Hearts Versus Culture

Growing up in Vallejo, California, I had the privilege of living in a wonderfully diverse community. Vallejo was a Navy town, filled with families from different backgrounds, ethnicities, cultures, and walks of life. As a young boy, I didn’t give much thought to those differences. They were simply part of the community I called home.

When I was 16 years old, I got a job as a lifeguard. One of the places I worked was Dan Foley Park, home to one of the most unusual swimming facilities you could imagine.

Rather than a traditional swimming pool, it was designed to resemble a winding river, a massive cement stream that began in shallow water and gradually grew deeper as it made its way toward Lake Chabot.

It was quite a place.

There were bridges that crossed over the water, almost like something you might see at Disneyland. There was even a rope stretched across one section where two people could climb out from opposite ends, meet in the middle, and attempt to knock each other into the water.

For a young boy, it was exhilarating.

For a 16-year-old lifeguard responsible for keeping everyone safe, it was another story entirely.

The concrete was slippery. Kids were running everywhere. Whistles were constantly blowing. There was laughter, shouting, splashing, and more than a few moments when things could have gone terribly wrong.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder how we managed to keep everyone safe.

But there was something I learned during those summers that has stayed with me for more than 50 years.

When someone was in distress, our responsibility was simple.

Save them.

We didn’t ask about their political beliefs. We didn’t ask what religion they practiced. We didn’t need to know their ethnicity, their family background, or whether we agreed with their opinions.

None of that mattered.

Someone needed help.

And we had an orange life ring.

Our assignment was to get that life ring to them, to enter the water when necessary, and to do everything we could to bring them safely to shore.

As I’ve been thinking about the world we live in today, and the tremendous divisions that seem to occupy so much of our attention, my thoughts have returned to those summers at Dan Foley Park.

And more importantly, they’ve returned to the life of Jesus.

I wonder sometimes if we’ve become so consumed with trying to change the culture that we’ve forgotten the very people Jesus came to save.

When Jesus entered this world, He stepped into a culture filled with division, political oppression, religious arguments, social injustice, and deeply held opinions about how people ought to live.

The Romans ruled with tremendous power. The Pharisees and Sadducees argued over religious matters. People were separated by social standing, wealth, ethnicity, and religious traditions.

Sound familiar?

And yet Jesus didn’t come to conquer Rome, establish a political movement, or win a cultural argument.

He came to seek and save the lost.

In Luke 19:10, Jesus tells us, “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost.”

That was His mission.

People.

He sat with tax collectors. He welcomed sinners. He touched lepers. He showed compassion to women who had been rejected by society. He welcomed children when others considered them an interruption.

He looked beyond the labels that society had placed upon people and saw their hearts.

And when He taught the Sermon on the Mount, He didn’t begin by telling His followers how to take control of the culture around them.

He began with the heart.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.”

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled.”

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.”

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

Matthew 5:3–8

Jesus was revealing something entirely different from what the world had come to understand about power, influence, and greatness.

His kingdom would not be established through political victory or cultural dominance.

It would be revealed through transformed hearts.

Later, standing before Pontius Pilate, Jesus would say in John 18:36, “My Kingdom is not of this world.”

What an extraordinary statement.

Here stood the King of Kings, the One through whom all things were created, standing before a Roman governor who believed he possessed the authority to determine His fate.

And Jesus wasn’t interested in winning the argument.

He was fulfilling the Father’s will.

He was going to the cross.

The spotless Lamb of God, whose blood would accomplish what no earthly government, religious institution, or cultural movement could ever accomplish.

The forgiveness of sin.

The restoration of our relationship with the Father.

The gift of eternal life.

Just as the blood of the Passover lamb marked the doorposts of the Israelites in Egypt, Jesus would become our Passover Lamb, offering Himself once and for all.

He didn’t come simply to make the world a better place.

He came to reconcile us to God.

And that brings me back to the lifeguard standing beside that winding cement river in Vallejo.

I wonder what would have happened if, instead of throwing someone a life preserver, I had stood on the edge of the water and begun arguing with them about their beliefs.

What if I had decided that before I helped them, I needed to know whether they agreed with me?

What if I had become so preoccupied with everything happening around the pool that I failed to notice the person struggling right in front of me?

The very purpose of my being there would have been lost.

And I wonder if that isn’t a danger for us as followers of Christ today.

We can become so occupied with defending God, defending our positions, and trying to correct everything we believe is wrong with the world that we overlook the very people He has placed in our path.

But God doesn’t need me to defend His existence.

When Moses asked God His name, the answer was simply, “I AM WHO I AM.” Exodus 3:14.

He is God.

He was God before I arrived, and He will remain God long after I am gone.

My assignment isn’t to protect His reputation.

My assignment is to be available for His purposes.

To allow the life of Christ to be lived in me and through me.

Paul reminds us in Galatians 2:20, “I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I that live, but Christ lives in me.”

That changes everything.

Because when I encounter someone who is hurting, someone who is afraid, someone who is overwhelmed by the circumstances of life, I don’t have to manufacture the love, compassion, patience, or strength they need.

Those things don’t originate with me.

They come from Christ.

Whether I’m serving a family through Hattie’s House, standing in line at the grocery store, visiting someone in the hospital, or simply having a conversation with a stranger, my prayer is that I would be attentive enough to recognize when someone is struggling.

That I wouldn’t be so distracted by the noise of the world that I miss the quiet opportunity right in front of me.

Jesus tells us in Matthew 5:14, “You are the light of the world.”

And then He tells us to let that light shine before others so they may see our good works and glorify our Father in heaven.

Notice where the glory goes.

Not to us.

Not to our opinions.

Not to our ability to win an argument.

But to our Father.

And perhaps that is where we sometimes lose our way.

We begin believing that if we could just change the culture, change the laws, change the opinions, or change the behavior of those around us, somehow the world would become what God intended.

Certainly, how we live together matters. Justice matters. Truth matters. The way we treat one another matters.

But the transformation Jesus came to accomplish begins somewhere far deeper.

It begins in the heart.

And a heart transformed by Christ cannot help but influence the world around it.

Jesus called us salt and light. Neither needs to become something else to fulfill its purpose. Salt preserves because it is salt. Light illuminates because it is light.

And a life surrendered to Christ becomes a reflection of the One living within it.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 5:20, “We are therefore ambassadors on behalf of Christ, as though God were entreating by us.”

What a privilege.

We get to represent the King.

Not by forcing others to agree with us, but by faithfully speaking His truth, demonstrating His love, extending His forgiveness, and pointing others toward the hope found only in Him.

I think about that young lifeguard standing beside the water at Dan Foley Park.

He didn’t have all the answers.

He certainly couldn’t control everything happening around him.

But he knew what to do when someone needed help.

Grab the life ring.

Get to the person.

Help bring them safely to shore.

And perhaps that’s a pretty good picture of what our lives ought to look like today.

We live in a world filled with strong opinions, political divisions, anger, confusion, and an endless stream of voices telling us what we should be fighting for or fighting against.

But somewhere in the middle of all that noise is a person who is hurting.

A family that is frightened.

A neighbor who is lonely.

A stranger who has lost hope.

Someone who needs to know that they are loved.

Someone who needs to hear about Jesus.

And I pray that we would be willing to set aside the noise long enough to notice them.

To offer a hand.

To listen.

To pray.

To love.

And when the opportunity comes, to share the wonderful truth that Jesus Christ came to seek and save the lost.

I cannot save anyone’s soul. Only Jesus can do that.

But I can make myself available to the One who can.

I can carry the life ring.

I can enter the water.

I can point them toward the Savior.

And I can trust Him with what happens next.

So here’s my encouragement to you today.

Don’t become so consumed with changing the culture that you forget to love the people living in it.

Remember the assignment.

Be attentive to the person in front of you.

Be willing to get your feet wet.

And when you see someone struggling, don’t begin by asking what they believe, where they stand, or whether they agree with you.

Just reach out.

After all, Jesus didn’t come to win the culture.

He came to save the lost.

And He is still doing that today.

One heart at a time.