Philip Seymour Hoffman and the Struggle for Authenticity

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I was deeply saddened when I read of the passing of Philip Seymour Hoffman, one of the best character actors around. I like many of you was shocked to find out that drugs, and more specifically heroin, were the culprit for his demise.

I thought, “Why in the world would a guy as successful and talented as that need to medicate with drugs? What could possibly be so bad about his life?”

Then I read a blog or two about him that opened my eyes. I’ll do my best to simplify what I read there without plagiarizing anything or anyone.

Sometimes, character actors can lose themselves in their roles. They almost literally become the characters they’re portraying. Which is all well and good until it comes time to be yourself again.

I wonder if Philip had forgotten how to live in his own skin as himself? Or maybe he didn’t like who he was and preferred to live as someone else?

I know like so many addicts, he probably at some point chose the drug, but after a while it stopped being a choice. Unless the drug was the one who chose him.

I’m sure he hated the drug that he craved at the same time. Maybe he felt he was too far gone to save, too deep in his addiction to find a way out. Maybe he didn’t feel like he could let anyone into his battle with drugs and felt like he had to fight alone.

I’m speculating a lot here.

But I do know this. Jesus came to set the captives free.

He came for the addict. He came for the self-abuser. He came for those who don’t like what they see in the mirror and who don’t like themselves very much.

I’m not going to speculate as to whether Mr. Hoffman knew Jesus or not. Many believers get just as caught up in addictions and have just as many character flaws as anyone else.

I will say that God is close to the broken-hearted and those who are crushed in spirit. He’s near to those who cry out of desperation and deep need.

If you’re trapped in addiction, get help. Don’t fight your demons alone. And know that God is the champion of the downtrodden and distraught, the losers and underdogs, those who just can’t get their messes cleaned up or their lives figured out.

Last of all, remember that it’s only by the grace of God that it’s not you or me lying dead in a bathroom with a heroin-filled needle stuck in our arms. Only the grace of God keeps any of us alive and wakes us up in the morning.

Yeah, I still love the grace of God.

A Really Good Question

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While I was house/dog-sitting at a friend’s house, i was channel surfing. I ran across a program that was just getting started on TBN.

Normally, I avoid that channel like the plague, but the program featured Max Lucado, one of my favorite authors, so I gave it a shot. As it turns out, I did indeed choose wisely.

Max spoke on Joseph of Old Testament fame losing everything he had– possessions, family, reputation, freedom. He was literally looking up from the lowest point in his life at one point.

Then Max asked a profound question: “What do you still have that you cannot lose?”

Maybe you’ve lost your health. Or a job. Maybe it was a spouse. Or a child.

Maybe you’ve lost your reputation.

Whatever it is, there’s one thing you can’t lose. Your destiny as a child of God. Because God looked down on you at your very worst and said, “I choose that one. I want him. I have great plans for her.”

Your identity isn’t lost when you lose everything. You are still God’s. He still loves you and still has your name tattooed on His hands and on His heart.

Joseph was faithful to His destiny and God rewarded him. And so he will reward you. Maybe not in this lifetime, but you can bet there is nothing you’ve lost that won’t be restored a thousandfold over.

I love how Max said that our lives aren’t the dashes between our birth-dates and death-dates. They’re more like a grain of sand on the beach of the eternity of God’s stedfast love. I like that.

Maybe I should watch TBN more often.

American Idols

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I suspect that we’re all guilty of idolatry at some point. I wish I could remember the definition of idolatry I heard earlier today, but I didn’t take very good notes so I’ve forgotten most of it.

It had something to do with us valuing anything more than God, of seeking our identity and purpose in anything other than God.

In biblical times, idolatry often meant bowing down to little tin or bronze statues. But in our time, it is much more subtle. Sometimes it’s harder to detect because it looks like normal devotion.

I wonder how many parents idolize their children. Or how many children idolize their parents. Or maybe it’s men (and women, too, I suppose) who make idols out of their careers or their spouses.

I think anytime you say that your child is your world, you’ve created an idol out of him or her. The same goes for spouses or boyfriends or girlfriends.

You can even make religion into an idol if you get caught up in following rules and rituals for their own sake rather than because it pleases Jesus.

It can be wealth or the desire for wealth. It can be sex or the desire for sex. It can be a relationship or the overwhelming desire for one. Idols are tricky like that. It’s not about an object as much as the desire in your heart.

You can make idols out of genuinely good things, like your children, your marriage, your job, your bank account . . . just about anything and anyone can be an idol if you place it above God in your heart.

How do I know so much about idolatry? Because I’ve had more than my fair share of idols. I can always tell when a relationship has become idolatrous in my life because my peace of mind gets tied to my perception of how well that relationship is going.

It’s easy to point the finger at the Israelites in the Old Testament for their propensity for idolatry. Heck, they were barely out of Egypt before they were bowing down to golden calfs. But that tendency is just as much in me as it was in them. I suspect it’s in you, too.

I think we have idols because we haven’t fully grasped how good God is, how much He’s really for us, and how much He really does love us. Or maybe we’ve just forgotten like those old Israelites did back in the day.

The best way to combat idolatry is to remember. To go back and recall how it felt when you first grasped the love of God for you. Or as the Bible puts it, “to remember your first love.”

When You Grow Up

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I’m sure you’ve been asked this inevitable question at some point in your formative years. At some point in grade school or high school or college, someone asked you this:

“So, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

There’s a few things wrong with that question.

First, some people take longer than others to find that supreme calling. Some are well past grown up and still haven’t decided what they want to be yet.

Second, the likelihood these days is that you won’t spend 30-40 years in one job at one place. You’ll more than likely have several jobs and more than a few careers. Anymore, people change jobs every 2 years and most will change careers at least once.

You are not defined by what you do for a living or how much you make at your job. No matter what society or your friends or your family tells you.

You are defined not by what you do or who you are but by Whose you are. If you belong to Jesus, that’s how you’re defined from now on.

Your identity doesn’t crumble when you get laid off or (perish the thought) fired. Your identity rests securely in the person of Jesus.

You are Forgiven, Paid For, Forgiven, Child of God, and (my personal favorite) Beloved. You could probably think of a few more names associated with being in Christ.

So on those nights when you don’t feel particularly special or like you matter, remember Jesus paid the ultimate price for you because He believed that you were worth it.

Thoughts from Deuteronomy

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I heard this from a pastor once: most people have every intention of reading through the Bible. Every intention.

They start off well, because Genesis has a good bit of action and intrigue and drama. Sort of Downton Abbey meets Ben-Hur. You get to see the story of God’s people unfolding and see where everything got its start.

Exodus is doable because it continues the storyline from Genesis. There’s more than a few rules and regulations thrown in, but there’s also the drama of God’s people making their way through the desert.

Leviticus throws most people for a loop. There are a lot more rules and a lot less action. A lot of what’s here seems far from relatable and applicable. I mean, who will be sacrificing a goat any time soon?

Numbers usually is like a punch to the solar plexus and Deuteronomy generally finishes the people off that Numbers didn’t. I mean, it seems so far removed from the mercy and grace of the New Testament.

But think of it as an unfolding love story between God and His people. At first, His people need boundaries and guidelines, as we all do when we’re growing up. We need to know that sin is serious business and that every sin demands a sacrifice and blood.

It’s the same God who shows up later in the form of Jesus. I admit I don’t completely understand how the different parts of the story mesh together, but I know that they do. All the loose ends of the plot get resolved and we do live happily ever after. Just not yet.

I see how Adam and Eve blew it in the garden. I see how the children of Israel messed up with God literally from day one. But instead of looking at the could-have-beens, I see the what-will-be. Where Adam and Eve and the Israelites failed, Jesus got it right and one day soon, everything that went wrong as a result will be put right.

That sounds like a happy ending to me.

It’s 12:18 AM on a Sunday Morning

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I met a new friend today.

Well, I say that loosely. This “friend” is a canine who just so happens to be old, blind, and deaf. So it’s possible he’s still not aware of my existence, but I think he got to recognize my scent.

Dogs and cats are good like that. They are (for the most part) automatically trusting. They don’t require you jump through a lot of hoops or adhere to a slew of unwritten rules the way that people often do.

My cat Lucy remains loyal, no matter how many times I’ve accidentally stepped on her tail or let her food bowl get empty (for her, that means she can see the bottom of her bowl). She still likes to curl up in my lap and fall asleep.

I could take this post in a direction where I wonder out loud why more people aren’t like that. But then I’d be pointing a finger at me.

I could also say that I’m promising to be a better friend from now on and never give up on any of my friends, but then I’d be setting myself up for an unrealistic dream and inevitable failure.

The truth is that some friends are forever and some friends aren’t. Some will stick with you though the hard times and some won’t. Some will be blessings and some will be lessons, but each and every person God brings to your life is there for a reason.

I think it was Madea who said something like this: “Some folks are like leaves in that they change direction with every gust of wind. Some are like branches that give out when you try to put your weight on them and lean on them. Some are like roots that will be around for the duration

Or something to that effect. Madea said it a lot better than I just did.

I do believe that if you have five or more true-blue friends in your lifetime, you are truly blessed. Facebook may tell you that you can have up to 5,000 friends, but the real truth is that you will have far less who are really and truly friends in every sense of the word. The rest are just good acquaintances.

Here endeth my lesson on Sunday morning at 12:31 am.

This Is The Voice!

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First of all, I bet you just sang those words. Especially if you’ve watched NBC’s The Voice, a reality singing competition. But this blog has nothing to do with that.

Here, The Voice refers to a new translation of the Bible that I’ve chosen for my annual read through the Bible campaign. So far, I’m up to Leviticus. Not bad for me getting a late start this year.

So far, I’m vividly reminded that those pesky Israelites never quite got it right. Even from the start, they were bowing down to idols, sleeping around, and whining like my cat.

Then I’m reminded that I’m a LOT like that. I may not bow down to little wooden statues, but I do have mixed-up priorities where other things and people get put ahead of God. I may not sleep around, but I’ve harbored a few lustful thoughts in my head from time to time.

And I do complain. Maybe not always out loud, but I do get grumpy occasionally and have bad attitudes every now and then (as in every other day).

I’m also reminded that God stuck with His people through all their growing pains and bad choices and outright rebellion. He kept His word, not because they were so faithful but because He was– and still is.

Side note: I’m extremely thankful I’m not bound to offer sacrifices every time I sin. For one, I don’t keep a flock of sheep, goats, and bulls in my backyard. Also, it’s a very messy affair. All that slaughtering and sprinkling blood and burning organs grosses me out a bit.

That reminds me that 1) the cost of my sin is never cheap and 2) the price Jesus paid for my sin was way too high, more than I deserved by a long shot. I should never ever ever take my sin lightly.

I recommend that if you read through the Bible every year that you vary it up and read different translations and different styles of translations. Maybe read a word-for-word version like the NASB one year then read a looser version like the NIV the next. Or possibly even The Message.

More to come on my Bible reading progress. . .

In His Own Words

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I thought it fitting on a day set apart to celebrate the legacy of one Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I shouldn’t try to speak for him, but instead let his own words speak for themselves.

I found this excerpt of a speech he gave in accepting the Nobel Peace award in 1964. I hope it resonates with you like it did with me:

“I refuse to accept despair as the final response to the ambiguities of history. I refuse to accept the idea that the ‘isness’ of man’s present nature makes him morally incapable of reaching up for the eternal ‘oughtness’ that forever confronts him. I refuse to accept the idea that man is mere flotsom and jetsom in the river of life, unable to influence the unfolding events which surround him. I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.

I refuse to accept the cynical notion that nation after nation must spiral down a militaristic stairway into the hell of thermonuclear destruction. I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. I believe that even amid today’s mortar bursts and whining bullets, there is still hope for a brighter tomorrow. I believe that wounded justice, lying prostrate on the blood-flowing streets of our nations, can be lifted from this dust of shame to reign supreme among the children of men. I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, equality and freedom for their spirits. I believe that what self-centered men have torn down men other-centered can build up. I still believe that one day mankind will bow before the altars of God and be crowned triumphant over war and bloodshed, and nonviolent redemptive good will proclaim the rule of the land. ‘And the lion and the lamb shall lie down together and every man shall sit under his own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid.’ I still believe that WE SHALL OVERCOME!”

The Continuing Saga of Me Watching Downton Abbey

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Yes. I admit it. I am addicted to Downton Abbey.

It’s a lot like Dark Shadows, except that everyone is English. And there are no vampires. Yet. But it does have that melodramatic soap opera feel to it sometimes. But the characters are so richly realized and the dialogue is (mostly) authentic and witty and moving.

To my count, they’ve already killed off at least five cast members. One more vanished mysteriously in the dead of night. And oh yeah, I should probably have thrown in a spoiler alert notice before I told you all that.

It makes me want to go back to the Biltmore Estate (which is the closest to a castle this side of the Pond). Either that or I win the freakin’ lottery so I can afford to go check out Highclere Castle in jolly ol’ England.

But more than anything, I really and truly cherish the honest portrayal in the relationships on the show. It makes me want to strive for that authenticity in my own relationships.

Most of all, a part of me likes to see the bad guy get what’s coming to him and see those who try to do right finally rewarded for all their efforts.

If I were to make a spiritual analogy, I’d say that I’m glad to know that in Jesus the bad guys do get their comeuppance and those good guys win in the end. I’d also say that none of us are really good on our own but the love of Jesus as displayed on the cross makes us so.

That is, if I were to make a spiritual analogy out of Downton Abbey.

Cold Rainy Monday Nights

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I don’t mind the rain. I don’t even mind cold and rainy nights. As long as I’m looking at the rain through a well-insulated window from inside.

Actually, I don’t even mind driving in the rain as long as it’s not dark outside. But that’s what I found myself doing tonight when I took my paycheck to my bank’s ATM on a dark, rainy Monday night. At least it was a short drive.

There’s something very peaceful about listening to rain hitting the windows and the roof. Especially if you have one of those antiquated tin roofs. It’s one of my favorite calming sounds.

It helps me to be still and be quiet. It helps calm my anxious thoughts (if I have any) and not be so prone to thinking ahead to the next day or the next week. I think I even pray better when I hear the rain outside.

I know I need to make time for those moments of doing nothing but being intentionally still and quiet and ready to hear God’s voice. It doesn’t have to be all day or even for an hour. It can be fifteen minutes where I don’t have any televisions or radios or iPhones to distract me from what God might be wanting to tell me.

Maybe we can encourage each other to cultivate those quiet moments during the day. I think it would make a huge difference toward getting my mind back toward spiritual things and my eyes refocused on Jesus.

So those are my thoughts on this wet cold Monday evening.