care about them, in ways that are meaningful to them, and not necessarily to us. Telling an unfamiliar person that their actions or beliefs will result in damnation is akin to lobbing a personal insult at them. Marching in rallies with placards and signs (or calling radio shows or commenting on blogs) condemning perfect strangers rarely wins converts. How many times do we respond favorably when we are the targets of such criticism? I think it is unreasonable of us to expect a more open minded response than we would give ourselves. In many cases our opinions are unsolicited and unwelcome, no matter how well reasoned and thoughtful they may be.

When someone does ask for our opinion it might be best to ease it into the conversation gradually, finding out first who this person is, what burdens they might carry, what wounds they may still suffer from. To quickly respond with brutal honesty, no matter how convinced we are of the correctness of the answer, is not a good way to build honest relationships. The fear of being judged will discourage many people from opening their hearts. It may also deter them from asking our advice again.

This reminds me of the best set of management books that I have ever read. There are literally thousands of dry, boring, ponderous tomes on how to effectively manage people and in my opinion they make excellent substitutes for firewood. But one tiny little book, “The One Minute Manager” by Ken Blanchard made my job so much more enjoyable as well as productive. Throughout the series that he co-authored with Spenser Johnson there is a consistent theme. Their philosophy in a nutshell is this:

No one wants to be ‘told’ what to do. People respond to praise much more readily than reprimands, so we need to find something that they are doing right before we try to redirect them. If we can’t get people to ‘buy into’ what our goals for them are then we will fail miserably. In order for them to ‘buy into’ our goals they must believe that we care for their well being even more than our agendas. This is only possible if it is the truth.

Think about it; if we don’t like it when people harangue us why should we expect them to respond favorably when we do it? If we expect others to respect our point of view, then we should treat their views with equal if not more respect.

My brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in any kind of wrongdoing, those of you who are spiritual should set him right; but you must do it in a gentle way. And keep an eye on yourselves, so that you will not be tempted, too. Gal 6:1

You should forgive him and encourage him, in order to keep him from becoming so sad as to give up completely. And so I beg you to let him know that you really do love him. 2Co 2:7-7