Things I Love Part 2: The Most Unimaginative Blog Sequel Title Ever

island hammock

In continuation of a blog I wrote earlier called “Things I Love,” I present you with the horribly titled follow-up called ‘Things I Love Part 2.” I think I stopped with #32 so I’ll start with #33. How very creative of me.

33) Being able to enjoy moments and relationships for what they are and not constantly worrying about what they may or may not become in the future.

34) The smell of freshly-cut grass on a Saturday.

35) Candles and potporri around the Christmas season that always make me remember my childhood and relatives who are no longer with us.

36) Really old books that have that musty smell and have worn covers from being read so much.

37) When a plan comes together, like on the A-Team.

38) Being able to rejoice for my friends when they finally find their true loves.

39) The feel of soft grass on my bare feet at night.

40) Unexpected and encouraging texts from family and friends (all the more since my love language is words of affirmation).

41) My nephews and my niece.

42) Sand volleyball with good friends on a Sunday night.

43) Knowing deep down that I am forgiven and free from any condemnation.

44) Watching my cat curled up in my lap and sleeping soundly.

45) Any episode at any point from the TV show Friends.

46) Actually stopping and smelling the roses wherever I find them.

47) Knowing that in a world of constant change and turmoil Jesus Christ is truly the same yesterday, today, and forever.

48) Audrey Hepburn.

49) Singing a favorite song and turning on the radio to find the same song playing in the spot where I was just singing.

50) Being able to encourage a friend with just the right words whether through text or in person.

51) Breathing in the crisp cold air on an idyllic autumn day.

52) Bonfires and hotdogs and smores on a chilly autumn night.

53) Sitting on the patio of The Frothy Monkey in downtown Franklin, sipping on a White Monkey Mocha, and watching people all around me engaged in all sorts of conversations.

54) A good hike around Radner Lake.

55) The salty smell of ocean air when I’m near the beach.

April Fool’s Day

I have to admit. I missed out on the fun. I was neither the prankster nor the prank-ee, although Monday itself is enough of a bad prank for anyone.

I went on my first run since December and did better than expected. I thought surely I’d be huffing and puffing and passing out after a few blocks, but I ran 2 miles in 21 minutes, which may not be any new world record for speed but was good enough for me.

I wore my brand-new, never-worn, red New Balance running shoes. And man, they are red. I suppose if I clicked my heels together I might wind up in Kansas. They are that red.

It seems like there’s always a bit of a letdown after any major holiday. For me, I always dreaded the day after Christmas, because all that hype and excitement was over and there were 364 more days till the next one. I could always console myself after Thanksgiving with leftovers, so that wasn’t so bad.

But for Easter, I somehow seem to forget so easily what I just celebrated. That Jesus is alive, that not even death and hell could hold him, that there is new life and new hope now that wasn’t there before.

I guess I’ll have to look into this Pentecost Sunday business and find out what it’s all about. It wasn’t on my Baptist radar growing up, so I don’t know too much about it. I just know that one day isn’t enough to celebrate the resurrection anymore than one day is sufficient to celebrate Jesus’ miraculous birth.

I just looked up Pentecost on Wikipedia and found out that the main sign of Pentecost in the Western Churches is the color red, symbolizing joy and the fire of the Holy Spirit. So maybe I’ll wear my red shoes.

Next year, I hope I won’t be fooled into letting the meaning of Easter slip away so easily after only one day. And maybe I can come up with a good prank.

Another Easter Toast (But This One’s All Mine)

toast

I raise my glass and drink to all the losers, drop-outs, failures, rejects, and nobodies. I drink to all the castaways, the worthless, the reprobates, the down-and-outers, and anybody who just can’t seem to get their act together. To all the crooks and whores and drunks and junkies and thieves.

Why?

You are the ones Jesus died for. He himself said he came not for those who were well, those who were righteous, but for you, the sick, the sinner, the wretched, blind, and poor. Those without a hope left in the world.

Blessed are you for you have found hope.

Blessed are you for you have been made new. The past no longer counts against you and the future is yours.

Blessed are you for God so loved you that he gave his only Son that you should not perish but have full, abundant, and rich eternal life, starting now.

Blessed are you when you’ve reached the end of your rope, as one translation puts it, because there is less of you and more of God and his rule.

Blessed are you when you cry out to God and beg for pardon for all your mistakes and failures and sins and find that forgiveness and freedom is sweeter and grander and longer and wider than you ever imagined they could be.

I toast you because you really appreciate what this day is all about. You know that because of this day you are alive and free from any condemnation. Because of Easter Sunday, you no longer have to let your past define you or your future.

You have an Advocate, a Redeemer, a Savior, a Friend and a Father. You have a new name, a new start, a new tomorrow, and a new destiny.

I think that merits a toast, don’t you?

triple wine toast

Good Friday

goodfriday

“[B]ut we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel” (Luke 24:21).

It’s easy to skip past this part on the way to the Easter Sunday celebrations, but this year I feel the need to slow down and try to appreciate what the disciples must have been going through at this point.

Their leader, Jesus, was dead and in the tomb. Their hopes and dreams had been dashed to pieces and they had nothing left. The one they loved had left them.

I know what it’s like to have to say goodbye to a loved one. It’s not easy. To realize you can never go back and unsay harsh words or say words of love. To know that this is final.

All the disciples had at the moment was pieces of a shattered faith and each other. All they could do was sit silently in the same room, lost for words that could possibly bring comfort or understanding. It had all happened so fast. One moment, Jesus was with them, laughing and encouraging them to be strong, the next he was gone.

I wonder if any of the disciples got trapped in the cycle of “if only.” If only we hadn’t gone to Jerusalem. If only we had recognized Judas’ true colors before. If only we could have gotten away from the garden sooner. If only.

They still had so many questions to ask Jesus. There was still so much they didn’t understand, especially about when he said he could raise up the temple again in three days.

Who else would show them the Father in such a real and tangible way? Who else would open up the Scriptures in such a fresh and vibrant way? Who else would teach by such authority?

They had no answers, only questions.

It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’.

Storms

This is like one of those albums you buy where there’s a disclaimer that reads something like “all songs previously released. In other words, I’m not saying anything new.

I heard recently that there are three kinds of people: those in a storm, those coming out of a storm, and those fixin’ to get ready (as we say in the South) to head into a storm.

No one is exempt. Storms come to the just and the unjust, to the houses built on solid foundations as well as those built on sand.
What matters in a storm is being ready, because when the time comes, you won’t have time to get ready. You’ll have to be ready.

What does being ready look like?
I think it means you have Jesus in your boat.

I’m pretty sure when my storm comes I’ll be freaking out like the disciples did and telling Jesus to wake up so we can die together.

But Jesus has a way of speaking peace over the storms. And even when he doesn’t calm the storm, he calms his child in the storm.

I’d like to take credit for all that, but it’s not original to me. I’ve heard or read it all before. But these blogs are often reminders for me as much as they are for you.

So I can take credit for about two percent of this blog. It’s a good thing I’m not having to use footnotes.

Just remember he who is in you is greater than whatever’s out there, including storms.

I Read Dead People

oldbooks

One day, I will make that into a t-shirt and feel all clever about it, even though the idea has probably already been taken.

Don’t get me wrong. I love reading the newest books by new authors. I look forward to new books by folks like Max Lucado, Jan Karon, and Francis Chan, among others.

But sometimes it’s good to read something by someone who’s no longer living. And by that I don’t mean recently deceased.

I’m talking about people like C S Lewis or G K Chesterton. People like Jane Austen or Bram Stoker. Or if you really want to get daring, go back even further and read the works of William Shakespeare or St Augustine.

It’s good to step outside of the Western 21st-century mindset to gain a fresh perspective. Especially when it comes to faith.

I’m currently reading G K Chesterton’s Orthodoxy, which I highly recommend to anyone who wants a deeper read. This is the guy who greatly influenced C S Lewis and whose book The Everlasting Man was instrumental in Lewis coming to faith. As if you needed extra incentive.

In the past year, I’ve read Anna Karenina by Tolstoy and Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. Both are newer translations of the old classics that really make the text come alive in a new way and the characters seem more alive and real.

I would be amiss if I didn’t mention the one book that I read by an author who is still alive. In fact. I can actually get in touch with him to ask him what he meant on certain parts and why certain people acted the way they did.

Spoiler alert: it’s the Bible. All the other books I’ve read are great, but this one is the only one that’s living and active. It’s the only book that’s God-breathed. It’s the only book where I can figure out the craziness that is my life and make it work.

I suggest you try it sometimes.

Just Some Thoughts From Another Good Night at Kairos

In spite of the cold and rain, it was a good night. At Kairos, Mike Glenn wrapped up the series called “What’s Love Got to Do With It?” with some final thoughts on what true love is. And yes, you know that Tina Turner song is now stuck in your head.

I remember reading somewhere that love isn’t sentiment as much as it is service. It isn’t feelings as much as it is action. As the old dc talk song says, “Love is a verb.”

Most of the time, we think of love as a contract. I’ll love you if you love me back, but don’t expect me to keep loving you if you quit. In other words, you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.

But God’s love isn’t a contract. It’s a covenant where he essentially says to his people, “I will always be your God, your Savior, your Lord, your Provider, and your Defender.”

His love isn’t contingent on ours. I’d be in serious trouble if that were the case. His love is forever.

In Matthew, Jesus defines real love. It’s one thing to love those who love you back and be friends with those who are easy to get along with that. Anybody can do that, with or without God’s help. But it’s entirely another thing to love your enemies and do good for those who despise you. It takes supernatural grace to do that.

In other words, people expect you to give as good as you get. They expect you to fight fire with fire, anger with anger, grudges with grudges, and hate with hate. But Jesus is calling us to fight anger with kindness, grudges with forgiveness, and hate with love. That’s the only way to end the seemingly endless cycle.

Love doesn’t stay put. It goes to where the hurting people are, to where the need is greatest, to the dangerous places that most people won’t go. It looks for and draws out the best in the other person, even when that other person can’t see it.

We need more love like that. I need more love like that. An unbelieving and lost and hurting world needs to see love like that.

Speaking Louder than Words

I heard a great illustration from a pastor today. The way our culture is becoming so image-driven, in a few generations we’ll all be walking around with huge thumbs for texting, enormous eyes, and tiny ears just big enough for ear buds and to hold our eye glasses up.

In other words, it’s all about the eye. But did you ever stop and think for a moment that the old saying is not, “The hand is quicker than the ear?” Magicians don’t set out to fool your ears, do they? Why? Because the eye can be deceived much more than the ear can.

So listen carefully. Don’t be deceived, whether it’s politicians or elevision preachers. Listen carefully to what they’re saying and whether it lines up with the word of God.

And now, since I don’t have a clever or witty segue way (or one at all, actually), I moved on to point #2, which is that talk is cheap. I will tie these two thoughts together at some point. I promise.

But speaking of promises (see, now that was a clever segue way), it seems to me that my generation and younger are really good at making promises, but not so much at keeping them. It’s sad, but you hear someone say a variation of “I’ll be there” or “I’ll meet you there,” you usually expect them not to show. If they do actually keep their word, it’s a minor miracle.

Words are cheap. Especially when it comes to politics and faith. It’s easy to talk a good game, but much harder to back it up. In the arena of faith, people are sick and tired of professing believers who do nothing but profess. If they never see any evidence behind those words, why should they believe anything the person says?

Jesus told us that his family isn’t flesh and blood. It’s those who follow him and do what he says. The evidence of whether or not someone belongs to Jesus is obedience to Jesus. Period.

So don’t talk love. Show love. Don’t talk compassion. Show compassion. Your actions really do speak louder than your words, especially if they don’t match your words. People will remember how you acted far longer than they will remember the actual words you spoke.

And every single bit of this is for me as much as it is for anybody else. I’m bad about speaking and then not following through with my actions. May you and I both be known to keep our promises no matter what and to live out what we believe rather than just talking a good game. May we speak our faith out loud, but live it out even louder. And no, I couldn’t come up with a way to tie both my points together, so I’ll leave that up to you. Just preach the gospel at all times with your attitudes and actions and, if necessary, use words.

That’s all.

Sanctuary

I love old churches.

There’s one I particularly love in downtown Franklin. It’s an old Espiscopal church that dates back prior to the Civil War, and every time I step inside I feel like I’ve been transported to a vanished age. One where life was a lot less fast-paced and complicated.

A sanctuary is a place of safety and peace. It’s also a place where God comes and takes up residence.

The Apostle Paul said that believers are the temple of God. That means that you and I are the place where God dwells, where people come to meet God and to find peace.

I love that.

In a world filled with violence and unrest, people are desperately searching for calm. Where there’s so much upheaval and turmoil and chaos, people are looking for rest.

We as believers should be that place of calm and rest. People should see our lives and be drawn to our light. They should see God in us and the difference he makes in the way we respond to the storms and turmoil in our own lives.

That means that when those storms come, we know that God isn’t vaguely out there somewhere beyond the clouds. He’s not trapped in a building with a steeple or locked away behind  ornate church doors. He’s in us, with us, and for us.

We can know the peace of having the same Jesus who calmed the storms with a word of his mouth living in us. That same Jesus that overcame death and hell.

I’m thankful for sanctuary. I’m thankful that God has come to make his home in me and in all those who cling to Jesus as Lord and Savior. I know that means that I should be different than those around me, so they will be drawn to the God inside.

Lord, help me to love others as much as you loved me, and to show them the way to You the way you once showed me.

Amen.

 

 

Something Good to Remember on a Monday

Matthew 5:1 says, “Seeing the crowds, he went up on the mountain, and when he sat down, his disciples came to him.”

I’ve read past that a thousand or more times. I’ve rushed past those words to get to the Sermon on the Mount, the good stuff. But I think I’ve done myself a disservice by not paying attention to this verse, particularly the first three words: “Seeing the crowds.”

Did you catch that? He saw the people who came to see him. He didn’t see bodies. He saw faces lined with pain. He saw heartaches and anxieties and unrest. He saw people just trying to get through the day.

Just as he sees you and he sees me.

Do you ever feel unnoticed? Do you ever post on facebook and no one responds? Do you ever comment on someone else’s post and he or she responds to everyone else but you?

Do you often feel invisible in a crowd? Has the thought ever crossed your mind that no one would miss you if you were suddenly not there? Or like George Bailey, do you think the world would be better off if you’d never been born?

You may not feel like anyone knows you or the secret shame and pain you carry. Jesus does.

You may think that you don’t matter to anyone. You matter to Jesus.

You are not alone. You have an advocate, someone who is on your side, who fights for you, who roots for you, who won’t abandon you in the dark or in the storms. His name is Jesus.

I didn’t come up with this, but it’s still true: if you had been the only one lost and in need of a Savior, Jesus still would have gone through every bit of the cross just for you. He loves you that much.

If your Monday’s been awesome, that’s great. God rejoices with you. But if your Monday was horrible and couldn’t end soon enough, this promise still holds true.

This is from a ragamuffin who needs daily reminders of the goodness of God as much as anyone else. God is faithful, even when it seems he is absent. He is good, always.