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.

Not Alone

Have you ever looked at somebody else who seems to have it all together and been a little envious? Maybe it’s a guy with the classic good looks who has a successful career and always seems to have a beautiful girl on his arm. Or maybe a girl who never seems to have any problems and is the one that every guy wants to talk to.

Admit it. You’ve envied. You’ve coveted. You’ve probably wanted to trade places or, if you’re feeling really spiteful, you hope something bad happens to that person. Not tragically bad, but embarassingly bad.

But have you ever stopped and wondered what really goes on in that person’s life? Do you ever stop to think that maybe behind that perfect facade, that person is hurting. Maybe that person is looking at you and envying you for something he or she doesn’t have.

The point is that you never know the whole story. You only see the surface, not what’s underneath. You may never see the pain, the frustration, the unfulfilled longings, the pent-up anger, the quiet desperation.

Maybe that person is you. Maybe you’re the one who’s hanging by a thread to your faith, who has all but given up on believing that anything will really ever change. Maybe you just don’t feel anything anymore and don’t think God really knows or cares about you.

You’re not alone.

I know when I’ve been deeply discouraged, the words “I know what you’re going through” were more helpful to me than the person speaking them realized. I didn’t want to hear that everything was going to be fine. I didn’t need to hear what I needed to do to get over it. I just needed to know that I wasn’t alone in my struggle.

The biggest lie of the enemy is that you are the only one struggling and that you can never tell anyone, but most go on secretly bearing your pain and shame. The truth is that we are all broken in some way, dealing with a shameful past full of secrets and a pain that never seems to go away. Some are just better at hiding their brokenness than others.

So, even though you might not want to hear it at the moment, it will get better. It did for me. God does know where you are and what you’re going through and yes, he does care. He even loves you in spite of the dark bitter thoughts you carry in your mind.

And you are most definitely not alone.

 

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.

 

 

In Everything Give Thanks

Four little words say it all. In everything give thanks.

Notice it doesn’t say to give thanks FOR everything, but IN everything.

When you’re not sure if you will ever find another job, give thanks.

When you see loved ones getting older and weaker and more frail, give thanks.

When you wonder if the dreams God put in your heart will ever come to fruition and you’re hanging on by the most slender of threads, give thanks.

When you want to stomp and rage and cuss like a sailor at the way that person treated you, give thanks.

Give thanks that God is the same through it all. Give thanks that he has not forgotten you. Give thanks that he’s working through your pain and problems. Give thanks that God has been, is, and will always be God.

Give thanks that God works all things together for good. Give thanks that he will complete the good work he started in you. Give thanks that everything will be fine in the end, and if everything’s not fine, it’s not the end (borrowed from a really good movie).

In other words, in everything give thanks.

 

Hang In There

hang_in_there_kitty-thumb-250x332

You’ve seen one of these. I know you have. It might have been in someone else’s dorm room or on some random bedroom wall (but of course never on yours). The infamous poster of a ridiculously-cute kitten hanging onto a tree branch with some variation of “Hang in there, sport!”

Those have become somewhat of a joke these days, kinda like the “Baby on Board” signs in backs of cars or the “Honk if you love. . .” bumper stickers. But sometimes you’re in a place where you really do need that reminder.

Maybe you’re in a place where it seems like every molecule in your body is telling you to quit. 100% of your emotions are telling you to give up, that it’s just not worth it, and to stop trying anymore.

Don’t quit. Don’t give up. Don’t believe the lie that it’s not going to ever get any better. Don’t for one second fall for the notion that the world would be better off without you. Don’t ever listen to the voices that tell you you’re not wanted or welcome.

I don’t have secret wisdom or profound insights on this. I do know that I’ve wanted to give up. I’ve been in a place where I didn’t think it would ever get better. But it did.

Sometimes, the best thing you can do is rest. Get some sleep. Don’t try to figure out your life when you’re tired or upset or not feeling well. It’s amazing what better perspective you have in the morning.

When you can’t believe, God has faith enough for both of you. When you can’t go on, he has more than enough strength to carry you. When you don’t have words to pray, he hears your sighs and counts your tears. He knows.

So, as cliched as it may sound, hang in there. It may be dark right now, but daylight is coming.

Revisiting the Classics

breakfast_at_tiffanys1

 

I may lose my man-card permanently for this, but I love the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I’ve actually lost count of how many times I’ve seen it, and it still has the same impact on me every single time.

Both Paul Varjak and Holly Golightly start the movie a bit dazed and confused. And lost. Neither one has a direction or purpose. Until they find each other.

I think life’s a lot like that. We help each other find the way. We help each other find God in the times where it seems God is nowhere to be found. We are Jesus to each other in countless ways day in and day out.

I still like to think I have a Holly Golightly out there. If she looks like Audrey Hepburn, it wouldn’t hurt.

We all get lost and lose our way. We occasionally forget who we are and what we’re here for. We lose our purpose and get trapped in some bad choices. We look up and wonder how we got where we are and wonder how we can ever make it back.

I think that’s where you and I come in. We remind each other of who we really are, not the sum of bad choices or a past history, but children of God, Abba’s beloved. We root for each other, cheering over victories and encouraging in the face of defeats.

That all may sound like a mighty heap of cliches. Maybe it is. But isn’t it comforting to know in the times when you’ve felt most alone and lost and confused that familiar voice that calls you back? Maybe it’s a phone call or an email or a text or a kind word spoken.

It’s good to go back to the classics. Most of all, it’s good to go back to the promises of God that never change, despite all the upheaval and uncertainty of our times.

May we remind each other of these promises and of the goodness of God every single day while we’re here.

 

Live Naked

I need to preface this blog by emphatically stating that by “live naked,” I so do not mean join a nudist colony or walk around all day in your birthday suit. If you do, we will disavow all knowledge and pretend you don’t exist. This blog will self-destruct in 15 seconds. . . .

For real, I do think that we need to live naked. By that, I mean live transparently and honestly. You will always be a second-rate version of someone else, but a first-rate version of you, because God made you to be you, only you, and no one else.

That means you don’t have to force yourself to believe that everything is fine when it’s not. You can honestly admit that you’re having a bad day, that your brokenness is showing, and that you feel completely inadequate to handle what the day is throwing at you.

To like naked is to live a life that is 100% 24/7 completely and utterly dependent on God for every single moment and every single thing. You know you need God in the next moment to avoid a full-on falling apart mental and emotional meltdown. You need all of God’s strength to hold you together and you need all of his love to keep you sane.

To live naked is to live trusting without understanding, following without knowing the way, and believing without having all (or even most) of the answers.

That’s how I am choosing to live each day. That’s how I pray you choose to live. Because believers aren’t perfect, but forgiven. If anything, those who have given up everything to follow Jesus know that Jesus is all they have and that Jesus is all they need.

It’s a battle to trust when your emotions and thoughts are screaming at you that God won’t come through. It’s a lifelong struggle, but it’s so much more than worthwhile.

May we live naked starting today and every day.

God’s YES

“Whatever God has promised gets stamped with the Yes of Jesus. In him, this is what we preach and pray, the great Amen, God’s Yes and our Yes together, gloriously evident. God affirms us, making us a sure thing in Christ, putting his Yes within us. By his Spirit he has stamped us with his eternal pledge—a sure beginning of what he is destined to complete” (2 Cor. 1:20-22).

So many people think that Christians are all about what and who we’re against. And honestly, we  haven’t done a very good job in dispelling that sentiment. We’re sometimes too eager to condemn the sin and not nearly as willing to love the sinner.

But I have to look at a guy like Adam Lanza and say with all honesty, “That could have been me. But for the grace of God and different circumstances, that could have been me.”

That scares me and comforts me at the same time.

It scares me because it means that I’m not nearly as good as I sometimes think I am. It means that I am just as in need of a Savior now as ever and just as prone to wander from the One I love as ever.

But it comforts me because God has promised to stick with me through everything. He’s stamped his YES on me through Christ and nothing will ever change that.

I think we would do better to show love instead of judgment. We’d do better to reach out to those in trouble instead of later saying thing like “I could have told you that boy would end up like this. I could see it coming a mile away,”

While we were yet sinners, while we were at our most unlovable worst, Christ died for us. He reconciled us to God and now gives us a chance to be a part of reconciling others, too.

I don’t know about you, but I want people to know what and who I’m for. More importantly, I really want people to know that God is for me and for them and has a new start for anyone who’s willing to take him up on it.

That’s all.

 

Not-so-new Thoughts on Newtown, CT

theodentheoden2

“No parent should ever have to bury a child.”

That’s the line from the movie The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers that King Theoden uses when he talks about the death of his only son, the one that was to be king after him.

I’ve thought a lot about that line today, especially after hearing and reading so much about the senseless killings of at least 20 children and 6 adults in Newtown, Connecticut. I have no way to comprehend the level of sadness and grief that so many people are feeling right now, and I’m not going to pretend that I understand what they’re going through.

I know that no discussion about limiting handguns or locking school doors will ever bring these children back. This is so much more than political issues; we’re talking about human lives lost. Each one had a family who loved him or her and each one is deeply missed.

I’m reminded of another massacre. This one happened after the birth of Jesus, when Herod sent soldiers to the town of Bethlehem to kill all the male children under the age of two. Matthew says (quoting Jeremiah), “A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more” (Matt. 2:18).

Again, I can’t begin to imagine what that must have been like.

Most of all, I am reminded that God himself watched as people took his only son and falsely accused him, beat him, mocked him, mutilated him, then killed him in the most excruciatingly painful manner possible. Even though Jesus’s death was ordained from the foundation of the world, it doesn’t change the fact that the Father’s heart was broken that day.

I think the Father weeps with all those who weep tonight. He sees his creation and his people broken and in disarray. He sees evil acts perpetrated by sick minds and his heart is broken.

I don’t pretend to have any answers. I don’t pretend to know why this happened or what the purpose was behind it. I do know that even in this, God works all things together for good to those who love him and are called according to his purposes.

I know that God is good and that he is in control. Still. And in that I put my hopes and I lay my head down to rest tonight.

I pray for peace right now in the hearts of all who are grieving and who cannot be comforted, for their children are no more. I pray for peace for the children who lost parents and teachers tonight, as well as the family of the mentally ill man who killed all these children before killing himself (who are probably in shock and grief as well right now). May you be present in these broken homes and lives right now. And may you set all things right one day very soon.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Little Victories

Sometimes, we make Christianity an “all or nothing” affair. That means if I don’t completely succeed, I’ve failed. If I don’t completely overcome every temptation and obey the voice of God at every turn, I’ve lost.

But I think that’s not how it works. Most days are three steps forward, two steps back. Most days, you win some and you lose some, but you always learn something from it.

I’ve learned that sometimes you have to be thankful for the little victories. Sometimes, those are the only things that keep you going when the battle seems hopeless and life seems too hard.

I found today that it was okay that someone I wanted to notice me didn’t. A conversation I wanted to happen didn’t and I was more than okay with it. I was fine.

I didn’t try to force something that wasn’t there. I stepped back and trusted God. I count that as a little victory.

It’s when you don’t give into fear. When you don’t let anxiety overwhelm you. When you’re able to take a couple of deep breaths and plow through. You may not look so pretty at the end of the day, but you’re alive and standing. And in my book that counts as a victory.

So here’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Don’t beat yourself up when you’re not at your best or when you mess up yet again. Remember that God really is bigger than the problems you’re facing. Remember his plans for you are still good and still in operation.

Remember all the little victories you’ve experienced over the years. Also remember that the biggest victory of the biggest fight you will ever face is already won. How do I know? Because Jesus has already won it.