Why I Love Underdogs

I’ll be honest. Until this year, the College World Series was barely a blip on my radar screen. I didn’t keep up with it and I couldn’t tell you who won last year or the year before or even tell you any of the teams that made it.

Until this year. Little Stony Brook made it to the CWS. They were probably the longest of all the long-shots to make it in, but they did.

The main reason that I love underdogs in any sport is because I really and truly believe that God does.

God is a fan of the underdog. The Bible says so. Just look at all those passages about the poor, the orphan, and the widow. All those forgotten and abandoned by society.

The Bible says in James 1:27 that true religion is taking care of these. In other words, pulling for the underdogs of the world.

But not only that, I read that I was once an underdog, too. I was lost, dead in my sins, alienated from God, and without a hope in the world. I think the odds on me at Vegas would have been fairly astronomical.

But God in Jesus found me and made me alive and reconciled me to Himself and gave me a hope that nothing or no one can ever take away. Not only did I not go down to a crushing defeat, but I came out on the winning side. In Christ, I am more than a conqueror.

So I know that the underdog can win. I’m proof. And I bet some of you out there are, too. We are daily reminders to the world what the awesome power of the love of God can do if given even the tiniest bit of room to work.

So, yeah, I’ll be pulling for Stony Brook. But more than that, I’m pulling and rooting for you. Best of all, so is God. He’s your biggest fan.

Back to Your Future

I’ve always been intrigued by time travel. I’ve always been a sucker for movies like The Time Machine (the first one, not the remake) and Back to the Future (all three). Even the remote possibility of going back or forward in time is exciting.

If you could go back, what would you change? What mistakes would you avoid? What brave, courageous thing would you do? What would you tell your younger self?

I have a novel idea. I wouldn’t change a thing. Not one single solitary thing.

Sure, my life isn’t what I thought it would be. I’m not even close to married and my job status sure isn’t what I thought it would be when I was daydreaming back in the olden days. My bank account is missing a few zeros, too.

But I’m rich where it counts. I’m blessed in all the ways that really matter.

I have family who has stuck with me. I have friends who actually like me and have yet to bail on me, despite some extremely dumb and dorky moments on my part.

The reason I still believe that God is real is because I have seen Him lived out in the people around me. I’ve had so many show me Jesus and what He can do in someone’s life if given even the smallest chance to work.

I don’t know what the next few days or weeks look like, but I know God does. I am trusting my unknown future to a known God (to borrow one of Corrie ten Boom’s most famous quotes).

I don’t know where I’ll be, but I know it won’t be alone. I’ll have my brothers and sisters with me. All of them, including the ones who may not share my DNA, but call on the same God as Father.

My future’s looking bright. And I want to do everything in my power to help you realize yours.

May we all find God to be more than faithful, more than able, and more than enough, no matter what comes next. Amen.

Baggage Part II: Polaroids of the Past

If you’ve lived long enough to make at least one incredibly stupid decision, you’ve got some of these. Maybe you’re like me with lots of small regrets, moments of time captured in your mind as clear as the images on a polaroid.

They call it flash bulb memory, where you can remember every single detail of a certain moment in time where something in your life changed. Those happen in good moments, in tragic moments, and most of all, in moments where you and I screwed up.

Maybe you are like me and have been carrying around a suitcase full of those images for years. The suitcase keeps getting heavier and heavier as you compile more polaroids of shame and guilt. More moments you would give anything to go back and undo.

Jesus wants those polaroids. Not for the reasons you think. He’s not going to be shocked or surprised by what He sees. He knows about each and every one. In fact, He was there when they happened.

He wants all of these pictures, not to hold them over your head every day or to make you feel perpetually ashamed. He wants to take them from you and case them as far away from you as possible. As far as the east is from the west. As far as the heavens are above the earth.

I am not my mistakes. Neither are you. Who I was in my weakest moments is not who I am. The way you acted all those years ago isn’t really you anymore. If anyone is in Christ, he or she is a brand new creation. Not a better you, but a completely new you.

It’s time to stop being weighed down by the past and start walking in the freedom that comes with new mercies and clean slates each morning. It’s time to really live in the freedom Christ purchased for us, the condemnation-free life that is now ours.

Baggage Part I: Letting Go

Who doesn’t have baggage? I certainly know I do. I’m pretty sure anyone who is over the age of 5 and who still has a pulse has accumulated some kind of baggage over the years.

What is my baggage? Probably right now, I’m carrying around the constant need to be validated, affirmed, approved, and liked every single moment.

I find myself at the end of conversations thinking I’ve said or texted the absolute wrong thing and ruined the relationship. Things like, “Did I really just end the conversation with ‘Text me’? Is it even possible for there to be a lamer ending to a conversation?”

I think I let go of a little bit of my baggage tonight. I think I’ve finally come to the point where I may not trust myself to keep my relationships alive, but I know that God will keep the right people in my life for as long as they need to be there.

I’ve mentioned before that I am a work in progress. I’m 4o and my dating history reads like a black comedy or a tragedy (either one works, so take your pick). I haven’t had a real girlfriend since I was 5 (her name was Carrie, by the way).

I think I’m more comfortable with my own path and not trying to hijack God’s plan for someone else. I’m learning to enjoy the process and the journey and not be so OCD about the destination.

I think I’m learning that I don’t have to be clever or witty (or even overly coherent) for God to speak through me.

I’m finally learning to be patient with my own process and who I am becoming. I’m more patient with the shortcomings of others, because I’ve seen so much of my own and I’ve seen how very strong God can be in my weakness.

What is your baggage? You have a choice. You can either hold on to your shame and guilt and fear and anger or you can hold onto Jesus, but you can’t hold on to both. And yes, I borrowed that one from Mike Glenn.

You don’t have to carry that baggage forever. You don’t have to let it define you or be a pemanent part of your wardrobe. It all begins with saying, “I can’t do this anymore. I need you, Jesus, to take this and carry it for me.” It may be a process, but it’s so much fun to feel the weight fall off.

May you find that what you’ve carried all this time is one day no longer a part of you. May you find more and more freedom in Christ. May you hear and believe the words at this very moment that “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Amen.

Vessels: Meditation on Kairos Tonight

I love the illustration Mike Glenn used tonight in Kairos. He spoke of washing down an Oreo with a glass of milk, only to discover at the bottom of the glass some residue left from the dishwasher.

You woudn’t say the top half of the milk was clean and keep drinking. You wouldn’t say the glass was mostly clean. You’d say the glass was dirty.

How can I call my life clean if I have unconfessed sins and hidden bad habits and areas of mine that I’ve not put under the Lordship of Jesus? How can I expect God to use me if I am mostly clean? God doesn’t use lives that are mostly clean.

I need to be completely clean.

But that’s the beauty of it.

I can be clean if I just simply ask. First I confess. I agree with God that I did or said the wrong thing and left undone the right thing. That I chose my way instead of God’s way. Then I repent, turning 180 degrees from my way to God’s way.

Furthermore, if you want to be a vessel used by God, you can’t wait until the storms of life to get ready. You have to be ready.

Mary was already God’s servant when He called her to be the vessel to bring Jesus into the world. Joseph was already a righteous man when God called him to take Mary as His wife and raise Jesus as his own son.

They didn’t wait until God called them to get ready. They were ready.

The beautiful part of all this is it’s never too late to get ready. It’s never to late to ask God to mold and make you into the person God can use to impact the world around you.

Whether you’re 20 or 40 or 60 or 80, God can still take your life and use it to bless many more than you could possibly imagine.

I want to be like the loaves and fishes Jesus used to feed the 5,000. I want to be broken and blessed, so that the pieces of my life can bless far more people than a safe, unbroken life ever could. I want to be confessed and clean and ready when the time comes that God takes my life and uses it as He sees fit.

I hope you do, too.

Night Volleyball

I participated in a game of volleyball at a Memorial Day cookout with some friends. Needless to say, none of us will probably be making the U.S. Olympic team in 2012 or anytime soon.

From a volleyball purist standpoint, we played the game all wrong. We didn’t set the ball up or even hit it correctly. More times than not, the ball went in the opposite direction of the net or under the net or even into the net.

Whoever invented volleyball was probably rolling over in his grave. Or else he died just so he could be buried and roll over in his grave. It wasn’t pretty.

But it was fun.

We gave each player a do-over on messed-up serves. We complimented each other on near-misses and flat-out whiffs. When the automatic lights went out, one of us would go do our best version of the Riverdance to get the lights back on.

By the time we were done playing, the game was more of a comedy than a competition. But we had fun and laughed at ourselves and with each other.

It was grace in action. Too bad we as believers aren’t that way all the time.

For the moments when I open up my mouth and say something stupid, I need grace.

For the moments when you send the text before you think it through and wish for the next 24 hours you could take it back, you need grace.

For all the times when we break our promises and fail to be light and salt and witnesses of the great God who saved us, we all need grace.

For all the times we screw up royally again after promising God and the world we wouldn’t, we all need grace. For daily falling short of all God meant for us to be to ourselves and each other and to Him, we all need grace. Desparately.

Grace isn’t just undeserved favor. That falls short of what grace is. Grace is undeserved favor in the face of deserved wrath. That’s something I learned recently and something I’m still thinking about.

Grace means that you’re not alone and neither am I. Grace means we walk together, we fall together, and we get back up together. We laugh together, we cry together, we fail together, and we overcome together.

And it took a game of night volleyball to remind me of all that.

Don’t Give Up

This is a word for the faint-hearted and down-trodden. Don’t give up.

You may be close to giving up or throwing in the towel or calling it quits, but don’t.

You may think the storm will never abate and the sky will always be filled with dark and ominous clouds and the sun will never come out again, but it will.

Your marriage may be hanging on by the slimmest of threads. You may dread getting up each morning and going to your job. You may sometimes wonder how your life came to seem so hopeless.

But don’t give up.

You may not think anyone sees or cares, but God does. And He’s already at work.

Somedays, it feels like you’re swimming upstream and wearing yourself out while getting nowhere, but God is leading you to a place that you don’t yet know but once you get there, it will all have been worth it.

Just trust God and take the next step. That’s all.

Take it from someone who’s been there. It will get better.

 

Dumb Mistakes

I remember vividly when I was a kid waiting for my sister. She took ballet and I would wait outside the building until her practice was over. One time, I had the genius idea and thought, “When she comes out, I’m racing her to the car.”

Lo and behold, she came out and I took off running. I didn’t stop until I sat down in the car. Then I looked up. I thought, “Hey, you’re not my sister. Hey, wait a minute, this isn’t our car.” It was probably one of the most awkward situations I’ve ever been in.

Maybe your mistake wan’t as funny. Maybe it was devastating or tragic. Maybe it ruined a friendship or even a marriage. Maybe you feel like you’re still paying for that mistake made so many years ago.

You’re not alone. Moses messed up royally. He got angry with God’s people and spoke as if he and not God were responsible for giving the Israelites water and helping them out of jams time and time again.

Then there’s David, who committed adultery with Bathsheeba, lied to and tried to deceive her husband, then finally had him killed. I think that qualifies as an epic fail.

The good news is that your story doesn’t have to end with failure. God offers forgiveness and a fresh start if you own up to what you did and are willing to change and go in a different direction.

I love what David wrote in Psalm 51 after he confessed to his own sin and repented of it:

“Generous in love—God, give grace! Huge in mercy—wipe out my bad record.

Scrub away my guilt,

soak out my sins in your laundry.

I know how bad I’ve been;

my sins are staring me down.

You’re the One I’ve violated, and you’ve seen

it all, seen the full extent of my evil.

You have all the facts before you;

whatever you decide about me is fair.

I’ve been out of step with you for a long time,

in the wrong since before I was born.

What you’re after is truth from the inside out.

Enter me, then; conceive a new, true life.

Soak me in your laundry and I’ll come out clean,

scrub me and I’ll have a snow-white life.

Tune me in to foot-tapping songs,

set these once-broken bones to dancing.

Don’t look too close for blemishes,

give me a clean bill of health.

God, make a fresh start in me,

shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.

Don’t throw me out with the trash,

or fail to breathe holiness in me.

Bring me back from gray exile,

put a fresh wind in my sails!

Give me a job teaching rebels your ways

so the lost can find their way home.

Commute my death sentence, God, my salvation God,

and I’ll sing anthems to your life-giving ways.

Unbutton my lips, dear God;

I’ll let loose with your praise.”

All I can add to that is

Amen.

Naked

At Kairos, Mike Glenn spoke about how Adam and Eve were naked in the Garden of Eden and unashamed. That got me thinking. How great would it be if we were all naked?

I don’t mean naked in the sense of those movies they show late at night on those pay cable channels with the cheesy background music. Not that I would know anything at all about those kinds of movies.

I mean naked where there are no masks and no facades, no faking or pretending. Where you and I can truly be ourselves, with baggage and scars and hang-ups and be accepted as we are.

A good marriage is one where each person can truly be naked and unashamed; that is, each is genuine and authentic and real and honest and vulnerable and forgiving. That’s what I long for some day.

I think the Church is also a good place for people to be truly themselves. Where you can confess to one another and not be ostracized for it. Where you are allowed to be weak and doubting and insecure and temptation-prone and still belong. Where you’re family.

The nearer you draw to God, the more you are able to be your true self, the one God made you to be and the one He is transforming you into. You worry less and less about the opinions of others and are more comfortable standing outside the popular opinions and trends.

I still love the fact that Jesus saw me at my worst and set His love on me in that moment when I couldn’t possibly be more messed up. I love how He’s seen all the hidden sins and vile thoughts and ugly attitudes and His love for me has not diminished one bit (and it never will).

My prayer for you is that you can come before God completely naked and not hiding behind religious pretense and holy words and find shelter in His love.

Carried

“When you can’t run, you crawl, and when you can’t crawl – when you can’t do that… You find someone to carry you” (from an episode of Firefly).

I was watching one of my favorite TV series tonight (and yet another great series that the Fox Network killed way too soon– but that’s another blog for another day) and I heard this quote and it made me think of the Church.

The Apostle Paul speaks about us being in a race, a race that we should seek to run well. He speaks about how we train our bodies so we will finish well. Obviously, this isn’t a literal race, but the live of faith lived with a finish line in view.

Sometimes, when we can’t run any longer, we crawl. Maybe we’re exhausted or burned out or wonded or have lost our way. Whatever the case, every single one of us will at times find ourselves crawling.

Sometimes, we can’t even crawl. We’ve come to the end of our abilities and have no strength or energy to move one more inch. That’s when someone else has to carry us. And we have to be humble and honest enough to ask.

Scripture calls us to carry each other’s burdens. Sometimes that means we carry each other. It means we believe for others when they can’t believe for themselves about getting through a trial or tragedy or test.

If you think of prayer that way, it really does change your perspective. Prayer is not saying kind words about someone else to God, but rather taking that person to God. You can almost visualize carrying that person on your back into the very presence of Jesus Himself.

I’ve always loved the poem Footprints and especially the image of only one set of footprints in the sand being the times when God has carried us. If we’re honest, there’s not one moment when we are not completely taken care of, deeply loved, and carried by Abba Father.

May that be the last image you have before sleep and dreams take you tonight.