Tag Archives: Radical
BOTW: Radical Together
Early in my book a week challenge for the year, I read Radical, a challenging book by David Platt (you can read the review here). Admittedly, that book seems to have ruined the B99 and me, and so as we stand on the edge of launching a brand new body of believers here in Stanly County, we thought there would be no better way to do it than by ruining as many others as we can by reading Platt’s follow-up, Radical Together, as a group. First, of course, we needed to read through it to get a feel for what we’re about to navigate. Warning: life bombs ahead.
Honestly, I picked it up and assumed that I’d be ready for anything Platt might throw in this one, simply because I assumed it would be just a group application to the truths in Radical. If reading his first book challenged us to consider how big (or small) a house we really need as a family, then I was prepared to find in the second book obvious parallels to churches and the sizes of their buildings.
That would have been a lot easier to digest. Instead, Platt took the opportunity in Radical Together to pick up right where the intensity of Radical left off and, instead of just focusing on easy issues like trimming a little fat off the church budget, he kept plowing into the deeper heart work that he is developing a reputation for.
From honest examples of how the Church at Brook Hills (where Platt is the pastor) has taken major initiatives in becoming a radical community of believers to probing questions about how the reader’s community of faith can do the same, Radical Together seems to alternate between gripping the heart and the throat. I found myself in tears and then breathless at the thought of what could happen in my area if a band of believers took to heart the call to lift up the Word of God and the God Who speaks it. Story after story brought me closer to the place where I can feel the ground ending beneath my feet, and as scary as jumping from the cliffs of comfort may be, it is impossible to read this book and not feel a deep desire to leap.
BOTW: Radical
Most of my life is lived with a sinking realization that the Christianity of America is vastly different from the Christianity of the early church. I find myself unable to pinpoint what it is, or could be, that we’re missing, but when I read the Bible I can’t help but examine my own life and feel that I come up short in comparison. Their faith seems so much stronger than mine and purer than mine. In short, they impacted their culture while much of today’s American church isn’t even intersecting culture, or interested in trying.
So when a friend recommended David Platt’s book, Radical, my wife (my Better 99%) picked it up in a bookstore and brought it home. She read it a couple weeks ago, and since she practically read me half the book in snippets here and there (“Honey, can I read you this?” and “Oh! You have GOT to hear this!”), I decided that it would be Book #3 in my quest to read a book a week in 2011.
The premise of the book boiled down to 2 questions for Platt. The first was the easiest: was I going to believe Jesus? Sure, most of us do. But the second one was what he found to be the hardest: was I going to obey Jesus? Platt wondered if we could:
Take an honest look at the Jesus of the Bible and dare to ask what the consequences might be if we really believed him and really obeyed him.
I sense a growing level of discontent in the American church. It is not a growing number of complainers who rip the preacher apart at the Sunday buffet, or who are always up in arms about the song selection in the worship service. It is a discontent with the gap that many of us see growing between what we read in the Bible and what we see in our own lives. If Jesus called his first disciples to give up everything and follow him, then are we not called to do the same? “But we don’t want to believe it,” Platt writes. “We are afraid of what it might mean for our lives. So we rationalize these passages away.” He continues:
And this is where we need to pause. Because we are starting to redefine Christianity. We are giving in to the dangerous temptation to take the Jesus of the Bible and twist him into a version of Jesus we are more comfortable with. A nice, middle-class, American Jesus…And the danger now is that when we gather in our church buildings to sing and lift up our hands in worship, we may not actually be worshiping the Jesus of the Bible. Instead we may be worshiping ourselves.
Yeah, that’s on page 13. If you’re able to make it out of chapter one, you’ll find that it doesn’t get any easier. In response to our unwillingness to obey God, Platt writes this zinger:
We spurn our Creator’s authority over us. God beckons storm clouds, and they come. He tells the wind to blow and the rain to fall, and they obey immediately. He speaks to the mountains,”You go there,” and he says to the seas, “You stop here,” and they do it. Everything in all creation responds in obedience to the Creator…until we get to you and me. We have the audacity to look God in the face and say, “No.” (emphasis added)
This, then, seems to be the heart of where the American church has gone so wrong. We have made much of ourselves – our comforts, our dreams, our hopes – at the expense of the advancement of God’s glory in the most devastated areas of the world. It isn’t so much that any of us woke up one day and said, “Today I stop caring about others,” as much as it has been a slow, gradual turning away from the needy and toward ourselves. This self-centeredness is quite the opposite of the life our Savior led when He said that he’d come to serve, and not to be served.
As Platt says, “If there is no sign of caring for the poor in our lives, then there is reason to at least question whether Christ is in our hearts.” Ouch.
The obvious question is: So what do we do? I’ve attempted to answer that from our family’s perspective in this post, but the short answer in Radical is that we need to begin seeing the excess God has given us as a reason to give more instead of as an excuse to have more, and in order to make the shift in perspective, Platt offers the Radical Experiment. It is a one year commitment to do 5 things:
- pray for the entire world
- read through the entire Bible
- sacrifice your money for a specific purpose
- spend your time in another context
- commit your life to a multiplying community
I could give you the specifics about how to go about tackling those 5, but you’d be much better off getting the book and reading about it for yourself. Just do it with your eyes wide open, because you will be taking your life (as you now know it) into your own hands.
If, as Platt writes, “the goal of the American dream is to make much of us and the goal of the gospel is to make much of God,” then you may find yourself being one of God’s greatest spokespersons a year from now.
Buy this book, but don’t say you weren’t warned. Read Radical at your own peril.
Q Chew 16
Here’s a little snippet from Radical, the book that I’m reading this week. These kind of statements make me a little more hopeful about seemingly impossible undertakings like 704. Perhaps God has us right where He wants us?
This is how God works. He puts his people in positions where they are desperate for his power and then shows his provision in ways that display his greatness. (emphasis added)
- David Platt in Radical
The Difference Between Moving and Being Moved
Mark 1:41
Moved with compassion, Jesus reached out His hand and touched him. “I am willing,” He told him. “Be made clean.” (HCSB)
It’s funny how convergent life seems at times. What appear on the surface to be random events – a conversation spoken here, a book read there, a song heard during a playlist on iTunes – often, upon deeper investigation, have similar themes and are more connected than we may have at first realized. The B99 and I are experiencing one of those moments right now, as the book she is reading and the book I am reading are eerily similar to one another, and even more striking, they both run parallel to the 30-day study I’m doing in Scripture. I’m not the most discerning guy, but it seems that God may be saying something, and that has prompted what you are now reading.
The titles of the books aren’t important (and they’ll each be written about later anyway as a part of my “Book a Week” challenge), but the statistics and stories contained in both have been more than compelling. In fact, I think it’s fair to say that the B99 and I have both been moved by what we’ve read, and I’m sure you would be, too. It’s not hard to be affected when you read things like 3 million women and 1 million children are trafficked sexually a year, or that the United States spends more money on beauty products than education. In light of the fact that half the world’s population lives on less than $2 a day, what does this statement do to you:
Every Sunday we gather in multimillion-dollar buildings with millions of dollars in vehicles parked outside. We leave worship to spend thousands of dollars on lunch before returning to hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of homes. (Radical, p. 115)
See? It isn’t hard to be moved. You don’t really even have to do anything. Sometimes you can be moved simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, as anyone who has been in an accident can tell you. If I walk clumsily toward you and bump you, you’ve been moved even if you didn’t want to be. It requires absolutely no desire to be moved. Being moved happens to you, and is often just about a change in position. Moving, on the other hand, is about a change in priorities.
Being moved by compassion makes us people of emotion. Moving with compassion makes us people of action. A lot of us are moved by a lot of things: a sad movie, a picture of a starving boy with a swollen belly, a passionate sermon by a charismatic preacher. The question is, are we moving as the result of any of it? Moving requires effort, thought, passion, purpose. It is what we do as a result of what has been done. Jesus was moved with compassion, and as a result He reached out His hand. Most of us, when we’re moved with compassion, sit in the dimply lit sanctuary and wring our hands.
The B99 and I are growing increasingly aware of our propensity to be moved without ever really moving, and while it’s good to be moved instead of sitting cold-heartedly in a world of pain, at the end of the day it feels hollow if we haven’t followed it up with moving, with reaching, and with touching those in need.
Admittedly, I don’t know what it all looks like in the end, but I know that I am ready to do what I can, where I can, for whom I can. I am ready to move.





