Lately I’ve been violently throwing Christian books in the trash.

Not every book.

But enough to make you think I’m a lunatic.

FYI—the key to launching a Christian book across your bedroom and hitting the trash can on the first try is to throw it like a Frisbee.

Grab the bottom right corner, spin it clockwise, and watch it soar through the air like a missile.

WARNING: do not try to shot-put it toward the trash like a freshly baked cake.

That technique can knock the head off your wife’s Precious Moments figurine—the one she’s had since fourth grade.

Then you have to superglue it back together.

And hope she doesn’t read about it in your newsletter. 😊

Here’s my problem with many Christian books I’ve read lately: they assume the worst about the reader.

They assume most Christians are shallow.

Uncommitted.

Self-centered.

Soft.

And that what we really need is to have “our hair blown back” by the bare-knuckled teachings of Jesus and jolted back onto a one-way path to suffering and martyrdom.

To be honest, I’ve thought this on occasion.

But there’s a problem with that approach.

Bad Fruit?

In Matthew 7, near the end of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, he said,

“Watch out for false prophets…by their fruit you will recognize them.”

But what did Jesus mean by “fruit”?

Fruit is what a person’s life, tone, habits, and teaching produce over time.

Fruit is not crowds. Not clicks. Not books sold. Not a thirty-second clip that makes everyone in the comments say, “Amen.”

What we should be asking is does their teaching make people more like Jesus?

• More humble?

• More honest?

• More courageous?

• More merciful?

Want to know the secret to spotting good fruit in a Christian’s life?

Give them time.

Years reveal what minutes cannot.

The Prophet of Copenhagen

The writings of Søren Kierkegaard have had a profound impact on my life.

So much so, that last year Lisa and I flew to Copenhagen to study his life and tour the city he loved.

I left conflicted.

On one hand, Kierkegaard’s writings on discipleship galvanized my resolve to suffer for the message of Jesus.

He could be surgical. For instance, Kierkegaard once contrasted Christ and the clergy this way:

Christ says,

“Sell all that you have and give it to the poor.”

The priest says,

“Sell all that you have and give it to me.”

That’s a line you don’t forget.

However, halfway through the tour, my confidence in his message began to wobble.

Here’s what I learned:

• Kierkegaard lived off a large inheritance from his father.

• He lived in a four-story brick home with seven rooms, two kitchens, and an elaborately decorated first floor.

• He had a house cleaner and cook named Anders who stayed with him for much of his life.

Because of his wealth, Soren was able to…

• Walk the streets of Copenhagen at leisure.

• Eat out in restaurants whenever he liked.

• Smoke cigars and write in cafés.

• Attend the theater.

He became a fixture in Copenhagen’s educated bourgeois social circles.

That’s not exactly what I expected from the prophet who railed against comfortable Christians.

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Online Prophets

Which brings me back to Jesus’ warning:

“By their fruit you will know them.”

This was true in the first century, in 19th-century Copenhagen, and it’s still true today, especially online.

A lot of Bible teaching today seems less interested in forming people and more interested in shaming them.

• Hot takes.

• Public rebukes.

• Demeaning captions.

• Thirty-second clips designed to make tired Christians feel like failures before they even have a chance to listen.

And I understand the impulse.

There are lies that need naming.

False teachers, shallow discipleship, and comfortable Christianity deserve critique.

But Jesus never told us to evaluate teachers by the heat of their delivery.

He told us to evaluate them by their fruit.

Had Kierkegaard said…

“Friends, I struggle with the teachings of Jesus on wealth and sacrifice just as much as anyone. I know each person has to determine how they should spend their money, but let’s help each other figure this out. Let’s encourage each other. And please pray for me. I’m not yet where I want to be.”

…then I would have left Copenhagen with much more respect for him.

Instead, I will always remember how easy it was for him to condemn in others the very lifestyle he enjoyed.

That is why, in a time of likes, clicks, and platforming people we do not know, we must remember that time matters.

Time helps us see what is almost impossible to discern online, in the moment, or under the lights.

And most important: we must never forget that history has taught us, again and again, that the most bombastically prophetic among us often turn out, with hindsight, to be the ones who needed rebuke the most.

And have their books thrown into the trash.

Like a Frisbee.

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This week we added four Babydoll sheep to what we affectionately call Meadow Brook Farm-ish!

Do we know how to be an actual shepherd and shepherdess?

Hahaha. Of course not.

Not with “actual” sheep, at least!

But here goes the start of a fun adventure.

Reminiscent of Lisa’s years as a school principal, we’ve started calling them “the boys and girls.”

Let me introduce you to them.

This is Judd, named after the great missionary Adoniram Judson.

And Lizzie, named after the brave missionary and writer Elisabeth Elliot.

Here’s Fred, named after the influential missionary Fredrik Franson.

And finally, Virgie, named after the courageous missionary Virginia Broughton.

Yep, we named them after great missionaries.

A friend joked, that with those names, we better have strong fences because they’re going to want to break out to “seek and save the lost.” 😉

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Beautiful Things

Their calm, gentle dispositions have a way of forcing me to slow down.

Not theoretically.

Actually.

Yesterday, I followed behind them as they explored our property.

Slowly.

Quietly.

Close together.

What surprised me most wasn’t how cute and cuddly they are.

It wasn’t even how peaceful it felt to sit nearby and watch them graze.

It was how quickly they started changing me.

Because they are so gentle, I have to move slowly so I don’t spook them.

So I take one light step at a time.

My breathing slows down.

I pay attention to what they’re eating, which means I’m paying attention to something deeply—a rare thing when my phone is near.

In his Confessions, the great spiritual writer Augustine talked about how he

“…rushed headlong into beautiful things, but was scattered…”

That’s me.

Scattered by everything I claim to love.

Rushing past beauty with my phone in my hand and anxiety in my chest.

Lambs don’t rush past beautiful things.

Which may be why, this week, I found myself reading Matthew’s story with new eyes.

Matthew’s Table

This Sunday I’m teaching on the story in Mark 2 where Jesus calls Matthew to follow him.

After leaving his post as a tax collector, Matthew throws a party for a group of his irreligious friends to meet the man who just changed his life.

Mark 2:14–15 recalls the event:

As he walked along, he saw Matthew son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” Jesus told him, and Matthew got up and followed him.

While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were eating with him and his disciples, for there were many who followed him.

I would have loved to have been there.

While driving my Jeep Wrangler this morning, “So Long, Honey” by the folk band Caamp popped up on my playlist. The song’s first lines are:

We sit with the fools and the sinners

The jokers and the killers

It’s just our way

I smiled.

It made me think of Matthew’s party, and his friends taking their places around his table - the fools and the sinners, jokers and killers of Capernaum.

They must have been caught off guard by Matthew’s new demeanor, his language, his joy, and his guest of honor—a rabbi.

When moments like this came, Jesus reached for a story that opened a window into the heart of God.

Maybe he told it to his new friends at Matthew’s house that night.

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When Grace Finds You

It’s a story that went like this:

A shepherd has one hundred sheep, but when one goes missing, he leaves the ninety-nine and goes searching into the brush. It is a foolish thing to do with wolves and jackals in the dark - unless, of course, you love the lost lamb that much. And when he finally finds it, he doesn’t scold it or drag it home in disgust. He lifts it onto his shoulders and rejoices.

I think that’s why Matthew threw the party.

• Not because he had all the answers.

• Not because he knew how his friends would respond.

• Not because he was ready for the looks, the questions, the puzzled expressions, or the disdain.

But because he had met the Shepherd.

• The one who walked all the way to his tax booth.

• The one who looked at him and said, “Follow me.”

• The one who came looking for him.

So Matthew did the only thing he knew to do.

He set the table.

He filled the room with the people who knew him before grace found him.

And he put them in the same room with Jesus.

Because when we realize we were the lamb he came looking for, we start seeing those around us—the other fools and sinners, jokers and killers—as people loved by Jesus just like us.