Many will say to Me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles? And then I will declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from Me, you who practice lawlessness.’

There is something extremely dangerous in the way we advertise our spiritual lives. I fear that the sin of our generation is having a hard time finding our place in this story of faith. We are writing a story with our lives and making ourselves the main character, and while trying to sound humble, we throw the name of Jesus in there to deceive ourselves and those who are watching it all unfold. We use words like, “to God give the glory” when our hearts are lifted high with the work we have done.

Maybe faithfulness is not what we do as much as who we raise up for the world to see. We often lift ourselves up so that this world can see our “faithfulness”. When in reality we should be lifting Jesus’s name so that people can see the power that He holds and the wonderful redeeming grace He bestows on us.

I am beginning to realize how very little I bring to the table. And maybe that’s the whole point. Perhaps all God wants us to bring is an appetite. He will provide the bread and the wine and when He does, we will never hunger or thirst for the applause of men. Maybe.

It happened again. Here I was, reading some Christian blogs when I started noticing a very common “feel”. I can’t believe that it has taken me this long to actually figure it out. I’ll spare you the statistics on how many words are pushed via pixels baptized with Christianese language written to inspire others to seek God (hint: a lot). But it seems that there’s a common theme in the blogosphere.

In your reading of Christian blogs, the odds are pretty good that you’ve read too many blogs that speak about God’s love, grace, forgiveness and patience. First, I want to be clear: There’s nothing wrong with this. I am in completely agreement on those qualities of God. But this is not the complete picture. I wonder where the writing on God’s holiness, wrath, anger and justice can be found? Where are the articles of those characteristics of our Lord?

Perhaps we have willfully fallen victims of becoming blind to these qualities because we refuse to acknowledge a holy God who requires righteous judgment. Or maybe we are too intimidated of painting a canvas with the wrath of God that we fear the backlash we will get from our readers. Afterall, we do live in a culture that has fallen for a God of love, grace and forgiveness who will not punish the wicked and is so tolerant of our behavior that we can live free to do whatever we like.

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not looking for writing that is spewing fire from heaven and painting an incomplete picture of God’s holiness and judgment. What I’m looking for is the other half of God. I want to know and share how God’s holiness, justice and judment meet at the cross and makes room for grace to fully express itself in his complete personality.

I am really convinced that unless we know God’s complete attributes, characteristics and personality, we risk not knowing Him for who He really is. Are we censoring God’s complete attributes because we refuse to accept that He is Just? Do we skip over the pages that reveal the righteous judgment of God? Or are we intimidated by presenting a God that doesn’t sit well with other people?

That’s a shame because I believe that we can only fully understand God’s love, patience, grace and forgiveness when we get to know His holiness, righteousness, anger and wrath.

This is a re-post from last year’s reflection. It has been updated to include modern dates to this year’s anniversary.

I was in a tropical place, pina colada in one hand, the hand of my beloved in the other. Enjoying the wife of my youth, the warmth of the air, exotic fruits tickling my taste buds, Salsa music dancing in my ears and love surrounding me. The celebration of two flesh becoming one.

Back home, two planes created an inferno. Fire burned like never before. New Yorkers, the toughest people in the world, ran with fear. People preferred jumping from ninety stories high than to burn. Two pillars of pride and strength fell down and engulfed my city with fire and destruction.

This tropical island didn’t matter anymore. The same hand that held my beloved was now a fist of rage. Turquoise water didn’t interest me. My love, my tastes, my joy, all gone. Turned into fear, anger, questions. My loved ones, my co-workers, my people… where are they? Are they harmed? Are they dead?

Through tear-filled eyes, I looked at my beloved and I didn’t have words to speak. Neither did she. We held each other, we prayed, we cried, we… loved.

Back home, cab drivers and street vendors abandoned the city. The city that never sleeps cried itself to sleep that night. Phone calls went unanswered. Children standing by their door waiting for their hero to come home, later learned that today it won’t happen. News of terror blasting through all media, all day and all night. Filled with more uncertainty, more questions and no answers.

I missed it. One of the most historic moments in my existence and I missed experiencing it. Feeling the heat of the fires, the loud sounds of commercial planes hitting the steel towers, the smoke, the ashes, the tear filled eyes of my people. The sound of those towers coming down. I wished I was right there when it happened. I wanted to see it, hear it, smell it, feel it, taste it.

I worked in 3 World Financial Center. I know it’s probably best that I wasn’t there, but I really wish I was. I can’t explain it, it’s just the way I have felt since it happened. 11 years later, I celebrate an anniversary. My wedding anniversary, and two days later, I take part in another anniversary, the anniversary of the worst day in New York City and this country.

Fear is long gone. We are proud again. All we have left from that day is a scar in downtown Manhattan. Today, we have a beautiful memorial where the buildings once stood. Next year, the tallest building in the U.S. will rise and we will say that this is how we heal. A building and a memorial. Just like those folks who attempted to build the tower of Babel. We want to hold our memorials and our towers for the world to see how great we are.

We don’t heal by giving our enemies the finger while raising up towers. We heal when we love one another. This is the way a simple man once showed me. The only thing that He raised for the world to see was a cross. Not to show how much power he had, but to show how much love He had. Three days later, he raised His temple, to show that He does have power, not to raise buildings but to raise His people from the dead.

How ironic that those towers that fell can never be raised again, while the lives of those who died and were saved will rise again. We are too worried about the wrong temples.

I’m going to remember 9/11 by kissing and hugging my wife and my children. I want to hug my friends and tell them how much they mean to me. I want to hold the hand of my brothers and sisters as we pray to the Almighty God, not for towers and memorials, but for love. I want to pray that His church may be known not for their buildings and ceremonies, but by their genuine love and affection.

This is how I choose to remember and reflect.

Brooklyn, NY 1994

I was an 18 year old senior in High School with a desire to finish off school with a bang. I wasn’t interested in graduating with good grades, but to leave the place with my name on top. After all, this is the big borough, where the tough make it to the top while the weak move to Queens. I wasn’t a God-fearing man, in fact, I had very little respect for my mother let alone a god that I considered to be absent.

The weekend before summer school began, I purchased a car. A blue 1981 Cutlass Supreme, with a 350 engine and headers. Since I had very little money, I knew a guy who was able to get me a fake registration and fake insurance documents for the vehicle. These documents were so well-done that when checked by police they showed up as legitimate documents on their computers. The first time, I got on my car, I turned it on and heard the roaring of its engine. It was going to be a good summer.

This summer became one filled with thrills, frills and lots of illegal activities. I managed to get my hands on some money, girls, drugs and lots of foolish things. This car became my idol and the tool that led to sinful living. It was slowly becoming the downfall of a young life. After graduating from High School, and skipping college, I spent all day sleeping and all night living. I came across $15,000 that I blew in three months. But I had it all. The car, the girls, my crew. Everyone on my block knew who I was. I had… respect!

After a while I grew exceedingly tired and bitter. I had no joy. To make things worse, there was a sense of urgency in my heart. A deep void that called out for a greater life. This whole adventure was not fulfilling. The girls and the friends I had will always call me for rides, hangouts and to do things that broke the law. The car became a getaway ride, a shipping vehicle, a tool for evil. I had broken the law many times in different ways and I considered myself lucky.

One day, I get a call from my closest friend, “Yo, Moe, Come outside, they’re towing your ride”. I go outside, and see my car being taken away by a tow-truck. I approach the police officer and he told me that the car was registered to a guy who owed $25,000 in traffic violations and they were towing all his vehicles. The fake registration finally came back to bite me in the ass.

The car was gone and I found myself on my feet. Interestingly, I wasn’t very upset. Somewhere deep in my heart there was a sense that this was the best thing that happened to me. After a few days, my friends the girls and the good calls stopped coming in. It wasn’t me they enjoyed but the ride. A lesson that broke my heart.

Brooklyn, NY 1999

It was 2:00 a.m. and my eyes were filled with tears. After a long night of wrestling with God, He finally broke me and made me a Son. I had the gospel in my very hands and God was speaking into my heart. I remember so clearly how my mind raced trying to make sense of life. God had confirmed what I knew all along.

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I have plans for you!

All this time, when I thought I was all alone and living a life for myself, He was there. He was protecting me! It all made perfect sense now.

When the cops pulled me over, searched my car and didn’t find the gun under the passenger seat… He was there.
When the fight broke out in the club and I came out of there untouched… He was there.
When I got a flat tire that prevented me from sleeping over that girl’s house… He was there.
When I changed my mind at the last minute from purchasing illegal drugs to sell… He was there.
When my car was taken away and my life shattered… it was Him, He was there.

He was there all along. What didn’t make sense then, makes sense now. This truth humbled me to my knees and led me to worship! Then I felt an overwhelming presence that said to me,

If you think your life with this car was an adventure, just wait to you see what I have planned for you. I am Here!

This post is part of a group blogging project celebrating the release of Inciting Incidents, a book featuring  unique stories from six creatives (artists, musicians, writers, thinkers, and leaders). 

Field Notes is a new series on BetaChristian. These posts come directly from personal experiences and real life thoughts from the life and mind of Moe. No animals were harmed in the telling of these stories!

The morning rises and sheds its light causing the darkness to escape and the shadows to withdraw. A new day has blossomed and sin has budded like a tree bearing its early fruit. I fool myself into thinking that the light of the day will drown this sin. But alas, it has only given light to it’s terrifying grasp.

I keep myself busy, ignoring its chains, dressed in business attire trying to hide the garment that is so evident to those around me. As much as I want to ignore it and fool myself into thinking humility will kill it, I am deceived by its soft spoken words,

Who shall bring me down to the ground?

Confidence rises up and fills my very bones, my mind rejoices in its wisdom and my eyes lust the platforms that come with it. My very prayers are filled with its poison and I find myself filled with the righteousness of my foolish works.

“I deserve recognition”, I say to myself not realizing what is at work. My heart is lifted up and a mind hardened in pride.

I hear another voice,

Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall

I know this is the voice I should be obeying. I know the difference between right and wrong, but what I most desire right now is not so wrong.

I see the heathen, the unschooled and the unlearned lift up their feeble hands in victory, while I play the humble game. Who am I kidding? My very actions speak loudly of my pride, arrogance and the foolishness of my works.

The more I know pride, the more I realize how dangerous she is. She has the power to pierce the heart of a man. I either fight against it, or it will be my poison, my blindness and evidently my destruction.

After a long day of heavy thoughts, fights and failures, I welcome the parting of the sun. Perhaps now, my soul can find some rest.

As soon as my head hits the pillow, I realize I have to be ready to fight her again tomorrow.

I have wrestled with pride all the day long. I’m exhausted!

How do you deal with pride?

Photo Credit: Breaking Bad. Copyright AMC