Labels

I've been really trying to get into theology lately. I've come to one conclusion: I don't like the language of theology. I don't like it because I don't like being categorized. It seems you can't have a biblical discussion anymore with someone whose been a Christian longer than ten minutes without them throwing some fancy title at you. Why is it that people want to try and sum up what they believe in one word? (I'm OK if that word is Christian). Why do you need me to fit in a category? I think a lot of that is intellectual laziness. It would take a long time to really explain what you believe so you just put a big fancy word on it and hope people are so intimidated by your vocabulary that they don't ask anymore questions.

Maybe this bothers me so much because I defy categorization. I've spent quite a bit of time trying to decide which one of those theological labels fits me best. I can't find one. I think I may be looking in the wrong part of the Bible. I've been focusing on the New Testament, maybe the list of labels and corresponding outlines of their respective theologies is in the Old Testament. Right after the ten commandments, maybe I should look there. Leviticus sounds like a book that might be rich in Christian terminology (I already checked the concordance in my Bible, nothing).

What I do see in the Bible is a story of a God who loves - who pursues. I see healing and restoration. I see creation - redemption - salvation. I don't see labels. The Bible uses words like child - beloved- brothers and sisters. We are the church - the bride. We are set apart, known, chosen, and saved. We are joint heirs with Christ. If you must label me - if I must carry a tag. There is one title I'll proudly carry - one label I'll gladly wear. Hello, I am redeemed.

Lightning

The reason lightning doesn't strike in the same place twice is that the same place isn't there a second time.
-Willie Tyler-

And His lightning conquered everything around
That dark had to flee
-Caedmon's Call-

Several nights ago I went outside to let the dog take a piss. It had been storming all day so it felt fresh. The air smelt clean and there was a slight breeze. It was really late (sometime between 1 & 2 in the morning) - quiet. There was no moon and the sky was clear over our house. I turned off the light on our mailbox and laid in the bed of my truck for a while. You could see more stars that night than I had ever seen from our house. The thing that made it so impressive was that there were thunderstorms all around. At the edges of my view there were huge dark clouds that were moving fast, but above me the sky was clear and still.

I felt and thought so much in that moment. I felt small and insignificant for a while. Then I began to feel like that night- the hole in the clouds - the breeze- the stars were all there for me. I'm not sure why God created the rest of the universe (maybe just because he could - for fun, maybe because he can't help but create, maybe its all just an overflow of his creative beauty) but that night I became certain that it was all there the proclaim his name to me, in that moment. I thought about how huge the universe is. I thought about how powerful light is. One tiny ray of light created by a distant star can penetrate billions (I'm sure that's too small of a number) of miles of space. I thought about my dad. I read somewhere that light from some stars takes so long to get to us that we may be seeing a star that burned out long ago. The star is gone, but its light remains.

My favorite thing about the other night was the lighting. It was all around me but I couldn't see it directly. I never saw a single bolt of lightning, but every now and then a distant strike would light up the sky. It would wash across my little opening in the clouds and all the stars would disappear. As quickly as it came it went away and I was left anticipating its next strike. That's often the way God shows up in my life. He has rarely been as bright or (obviously) consistent as the sun. I always have the feeling he's out there, somewhere just out of sight. It often becomes easier to focus on lesser lights. I get caught up in things, experiences, and relationships. They are my stars. I'll be cruising along fine and BAM, lighting. When God shows up its impressive. It becomes difficult or impossible to focus on anything else. In those moments everything else fades into the background and there is only Him. I am startled, often frightened. Stunned. Amazed. Completely in awe. I am comforted. Inspired. Moved and forever changed.

I've come to enjoy experiencing God this way. Do I long for dawn? Yes, more than anything. But there is something wildly exhilarating about knowing God is out there, just waiting. I think this is good for me because through most of my early life I was living a high noon type of spiritual life. I think I sort of took it for granted. I may have even come to resent it a little. I talked with a guy once that had spent several months in the Arctic Circle. The whole time he was there the sun never went down. He said it was nice for a while but it eventually became exhausting. He couldn't sleep, his body clock got all screwed up. He said he found himself hoping for and even seeking out darkness just so he could feel normal. I've said that but now I'm not sure its a great analogy. I never wanted to be out of the light, never sought darkness. I do think I became exhausted. My Christianity was based more on adherence to rules than reliance on grace. That'll wear you down after a while.

I have become thankful for the night. The transition was a bitch, but the rest is nice. Its here in the night that I've experienced times of real peace. I've begun to see and experience the heart of Christ. Growth isn't as constant as it might be in the sun, but when the lightning comes its powerful and change happens instantly. Between strikes there is calm - between them I find Jesus. Yesterday I was unable to understand and experience God and Jesus at the same time. I saw God's hand, but not Jesus' heart. I hope that when tomorrow comes I'll be able to simultaneously experience both (I think that's the center point of the cross). For now I'm grateful for the experience of the night - resting in the arms of Christ, waiting for lightning to strike again.

Clarification

The bigger picture- I obviously really messed this one up. I never meant to imply that Jesus doesn't or didn't meet the needs of the individual. Christ has been involved in my life in an exceptionally personal way, it just seems to me that its done in service to and in order to further God's glory. I would agree that its in serving the small picture that the big picture is taken care of. I just think its important to remember that there is a big picture. For every blind man who sees there is a Job, for every lame person who walks there is a Lazarus. While both those stories end well there are times in them its clear God isn't doing anything. I've been there, when it feels like God's hiding from you its important to remember that there is a bigger picture. It makes the waiting bearable (barely). Understanding the big picture reminds me that Job was restored, Lazarus was raised. Healing is coming. The big picture is that God is good, in the long run. Knowing we're in it for the long run provides hope in the here and now.

A Bigger Picture

I have a God whose tears fill the scars that cover my heart. -Lindsay Mizell-

I have two very close friends whose compassion leaves me in awe. Its hard for me to understand how one individual can be so willing and able to help carry the burdens of so many. I love to be around these people, it makes me better - more aware. I will say, however, that it also annoys me a little. I often think they get so caught up in the needs of one they loose sight of the big picture. In my opinion they are in such a hurry to come to the rescue here and now that they forget to address or even recognize root cause of the problem. The simplest example to explain is the belief that pharmaceutical companies are evil and the government should step in and force them to sell medicine at a fair price. In most ways she's pretty conservative, but show her that one old man who can't open the mayo jar because he couldn't afford his arthritis medicine and she goes all to pieces. She wants to government to step in and make his medicine affordable. Now, we all know (as does she) that the problem with that is government sucks at it. Need an example? Check out Canada. The solution to the problem is to keep the government out of it and let the market regulate price. Takes too long for my friend. While we're waiting on that the old guys hands keep right on hurting. The difference between she and I is that she sees the individual in pain now and I see a major problem that needs a long term solution. I do this with everything - except my own life.

A while back in a small group a friend of mine was telling the story of Lazarus and began to talk about Jesus weeping out of compassion for the pain Mary and Martha felt. As he talked about Jesus' compassion he become so moved that he began to cry himself. He looked right at me and through his tears told me that Jesus wept for me, for my pain. It really pissed me off. The part of the Lazarus story that gets me is the part where Jesus waits around for Lazarus to die before he does anything. Lazarus didn't have to die, no one had to hurt. It angered me that Jesus would allow the pain and then act hurt by it himself. If Jesus didn't want Mary and Martha to hurt he should have come when they called him. If he really cared he would not have let them experience that pain.

This story has been difficult for me lately. I've seen so much of the heart of Jesus that is so beautiful. The story of Lazarus seems so strange to me now. It shouldn't - I've seen it played out in my life and the lives of people I love so many times over the last ten years. The only difference is we don't get to see our loved ones resurrected - yet. I know Jesus lets us hurt but I also know he weeps for us. Its difficult for me.

It has occurred to me lately that the reason its so difficult for me to understand is that in this story I'm the one hurting . That makes it difficult to see the big picture. I want God to prevent my hurt - put a band-aid on my wounds. Jesus sees a bigger problem - one that requires a long term solution. Christianity is a long run experience. In the long run the best thing for the world is to see Jesus. The only way to fix the problem is to have God glorified and his name lifted up. Jesus let Lazarus die so we could see that God has power over death. Jesus allowed Mary and Martha to hurt in order to show a dying world that there is hope.

I don't think Jesus wept as much for Mary and Martha as he did for a world that is lost in a broken system. Jesus wept because things are not as they should be. Jesus spoke of his coming kingdom, a kingdom where the blind received sight, where the lame walk and the dead rise. He spoke of a perfect kingdom - free from pain and despair. I believe the man in Jesus wept in longing for that kingdom. I believe the God in him wept because he knew what it would take to usher it in.

Flight

"When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return." Leonardo Da Vinchi

Run

"Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve. It doesn't matter whether you're a lion or gazelle - when the sun comes up, you'd better be running."

I took my dog through a car wash tonight. My wife and daughter were both in bed (one sick the other an infant), the Lakers had just stretched the series to game 6, and wasn't even close to tired so I figured I'd go for a drive. Duke loves to ride in the truck so I took him with me. I hadn't planned to get the truck washed but I drove by and the truck was dirty so I figured why not. I let Duke in the cab and settled in with my milkshake (I love having a milkshake in a car wash, weird but true). It became obvious pretty quick that I wasn't going to be able to enjoy the milkshake.

I turns out my big boxer dog is a sissy. As soon as the wash started he freaked out. He laid in the back floorboard for a while and whined, then barked and pawed the window, then just paced back and forth. He ended up on my lap watching the horror out the window. During the soap cycles he watched nervously as the machine moved down the truck. During the rinse cycles he laid with his head on my leg and growled deep down in his chest. When the wash was over I couldn't get him out of my lap so I pulled out of the bay and opened the door. Usually when you open any kind of door Duke is out in a dead run, but this time he just sat up on my lap sniffed the air and growled. He would raise up like he was going to jump and then loose his nerve. After a few minutes the lure of fresh air and open spaces became too much and he took the leap. You should have seen him run once he hit the ground. Not from anything or to anything he just ran because he could - because he loves it. He wasn't afraid anymore, he was free.

As I watched him run around the parking lot I couldn't help but think about how similar I am. I do the same thing all the time. God puts me in a situation I'm unfamiliar with or does something I don't understand and I do the same thing. It seems like when I'm not sure what to feel I just run through them all until I find one I can handle. Most of the time, like Duke, I settle on a combination of fear and anger.

This being Father's Day I'm sure you know where this is heading. That's where I was - afraid and angry. For years after dad died I didn't do church on father's day. I played golf, drove through the mountains, slept in - anything to avoid going to church and listening to some preacher talk about what a great father God is. Last year was different. Kyla was pregnant and I was technically a dad. I had to go. I'm glad I did. Not because I got to stand up and be recognized, because I had the opportunity to share my story.

Several weeks before last father's day I ordered a poster from a website where I get a lot of my favorite tee shirts. It is a picture of a Bible opened to Jeremiah with 29:11 underlined. I didn't get it because I like the verse, I'm not sure if I even read it before I bought it. I got it because I thought, as a Christian, it would be good to have a poster like that in the house and it was only a dollar. Several days after I put it up I was having a particularly bad day. Father's day was so close people had begun to plan for it and I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to go, but I didn't feel like there was anyway around it. I sure didn't feel like a dad. I came out of the nursery and as I rounded the corner into the den the words or Jeremiah jumped off the wall at me, "I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper not to harm. Plans to give you hope and a future." I that moment I heard God as clearly as I ever had or have since. I heard him say, "You know that I will take. Now know that I will give, that I am good."

Its difficult sometimes for me to remember my dad the way I want to. The images of the last several weeks of his life a so terribly powerful that they often overshadow the previous twenty years. I can see him in that hospital bed sick - weak and yellow with his hair all fallen out. That's the memory I most often have of my dad. However, I find that when I'm doing something I love (especially if its something that he loved) all the other memories of him come rushing back. When I play or watch basketball I can see the first video he ever shot of me dunking in a game. I got a steal and was in front all by myself and he got so excited he watched with his eye and not the camera and missed it. I can hear him yelling and then explaining to the camera how great it was and how he couldn't believe he didn't get it on tape. Every time I take off in an airplane as soon as the wheels leave the ground I can see his smile. His face bright with barley controlled excitement. I loved the way he tried to act like he wasn't just a big kid, like it was no big deal. I swear I think things like that excited him more than they did us, he always seemed be having more fun than everyone else. At night when I sit alone in the dark I can still hear his voice, all of our best talks were in still dark of night after curfew. I would come in from being out and he would be there, sitting quietly in the dark. I would come in and sit with him, sometime we would talk - more often then not we just sat there together in the dark. He always seemed to know what to say, what I needed to hear. Tonight in the dark of my kitchen, with my daughter asleep in the next room, I hear the echo of his voice again.

Run. God has opened the door. There is nothing to fear. You are free. Run.

Testify

If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive.
—Barry Lopez

I was talking to someone the other day and they kept referring to their "own personal testimony." The thing that bothered me about it was that they never shared it with me (I guess that's why they call it personal). That bothers me for two reasons: 1. I'm nosy 2. It really could have touched me in some way and I think sharing it is the least they could have done. I know your testimony is usually an intensely personal thing but I don't think its a excuse to keep it a private thing. I think its a special sort of arrogance to assume God changed you just so you would be happy. God changes things, its what he does (when he's not creating them). Your personal testimony is not yours, its God's.

Having said that it occurs to me that I haven't shared my story (in its entirety) with you.

I got saved when I was six or seven in a church in South Georgia. I don't remember much about it. The pastor's name, the prayer I prayed, the feeling I had - all lost to time. That always created a problem for me. You hear people all the time talk about how God radically changed their lives. I spent years embarrassed by the simplicity of my "conversion experience."
Over time I began to doubt if I was ever really saved. It seemed to me that being saved is something you would remember. It was on a little mission trip doing some revivals with a pastor that God began to show me the truth of my testimony. The pastor we went with had a nasty habit of asking you to get up in the middle of a service with no prior warning and give your testimony. I knew I had to come up with something. As I began to think about my story I began to pray. That was it, I prayed. Why, because I am saved. It occurred to me that God had saved me from the things others had been delivered from, he just did it before I had the chance to be hurt by them. I'm convinced I was saved the minute I stepped out of the pew as a child, but I also think its something I grew into. As I grew God grew. When the world pushed to increase its influence over me God pushed back. I am his - always have been.

Before I get into this next part I want you to know that I love the church. It was the church that introduced me to Jesus and when I turned away it was the church that paved the way back. That said, I think in all my years of attending church I never really got a clear picture of who God is. They tell you a lot of nice stories in Sunday School. You hear a lot of pretty sermons in "big church." They paint a picture of a God who is nice and fun. A God that gives, and God that defends and protects. Its a picture that is altogether accurate and beautiful. The problem is that it is also incomplete. God gives, but he also takes. He is merciful, but he is just. They tell you how simple it is to be saved, how basic the gospel is. They often fail to mention that God is infinite and we are not. They don't tell you that God will do things you won't understand and if you bring it up they tell you to have faith. The church likes to shy away from difficult questions. The thing is, life is difficult. When my dad died I was not equipped to handle it. I had no framework through witch to understand a God who would let that happen. How could God be good and my dad be dead at the same time? I couldn't make sense of it. For me it became an either or sort of thing. Either God is good or my dad is dead. Every minute of every day I know dad isn't here. Its hard to have that kind of certainty with God. I didn't know what to think or feel. Doubt and confusion created an emotional void, anger quickly filled it.

Most of the rest of the story is contained in earlier post so I won't go through it again. The important thing to know now is that I know God is good. Not because good things have happened in my live but because God had allowed me to see more of his heart. I see it in my community. I realized how and to what extent in a recent conversation with someone I hadn't seen in like ten years. She lost her husband several years ago and asked how I dealt or deal with dad's death. I told her that I have great friends and that I leaned on them really hard. She asked how they helped and without thinking I said,"they leaned right back." I meant it in the Forrest Gump, don't sleep with our heads in the mud, sort of way but it made realize that the thing that helps me the most is not their strength. Its their vulnerability. I want to know I am not alone in my pain and doubt. I want to feel normal. Not having a dad makes me feel like an outsider, an orphan. I need to know how God changed you because it helps me understand how he changed me. I need to know that my story is your story. The only way that can happen is if we both tell ours.

All That Used To Be

And again I see my yesterdays in front of me
Unfolding like a mystery
You're changing all that is and used to be
-Garth Brooks-

I feel like my discussion of pain was both incomplete and inaccurate. So I'm going to try and revisit that in a minute, but first I'd like to talk about the Old Testament. A friend sent me a link to a blog site where a guy was talking about stoning. He seems to think its a practice the church (and society in general) should bring back. That's the last I'll mention him (he's obviously a complete moron) the problem it created for me is that it got me looking up information about the Old Testament. It turns out that a lot of Christians seem to want to apologize for or dismiss the Old Testament. That really bothers me. I know that Jesus fulfilled the law so we're not subject to it, but that's not grounds to dismiss over half the Bible. I don't get offended, but I think I was as close as I've ever been today reading that crap. The Old Testament is a beautiful picture of who God is and what he wants for his people. To me it has always been a story of how far God will go to restore, about his willingness to pursue and rescue us. The Old testament is about love not anger - hope not judgment - promise not punishment. The laws and the consequences for breaking them seem harsh if not viewed through the cross. Why, on this side of the cross, would we afraid to discuss the harshness of Old Testament law? It seems a perfect opportunity to mention that Jesus paid that price. Yes, the price for rebellion is high, but it has never been ours to pay.


Ok, so my problem with my previous post on pain is that it seems to suggest that pain is what we were created for. That was never where I was coming from. I do think that pain is what's left when hope and beauty are gone, but I don't think its the whole story. I think the reason I'm uncomfortable with my last post is that I've has a little shift in my understanding of my struggle with pain. I used to think that I was 200% man. 100% fallen and 100% forgiven. I thought my struggle was with the other side of who I am. My dark side, the spirit battling the flesh. The problem with that is that it suggests that the blood of Christ did completely cover me, that somehow my sin is still part of my identity. I've come to realize how destructive that view is.

I had a little moment in my car outside a Mexican restaurant last week. Something I was counting on had fallen through and I thought I wasn't going to be able to do some things I was planning on. It seemed so typical. I had really thought this was going to be different. I knew I was doing what I was supposed to be doing, so I couldn't understand why God would end it before it ever started. I was devastated but not surprised. I heard this Garth Brooks song on the ol' IPod (God's favorite way to communicate with me) and it was like God was asking me what I was actually afraid of. I was afraid that things would always be what they had always been.

It seems my struggle is not with dual identities, its with a past I can't completely shake. I remember. I remember quitting, failing, loosing. I have of history of loss and disappointment. I don't have a problem identifying what I should do, I have a problem getting it done. Its difficult for me to believe its going to be different this time. In those moments of doubt and fear God has always found a way to reach me, reassure me. This is my time. I've been waiting so long to be completely healed. I know that this is my moment. I may not be able to forget my past, but I believe God has the power to change it. Its time I shake off whats left of my former self. Its time to change all that used to be.

This new position shifts the way I view pain. I used to think it was the default human feeling (wow, its sounds really bad to say it that way). I no longer think pain is what happens when we the good is gone. I think its what happens when what we were created for is in conflict with what we're actually doing. For me this has played itself out in countless different ways. Its easy to identify most of the time. When someone dies, when relationships end, we understand that it wasn't supposed to be that way. We know we're created for community and when we loose that we hurt. I think we were created for more than just life and community. I think God gives us individual passions. I think they all in some way reflect the heart and personality of God. I've been reminded of mine. Its always been there, I'm excited to rediscover it.

I don't think this new thing is the answer, but I believe its an answer. Its another piece in the puzzle. God has been at work in my life for so long. He's revealed himself in powerful ways. I have a better understanding of who I am and who I'm supposed to be. I've been given community and family. Its nice now to have something to do.

Common Pain

Stood outside in the pouring rain
Different People with a common pain
A simple box in the hard red clay
where we left him to always remain
-Ryan Long-

This verse hits me hard every time I listen to this song. I think about the concept of common pain a lot. It seems to me that more often than not what we have in common with those around us is the way we've hurt. I think we shy away from those conversations because they make us uncomfortable and that bothers me because in my experience that only way to deal with pain is drown it in community. I can't imagine hurting alone, I think most hurt comes from being or feeling alone.

My mom has no feeling in her fingers, she can't. She takes things out of the oven with her bare hands. I apparently saw her do things like that too much growing up and not long after I got married it bit me. My wife and I had been slow cooking a roast all day and she asked me to take it out of the cooker. Now, I had seen my mom take a roast out of the cooker like a million times and she never used a pot holder. I grabbed the lid on the cooker and it burnt the crap out of my finger tips, but what hurt worse was the steam that came rushing out when I picked the lid up, it burnt the entire back of my hand. It hurt, bad. The thing is, looking back on it I have trouble really remembering the feeling. I know it hurt, but I don't hurt now thinking about it. That is the chief difference between physical and emotional pain.

I think those preachers who talk constantly about hell in order to scare people into salvation are focusing on the wrong aspect of hell. It would suck to burn for eternity, but I think the thing that makes hell, hell is the separation from God. Being burnt is bad, being utterly alone is worse. Its like the fiery furnace those guys in the old testament were thrown in. I imagine that was as close a representation of physical hell as there as ever been. The thing that kept it form being painful was the presence of God.

I once heard a very smart pastor say that the two things that most deeply penetrate the heart of man are beauty and pain. I think I only partly agree with that, it seems to me that pain is just the absence of beauty. Like dark is the absence of light or cold is the absence of heat. I think that in a fallen world pain is the default. A heart that wasn't created for this world hurts when the world is all it has. The things of God -community, fellowship, love - infuse our hearts with beauty. In His absence there is only pain.

I'm constantly amazed by our (my) ability to love. We can love so hard and so completely that the recipient of that loves becomes a part of us. That's both beautiful and dangerous. I think its a beautiful picture of the trinity. I think we can love like that because we were created in the image of a God that loves like that. The problem is that we often (and should) love people that aren't going to be around forever. We are going to have to say goodbye. I've often thought that fellowship and community are all I currently know of heaven. I'm thankful that goodbye is all I'll ever know of hell.

Family

...let your love cover me
like a pair of angel's wings
You are my family.
- Ryan Long-

I've been listening to a lot of Ryan Long's stuff lately and its really spoken to me in several ways. Of all is songs Family has meant the most to me over the last couple weeks. I do want to talk about the idea of common pain, but first I'm going to do something that I promised myself I wouldn't do when I started blogging. I'm going to talk about people, and I'm naming names. When I hear this song certain images come to mind. I think of grave side services, hospital waiting rooms, mountian tops, beaches, cookouts. I think of worship and discussion - car rides and quiet conversation. I see my life, good and bad - pain and joy. I see everything I am and all that I'm not. Who I am and who I hope to be. The thing about the pictures this song brings to mind is that in them I'm never alone. I have family. Oddly enough the people I'm going to mention here aren't officially family.

I met Claire in the sixth grade and loved her instantly. There is so much about her that I love, but I think the thing that I love the most is that she is beautiful. In every way, Claire is beautiful. I hope I don't need to explain that because I don't think I can. I'm not only talking about pysical beauty, she is, but its not the point. I don't know how to explain it and I should have thought it through before I got into it. I guess the bottom line on Claire is that she is the kind of beautiful that affects you - touches you - moves you. I am different - better - because I know her.

I've know Aaron for a long time. Since before High School. Aaron is a great man. He's a great husband (That probably has a much to do with Sharron being amazing as it does with him), a great father, he's a great pastor. He has without a doubt been set apart by God to do special things. God's anointing is all over him. The thing is I don't really care about any of that. I know he's great, its obvious that he's different, but to me he'll always be the guy I played ball and rode wave runners with. He is my friend. That said, I don't think that its a coincidence that Aaron has been there in some of the most powerful moments of my life. It may be just a numbers thing, but I think God has used him in my life in a very intentional and powerful way.

I guess I met Lindsay in High School too, but I didn't get to know her until she started dating Daniel (who I'll get to in a minute) a couple years ago. Lindsay is the only person on this little list that didn't know me before dad died. That has always been huge for me. I let the devil convince me that most of my other friends loved me for who I used to be. They know what I was like before I was broken. Lindsay doesn't and I want her to see what I can be. She knows and has accepted that I've been hurt and I'm comfortable with her seeing that in me. The thing is, she's been hurt too. (I think in one way or another we all have). Lindsay, more than anyone else I've ever know, hurts gracefully. I don't mean graceful like a ballerina. I mean graceful like Jacob's wrestling match with God. At times its difficult to tell who's holding on to who (whom?). She is all wrapped up in God's grace. In that grace there is healing. She has taught me how to hurt gracefully and in that brought healing to my life.

Daniel has been my best friend since the 5th grade and is the only person I've ever given that title to. We have done life together. Every phase, aspect, and major event of my life has been influenced by him. He's been an inspiration, shield, and balance. I respect Daniel. He's done more with less than I would have thought possible. He's the reason the rest us us don't have any excuses. The beautiful thing about Daniel is that he doesn't see it that way. When the rest rest of us talk about the bad hands we've been dealt he doesn't complain, I used to think it was because it didn't want to be negative, I'm pretty sure now its because he doesn't see negative. With Daniel there is no bad or good pitches. He just takes whatever is thrown at him and knocks it out of the park. Its fun to watch. I think the reason he and I get along so well is that he balances me. I'm all over the place. I am an extremist. He is steady. Daniel brings calm - peace. I dare you to be in a bad mood when he's around. I should also mention that God talks directly to Daniel. He's never said that, you can just tell. I'm not sure what else I can say. You won't find him on my family tree, but he is my family.

Well, that took longer than I expected. I'm going to save the common pain discussion for later. I know you can't wait.

What's This For

Today I had every reason to have a great day. The weather was beautiful, work went smoothly, I read something that moved and encouraged me. I had every reason to praise God in every way, but I didn't. In fact I consistently chose to do what glorified God the least. I feel like every decision I made today was the wrong one. It seems to be the pattern in my life now. No really bad decision just a lot of poor decisions. I didn't do anything I'll regret weeks from now because I didn't do anything worth remembering. I live like the absence of bad is good when I know perfectly well the opposite is closer to true. God didn't put me here to not screw up or stay out of the way, he put me here to bring him glory and advance his kingdom. I did neither today.

Tonight I read Deuteronomy. The thing I love and hate about Deuteronomy is that in it you see how serious God is about himself and his glory. It terrifies me. He keeps saying do this or I'll kill you. Don't do that cause if you do I'll have to kill you. Something about me loves that he doesn't make any excuses about it. He doesn't apologize for his justice, he doesn't down play his sovereignty. He simply says do it my way or I'll have to kill you. I love that he can do that. I love that he's justified in doing that. I hate that he has to kill me.

I hate that on several occasions today I chose my way. I hate my inability to simply obey. I hate that when the chips were down I forced God's hand. I chose death - over and over again.

As I read Deuteronomy my mind raced over all the things I've done that I may be able to give God in exchange for my life. What do I have to offer? I went to church Sunday. I prayed almost every day last week. I told some folks about Jesus sometime last month. I went to game night with my small group. I played games and met new people. God knows I hate that - it should be worth something. In my mind I offered these thing up to God to try to settle the score - pay what I owe. As quickly as I did I heard his response. "What's this for?"

What do you mean what's this for? You saw what I did today. You know the choices I made. The thing is I could hear in his voice that he didn't have any idea what I was talking about. Not like that guy that bought you dinner last week and remembers but doesn't want you to pay him back. There was no laughter in his voice. Not a hint of sarcasm. No sly smile that says I know but don't worry about it. In my head I'm standing there holding all my crap up to God like its a trophy or credit card or whatever and I realize that he seriously has no idea what I'm talking about. He has forgotten - all is forgiven.

With all the bad choices I made today I'm amazed to realize that one good choice I made 20 years ago in a small church in South Georgia trumps them all. I have already chosen life. Christ has already provided it.

Undone

...but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more.
Romans 5:20

Several years ago I had a series of, well, driving incidents. I got three tickets, a fender bender, and totaled my Explorer in a fight with a tractor trailer all in the same year. The tickets were bull (at least two of them, really) and the big wreck wasn't my fault, but my insurance company called and I had to have a meeting with my agent. It wasn't a big deal, he just informed me that if I had any more incidents they would drop my coverage. He said he didn't think I had a problem but they wanted to make sure before those small incidents turned into something more destructive. It wasn't the individual instances they were worried about, it was the pattern.

I'm afraid I'm having the same problem again. I don't think I'm making really bad decisions right now, but I know I've made a lot of kinda bad decisions. A couple days ago I lost my head a little. I had a really bad day at work and when I got home my daughter screamed at me for a good 45 minutes. The thing that really set me off was my wife's suggestion that I let her calm my daughter down. The thing that pissed me off about it was that I knew it would work. I knew that I was pretty well at the end of my rope and I knew that my seven month old daughter could tell. My wife suggested I go for a drive, it always calms me down, and I decided to slam doors and throw things on my way out. These little drives of mine always have two things in common, I go towards the mountains and my Ipod is on shuffle. I do the latter because God always seems to play the song I need to hear (I need a "God is my DJ" bumper sticker). That night it was the sweater song, that's right, Undone by Weezer. God tends to get to me in weird ways, at least it wasn't George Michael.

Watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked. Lying of the floor, I've come undone. I kept thinking about the way Satan takes my smallest imperfections and hangs them out there for me to mess with. And I how I can't help but pull at them. A lingering thought - a loss of temper - a slip of the tongue. Each pull is so small that I barely notice. Its a slow process until I'm suddenly undone - completely exposed.

I love that in that place God always shows me something. Lately its been unpleasant things about myself, but Tuesday was different. This is what he showed me: I found myself stopped on foothills parkway staring at one of the most breath taking sunsets I've ever seen (I took the picture with my phone). God chose to remind me that he is beautiful. Where there is pain He brings beauty. Where there is sorrow He provides comfort. Where there is rebellion He offers forgiveness. Where there was debt He provided justification. In despair He is hope. When I am stained by sin He washes me in grace.

Right now God is constantly reminding me to be mindful of the choices I make. Tonight I'm reminded to be careful of what I choose to see. I really have a hard time understanding why I choose to see the bad. Why can't I see the future in the face of my screaming child? In my house I see clutter where there is abundance. At work I see stress instead of provision. I see immaturity instead of youth. Age instead of wisdom. I see the world where I should see creation.

I'm sure by now its obvious that I don't know where I'm going with this or how to end it. I guess I just wanted to say that in every moment we have a choice. My hope is that I choose life. And I'm thankful that when I don't grace abounds.

Choose Life

Therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying his voice and holding fast to him, for he is your life and length of days.
Deuteronomy 30:19-20

Every time I come across these verses in Deuteronomy I find myself wishing it was that easy for me and knowing that is should be. Today was the first time I've read it since becoming a dad and I was really bothered by it. When my inability to choose right affects me I can handle it. When through my actions I choose death and pain - when I don't obey - when I let go - I'm ok with living where that takes me. It seems fair that its often difficult for me to choose life because I don't deserve it anyway. My daughter does. She deserves life and she deserves to see her father choose it, for himself and for her. She should be able to see that her dad loves the Lord. It seems that I have no choice but to obey. I must hold on. The question is - and for me always has been- How? Its a question I need to have answered.

After reading Deuteronomy today I felt really defeated. I was reminded of what's at stake. I have to choose life, if not me, for Aliza. I knew I didn't know how. I became really frustrated. I didn't understand why God would give me such a beautiful daughter and not show me how to do right by her. As it often does confusion turned to frustration and frustration to anger. I was angry. I had taken the time out to be in the word and all I got was mad. About the time I got so angry I couldn't continue reading there was Acts 18:5. Paul was occupied with the word. Yea he was. That's it. Q: How do you choose life? A: Be occupied with the word.

What an amazing concept. I've had it backward for so long. I've been occupied by life trying to take time out for God. My occupation should be Christianity. Its my job to live well. My full time job. Its time I got to work.

The Problem with Freedom

The problem with freedom is that it rids us of excuse, and in the absence of excuse lies responsibility. My faith -my life will be what I make it. I know of nothing more terrifying.

I think the idea of reaping what you sow is lost on a generation that can so easily go to the grocery store. I've been guilty of trying to buy faith with tithe and church attendance. It seems easier to do than be. While we're talking about freedom I feel like I should mention that I love America. It seems to me that if your a Christian living in America you probably have more freedom than you know what to do with. It seems that every brand of freedom has a price. To date my freedom comes at a price of over 650 thousand American soldiers and one perfect lamb of God. God forgive me for ever taking that for granted. (If your in the military or ever have been and have stumbled across this blog, thank you). Wow, I just got really off topic. I'm not sure now where I was going, but I think what I was trying to get at is that instead of working at my faith I've been hiding in my past - behind my pain.

I'm beginning to think that I fear freedom more than pain. I think I've been relieved to have a reason for the brokenness. An excuse to be less than I what I've been called to be. I've heard, read, and thought a lot about forgiveness lately. The problem with forgiveness is it frees us from our past. As I begin to embrace God's forgiveness I can feel the shackles of past sin fall away. As it turns out, I can't embrace the forgiveness of Christ without being changed by the reality of grace. As I accept forgiveness I learn to forgive. This has proven to be an inconvenient lesson. Its nice to not be burdened by the past. It sucks to not be able to use it as a crutch. Before I can run without burden I must learn to walk without aid.

I'm rambling, and probably not making any sense. I heard a song I haven't heard in a long time this week and its become the soundtrack of this way of thinking for me this week. I'm obviously not going to be able to make a point here so I'm going to leave you with the song and hope it hits you the way it hit me.

If ever you are feeling like your tired
and all your uphill struggles leave you headed downhill
if you realize your wildest dreams can hurt you
and your appetite for pain has drinken its fill
I ask of you a very simple question
did you think for one minute that you are alone?
and is your suffering a privilege you share only?
or did you think that everybody else feels completely at home?

Just Wait..........Just Wait...........Just Wait.......And It Will Come

if you think I've given up on you,your crazy
and if you think I don't love you well then your just wrong
in time you just might take to feeling better
Time is the beauty of the road being long
I know that now you feel no consolation
but maybe if I told you and informed you out loud
I say this without fear of hesitation
I can honestly tell you that you make me proud

Just Wait..........Just Wait...........Just Wait.......And It Will Come

if anything I might've just said has helped you
if anything I might've said helped you just carry on
your rise uphill may no longer seem a struggle
and your appetite for pain may all but be gone
I hope for you and cannot stop at hoping
until that smile has once again returned to your face
there's no such thing as a failure who keeps trying
coasting to the bottom is the only disgrace
-Blues Traveler-

I believe pt 2 or Happy Plastic People

If you haven't read the last post, please do it now. I'm not sure it will do any good, but I want you to understand how I got here.

That was fun wasn't it. So, I was thinking about what it would look like if everyone at church actually believed in everyone else and it occurred to me that it might not look any different. It would be different, but it may not look it. We all do a pretty good job of acting like we don't hurt or screw up and everyone else acts like they buy the charade. It makes me think of the Casting Crowns song. We're so weird, so hypocritical. We assume that everyone else sucks as bad as we do, but if they ever let their guard down - ever show weakness or pain - ever confess their struggles and reveal their sin we act shocked. Like we can't believe they would screw up like that. We act like they're not just like us.

I often wish I never went to Sunday School. That I never learned church answers or religious rhetoric. I wish I didn't know what you want to hear. I wish I couldn't hide - make you believe I'm like you or like you make me believe you are. I wish I couldn't play the game. That I never learned to deceive. I wish you could see me. I wish I could show you. I can't. I know what I'm supposed to look like. I know what you want to see. It's easier if we maintain the status quo.

Except, its not. We're so good at it that it seems easy - natural, but then we go our own way into our private places and fall apart. The mask is suffocating. The performance exhausting. We put so much into the act that we barely have anything left for ourselves. We make believe in hopes we'll become what we pretend to be. We are shackled to our deception. Trapped in our lies. Afraid of what someone will think. Afraid to be abandoned and alone.

But would it set me free
If I dared to let you see
The truth behind the person
That you imagine me to be

Would your arms be open
Or would you walk away
Would the love of Jesus
Be enough to make you stay
-Casting Crowns-

I Believe

It has come to my attention that we don't believe in each other anymore. I was talking to someone the other day about how quickly life was changing for myself and everyone else I knew. I mentioned that I was really happy for one of our friends and commented that they deserved this because they had done everything right. It quickly became obvious that the person I was talking to wasn't comfortable assuming our friend had in fact done everything right. They thought this person probably had, but couldn't be sure. They then began explaining that this person had certain weaknesses that led them to believe that if they had done everything the right way there must be other circumstances that made it easier for them.

This way of thinking absolutely breaks me. I hurts me to know that we have been so jaded by this world that we no longer believe in each other. That we need to assume the worst and explain away the best. Our weaknesses do not define us. Our relationship with Jesus defines us. I'm a visual guy. Its (one of) my weakness. If your a friend of mine and a female I've checked you out at least once, you've probably noticed. Sorry. Anyway, here's the thing, it doesn't define who I am or how I relate to people, and if I don't look at porn (big if) its not because my Internet connection is slow or the gas station was out of Playboys. When I choose not to sin its not because sin is less convenient. Sin is always more convenient. When I do the right thing its because I know Jesus. I made a decision - fostered a relationship - adopted a set principles. I do the right thing (when I do it) because its the right thing. I know its the right thing because the Holy Spirit in me says it is.

We can't quit believing in each other. I've made my mistakes. People I love have messed up in ways I never thought possible. I've seen my share of pain and sin and darkness. I haven't given up on you. I will not let the world win that way. I would rather assume the best of you and look like a fool that doubt you and look like a prophet. I believe you are more than your weakness - stronger than your fear. I believe that God lives in and empowers you. There is no evil you can't overcome, no good you can't accomplish. I believe you can. I believe you will. I believe you are all you've been called to be. Not because I am, but because I need you to be. We all need you to be.

Remember

Exodus 2:24 And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. 25 God saw the people of Israel—and God knew.


We too have a covenant relationship with God through Christ. I know where I'm headed. I know what has been promised. When life gets tough - when the world demands too much - I sometimes forget. God doesn't. He remembers. He sees. He knows.

Blood Money

When I started doing this blog it really helped me commit to doing quiet time. God honored that commitment and began to move in my life. It has been very exciting, but as God blessed I got busy and distracted. I took what he provided and put it between us.

I had to read a lot tonight to catch up and I thought I would have trouble deciding on what part of it to focus on. The part I have to write about would not have been my first choice. It seems that God is always pointing me to the scripture that requires me to ask difficult questions of myself. Tonight I keep going back to Matthew 26:69 - 27:7. That's right, Peter's denial and Judas' betrayal. I'm going to assume you know Peter's story, so here is the passage about Judas that gets me:

Then when Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he changed his mind and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, 4 saying, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” They said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” 5 And throwing down the pieces of silver into the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself. 6 But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since it is blood money.”

I love the progression here. Judas changes his mind, I think that's the heart of repentance. He tells the religious leaders, confession. They tell him its none of their business and that he should deal with it himself. Typical, not many people really want to deal with sin. Its hard to deal with someone who is broken by their sin if your not broken by your own. I love what Judas does next, he takes his sin and leaves it at the alter. If in that moment he had really listened he might have heard the words of Jesus echo from Calvary, "It is finished."

I see so much of myself in Judas and Peter. I'm plagued by wealth and a need to be accepted. Too often I turn God's blessings into blood money. Too often I sugar coat the message of Christ or down play my own Christianity to gain acceptance. I do the other things too, I go to the alter - repent - confess. I hope that what I do next is different. I hope that when I leave the alter I set my eyes on the cross. Judas didn't run to Jesus. He almost got right, then he got dead. That, to me, is the saddest story in the Bible. Judas very well could have been the first Christian. It seems to me that he got two thirds of the way there. He repented, he confessed, but he never believed (at least it doesn't look like it). Had he believed that Christ was who he said he was, had he believed in the power of the blood that was on his hands, he would have left the temple a different man. He couldn't believe. He never understood and it killed him, completely.

It is finished. I am forgiven. Redeemed. Accepted. I am alive, completely.

Well, He Isn't Tame

The past few weeks have been among the most spiritually trying of my life. I can't really tell you why, but I'm exhausted. I shouldn't be, but I am. It feels like the world is piling up on me. I'm frustrated by nothing. Angry at no one. Exhausted by my own apathy. I am not enough. If I do get something right my motivation is usually flawed. This blog is a great example. I feel like its the right thing to do, that I should be accountable, that I need to work this stuff out. The problem is, I really want you to be impressed by it. I stay up really late making sure its the best it can be so you think I'm something. (The funny thing is that I know both of you really well and I'm pretty confident you already like me). I hope that God is glorified by what happens here, but most times when I write I'm more concerned about what you think. That makes this trying like everything else. I feel like there's something building in me, I'm afraid of what it might be. I feel anxious and confused. Something is off, out of place, wrong.

I thought at first this was Satan coming after me, I'm not so sure now. The thing that terrifies me is that it may be God whose coming. I've finally taken the first step, I think that may have been what he was waiting for. He's been faithful before, but He's on the move now. It scares me because I spent years taking the easy way out. I hid, retreated, built walls. I finally found a place that was safe, calm. I had run far enough, I was hidden well enough. I could rest. I think I just jumped up and shouted, "Here I am. Come get me!"

God is bigger than I thought he was and he's coming fast. I'm no longer convinced this process is going to be pleasant. I find myself taking steps back. Hiding in trenches I vacated long ago - reinforcing walls - looking for a way out. What if He reaches me? What if He doesn't? I'm not brave enough to advance. I'm too tired to retreat.

I've heard that if a broken bone doesn't heal right the first time it has to be re-broken so it can be set properly. I'm afraid when I was injured the first time I ran away. I didn't seek God's healing. I hid away in caves of doubt and self pity and tried to mend myself. I thought I had. I was wrong. I've asked for God's healing now, and I may have to be broken - reset. That concerns me a little.

When I sat down to do my quiet time tonight two songs kept running through my head. I was so moved by them that I actually had to stop and sing them (yes, I'm that guy). The first is Sanctuary:

Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary
Pure and holy, tried and true
With thanksgiving, I'll be a living
Sanctuary for You

It occurs to me that if I that's my prayer, if I want those things, to be true I must be tried. It makes this song difficult to sing, but I can't stop. Every time I stop typing to think it replays in my head. I'm pretty sure a big part of me wants to be that living sanctuary. For the rest of me, the part that can't overlook the word tried, God has provided a second song.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

A Dead Patch of Grass

Scripture: Genesis 32-35; Psalms 18; Matthew 21-22.

I would love to talk about Matthew 22:14, but I'm not sure how to deal with it. I seems to contradict the way I believe salvation works. I would love to pretend I didn't see it, but that's not a habit I'm interested in forming. I'll have to get back to this one.

I love that (in Genesis 32) God wrestles Jacob. It's interesting that God would choose to interact with him that way. Its also interesting to me that the Bible covers it in like 10 verses. God comes to earth in human form and wrestles with a man and then decides to tell the story in 10 verses. It doesn't even get a chapter. It makes me wonder if God comes to earth like that more than we know. How is this not a big deal? I would love to know more about that match. What did God look like? What were his signature moves? Was it like wrestling in the Olympics or channel 125? I can't get over the fact that this isn't more of a story. I once wrestled a buddy for like 45 minutes until we both got tired and quit. I can't tell that story in less than 10 minutes. God can tell about the time He came to earth as a man and wrestled Jacob until morning in like 45 seconds.

The other thing that is strange to me is that God couldn't beat Jacob. Pop his hip out with one tuouch, but not beat him. Its also interesting that just a few verses before the Bible makes it clear that Jacob is very rich and yet he gets God in a headlock and won't let him go until God blesses him. How selfish is Jacob? Honestly, how many female servants to you need? Did he want like 25 more sheep? It seems God and I are always wrestling. My quiet time is quite often physically exhausting. God I and don't take many quiet walks on the beach. The aftermath of our time together more closely resembles a trampled spot in the grass than footprints in the sand. Quiet time is frightening - prayer terrifies me. I never know when God is going to break something. I usually walk away feeling totally defeated, completely broken - unspeakably blessed.

You can't wrestle God and not be completely changed. Jacob did not end up a better version of Jacob, he became someone new. God changed his name. I thought at first that maybe God just told him his real name. Revelations talks about God having a name that he calls you - your true identity. I thought maybe Jacob got to know his ahead of time, but then I remembered that when Rachel was pregnant with Jacob God told her what to name him. Jacob was the right name for him - until he experienced God. He had heard form God before, but experiencing Him like that fundamentally changed who Jacob was. I hope that's what my quite time becomes - an encounter with God. I don't want to read about God, I want to be moved by Him. I don't want to just talk to God, I want to take hold of Him. Being touched and broken is nice, but I want to be changed. I want to experience God. I want a new identity and I'm not letting go until I get it.

S.O.A.P part Deux

Scripture: Genesis 30-31, Psalms 16-17, Mathew 19-20

Observation: I've been totally blown away by the person of Jesus over the last few days. I must admit that I never spent much time in the Gospels before, I thought I new the story of Jesus. I didn't know it as well as I thought I did. Jesus was not soft, he was not apologetic, he did not shy away from truth. He was nothing short of revolutionary. I once heard someone say that Jesus was the man whose existence was powerful enough to split time. B.C. and A.D. I used to think that was a bit of an over dramatization. I see now that it isn't. The human story consists of two parts, before Jesus - and since. Time itself points to the cross. I've heard these things before, but I never really payed any attention to it. It sounded like Christian rhetoric, like pastors with talking points. Not so much now. I've only spent like two weeks reading the story of Christ, and I'm blown away by how powerful his life and words were. He's a very different man than I thought him to be. (I'm not talking here about his identity as God or the power of the cross. I'm speaking only about what he looked like as a man). Its hard to imagine what Christ would look like today.

I mentioned briefly before that I wonder how Christ would be accepted today. I'm even more nervous about it now. I've begun to notice that Jesus is rarely in conflict with culture or sinners (he confronts sin) it seems to me like Jesus' biggest beef is with established religion. That makes me nervous. Are we the second coming of the Pharisees? Have we changed Christianity into something it was never meant to be? I don't think so, but I think we're flirting with it. We are soft. We change the Gospel message to make it sound appealing - to gain acceptance. We talk about Universalism, we deny the existence of a real hell, we've even gone as far as to equate other gods with our God. (They are not different words for the same thing). Why? So people like us. We conform to society. A lot of us are wimps. Most of the rest are jerks. We reject and condemn society. We make rules that aren't in the Bible and refuse to associate with people that break them. We isolate ourselves. We judge - we attack - we destroy. We need to engage culture without conforming to it.

Application: Its too easy to pick an extreme. The middle is hard. In the middle you have to engage. The Bible is full of absolutes. The black and white. Its easy to stand on those, its easy to ignore the gray. Its also easy to surrender it. To pretend there is no right answer or only right answers. We should be bold enough, well equipped enough to engage those topics. We should be ready and willing to lovingly discuss the difficult. If we say nothing or offer only apologies the world is lost. We need to lift up the name of Jesus - tell his story - tell our story. The world needs to hear the truth. We can't water down the message. We can't back away from the debate.

Prayer: Father God, help me engage. I want to live like Jesus. Love like Jesus. To have compassion. To be bold, so I'll stand on your truth and fight with your strength until you bring the victory - through the power of Christ in me.

Amen

When a Body Meet a Body

So, I want to talk tonight about God's ability to make the secular holy. I got a magazine recently that I think kind of blurs the lines between the two and it got me thinking. Over and over in my life God has used secular songs and books to speak to me.

My wife and I went to Houston to visit friends about two years ago. On our first night there my friend and I decided to go to breakfast. We had stayed up talking and it had gotten really late so we decided to finish it at Denny's (I think). We got there at about 2a.m. so we pretty well had the place to ourselves. I don't remember most of the conversation, but one exchange stands out. I had just re-read the Chronicles of Narnia and he had never read them so I was telling him about one of my favorite parts in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Its a conversation between the beavers and Peter, Susan, and Lucy. The beaver tells the children that Aslan is a lion and Lucy wonders if he's safe. The answer to that question is one of my favorite descriptions of God. The beaver replies, "'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you." I love that. Anyway, I had just repeated that line to my friend when he asked me to look down at my arm, I had chill bumps. He did too. What he said next I wish I could remember verbatim, but I can't. I just know he said that was all the proof he needed of the existence of the Holy Spirit. He said our flesh could never respond to truth like that. I had never noticed before, but I have since. Anyway , that's why I think we can see God in the secular. When we come across something God can use to teach us, no matter where it is, the Holy Spirit in us speaks up. That's it.

So, now that that's out of the way I'd like to tell you about my favorite example of it in my life. I read The Catcher in The Rye my senior year in high school, and to this day its one of my favorite books. In the book the narrator tells about a dream he has, in that dream kids are playing tag in a huge rye field. The problem with the field is its on the edge of a cliff. Every now and then one of the kids accidentally runs out of the rye and over the cliff. The guy in the book thinks the perfect job for him would be to be the guy that stands in the field on the edge of the cliff and catches the children before they fall off. He wants to be the catcher in the rye. When I first read it I thought it was a great picture of who God is and what he does. Its, of course, overly simplistic but it was useful to me. That was the image of God I carried for years. I could run and play without fear, I knew God would keep me from harm. The problem arose when I did get hurt. Had God missed? It sure felt like I was falling. See, the problem with that picture is that God is small and the danger large.

That image had become such a big part of the way I related to God that it took a long time to rework it. When I (or the Holy Spirit in me) did my entire perspective changed. God is not on the cliff. He's standing at the bottom, and he is huge. In my mind the cliff comes up to about his shoulders. It seems like a small thing, but the implications (to me) are far reaching. Now God is bigger than the danger. More importantly, the fall is now as safe as the game. Not where I intended to be, but safe. God still has plenty of time to catch me. In this knowledge the fall itself is exhilarating. Not exactly fun, a little unsettling, but exciting all the same. I am never out of God's reach. Never lost. Never without hope.

Just ask the Bluths

I'm not really going to be able to do this tonight. Its been one of those days and I can't concentrate anymore. I will say that I thought it was interesting in Mathew 14 when Jesus tells the disciples that Elijah has already come and they missed it. It makes me wonder if our generation has done the same. Would we recognize God's profit? Are we so caught up in being new and relevant that we wouldn't recognize truth? Truth hasn't changed - God hasn't changed. Have we reformed so much that we would reject and discredit any man that spoke and acted like Jesus? Could we accept the message despite the messenger? Do we have the ability to lay down our assumptions and see what God is actually doing? I don't know. When I read the words of Jesus I'm blown away, but I have the benefit of living 2000 years this side of the cross. Would Jesus be cool if he came now? Would he have cool black reading glasses? Would he teach in jeans and v-neck sweaters? I assume he would wear sandals. I doubt he would look like us. Would we recognize and accept him if he didn't?


I'm not sure how I got on that. Told you I couldn't concentrate. What I meant to do was tell you what I do when I have trouble praying, like I did tonight. I started doing this several years ago in shear desperation to talk to God. I knew I couldn't ask him for things (didn't trust him) and I thought him disinterested in the every day affairs of my life, so I wasn't sure what to talk to him about. Totally exasperated one night I sat down and recited The Lord's Prayer. It worked. It seemed to me that it got me talking about the things God was interested in - His glory and my sin. I've since felt that The Lord's Prayer is like one of those model homes - It may not be tailored specifically to you, but you can live in it.

I Have Trusted in Your Steadfast Love

Psalms 13
1 How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?

2 How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

3 Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
4 lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”
lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

5 But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.

6 I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me.

I have been dreading this day since I started putting my quiet time on here. I knew I would get to Psalms 13 soon, and I didn't know if I would be able to talk about it. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do the story justice, but I can't let this passage go by and not tell you how its affected me.

My father died in May of 2002. When dad was sick I really prayed for the first time in my life. I was 21 and had been a Christian since I was like six, but prayer had never seemed all that important until then. I knew my dad was going to be ok. I had decided that God had chosen my dad to use as an example of His grace and healing power. I knew that we would spend the rest of our lives telling the world how God had rescued my family in our darkest hour. I was never afraid my dad would die, I never doubted. At least not until the end. The day they had to send an ambulance to take dad to the hospital my faith failed me, or I it. Dad never recovered and neither did I. I'm not sure who I was angrier at- God for letting dad die or myself for ceasing to believe he would stop it (I didn't just stop believing he would, I stopped believing he could).

Its a difficult thing when life shows you something you believed to be impossible, when what you believe seems counter to what you know. I believed God was good, I knew he didn't stop dad from dying. I had a hard time reconciling those things. The year following dad's passing was the most difficult of my life. My wife still refers to it as "the dark days." I never stopped believing in God, I just stopped trusting him. Its impossible to serve a God you don't trust. Your always second guessing, wondering, floundering. At first God continued to speak to me and I ignored him, after a while I discovered I could no longer hear him. About a 6 months after dad died I hit rock bottom. I knew that I had to restore my relationship with God. A funny thing happened the first time I sat down to have time with God, nothing. He was a no-show, and he continued to be a no-show for the next 6 months. I felt alone, abandoned, lost in the dark.

Some years earlier a friend spent the night at the house (I think it was prom). Anyway, my room was in the basement and had no windows. I woke up in the middle of the night and apparently made some sort of noise to indicate to my buddy that I was, in fact, awake. He asked if I could turn the lamp on. I made fun of him for being scared of the dark. He assured me that he wasn't scared of the dark, he was just a little disoriented and wanted to know where everything was. I tried to explain it to him, but in the pitch dark there was nothing to use as a marker. When I finally turned the lamp on he looked around, said ok, and went back to sleep.

Four years later, in that very same room, I asked God to do the same for me. Well, I didn't really ask. I told him that I had had enough, that I was going to try one last time to hear from him, and that if I didn't get an answer I was going to assume he was done with me and never try again. When I opened my Bible it was to Psalms 13.

I almost couldn't believe what I was reading. David, a man after God's own heart, had been where I was. God had hidden from David. That night I decided that at the end of my journey - no matter what - I wanted to be able to stand before God and repeat the words of David in verse 5, "I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation."

God didn't turn the light on for me that night, but he cracked the door. I'm afraid I'm still in my valley. The passage is difficult, but the direction is clear. I stumble often, but I have a light to guide me. I am on the path to healing - somewhere, off in the distance, I know God is leading.


A side note: Several months after that I began to loose my way again. During that time I took my wife to an Andrew Peterson concert for Valentine's day and he sang a song called The Silence of God.

It's enough to drive a man crazy; it'll break a man's faith
It's enough to make him wonder if he's ever been sane
When he's bleating for comfort from Thy staff and Thy rod
And the heaven's only answer is the silence of God

It'll shake a man's timbers when he loses his heart
When he has to remember what broke him apart
This yoke may be easy, but this burden is not
When the crying fields are frozen by the silence of God

And if a man has got to listen to the voices of the mob
Who are reeling in the throes of all the happiness they've got
When they tell you all their troubles have been nailed up to that cross
Then what about the times when even followers get lost?
'Cause we all get lost sometimes...

There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll

In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold
And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone
All His friends are sleeping and He's weeping all alone

And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought
So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God

God is faithful, and the valley has been filled with markers. Gentle reminders that I am not alone.