Thursday's Child

Holes

2012-01-13T12:57:00.015-05:00

Anyone who's seen the movie "Holes" will remember the creepy old Warden and the fruitless task he assigned the young delinquents of Camp Green Lake: Dig a hole every day. "It will build character," he said. And remember the boy, Stanley? Stanley's family had been cursed a century before and it seemed that the curse had followed him there. Because day after day he was sentenced to dig holes in that barren wasteland, sweating out the hours for nothing but an empty place in the ground. No reward for his efforts, none at all....until he stumbled upon the mystery buried there. That day changed everything. He would never be the same. All because of a few holes.

I've dug some holes myself, you know.

I remember a few of them pretty specifically. A couple of them were only about a foot deep before I gave up and moved on. Some who watched said I was building character as I was digging them and I think I may have been, but it's hard to tell because they're incomplete. They lie back there, solid stares in the bare earth, and I wonder sometimes what would have been at the bottom if I had just kept trucking.

But it's frustrating at times, you know, for people to keep cheering you on for digging your holes. You feel like shouting back, "Oh really? If you're so enthusiastic about it all, why don't you pick up a shovel." But at the same time, you know this really wouldn't help matters. If I know anything by this point, it's that no one can dig your holes for you.

There are some holes that scar the path in a way that I know I was never meant to dig them. They are the holes that I decided to dig myself on some dark and dreary night with some wolf howling in the shadows of that place. They are lonely holes. No one watched me dig those. I felt better at the time, hollowing out those places in the ground, moving dirt around, proving...something...to myself. Maybe to someone else. But looking back at them now, I wish they weren't there. They just scratch up an otherwise decent path to travel by.

And then there are a few holes that established something.

They establish different things. Some of them fit the curve of my road in such a way that I know the place they inhabit would never have been the same without them. Some of them fall along the inclines and lie in the valleys like great panthers, large and black and dense as morning fog. They remind my heart of the labor my back was bent in. The unchanging necessity of hard work at times. The possibility that some holes might be there just to level us inside when we've become to lofty. When we stay too stubborn on the heights. Those holes are the ones that I stuck with, even when the sun was pouring out her fury, even when the water had long run dry. And somehow, those dark empty places have changed me, removing callouses from my heart even as my hands grew those thick, hardened places. And I always knew when to stop, to just close my eyes and know that in all the digging I had unburied something big. Something great. A great mystery you get to at the bottom.

I think Isaac felt that way, digging all those wells in Canaan. Uncovering the earth time after time, only to be driven away again. All those well pirates and thieves coming to steal away what he had worked for -- I'm sure the labor seemed to be useless to him as he walked away from his work, thirsty for yet another night. I'm sure he wondered what the point was. I would have.

It's funny to me that he never really asked God about it in the beginning. "Why do you have me digging all these holes?" "When can I stop?" No, in the most passive of ways he left his shovel in the dirt in pursuit of the next lot. I wonder how many times the promise he had heard passed through generations rung in his ears when he finally tapped water. And then how his heart must have dropped to hear the voices of those who would take it from him. How he must have hated to let it all go. I wonder how many times he wanted to just give up the digging and the pursuing and the wandering. But he dug each one, naming it like a child just before giving it up.

But all the while, God was working.

So the story goes that Isaac laid down one night beside a place with no hole. He didn't even lift his hand to begin another well, but simply slept there under the night sky, no promise in mind. He must have drifted into sleep in that still and lonely place with a broken heart, unsure of his future. Unsure of this God his father had worshiped. And God spoke to him under the stars that night, giving him the promise of his grandfather Abraham. The mystery of ages was once again unveiled.

And Isaac got up. Worshiped his God. And dug a well.

Wherever you are right now, friend, traveling that road or hard at work, digging, hear my voice; I am cheering you on. If you are in the place you belong, do what it is that you are commissioned to do. No matter the heat, the pain or the tears, your work is not in vain. It's not just a big empty hole you are digging. No, it is character and determination and a mystery. It is beauty and blessing and the promise. And when that deep pit begins to fill, it will fill to the brim with the fresh, clean water of the Spirit. It will count for something.

Don't give it up. Keep digging.

2012-01-10T08:19:00.007-05:00

Sodom. Now there's a place with a legacy. I can't even wrap my mind around the destruction of Sodom -- so sudden, so violent, so...tragic. I think about that beautiful land that Lot picked over the other side on a day when the grass grew green and the stream washed a blue baptism over the land. I imagine the hand of the Lord, sweeping over the same country so long before that final day of doom. For in creation He made it to be beautiful and perfect and blessed. I think His heart must have ached as he swept over it again to dismantle Sodom's greatness. Ached to see her self-destruction all along.

In reading about Lot, I get caught up in the strange, gruesome tale of man's depravity. I sit in the gate of Sodom with him and I see those two visiting angel-men and I feel dread because I know what my city is. Full of hatred. Full of selfishness. Full of the horror of what man can do to man. What self can do to self. I want to pull those good and generous folks in, too, and shut the door, and offer them something to eat from my table. But Lot had forgotten what his table had to offer as well. And he had forgotten that his door was not strong enough to keep the evil out.

Could a man who knew God really be willing to offer his virgin daughters to those wolves? How could the unthinkable become the better solution? Not once do we hear Lot raise his voice to the God who lead him as a young man in Abraham's caravan. His feet had come too near the fire and he had learned to bask in it, to draw even nearer. So close now that the flames didn't even bother him as they licked his heels. Desensitized. Blind. Just like those men that the angels held out of the house, lingering in that doorway, blinded, unable to find the door. I think of Lot and find his heart in the same peril. In the doorway. Uncertain of the DOOR.

Once the whole thing goes up in flames, once everyone keeps trucking, except Mrs. Lot, whose hesitation is captured in salt -- no one asking a thing about this? What's with these people? When suddenly the camera swings to Abraham, standing before the Lord, the feeling is unnatural. This sweep from curse to blessing is so abrupt, it takes a moment to adjust.

I have to stare at his name and remember, yes, this is Abraham, who chose differently. Because in reading this awful history, you forget that he's still there. Someone who is still just standing before God, just as he was when Lot turned toward Sodom. I wonder how many days he looked toward his nephew's house. I wonder how many stories he had heard of Sodom as he had lived out that simple life in the country. Travelers passing by, unwilling to stay the night in The Village. And yet God thought of Abraham as He swept Lot and his family away from that judgement. God thought of Abraham as Sodom fell. Abraham was not forgotten, even as this great city swelled in havoc, even as people violated people and people turned to salt. His obedience, solid as a stone, lay heavy on the heart of God. And because of it, a family escaped the burn.

You and I chose, friend. And we choose every day. We are not forgotten, no matter how mad the world may seem at times. No matter who violates whom. No matter the burn and foul odor of mankind's decay. The flames are spreading rapidly -- there's no mistake. The world is swept up in selfishness and hatred and various tragedies all in a day. But your heart and mine -- it does impact our world. The choices we make out here, looking at the smoke rising, are influencing the lives of others -- some who may escape. Our God remembers His Bride. He doesn't take a moment to remember us. He doesn't need a minute to adjust. His mind is always on us, always aware, even as His hand sweeps the nations. He never once forgets us here, standing before Him, just as we have stood for all these days before. And though His heart must ache for Sodom, it joys in us.

2011-10-05T09:06:00.011-04:00

Well, hello there :)

It's been awhile, I know. With school and work and kiddos, life has been tooooobusy. But I had to make time for this one, friends. It's just too important.

I've been thinking about identity. Who am I? Who are you? What should determine what I think about myself? What should spell it out for me? It's funny, because most people I know would like to narrow themselves down to this list of things, prioritized by number sequence. You know, like:

1. Wife

2. Mother

3. Daughter

4. Employee

5. Girl Scout Troop Leader (not me, just an example ;)

And then to be a little fancier, we could add all kinds of things after each one, making them as specific as possible:

3. Daughter of Edna, who is a member of the Board of Gardening Wonders and therefore I must at least have a couple of successful flower beds.

2. Mother of Tommy, the kid who won the Class President election, which proves by extension that I am also awesome.

Sometimes we add so many things to our list that they end up like this:

25. Driver of a Cadillac Escalade, which gives me a little oneupmanship over Sue down the street, who still drives a Jeep Grand Cherokee.

or even

27. Best friend of Shannon, who is widely admired and also quite accomplished, having been both Prom Queen and a member of the local Council of Awesomeness, so that must count for something.

It's crazy, what we put on that list, when you think about it. It's crazy, what choose to define ourselves with. Sometimes, sure, we go back up to the top and add things like "Christian" or "Church Goer" or "Moral Person," to make sure we put the right stuff on the list. We do this because it makes us feel more well-rounded, or maybe we feel guilty without it. Sometimes we do it because we know it's true, and we know that if all the rest was taken away, that our standing with God is what counts. And it is, that's true. But on the normal days, is that what we derive our sense of self from? Does my identity in Christ really dictate what I do on a normal day? I say "normal" because on the days that are supertough, sure, the fact that I am a child of God is what MATTERS. It's on the forefront of my mind. But is it on the forefront of my mind when I consider who I am endeavoring to be?

I think it's easy to get distracted. It's so easy to slip into being a "Good Student" or a "Good Teacher" or a "Good Parent" identity. It's too easy to change those uniforms throughout the day, performing each duty to the best of our ability, and finding identity in whatever we have on at the moment. I doubt any one of us would put on an actual shirt and address it, saying something like, "Good Morning, Self. I think You are what I am today." We recognize that what we are wearing is not who we are (well, I hope so. If not, please get in touch with me so that I can help you ;) How cheap is it really, though, to define who we are by that stupid list.

What we drive is not who we are.

Who we are hanging out with is not who we are.

Where we are accepted or unaccepted is not who we are.

The memberships we have, the roles we play, the activities we do, what we accomplish or don't accomplish is not who we are. It doesn't even come close.

If you are a child of God, then that is who you are, friend. Compared to that, nothing else should be on that list.

And so no matter who you are with, who you are working for, who you are encountering, where, or why, if you are not acting in alignment with being God's child, you will not be satisfied. Feel that emptiness? That's your true identity, starving. So stop trying to feed it wealth, pleasure and distraction. Stop trying to be who you see in the mirror or the magazine. Stop trying to project what you think others want you to be. Stop putting others in a pecking order so that you can feel secure in your spot.

Stop trying to make your life appear to be what the world wants.

Stop watering down your true identity and cheapening who you really are.

Just... stop.

Come back to the Father. Sit in His lap and remember who He knows you are. Rest in His presence and accept your place there. He died for you, friend. What more could possibly matter? What could possibly compare? What more could the world need to know about us?

You and me, we are His children*. Now let's go out and live like it. Let's choose to love each other for that reason, if nothing else. Let's choose to put things in perspective. Let's live today as if we were nothing but a child of God. Paul said it something like this:

"For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified." -- I Corinthians 2:2

Me, too. That's what I want. Will you join me?

*If you are not one of His children, or if you aren't sure, email me at pandacanup@yahoo.com Trust me: you want to be one :)

2011-08-06T20:51:00.007-04:00

Change is upon us, friend.

No matter where you are, that's a certainty. No matter where you live, another season is around the corner. And I don't necessarily mean a season of cooler weather. It may not be the kind of season that sends the birds down south (and WHY do they even come back? Another time, another time...) or that brings the kids back through school doors. It may not be the kind that sweeps you up into a routine or prepares you for the holidays or banners another 1 day sale. It may be completely different than any of these for you...but the change of seasons IS coming.

To tell you the truth, that freaks me out. I mean, I like to think of myself as a little spontaneous, but in all honesty, I am more of a creature of habit. I like to know the general plan for the day. Maybe not down-to-the-minute details, but at least the broad highlights. I like to know what's for dinner. I like to know what the evening lineup is -- preferably without any last-minute "Oh, yeah, Mom, I need a presentation board for tomorrow"s. I like to have a firm grasp of my list before I go into the store. And for that reason I quickly fend off any salesperson's bright, optimistic, neon smile with the words, "No thank you." I can't be helped. Because anyone knows the salesperson's primary goal is to multiply your list times seven and add a couple of zeros to the end.

My point is, I like to know.

And right now, I don't.

That change of season is coming for me. I saw it mounting the hills back in the spring, long strides bringing it closer, but in the lazy days of summer it seemed a dream. I noticed its approach a month ago and it had truly flown toward me, but I still had over a month before its arrival. And now that it is nearly here, my heart quickens and my pulse jumps to think about it. And some days the worry replaces the excitement. After all, I've never done this before.

So I was in this frame of mind when I met my good friend Elijah on the pages of 1 Kings last night, and boy, was I glad to see him. It was a change in routine that brought me there (ironical, eh?) and what I read encouraged me so much that I wanted to share it with you, changing one :)

" Elijah left and lived by the Wadi Cherith where it enters the Jordan. The ravens kept bringing him bread and meat in the morning and in the evening, and he drank from the wadi. After a while, the wadi dried up because there had been no rain in the land.

Then the word of the LORD came to him: 'Get up, go...'"

Elijah had spent a pretty sweet season, being provided for, hanging out with the Lord. Sure, he didn't have many luxuries in that place. Didn't have many friends there. Didn't have coffee and danish while he had his morning devotional. But he saw God's hand involved in his life daily, as those black crows came down and delivered his portion. Enough to make it through the day. Enough to thrive by that water. Until one day, the river dried up. The ravens didn't come again.

Times were changing.

I wonder what old Elijah thought as he gathered up his thing or two. I wonder if he took a minute to look around at that old spot and remember what he had seen there. I wonder if a few words came back to him that he had grasped in his first days here. How he had worried, maybe, about how he was to survive. What God Almighty had taught him about faith and patience and "enough." I wonder if some emotion clogged his dry throat, realizing that in that desert a new freshness had fallen. I wonder if he was afraid he wouldn't be revisited with it again. That, as the ravens had ceased falling from the sky, so maybe that fresh wind that had blown in the unexpected place would also cease.

Of course that isn't what happened.

It didn't happen to him and it won't happen to us. Because the fresh Wind won't cease to blow. Whatever the season that is coming for you and I, we can know we will feel Its sweet breath upon our face right there in the midst of it. In the unexpected place we will experience the sensation of flowing water or nurturing warmth or beautiful new growth. Whatever change we are asked to make, whatever steps we are asked to take from what we know into what we don't, we can know that we will continue to be visited. That we will see God's hand in new ways. That one thing is constant: He is the same, yesterday, today and forever...in every season.

Happy trails :)

2011-06-15T23:22:00.010-04:00

I've been feeling restless lately.

At first I thought it was the monotony of summer vacation. You know: school's out. The routine has been packed up for the most part. Morning til afternoon drags on in a smothered, lazy haze. Could be my allergies. Could be the heat. And they are called the dog days of summer...

But that wasn't it.

I thought that maybe I'm just ready to get out of Dodge. Go to the beach. Go to the mountains. Go to the nearest home away from home I can find for a change of scenery. Maybe I was just tired of looking at the same flaked-off place on my rusty-rose walls or the same fine layer of dust on the same coffee table...

That wasn't it either.

No, it all boils down to this: We crave NEWNESS. Some how, some way. Ever since I was a little kid, it was like I wanted to have an adventure every day. Mom and Dad blamed it on all the books I read, but Hansel and Gretel were not responsible for my restlessness. This I know because I haven't grown out of it...and I bet you haven't either. You and I are looking for newness in some area of our life, seeking it on a daily basis, hoping to discover it just around the bend.

You know, it's that craving that leads us down the worst paths sometimes. We are just so sick of our job that we ditch it -- couldn't take it anymore. That's what makes "Office Space" so endearing to us. We are tired of those stale cubicles, too. We imagine, with relish, that's it's US who throws off the navy blazer in favor of something new and different.

It's what makes that sudden leap into debt so bearable. This cruise is just the fine line between making it another year or total and complete insanity. It's worth the 5 thou we're putting on plastic. Who knows when we'll pay it off. Who cares? We need change. We can't go on without a break from this mundane existance. And when you really think about it, this is practically life and death we're talking about.

It's what lures us into that relationship that we know good and well is nothing BUT trouble. We get the tingles again and for just that brief period of time the newness is exhilarating. We feel alive again and that staves off the guilt for awhile. And though we can feel the danger mounting we ignore it in favor of the good time that we feel was a long time coming.

It's what causes us to make all kinds of risky decisions. Living on the edge. The craziness of the ride brings a sense of adventure to us we have longed for. We've missed it. And no matter what happens as a result, anything is better than same ol same ol.

Think about the relentless shout of our culture: NEW GADGET. NEW CLOTHES. NEW HOME. NEW VENTURE. NEW PLAN. NEW CAR. NEW LOOK. NEW TUNES. NEW IDEAS. NEW POSSIBILITIES. NEW BREAKTHROUGHS. NEW TOMORROWS. It's like you're a nut if you DON'T want those things.

So anyway, I was thinking about our need for newness and I was getting pretty desperate. I was reminded of some of these words and decided to list them and then look up a few more. Are you with me? Read some of this think on it with me.

"Yet those who wait for the LORD will gain new strength..." Isaiah 40:31

"Behold the former things have come to pass, now I declare new things;
Before they spring forth I proclaim them to you..." Isaiah 42:9

"Then I will give them one heart, and I will put a new spirit within them,
and take the stony heart out of their flesh, and give them a heart of flesh..." Ezekiel 11:19

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have
passed away; behold, all things have become new..." 2 Corinthians 5:17

"But according to His promise we are looking for new heavens and
a new earth, in which righteousness dwells..." 2Peter 3:13

"The LORD replied to them: “I am sending you grain, new wine and olive oil,
enough to satisfy you fully..." Joel 2:19

"Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform
you into a new person by changing the way you think..." Romans 12:2

"And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new.
And he said unto me, 'Write: for these words are true and faithful....'"
Revelation 21:5

Yep. He knows what we're after, doesn't He?

It's no surprise to God, that intense hunger we have for excitement and adventure. The newness we are seeking after, searching every crack and crevice of life for, is something He designed us to desire. And not only that, it's exactly what He offers, over and over again. Look at the verses again: It's what He promises in the new life He brings, in the newness of our hearts, in the newness of our minds in Christ. Listen for the pure truth of those words. He wants to bring us that newness morning by morning and breath by breath. His Spirit is calling to each one in the stillness of a new day: "Wake up! Listen to Me! Follow Me and find New Life." That itching, that unsatisfied yearning within is HIS proof upon your soul that He is calling you, friend. Calling me. Calling us into newness with Him.

So take the summer to vacation, to get away from your version of monotony, but more than that. Take this season to listen especially for His voice. As you catch your eyes drifting over that *New Thing* catch yourself and count to 10 and ask yourself when you will tire of it. Will it truly satisfy? Will it hold your fancy for long? Well, just until model 5.0 comes out, right?

But God -- well, He's a whole nother level of new. Most any romance is first culminated in the chase, isn't it? Isn't that the real draw, before we even know what's happening: the pursuit of knowing another person to the fullest degree. And the beautiful thing about the God of the universe is, we'll never know all there is to know about Him. He is the perfect object of our affection. He is the excitement of a pursuit that will never end, never grow old, never be worn out. Eternal, blissful newness.

Sounds like heaven to me.

2011-06-05T23:00:00.006-04:00

Awards Day.

That's a great day to be a parent, isn't it? At our school, you get this little note home the week before, letting you know you have the priviledge to sit in on the awards ceremony because YOUR KID is getting one of them. And just to keep it exciting, they don't tell you which award or how many awards. They just let you know you can go ahead and brag and be proud and celebrate your baby in a special way because he WON!

I think awards are pretty cool. They let us know that our work counted, don't they? I like to watch The Biggest Loser and I usually cheer through happy tears at the end for the contestants, for the obstacles they have overcome and for the milestones they have crossed. I am so proud of complete strangers for accomplishing their goals. I am so happy for them to continue in the new life ahead of them. It's almost ridiculous how wrapped up I can get.

I was thinking about awards and about how many different kinds we receive if we are good boys and girls. We get promotions (sometimes with a raise, sometimes without one ;) We get discounts on car insurance if we do a good job driving. We get bonuses for the projects we complete. We get stickers on the back of our car for having Terrific Kids.

And then there are the titles we are awarded by society for our skillz. "She's the best cook." "He's an awesome vocalist." "Everyone knows she will have the best garden." "He can really grill a steak." We like to be known by our labels, as much as we may bat them away or play them down in front of others. On the inside we are gushing. We are so glad they think we are fabulous.

Sometimes I live my life for those moments. In fact, if I'm not careful, I can find myself running to and fro to live up to those expectations........uh, I mean, "awards." If I don't watch it I can feel a little resentment rising up as another person gives me some competition in "my" category. Hey I'M supposed to be the best at that. I'M the one that gets picked for that. I'M the one they call. If I'm not aware of my footing, I can quickly find myself chasing the spotlight and feeling gyped when I'm not the star of the show. I can wrap myself up in the awards ceremony to such a degree that I don't know who I am outside of it.

When I'm alone, do I look at myself in the mirror and recognize that person? Is she really the one they all think she is or is she a fiction to please everyone? Do I know the difference anymore? Have I lived believing my own press for so long that I can't even remember the truth? Who do I really love? What do I really want? Why do I really do what I do or say what I say?

But prove yourselves doers of the word, and not merely hearers who delude themselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks at his natural face in a mirror; for once he has looked at himself and gone away, he has immediately forgotten what kind of person he was. But one who looks intently at the perfect law, the law of liberty, and abides by it, not having become a forgetful hearer but an effectual doer, this man will be blessed in what he does.

James 1:22-25

I think this "Doer of the Word" is not very concerned about the awards ceremony. Not because he doesn't care what others think about him but because he knows who he is. And knowing who he is reminds him of Who his Creator is, the one who molded him and shaped him and gives him breath and the drive to live. He looks into that perfect law and finds liberty because he accepts the truth. He looks to that Word for the next step, and finds solidity there because he is not basing his actions on the shifting sand of public approval. He is not a crowd pleaser. He is not drawn into all manner of compromise, balancing just so that he can hear applause from all those watching his "act." No instead he is finding fulfillment in knowing who he is made to be and is carrying out each day fully exposed and in the light. He is not avoiding his reflection in favor of what they say, but is willing to look himself full in the face and ask himself, is this who I was meant to be? And he knows that the author of his liberty and his life is never-changing. Always grace. Always perfection and love and unyielding, unrelenting truth. That's the truth that guides the "doer." That's the kind of truth that sets him free from public opinion.

Have you been living life in the spotlight for too long? Living for another's approval? Living for acceptance from the crowd? I'll tell you one thing: You'll be lead into debt, emotional trauma, fear, anxiety, heartache, depression, and fatigue. You'll run too far and too fast and you still won't catch it. You'll go to desperate measures to keep the applause.

Look at any public figure: politicians, entertainers, movie stars, models...the list goes on and on. So many are trying to find a permanent place at the awards table. It doesn't exist.

Take a minute and consider your face in the mirror. Ask yourself, really ask: Do I know who I am? I can promise you that the God who created you knows who you are, inside and out. Stop a minute, step out of that spotlight of expectation and ask Him who you are.

And He will answer, friend. He will answer.

2011-05-16T11:45:00.014-04:00

I want to write a book entitled, The Fountainhead. Catchy, isn't it?

I want it to be about strength. I want it to be about power. I want it to include a female powerhouse, lacking nothing, firm, secure in who she is. I want it to illustrate the beauty of such an individual and display her effect on those who surround her like a sea, parting at the divide of her stance. I want the reader to recognize the amazing impact she will have on the world, and others like her. I want them to read and be inspired.

I was thinking of a few people whose stories I may use in laying the foundation of her character:

A friend of mine who died of cancer last year. In her last days on this earth, her facebook account was flooded with stories of how she had been set down like a rock in the lives of those who knew her, and would remain as a marker there, forever remembered. As she lay on her pillow, barely able to lift her head, they spoke of the firm grasp she held and the completeness of her life, her remarkable strength, and that it would always remind them of Christ's provision and His joy. One of the strongest and most admireable women I've ever known.

I think of another friend who's having surgery this week for a brain tumor. I've only known her for a couple of years but I have never been in the presence of a greater servant to others. I have never seen love poured out quite like the love that shines in her eyes. I have never heard God's word spoken more clearly by any person, rays streaming from her words, pointing directly to Jesus Christ. I see her a lighthouse planted on the outer shore, her foundation sure below the depths. I know that whatever wave is crashing against her now, she is shining, shining in its face, pouring out hope onto the the bow of whatever ship that passes.

I can think of another example of true grit. She had a marriage that was falling apart and she finally slipped and stumbled on a the incline of that rocky path. Torn and disillusioned, she turned and walked away from that source of strife. There were reasons, sure there were. Good ones. Emotional and mental abuse. A severe lack of respect for her as a wife, even as a woman. There was absolutely no open display of love for her or for most of their children. She felt sure of that choice for quite a while. But when the Spirit spoke, she returned to that man and spent the last 5 years of his life with him. It just so happens that he met God during that time and was reborn. She glows like a fire built in the embers. I think of her story often.

Another, a dear friend's mother who lost her husband to prison for crimes she is not sure he committed, not sure he didn't. After building a "future" of wealth, she remained unchanged in her faith as all that faded, as it all poured through her hands like sand, into lawyers and court expenses. She stood like a beacon of hope as she was diagnosed with cancer in the midst of it all. She remained faithful to her God...and her husband. No, she didn't know the real truth behind the accusations. But she knows her God, and she is a light to my heart when I feel the cold upon the thickest parts of this path, the darker days of life here on this earth. I am reminded that I, too, know the God she calls Father and so it will be okay.

Yes, I know The Fountainhead has already been written. It's a good book, as good books go. In fact it holds more mass than most books out there of an unaltered truth: we are created for a purpose. Within the folds of those pages a glimpse is caught of the nature of strength. It speaks on the human condition to a great degree.

But the truth is, "the fountainhead" it speaks of is only a faint whisper of the real one. It is only a shadow of what wields that Light that brings Hope to the darkest places, of what ripples and glimmers and gushes over any boulder, any rock, any hindrance imaginable. The True Fountainhead, that which gives breath to a body wasted by disease so that her spirit shouts in triumph. The One that exhales Hope so that the wings of the wounded soar, so that the exhausted legs stretch out and break into a full run. Over it all. Under it all, crashing up through it all, breaking the darkness, breaking the damper and the cloud, the disappointment and the failure and the unspeakable fear. The One that expresses what true Power builds, what true Love endures, where true Joy and Peace can carry. Jesus Christ, that is the name my heroines draw such strength from, where they find identity, where their stance divides. And their story inspires, it speaks life as it reads,

Those who are planted in the house of the LORD
Shall flourish in the courts of our God.
They shall still bear fruit in old age;
They shall be fresh and flourishing,
To declare that the LORD is upright;
He is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in Him.

--Psalm 92:13-15

2011-04-29T13:09:00.006-04:00

I love to look at headshots.

It cracks me up, you know? You can't really tell anything about a person from their headshot...no, you can tell much more about the photographer, I think. I love the corny ones the best -- the ones where someone has his head at an awkward tilt or maybe has this look of, "Cool. Be cool. I am cool." I think that is the mantra they must say while posing for that flash. And sometimes you can tell it was more like, "Did we get it? Did we get that one cause I'm hungry."

I think a lot of things are funny, but truth be told I probably laugh AT a little too much. And I've been thinking about that a little this week. My brain is wired all wrong, you know? The flaws dominate all too often for me. I pick up on that detail that doesn't belong or the incorrect grammar. I pick up on the bad part more that I would like. I rib my friends about the little tidbits of weird or awkward that catch my eye and we laugh together and that is fun sometimes, it is. But I'm wondering how much of it is really THAT funny. And whether the thought that I find it so is very funny at all.

It's the know-it-all attitude, isn't it? Now, if you don't struggle with that, the rest of this isn't for you. You might as well click off the screen just after I tell you I HAVE been convicted about all this. Yes, I have, so stop judging ;) But if you do struggle with that irritating inner critic, I want to share my encouragement with you. Because I love you, kindred spirit :) Awwww.

"For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him
crucified."
I Corinthians 2:2

The fact of the matter is, Yes, there is a lot wrong with the world around us. People drive like maniacs. That guy at the gym wears WAY too much cologne (he really does). NKOTBSB is a mid-life crisis. My kid's teacher doesn't love him the way she ought. That stewardess should do her job a little better.

That color is all wrong.

She shouldn't have done that.

That is misspelled.

He is totally out of touch.

But that's life. It's not LIFE.

Knowing Christ alone is LIFE. Remembering Him. Remembering He died for all the people we think are jerks. Remembering He treated every person who came across His path with love and decency. Remembering He never criticized them for their idiosyncrasies...in fact, He showed the most contempt for the ones who thought they "had it all together." Ouch. Remembering that He sees me, every thought, every motive, every action...and loves me. Is able to love me right off of my piddly little overstated soapbox.

I know that knowing Him will change us. So let's resolve to forget what we know about sleek, suave and sophisticated. Let's forget what we know about cheesy and doofish and awkward.

Let's resolve to simply know Christ.
It's really all that matters, anyway.

2011-03-23T09:18:00.012-04:00

Something's been bugging me.

You might say it deals with "church." See, the church building used to be a rude, grumpy place in a lot of cases. In fact, I would venture to say that some of the "church folks" I've met myself seemed to be eternally constipated. And so it was easy to understand why people who didn't have any strong connection with a church in their area were pretty resistant to hanging with that crowd. Besides the fact that they would be sitting on a bench and listening to somebody they don't really know teach out of the Bible, which may or may not be a book they are really familiar with in the first place.

So this was a problem. And we knew it. But then this new idea came about, right? And it caught on like wildfire. And basically this idea was that at the least the guy up front should talk about some things that anyone coming in the doors of a church could easily identify with. That he shouldn't speak on all the negativity. That, instead, most of what he shared should be positive and that he would get bonus points for sharing those "ideas" while wearing a graphic tee.

And then someone else came along and said that maybe the problem that new people have is with the Bible itself. I mean, it's pretty old. And some of the things in there are just hard to accept. So maybe the guy up front should (while wearing the graphic tee) share the same positive message that we all can get from the Bible, but just *touch* on the actual words found in there. And leave off all that about blood. I mean, yuck! That is just too hard for those new folks to hear.

And then someone else came along and said that the old songs we sing need to go, too. Because, after all, who sings like that anymore? How could God really expect anyone to get anything out of that kind of music when there's much hipper, artistic stuff on any radio on America? Why not revamp the whole thing, and throw in some stuff that is easier to sway too. Easier to sing. More like what we listen to Monday-Friday. And so that guy got some great responses and the Church Band was born.

And the teaching guy decided he needed some funky framed glasses just to fit in with the rockstars.

So, this thing turned into a real THING. And churches sprang up all over America, singing those rocking songs and sharing that positive message with all the new people who started coming. I think it was a shock, at first, to see all the people that were drawn, and the consensus was, "This is the Way to Do It." Of course, a few of those other churches clung to their little traditions of how to do church, but as I watched, most of those were swallowed up by Church 5.0. It was just way better, way cooler, way awesomer. Who in the world would want to do church any other way?

Well of course other guys in graphic tees began to try to revamp the initial model. And so there began a chorus of voices all over the country, vying to share their opinion on the matter. But two things they all seemed to agree on were this: the other way was wrong, because it was too traditional. Too stuffy and old. And the other thing was that this idea of "seeker-friendly" had an intrinsic quality that made it better: the revolutionized message. Bible Lite. Easy to swallow, less filling. Because the new people out there, the ones coming in by the busloads by this time, need that kind of message to be pulled in. No more of this stuff they couldn't' understand. And as far as the actual church members went, they were all jiving to the music and maybe (if they were coveted rockstar material) singing on the stage. They were excited to see their friends at church. Didn't make them feel so weird for going. And the message wasn't really for them, anyway--they understood that. They were already in the "fold." So let's party.

Now, let me be clear. I don't have a problem with that rockin music. It's pretty awesome and I really do identify better with some of it. I don't have a problem with the guy in the graphic tee. I like graphic tees -- wear them myself.

The thing that bugged me about this whole thing was the look I got from people when I didn't get why we needed to change the message. The truth is, I missed the hard stuff -- the things that were hard to understand. I missed hearing a message and going home, praying for God to make it clear to me. And by that I don't mean some guy, getting up on a "soapbox" every week and telling me how dirty and rotten I am. Calling people names and throwing in a few almostcusswords to see how far he can get -- and to get a little wink from the hardcore crowd. I don't think that relates to the truth of God's word at all, really. That's just another form of attention-getting malarkey.

I'm talking about the depth of God's word. The fullness and richness of the Spirit that a man could never really cover. The real crux of the matter of who we are and who Christ is and why salvation is such a miracle. Of God's love for mankind. Of the enemy who is in real pursuit of our souls -- or at least our lives. That is what I missed living in Church 5.0. And I missed the fact that very few else seemed to miss it with me.

You see, I don't think people come to church by the droves because of the music or to hear what new shenanigan the guy up front is going to pull next. I think they come to maybe a concert for that. Or, at most, an exciting experience loosely linked to something spiritual.

That's not church.

Nor do I think they will come in droves to talk to anyone who's a grumpy old fart -- even if he knows Christ and occasionally talks about the truth of Scripture.

That's not church, either.

The thing about the Real Church is, it loves. It's a living, breathing organism. It's a house built upon Jesus Christ and finished by Jesus Christ alone. And that is very, very apparent in a REAL Church.

No one would look at their neighbor's house, crumbling down to the foundation with a few pieces jutting up, some beautiful ones, some just an obvious piece of the original building and say, "That is really great. I'm sure that's what the builder wanted." Nothing holding it together, really. Nothing apparent in its purpose. Just a few pieces still piled together -- definitely noticeable -- not really a whole structure anymore. The foundation may still be visible. And the bricks are still piled on it, some still attached together. But were the builder to drive by and see that, he would not be pleased. Even if some of those bricks were really, really beautiful and top-notch. Even if the whole thing was ginormous. Even if it drew a crowd.

Because what the builder wants is a structure that doesn't boast of each individual piece. In fact, I've never seen a building in which people come to proclaim how gorgeous one brick is over another. I've never really even noticed one brick by itself in a building that speaks of the creativity of the builder. Of his genius in fitting it all together. Of his amazing talent for making it stable and secure. No, I have to stand back, look at that building as a whole and then ask, "Now, who built this?"

And that is what the builder wants.

That is what the Builder wants, friends. He wants a Church that speaks of Him, not the individual bricks that make it up. He isn't seeking some people who can make a name for themselves because of their ability, charisma, or shenanigans, but a people who seek to make a name for Him. Jesus Christ is our foundation, our cornerstone. He has to be what the whole structure rests upon, or it will crumble. He has to be the attention-getter or it's a lost cause. And He has to be the finisher, the capstone, or it will crumble down to the basic foundation it was laid upon.

We need to be giving. Serving. Loving. BEING the bricks. Laying on the property somewhere isn't being a part of the Church. Even laying somewhere on that foundation isn't being the Church. Just hanging. Not really attached to anything, but enjoying the scenery. Being joined together by His hand and giving up our desires to be conspicuous or attention-grabbing is our purpose. Allowing Him to create through us a structure that speaks well of His name is our purpose. Remaining fixed to that goal, no matter the wind that may beat upon that House or the flood that may seek to overturn it -- building it up until from the very top all the way to the bottom nothing is really seen but the work of Christ -- that is our highest honor and our only hope as a Body of believers.

And so, Church: love. Ask Him where He wishes to place you among your brothers and sisters. Ask Him how you can spread the word of His great work in your town. Be a living, breathing beacon, a city on a hill that may rock, may wear graphic tees, or may sing the strains of those beautiful old songs, but that never forsakes the Truth of Who He really is.

To that guy up front: Are you called by God? What are you called for? To play a game, to win a following, to get a little pat on the back for your coolness? No.
You are called to feed the sheep. Not my words, but Christ's. So Feed Them. And if that's not "Your Thing," then your thing isn't taking anyone very far, no matter how entertaining you are or how many you can pack in. Step down.

To the singers: Point others to Christ, not to your talent. Not to your vocal stylings or the way you can almost moonwalk. Be inconspicuous in His service -- a tough job for you, but I believe it's possible. I've seen it done before -- and it's more beautiful than any Taylor I've seen yet.

You know what? I love The Church. Not one over another -- not if they are the real deal. I love The Church, no matter the "style," no matter the version of God's Word they favorite (if it is indeed a version of God's Word -- another day for that one ;) . But even more: Jesus loves you. You are His bride, His flock, His holy priesthood, the one He died for. Honor Him in that love. Show the world just how awesome He really is.

He [Christ] is "the stone you builders rejected, which has become the capstone." Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we may be saved.

Acts 4:11-12

2011-03-12T10:02:00.005-05:00

About a month ago I awoke to something vaguely familiar.

It was a tiny chatter, a chorus of little voices, bravely singing into the cold, damp morning. And then it swelled as the sun rose higher, much like laughter at the break of a new day. I lay there and tried to remember the last time I had heard the birds so early in the morning. I lay there and thought about how cheerful they sounded, despite the fact that Spring was not even here yet.

But they were right; She was on her way. And as the season grows more apparent each day, I am sitting in admiration of those little birds who knew, who KNEW it was going to happen again.

This will be a short one because I have some little people gnawing at my ankles to get out there but I wanted to say:

Whatever season you are in, friend, whatever storm may be blowing over you or whatever rain may be flooding or whatever ice may be chilling your very bones I can say this: Spring is on her way.

I can say it to you because I have been there. As the seasons have transpired in my life, so the Lord echoes through them all, "I Am here, even here." He is now. He is then. He brings the stroke of each hour for a purpose, some we see in a short span of time, some we will not see until time ends. I can say these things to you and I can say them to me when I need to remember: Spring is on Her way. Jesus Christ died (and yes, ROSE AGAIN) so that death would have no reign over us. Like the White Witch of the ageless story, so death also flees at the breath of new LIFE in Him. There is no room for its lifeless body in this new creation. We belong to the Forever One.

Look outside. See the snow melting, the clouds parting, the first blooms showing their faces. Hear the birds. Listen to the song:

"O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR VICTORY? O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR STING?"

Easter's coming.

2011-03-04T09:10:00.007-05:00

My kid is sick.

If you are a parent, you know the drill. If you've ever been a kid, you probably know it, too. You sit on the sofa, pillows, the whole deal. Covered up for sure, WITH SOCKS ON. Little kids have a bowl resting beside them just in case. You can eat what you want within reason and DRINK THAT JUICE. But the best part is: You have sovereignty over all things television.

So, I have been watching stuff like Knight Rider, Dinosaur Train (Who in the WORLD thought that one up?) and Super Why.

Now, I take exception to Super Why. Not that he's a bad kid. Lack of taste with that superhero getup, IMHO, but in most regards a stand-up cartoon guy. The problem I have with his show is this incessant drive he has to remove any and all conflict from all the good childhood stories. Take Red Riding Hood: He wants to make the wolf get lost or change "bad" to "kind" in the story. Same thing with the 3 pigs, Little Red Hen and Chicken Little: The rest of the animals take a motivational class, Chicken gets therapy for his phobias, etc. And as a result, NOTHING bad or challenging or scary...or interesting happens to the characters in the story. And you know what that essentially means:
THERE IS NO STORY.

I was thinking about how this is so utterly disrespectful to the pillars of our literary beginnings and then I thought of something else. The reason Super Why is so popular with the preschool set is because they don't know about rising action and climax. They aren't familiar with the components of an epic poem or a tall tale. No, they gravitate to "stop the owie from owwing" and "make the boogie monster go away forever" and "let me have everything I want right now." And the more I thought about that very first formation of our desires, the more I realized we really haven't changed very much.

I still pray for God to stop the owies from owwwing. I still pray for Him to make that tax man go away forever (or the debt goblin or the big bad boss, etc...take your pick). I still want Him, oh how I want Him, to let me have everything I want right NOW on most days. I forget about the big picture in those lapses into self. I forget about anyone else who might actually benefit from a real story about Grace or Hope or Salvation. I forget that there's a happy ending in store already and that it will last for eternity. I just want the easy way of changing the "bad" to "good"in my story...and I know God can do that.

But you know what? God is bent on making my story incredible. He loves me so much that He wants me to have a story that will never get old and that I will still be talking about in the next millennium and in the one after that. He is the master storyteller, with more creativity in his gloried little finger than exist in all the Greats of our literary world. And He is making this one a doosie, not only for me to realize how deeply I am loved, but also for a world that is watching, a world that needs to know what He is capable of.

Daniel 11:32 says "Those who do wickedly against the covenant he shall corrupt with flattery; but the people who know their God shall be strong, and carry out great exploits. " Did you hear that? Great exploits. Not pansy existences. Not weeny-face, aimless lives. He wants us to pioneer places with Him and climb to surreal heights and weather torrential storms and delve into swirling depths...not only for the thrill of this LIFE but so that others may know who He is as they witness the marvel of it all. He wants them to see that we can know Him, the Eternal God. That He strengthens those who trust Him.

And also that He delivers a great story.

2011-02-28T22:43:00.014-05:00

In the days of Saul...
Judges 15-17

This post hits close to home as I remember so many instances in my own life that just don't measure up to its message. But as I admit this, so I can assure you, friend, that we are never hopeless in the great love of Christ. Unlike old King Saul, His Spirit will never leave us, never forsake His child. So read and be sobered....and so cling to Him in gratitude.

The people wanted a king. Israel was tired of waiting in the wings -- tired of watching the others dance out on that floor. Israel wanted the spotlight and wanted to have the fairytale with the happy ending and the only way she saw this happening was with a king on her arm. And so she asked, she pleaded, she begged for what she wanted. She pouted, turning up her lip and crossing her arms. If only she could have her king...then she would make her Father happy. She would do Him proud -- this she swore. And so after much avail from his sulking daughter, her Father gave her exactly what she wanted. A king.

His name was Saul.

"Now there was a man of Benjamin whose name was Kish the son of Abiel, the son of Zeror, the son of Becorath, the son of Aphiah, the son of a Benjamite, a mighty man of valor.

He had a son whose name was Saul, a choice and handsome man, and there was not a more handsome person than he among the sons of Israel; from his shoulders and up he was taller than any of the people."

His very name meant "desire," and desired he was! The people would not have chosen any other to bear them into battle. He was their Mr. Mediterranean. He seemed the most logical choice, the most natural choice even from a line that included its very own mighty man of valor. I'm sure Israel was relieved to find her king so attractive, so charming and obviously capable. I'm sure that deep down she was a little worried that Daddy wouldn't pick someone quite to her liking -- He sometimes has a way of doing that. But this time her Father had delivered exactly what she had asked for right into her arms. And it seemed that the fairytale would indeed come true as she nodded in approval if not in that teenage sense of "I told you so."

And so Saul and Israel had their dance.

It began as a beautiful dance. It began with all the magic and splendor anyone could ask for. Shouts of joy were heard in the streets. Songs of praise to God were stirred in the hearts of the people. Finally their deliverance was at hand. Finally they, too, would get theirs and not be ashamed among the neighbors. Israel could hold her head high -- at last she had what everyone else did. God had finally blessed her!

And Saul had great expectations. Though he began a little self-conscious, soon he got all that under control and embraced his new status. The power was heady -- he could command whatever he wanted! He could get used to this seat and living as God's anointed. In fact, it seemed he could do no wrong.

And before long, obedience to God hesitated at the line of his discomfort.
His agenda became paramount in his own mind.
His timeline became priority.
He began to believe his own press. Play by his own rules. After awhile he began to assume that God was on board with what he wanted. This was his kingdom to conquer, his destiny to fulfill.

And the Father waited just one more moment until the clock struck midnight and enough was enough...and the dance was over.

Are you there, friend? Living a life of your own agenda that you assume is blessed by the Father, I mean, after all you are His child. Or Are you there on your knees every night, begging Him for that one thing that would truly make you happy? Lessen your shame? Boost your confidence in the face of others? Oh, how you would love just a little respect. So why doesn't He understand? If He is your loving Father, why wouldn't He give you what you know could make you happy? And you promise, oh how you promise that if He will give it...well, you will just honor Him with it all the days of your life and forever, amen.

Oh, I know exactly that feeling. The nagging that keeps you up at night or home all day. The everyday routine that seems so monotonous that it truly nothing can cheer you up. You look up a the sunny sky with tears in your eyes. The birds' song mocks your discontentment. Nothing, no nothing will satisfy.

I've been there...

...And so trust me in this: the moment that dream is realized will also be the beginning of the nightmare you awake in.

After his little binge of the me-party, Saul experienced the true nature of his own agenda: envy, rage, despair...the full gamut of a race run in his own might. When we fight tooth and nail with our loving Father He will often in His mercy show us just why our own desires aren't what will satisfy us. We will spend days, sometimes years living in the very lap of whatever god we choose to crush on. And then one day we will realize that we have played the part of the Jerk, clinging to a chair and an ashtray...and some matches...that we vowed we could never live without. We have chosen to wear ourselves out on some stubborn quest of nothing but junk.

No, the days of Saul are not for us, child of God. Our days are reserved for a perfect Creator who formed us and knows us so intimately that we cannot evade His gaze. He understands our need for fulfillment. For love. For peace. But He also holds time in His hand and keeps each movement of the planet in sync as we sleep. Trust Him. Give Him your days right now and rest in the promise that He will complete what He began in you.

He is your King, dear one. Take His arm and dance the dance with Him...only Him.

2011-02-21T01:13:00.014-05:00

In the days of the Philistines...
(Judges 13-15)

A friend of mine has a son in a school where bullies rule. It's true; she does. Her son has to go into his classroom every day and determine not to allow them to trample him.

The teacher doesn't do much -- evidently it's just too much to confront the parents of the bullies.

The principal does even less. It seems school politics may be playing a role in the situation.

My friend and her husband have done all they can at this point, short of removing their son from the school. They have talked to principal and teacher until they are blue in the face. They have encouraged their son to stand his ground. To know his strengths. To never cower in fear because that's what the bully feeds off of. I think they've done a remarkable job.

But you know what? When it comes down to it, the choice is their son's.

The Philistines played the bully in Israel's plight for decades. Time and again they tried to take over their neighbors to the east, threatening them, insulting them, seducing them. In fact, Israel had been in the palm of a Philistine hand for 40 years before a man named Manoah found out he was having a son. Now, God allowed it. God filters every event that affects the life of His children. But He also equips us for each occasion, and little did they know He would equip their nation with the child Manoah's wife carried (Judges 13:5). That child's name was Samson.

Samson grew into a man with unequaled strength. You probably knew that. But Samson was also set apart for God's plan to avenge His people, Israel. Samson had a purpose. Samson's strength was not an arbitrary thing, given him by a fickle god. Samson was mighty because his God made him so.

And so are we.

Living in the days of the Philistines, friend? Have an old enemy that you once battled but now just live in the shadows of? Still feel those old chains? Yep, the old man we once were can turn into the bully of our souls if we let him.

"You could never amount to anything," he tells us. "I was there. Remember what you did?" He says as he fastens the lock. "Remember who you used to be?" "You might as well stay in hiding. You're just lucky to have escaped damnation."

And sometimes in a slow, grievous whisper, "Maybe you aren't even forgiven. I can't believe a holy God could forgive you for that."

In fact, we can grow so accustomed to his voice that we begin to believe his lies. In our minds our past can grow into a giant too large to oppose. Too strong to overcome. Our arms feel weak under the shackles and we hang our head in defeat.

Just remember: "With God all things are possible."

Your Savior has already overcome that old nature, friend. And just like the old schoolhouse bully, sometimes all it takes is letting him know who's boss. Jesus Christ is our advocate. He also saw the worst, the big, bad and the ugly of our past and He took us anyway. He loves and forgives (forever). He did all that needed to be done for our criminal record to "go away" for good. There's not a past in existence too wicked for His payment to cover. As far as the east is from the west He removed the shame. He removed those powerful bonds with His blood on that cross. By His stripes we are brought peace. By His wounds we are healed.

But it's your choice today. You can live in fear of the bully or you can own your identity in Christ. He has empowered you for His plan, just like Samson of old.

When he came to Lehi, the Philistines shouted as they met him. And the Spirit of the LORD came upon him mightily so that the ropes that were on his arms were as flax that is burned with fire, and his bonds dropped from his hands. He found a fresh jawbone of a donkey, so he reached out and took it and killed a thousand men with it...

Judges 15 says that in the midst of his capture, the Spirit of the Lord came upon Samson. As the bonds were broken and fell from him, he looked down to see the jawbone of a donkey -- a jawbone for such a time as this. He took it up and killed 1000 of those who had bullied Israel for 40 long years. 1000 of those who had burned up his own bride. 1000 who attempted to take his life, his manhood, his identity as a child of the Almighty. And after it was over, after the enemy was sent home with his tail between his legs, he recognized the One who deserved the credit for every bit of the victory; every bit of the freedom that was his.

So...Take up your jawbone today. God has equipped you for LIFE and His banner waves over you in love. You aren't meant to live in timidity. You aren't meant to live a life in hiding or shame, fearing the bully of your past. Your God has already won the battle for your soul.

Now call on Him, live it out, and give Him the credit He is surely due.

2011-02-21T00:42:00.005-05:00

After a weekend like this one, this is good news:

"For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known."

It's just been stressful, you know? Not "bad stress," necessarily. Although I don't know that there's much difference. Stress has a way of draining you, wearing you out. Wringing you out til you're dry as a bone. "I'm not any good for anything today," I wanted to say to folks this morning. No good at all.

Because guilt sets in, right after the stress of stress, doesn't it? Compounds the problem. We have talks with ourselves in the mirror (actually I do not participate in this practice but I know at least one person who does -- for real -- I KNOW). We cringe at our thoughts. We contemplate taking the fish off of our car because of it (road rage) or giving or t-shirt away to someone more godly. We realize one little bout with the stressor has caused us to cave in a way most disappointing. We react to stress and we are not proud of the reaction(s): Worry? Anger? A word? A few words?

Inconsideration?
Stubbornness?

Doubt?
Despair?

I was thinking about it today because, quite frankly, I am not happy with the way I handled my stress this weekend. I allowed it to eat my lunch. And my breakfast and a lite snack. At first I stacked up the relatively harmless stressors of this weekend with past Big Bad Stressors and thought that may do the trick for future reference.

But then, like a little bonus from my Father, I thought of this verse and that very stress caused me to praise God. Read it again.

One day, my friend. One day there will be NO stress. We won't see things with these old blinded, feeble eyes. Yes, I can ask God for clarity any time I choose, but the problem is I don't choose often enough because I don't even realize I'm not seeing clearly. I tend to think the fuzzy edges are normal and the dark smudges are actually there. I tend to think this tizzy I am in is reality.

But one day, it will all be wiped away. One day I will see it all in the broad display of truth, and the only blindness will be from the light of the One who lights up the heavens.

One day I will SEE. And you will too.
And stress won't even be in the picture because His brilliance will drown it all out forever.

Bless His name. Don't you just love Him so much?

2011-02-14T00:29:00.008-05:00

(An Aside)

I know I said the Philistines were next but this couldn't wait...

I used to be afraid to post anything on here. In fact, I used to be afraid to share anything God taught me. I was afraid I'd get it wrong. I was afraid I'd reduce His amazing, miraculous, powerful truth to some confusing drivel and I couldn't stand the thought of dishonoring Him that way.

You see, we all make mistakes. We all speak on occasion before we've thought it through (enough ;) We've all grabbed hold of an idea and run with it before we really understood the implications. Heck, we've all talked about things when we didn't know what we were talking about. I was afraid to do something like that. I was afraid I might actually convince somebody I was right.

But over the past few years I have been encouraged to cautiously speak on what He has taught me. You know, to encourage. To exhort. Maybe to share something that might cause you to be curious or excited or remember your own story. I wish we could consort, friend. I would love to sit and reason together. I think that would be much better than typing this on a little screen that hopefully you might read. Because I know I can be unclear. I understand I can make statements too haphazardly. I'm not the best communicator at times.

So what would be a good general rule? I mean, either I refrain from any more posts or I have to have some guideline, right? To make sure things are in order. And you do, too. In your position wherever you teach, wherever you mentor or minister, you have the same responsibility. Wherever you influence people, this same obligation falls into your lap. God loves His people. He gives us opportunity to challenge them and to engage them. He gives us just a moment in their life to speak something beneficial. It's an honor to do that for people He chose to die for. And so this post comes on the heels of such an occasion...

Ok, Here it is:
My truth should never come before His TRUTH.
And here's what I mean by that:
We all have the urge to tell someone what we've learned. Through our eyes. Through the pane of our experience. We want them to see it the way we did. To feel it the same we we felt it. But the thing is, if we compromise any part of His message, it's null and void. It's trash.

It doesn't matter if "it means so much to us." It doesn't matter if "it was life-changing." If we have to skew the angle on His truth to allow someone else to understand "where we're coming from," it stinks and it needs to be thrown out.

Attempting to communicate truth by framing it in any way that takes away from the core of it is wrong. Likening a truth to something we feel would be more easily understood should be used with caution. Making apples, oranges and vice versa isn't called for. Squeezing a verse reference into a place it doesn't belong is pretty brazen. God doesn't need us to water His words down, smooth them over or sugar them up to make them more palatable.

I think that just makes Him want to vomit, to be honest.

If you've been there, you know what I'm talking about. If you've been on the receiving end, I'm sorry. If you haven't, tune in next time for something that might make more sense to you.

I can't really explain this any better.
Just be careful, friends. From one jar to another.

"¹ Therefore, since through God’s mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart. ² Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to everyone’s conscience in the sight of God. ³ And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. ⁴ The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. ⁵ For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. ⁶ For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,”made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. ⁷ But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us..."

2 Corinthians 4:1-7

2011-02-09T19:37:00.012-05:00

"These are the days..."

That was one of my favorite songs, back in the day. Still is. In 1992 the song peaked Billboard's Hot 100 for 68 weeks. And I think I listened to it every day for all 68.

"These are the days
you'll remember..."

Sure, it was a great anthem for all that is incredibly awkward and adolescent. It reminded us that through everything we were stumbling through in our over-sized teenage feet, these were, in fact, days to remember. It was the message that one day we would look back at those messy years and they would be all glowy in fuzzy-edged nostalgia like an episode of "The Wonder Years." I liked thinking that. And I also liked humming that song over and over and over...

But guess what, friend? These ARE the days.

Right now. Right where you are.

I've been thinking about these four little words, "In the days of..." a lot. There are a lot of places that they occur, all joined together like a chorus just before stuff happened in the Bible. I thought I'd go through some of those and see what the days we now see as legendary and victorious were really like for the people living them. Because sometimes, just like back in '92, I need to be reminded that the struggles I'm facing are somehow part of what will one day be linked together in awesomeness.

In the days of Shamgar son of Anath
(Judges 3-5)
^{(5) 6} “In the days of Shamgar son of Anath,
in the days of Jael, the highways were abandoned;
travelers took to winding paths.
⁷ Villagers in Israel would not fight;
they held back..."

Those were the days... of destruction and plunder. Of being skeerd. They were days the average Hebrew avoided the interstate in favor of a dirt road or seven. Roundabout was all the rage because the nobody in their right mind would place themselves toe to toe with the power that overshadowed their hometown and brought terror into their lives. It was just too big. It was just too much to handle.

Sound familiar?

I don't know about you (well, I kind of do) but I have faced something a little like that before. Maybe not in a Canaanite back ally, but on the road I travel. It had been a safe road, a settled road, a boring road, even. And then my journey took a turn for the worse and I stood toe to toe with THE EVIL. THE UNIMAGINABLE. THE NIGHTMARE. A shadow was cast over my days and I stood shaking in fear, unable to lift my face, much less my fist. I think what happens so often to us is, we just aren't prepared for THAT. And so when it happens we panic. At least that's what I did.

But not ShamWOW.

^"After Ehud came Shamgar son of Anath, who struck down six hundred Philistines with an oxgoad.
He too saved Israel."

Nope, this guy had had enough. After seeing the big bully in all is nastiness, he proceeded to take up a very intimidating stand-by, the "ox goad," and take out about 600 of those jokers. What in the world possessed him to do it?

Almighty God.

Our God.

This is the deal. Shamgar had obviously grown tired of seeing his friends and family terrorized and robbed. He was sick of living in defeat and dread. He knew he didn't belong in that place. He probably remembered some old cowboy stories of God-fearing heroes who had crossed deserts and stood before parted seas and took on big ugly kings who fed off of the fear of his people. Standing in the sun that day, goading his oxen, he probably saw the cliff above dotted with the smelly heads of his foes.He heard a whistle in the wind and gripped that stick a little tighter in his hand, jostled it, felt its weight. He probably squinted up into the sun as a tumbleweed rolled by his feet. And then he decided.

And he won.

So what have we here. Threatened today, friend? Living in fear? Avoiding THE PROBLEM? Panicking your brains out? Well, from one wannabeShamWOW to another: Stop it.

The God you serve isn't bullied by your bully. He is not daunted by this turn at the corner of Terrified and Confused. He has a way. It may be an ox goad. It may be a sling. It may be a tent peg in the hand of a very ticked off lady (check it out). But rest assured: You can trust Him.

No child of God is any longer a victim of the enemy. Hear the whistle in the wind and lift up your head.
'Cause if you don't you'll miss the whole thing.

“So may all your enemies perish, LORD!
But may all who love you be like the sun
when it rises in its strength.”

-- Judges 5:31

In the days of the Philistines...
(Judges 15)

That's what's next :)

2011-02-06T23:44:00.003-05:00

I am now a Twit.

Follow me: @chandacanup

I'll follow you back :)

2011-02-03T21:21:00.003-05:00

Look for Me.

Look for me in the crispness of morning air;
Morning air has a stillness to it,
Like the stillness of My voice
Before the roar of day's rushes.
I will call you in the dewdrops;
they will remind you of My faithfulness.

Look for Me.

Look for Me when the sunlight blinds you
Remember old Saul, blinded by My glory.
You are like him, called by My grace
Each one of My children,
I call you as Shepherd.
I love My little lambs,
I give them each a new name:
I call them Mine.

Look for Me.

Look for me in the trials
Look for My face in your struggle.
There is nothing so terrible that I cannot bear you up;
there is nothing so frightening that I would be unable
to take your fears,
your deepest terrors,
and wrap them in My comfort.
I am your Deliverer,
and I will never give you up.

Look for Me.

Look for Me when you are filled with such laughter
that your insides ache from squeezing.
Look for My face in the faces
of love around you.
Joy is cherished in the midst of friends;
and is planted in the garden of our memories.
This is My blessing on your forehead
and My kiss on your cheek.

Look for Me.

Look for Me in all your toil
all your spinning, in much weariness.
Wipe your brow and think of Me
in My travels here on earth--
Dust clinging to my sweat,
sweat that turned to blood
as I thought of My sacrifice.
I did it all for you.

Look for Me.

Look for My voice in thoughts that inspire you,
Find My fingerprint on the pages.
as you turn them, ask Me to speak:
I am waiting by the doorpost
I am no stranger to your closet--
Enter consciously as you pray here,
For you are entering my throne room.
I will graciously let down My scepter;
for you, I would give My kingdom.
You are my shining star.

Look for Me.

Look for Me as you silently ponder
all the doings, all the workings, all the goings.
Don't forget to look for My hand
always at work around you.
I have a purpose for you;
Your fulfillment is in Me.

Know that when your eyes close finally each night
No longer watching,
My watch is still over you.
My angels sing over you,
My beautiful treasure; I find satisfaction
As I look at you arrayed in silver--
I paint moonbeams around you,
Beautiful child.

For I am enmeshed in the courses of your life...
And I will never look away from you.

You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.

-Jeremiah 29:13

2011-01-30T21:32:00.006-05:00

The deal is: I tend to be a nose to the grindstone type. Put your head down. Work through it. And if you're like me, you understand. It's this mind-set of I'vegotallI'mgonnagetIbetterjusthangonaslongasIcanevenifitkillsme.

I could give you some examples of this painful way of dealing with life. Sometimes we get labeled as "stubborn." And yes, that is true in many ways...but the deeper problem is that people who live this way truthfully don't see a better and brighter future. We hang on to whatever the situation is that we find ourselves in not because we particularly love the place we are but because we are afraid that whatever is "out there" could be worse. Fear of the unknown. And beyond that, fear of how would we deal with the unknown. Because, of course, we are very good at dealing with this, as cruddy as it may be. At least we know this brand of crud.

So, what's the problem?

The problem is, I don't believe God wants us putting our head down and bearing the crud out forever.

The truth is, my world's been rocked. I've seen things these past couple of years that I didn't think were possible. I've been pushed to the edge of dealing with crud I have tolerated far too long. There are things I thought I had "handled" that God quickly showed me were in fact NOT handled and were sucking the life out of me. "Decision time," He said in that God way. "Do you really want this in your life?" And the amazing miracle of it was, when I listened to Him, when I finally let go of what I thought I controlled and put it in His hands, I began to see it with His perspective. That 1. It was, indeed, cruddy 2. It was not His will for my life 3. He is mighty to handle what I cannot.

You saw it, right? The key was, deciding that no, I cannot handle it well. That the fact is, I can't handle it at all. And I distinctly remember saying to myself at that crucial point that no matter what He does with my life, anything is better than living in this mess.

That's when it began to change.

No, it's not all sunshine and roses now, but this is what I want to say to you:

Friend who is where I was, holding on to the cruddy place you do not belong in:
Stop it. Let go of it. For one minute, give it to the God who loves you. Trust Him for one day to tell you the truth about that situation. And then fight everything in you, including that little voice that says you are safer when you are in control (she's a liar), and pry open those fingers and leave it in His hands. Give Him a week or two. I don't care; give Him one DAY with that thing. Here's what I know: My God will prove it to you that He is the One who should be holding it all. Trust where He takes you. It will be WAY better, no matter how hard that is to believe.

Friend who knows someone else who is where I was:
Tell her. Bug her, text her, phone her...don't leave her alone. She is wasting her life, throwing her freedom out the door, living in bondage she doesn't belong in. Tell her the truth about her crud. Tell her the truth about the God you know is waiting for her to give it over. Do it. Just do it. It was people like you that were my lifeline when I was too blinded to see the way myself.

Psalm 24 talks about this idea:

7Lift up your heads, O you gates;
be lifted up, you ancient doors,
that the King of glory may come in.
8Who is this King of glory?
The Lord strong and mighty,
the Lord mighty in battle.
9Lift up your heads, O you gates;
lift them up, you ancient doors,
that the King of glory may come in.
10Who is he, this King of glory?
The Lord Almighty—
he is the King of glory.

The gate of our city -- the place where authority enters in. Will we give it over to this "King of Glory?" The answer lies in whether or not we really believe those words.

Lift up your head, child of God. No more nose to the grindstone. He died and rose again to bring you a better way.

Give to the wind your fear
Hope and be undismayed
God hears your sighs and counts your tears
God will lift up, God will lift up, lift up your head...

--Jars of Clay

2011-01-16T16:09:00.007-05:00

(BTW, for those of you who have stuck with me and are waiting for me to continue Part II of "Face in the Crowd"...I will. In the meantime, love me and embrace my slackness :)

Okay, here's the deal.

We all want to know God, right? In fact, my church is doing a whole series on who God is and I know we're doing that to address a question common to us all. It's one of the built-ins, right up there with "do I have a soul mate" and "how many licks to get to the center of a tootsie roll tootsie pop." Lots of people think they have the answer to who God is. I could name a whole list of them...and you could, too. But in the deep dark down inside, you are wondering if they really have the corner on the market they claim to have. Guess what? They don't.

This is what I really really really believe: God reveals Himself to each of us so personally that we aren't meant to take another person's word for it. He wants each of us to know Him -- to really KNOW Him. That's why when we hear someone talk about their relationship with God, we get a longing that's indescribable. That's why when we find out God spoke to someone, we sit in awe as we read what He reportedly said to them -- how could that feel, to actually hear Him? That's why when we're in bed at night -- just an ordinary night -- we suddenly feel the urge to whisper to Him in the darkness. You see, what we consider our reaching out to Him actually begins somewhere deep inside -- with Him reaching out to us, waking us up to the reality that He is.

I know what you're thinking. How can anyone know God? And maybe some of you are tacking on, if He is even real. In either case, this is the beginning of the answer that comes back to us -- another built-in, I am sure of it. The first thing I have to address is who am I? Underneath the skin, behind the eyeliner, before the morning shave (hey, I'm making this gender-neutral) Who am I really? The stuff I admit before the world -- that's easy. The stuff I share openly and the things I put down on my facebook profile...mmmm, let's leave that out. Let's really talk about the blood and guts.

It's easy for me to write this. I don't know you and I don't have to see the shock (!) on your face as I admit I am not perfect. I'm not even innately good. But to be honest, this little post here is a reflection on years of not REALLY admitting the not-goodness to myself. It's the idea that I give myself the little white lie excuses, you know? The ones that make me feel better when I do something or think something or say something really not good. It's my little pat on the back of "no one else would do differently." It makes the gritty stuff easier to swallow. But the truth is, those things that I am least proud of are as much Chanda as the rest. And another truth is, I have to face them, all of them, to really stop for a minute and consider who God is because if I don't, my view is blocked. The reason I feel wrong and yucky about the things I consider doing or what I find myself willing to be at times is because I long deep down for something that is the opposite of those things. For something wonderful and whole and perfect. For something gooder than the good I know x10.

God.

God is the only One who fits that bill. I know at least that much. He is all of those things I want so much to be....and He is beyond that, even. The crazy thing is, while He is so infinitely awesome, all the while He sees me -- the real me, remember -- and He loves that person. And He loves me so much that He wants me to be like Him. Because He knows that reflecting something so beautiful is truly what I want more than anything else.

He's set on bringing me there, friends. Why else would He speak this to me so loudly that as I look in the mirror I sense Him saying, "I know....and I love you." But the first step for me is to really own up to the person I see in there and what needs to change.

Paul said that he counted it ALL -- I'm convinced he would have thrown in "The American Dream" -- loss for the sake of knowing Him. I'm in. Let's go.

January

2011-01-06T09:28:00.004-05:00

Wow, it's been a while since I posted. I think since the school year kicked in full-swing. ~~I haven't had time to sit down to type~~ ~~I haven't had a lot to write about~~ I just haven't done it. So much else to do.

You know?

The truth is, I HAVE been thinking, but my mind is so easily distracted by the stuff that I forget what it was that had caught my attention. The things that matter get swept aside by the lunch menu or my new show addiction or a shopping catalogue. And those things stretch out into the future for what seems like forever...there is no end to them. And endless stream of nothing. And today I'm tired of it and I want to remember that I am tired of it. It really has nothing to do with the "New Year," to be honest. It has to do with who I've become and what I don't like about her. And why she's not really me, anyway.

Jesus was always talking about this very thing. Not in these words, exactly -- there weren't really lunch menus or catalogues back in the day -- but He was always trying to get the people He cared about to shift their focus off of what doesn't matter. It's incredible how hard it is to really do this. Try for just a minute to clear your head and then fill it up with just one thing that matters. Keep thinking about that one thing -- really focus. Now. See? Didn't something try to distract you? Some stupid something that you actually care nothing about?

Like what I'm going to wear this weekend.
What was it I wanted to watch today?
What store I "needed" to visit.
Where my other chapstick is.
Why my neighbor won't rake up the leaves.
What that thing is under the table.
How will I get that stain out?
Maybe I should cut my hair.
Do these jeans look good on me or not?
What time will the UPS truck come?
How many doughnuts are left.

It's like a rush of brain freezing mush, always pushing its way in. And today I'm sick of it.

The truth is, even my goals are dumb most of the time. I need to have X amount of money to do Y. Why? I don't REALLY know because I don't even REALLY know how it will turn out. Maybe when Y gets here, and I finally get to do it, it will be ridiculous and a complete waste of time. Will it be fulfilling? Will it count in 50 years? 20 years? 2?

So why am I so consumed with it?

What about I need to get A done so that I can move on to B.

Why?

What is so important about B that I am now spending all my spare time investing in A? Why am I so worried I won't get A done? Is B really worth all this?

I'm asking you, as I ask myself: When was the last time I really prayed about X, Y, A, or B? When was the go-ahead from God revealed to me? Because, doesn't He know how it will all turn out? Isn't He the one who has seen my life, from start to finish? Doesn't He know every inward part, what makes me tick, what really counts?

Like I said, this person who thinks about fluff isn't me -- and He knows it. Today I'm agreeing with Him...so what will I do about it?

"What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met."

Matthew 6:31-33 (The Message)

A Face in the Crowd

2010-09-16T11:42:00.001-04:00

We had traveled for days.

Early in the morning, before the sun's first rays struck out over our surroundings, I would come to consciousness. Before the light revealed exactly where we had been sleeping all night, I would lay there in the stillness, listening to my breath. I would keep my eyes closed. I would try very hard to feel something under my skin, something that told me this was the day. This was it. And I would silently pray to the god of the desperate, to the god of answers to help us. To help her.

And then my pulse would quicken as I slid my eyelids open, as I watched for a sign, a sigh. A motion in her sleep. Something to tell me my baby sister was still alive.

I remember the day before our journey. Our neighbor, Namun, had crossed the street at a frantic pace, a small stone flying through the air as he kicked it aside. I watched from my window, wondering what was so urgent. What could matter that much. Hardly within my door, his face flushed and sweaty, he drew in a breath before telling me his news: There was a hope. There might be a chance. Nodding discreetly toward her, sitting, hands busy as always, his eyes bore into mine. Crossing over to me, he put his hands on my bent shoulders. "Jonah," he insisted. "We must go to him."

Now I lay in the darkness of the final morning, counting the stars still visible in the sky. We had arrived. This was the town, that much we were sure of. I could make out huddled masses all around me, shrouded in shadow, and in the damp air I could see warmth rising from them. Twenty-five or so, that was the party we traveled with, though I was sure we had seen larger groups in the days before. All of us, vying for just one second, one moment of a miracle. Hope had tied our lives together on this strange journey. As I saw the final star fade into the sunrise and heard my sister stir, tears sprang from my eyes for the first time in months. I rolled to my side, frustrated, and pushed myself up. Pushed my tears away. I could not afford to do this again.

Namun returned just after I had unrolled the last of our bread. "He's about a mile from here -- I just overheard. Someone has seen him and come back to bring word to another family. We must go quickly." I could already sense anticipation rising from the crowd. A bird called overhead and I turned to look at Lizzy -- that's what I called her. But something on the ground suddenly drew her attention and she did not raise her head to me. Would not raise her head to me. That's it, then. She had already given up. I sat for a moment, then made my decision.

"We are ready." My voice cracked as I said it. Bending down, I handed half of the bread to my sister and rose with the other piece in my hand, my stomach suddenly cold as a stone. I drew her cloak around thin shoulders, the cloth puddling across whithered legs. I laid my hand on her head, the way I did when she was a baby. And without a sound she stood, hollow eyes following mine as I turned to Namun. Squinting in the face of sunrise I heard myself talking. I sounded like an older man, a man who knew more. A man who was convinced. "Just a moment and then we will go."

We did go. We left the group just as others were beginning to, the word that he was so close now drifting through those we had traveled with. We walked that last dusty mile mostly in silence, bent on what we hoped for and what we were afraid to even utter. Complete healing seemed out of the picture, but still...I pressed the doubt from my mind and drove myself on toward this one last, far-fetched idea. I didn't really know what to expect from him. I didn't really know what I thought would happen. But then again, I must have had some idea in mind because I was surprised when I first saw him.

He was just standing under a tree, smiling at someone he must have known. He was laughing and I wondered what he would find funny. I watched the others, now gathering from all sides and began to think this was surely a mistake. This man who laughed, surrounded by what was already becoming a hundred people. And for what? Really, whatt was special here? Why should we all believe this person could really matter? I looked again at him, suspicious of his typical stature. I had expected someone taller or darker, I guess. Someone who stood with substance to his frame -- maybe someone who spoke in crashing monologue. I watched his features transform over an ordinary face as he laughed again. His teeth and hair, nose and eyes. He bent to smile into the eyes of a child. No, nothing special, I repeated again to myself. I sighed, impatient. I kicked the dirt. Why are we here?

But then I caught a glimpse of Lizzy, standing there at my side, also transfixed in this strange circumstance. Her eyes were not on a single soul that moved around her, that jostled her, that called loudly to him, that wept a prayer. No, her eyes held a determined gaze over his hands as they moved at his side, as they rose above his head in gesture, as they pulled another to his side. His hands, I realized, that is what is drawing some hope from her. And as more piled in and made up a loose fringe of humanity surrounding this ordinary man, I looked at them again. Those hands. Maybe I could believe those hands were special. I would, I promised in silence, at least for this day, believe they might change things.

And so we waited for the long line ahead of us to make their way to him, allowing those hands to fall on them. Too many people, too many to possibly remember, I thought. I wondered what it was like for him as we stood in the stale, heavy air and waited. I wondered what it was like, looking upon countless faces, listening to countless stories, holding countless hands. What could he have really absorbed from it all? How could he recall anything at the end of this trail of suffering? I watched as he placed his hands upon each one and tried to see some difference in them afterwards. Many stood in silence, watching him with the others. Some embraced. Some went their own way. I wondered what I would do after this man place his hand upon my sister, the dearest person in my world. I wondered if I would thank him. If I would hold her, feeling strength coursing through.

Or if I would feel like punching him in the nose for making fools out of us...

First, do no harm

2010-09-01T16:13:00.006-04:00

"Have mercy on me, my friends,
have mercy..."

--Job 19:21

Every once in a while, we go through it.

Usually it's unexpected, though at times we sense its approach. Sometimes we're surrounded by others when it happens; sometimes we are completely alone. The dreaded phone call. The terrible accident. The crisis that settles over us like a storm cloud. We are caught up in the wind of disaster just like that, and suddenly our life is being torn apart at the seams...

What comes next depends. It depends on who we are, what life has taught us to be. Some of us reach for the phone. Others wait to be called on. Some wrestle with who to turn to, others know just like that. But either way, most of us will eventually crawl out of the mayhem, if only for a moment, and seek out another individual. We will tell ourselves that this might help, that this person may be willing to wade into our hurt for a few minutes and do something we call "being there." This is important to us, this shared grief. We need someone to remind us we are not crazy or freakish, that we are not going to go down the drain, that we are not ALONE. That our hurt matters. That our hand can be seen and it will be held.

And now let's turn the tables. Now we are seated in the other spot, looking across to the wounded friend. To the abandoned wife. To the cancer patient. To the broken family. Now we are faced with what to do, what to say, what to be. Let's say we are no longer the victim -- now we are the person at the other end of the phone line. We are the face of "help." We are the hand holding onto the one that is losing everything. We are shocked as we watch the sands of prosperity and blessing flow out of her grasp and we wonder how this could happen. To her. Secretly we are terrified we may be next. There must be some dynamic at work in that life. There must be a reason that would disqualify us. We steal a glance or two and wonder if that's really true. And though we feel incredibly guilty, we hope it is.

And so it will take a lot for us, living in this humanity, to have mercy.

Because mercy says, "I will be there with you." Not from across the table. Not behind a wall of judgement. Because it looks at another -- the one in distress -- and realizes we could be there just as easily -- no, really, we could. It accounts for the love of God that trumps our inadequacies. It brings healing. It refuses to judge the heart of another. It refuses to shut their problems out. Mercy doesn't allow us to be disqualified from a life. It doesn't allow us to see another as inferior. Mercy shoves us into the middle of what is, and into the middle of what God is about to do. Mercy remind us of what He has done for us.

Doctors take the Hippocratic Oath before they begin the practice of medicine. Although they intend to perform surgeries or give shots or clean wounds or bind brokenness, they take an oath in which they promise to "First, do no harm." Though their actions may cause some pain, each one will be taken with deliberation to bring healing. Nothing will be done to bring more injury. No patient will be ignored and left to suffer on his own.

Is mercy calling me into the midst of what God is about to do? Is it calling me to something higher, something better than myself? Is it the first breath of healing over a life? Is it the beginning of a miracle? Job's friends missed out. They chose to judge and condemn their friend when times got tough. They chose to see him as "other" and sit at a distance of suspicion. They chose the comfortable position..... And they missed the miracle. They missed the celebration. They missed being used.

Will I be different?

Or will I listen to self, pack up my blessings, and safely walk away.

Who we are, instead

2010-08-24T17:37:00.010-04:00

It's funny because it's true. And the church that made this video made it for their own body, to be challenged by it. I think that's awesome.

I think it's awesome because it targets the "formula." I think it's awesome because it targets the "coolness factor." It's great because it reminds me what is important about my church...and yours. Who we are. What we need to be doing -- really.

We need to be loving each other. Deeply.

See, this is the deal: our history as one Body is etched with heartache. We have a track record with each other that boasts division, frustration and competition. We have existed as a broken family does, living in distrust and separation and a lack of loyalty. Not necessarily within our own buildings in our own denominations and styles of worship. But as a whole Body (the Bride of Christ -- the one He gave His life's blood for).

I can't even recount how many times I've heard a church criticized for its worship style. For its pastor's speaking ability. For the way people dress there or the songs that are sung. For not being "contemporary" or "relevant" enough. For not having that mysterious "seeker-friendly" dynamic. I can't tell you how many times I've heard a local body judged by their size or their particular building or their worship leader's hairdo. It's become a common thing for us to find our little division within a community where we can feel at home, safe from what "they" do. Safe to belong to our own brand of Christianity. Safe in our separateness.

I'm not saying that there aren't false teachings out there. I'm not saying we should be aware of what isn't Scriptural. I'm not saying standing up for truth won't cause some division at times. But I am saying that God doesn't have a denomination, and a word spoken in His name based on Christ's redeeming work on the cross should met with open ears and an open heart, no matter the style of music. I'm saying that prayer as a united Body is power from on high. I'm saying that God's hope for us, for His beloved children, is to stand together as one, united in His name.

I'm tired of hearing people talk with disdain about other churches who don't meet their coolness standard. I'm tired of hearing others talk about how wrong it is to wear jeans on Sunday morning. I'm tired of formulas thought up at meetings around the table of competition. I'm tired of numbers and exact keys and the general lack of mercy towards each other. I'm tired of thinking of the church as what is contained within the building I go to every Sunday. How in the world can we believe that is what we are meant for as we walk this earth, filled with the Holy Spirit of the living God? How in the world would that ever impact another human being in the name of something better?

The Church is global, people. It's a miracle. It's beautiful and sacred and holy and preserved by His hand. It's certainly deserving of my love because He proclaimed it deserving of His -- unbelievable act of grace. How in the world could we think our God approves when we drag any part of it through the mud?

"And above all, love each other deeply; for love covers a multitude of sins."

I Peter 4:8-9

Is He?

2010-08-18T13:23:00.005-04:00

"Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good.
His love endures forever."

Psalm 136:1

So...do you believe it?

I don't really think the Sunday School answer is appropriate here. And I'm asking because I think that's where our God is headed with us. I think that's what He's about in our lives and in the lives reaching across every surface of our world. I'm asking because it's what will determine our next step. I'm asking because it's what seals the deal on relationship -- even the one with the Creator. No matter what others claim or what we speak in public, what counts is what's wedged within us. Do we believe He is really good? Do we believe His love endures...forever?

I've been reading a lot this summer. Lately I've been in Nehemiah and I've just gotten to the good part, the part where there's a big celebration over the understanding of God's Word. I've just gotten to the part where, like, 9 people led out a string of praise that lasts until the next chapter and ends in a promise thousands of people willingly lifted to God. Know what thread runs through the entire thing? Yes, God, You are good.

I thought about David and his journey through the cavernous places of faith. His ride on the shoulders of victory. His flaws and this unprecedented statement: He was a man after God's own heart. I thought about what a man like that would say as the book closed on his life. What was his drive? What was really hammered home? And I remembered the phrase he used so often, one that must have been his favorite: His love endures forever.

I thought about Abraham, the one who was interrupted as he gazed up at the stars one night. One who never asked for a promise that we know of, but was answered from heaven with one that shattered the future of mankind in one beautiful motion. From its bowels Salvation was whispered, and Abraham realized he was let in on a good thing. In fact, he left everything in the way of the familiar to follow this God who spoke in the stillness of night, holding to one thing: He is good.

They're all the same, really. Even Jonah, faced with the truth, relented from stubborn unbelief. This good God could only do...good. That was his final call. Job clung to the threads of the fact, even as the enemy sought to tear it from his grasp (and never could). Eve struggled against the lie that claimed it wasn't true. Rahab recognized it in the eyes of men who knew Him. This God is good. He is good. And His love endures forever.

Those people in Jerusalem celebrated with Nehemiah because they recounted the whole length of the history of their fathers and were able to see that truth shine through again and again. Through every circumstance, through every rebellion and consequence, through every united cry for mercy, through every rescue and every defeat it was there: He is good, He is good, He is good. His faithful love endures forever -- through everythingnomatterwhat. And as I am sitting here, trying to communicate something that has stirred my heart in a non-stop tumult this summer, those are the words I know He is proving to me....and to you. Through the let-downs. Through the divorce. Through the cancer. Through the poverty.

Through the misunderstandings and the depression and the addiction. Through the loneliness and the fear and the corporate ladder.

Look for Him. Ask Him to prove one thing to you. Ask Him to speak it loud and clear:

He is good. His love endures forever.