For a Good Friend

This is for you, my friend who will remain anonymous but not forgotten:

I know that you’re getting ready to move to a new city in a few months and a brand new adventure in the story God has authored for you. I know I probably won’t see you anymore, unless God has a surprise twist in the story that I’m unaware of (and he’s better than anyone at that sort of thing).

I wanted you to know how very thankful I am for you. Your friendship truly has blessed me more than you will ever know.

You believed in me and my blog when it seemed that no one else did. I had almost decided to quit when you encouraged me by telling me how much my blogs had blessed you. You helped me believe in myself and the gifts God gave me again.

No matter what I was going through or what my day had been like, seeing your smiling face always made my day better. I couldn’t help but smile and be filled with joy.

We never hung out that much. You had a crazy hectic schedule that probably could have benefited from having a 26-hour day instead of the usual 24. While I wish we could have hung out more, I’m grateful for the times we were able to get together and talk and share stories of God’s faithfulness.

You’re the kind of person that has hundreds of friends, that anyone would be lucky to know. I’m still not sure why you wanted to be friends with me in the first place, but I’m glad you did. I’m better for it.

I heard once that a friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words. You reminded me of my song that I had forgotten and, thanks to you and a few others, I am singing again.

I hope we can keep in touch after you move, but if not, I still have your footprints in my heart to remind me that God still does bless me, because one of those blessings was you.

I will be praying God’s best for you, believing great things for you, and rooting for you every step of the way. I firmly believe that the future God has for you is better than even your wildest dreams can conceive.

May the Lord always bless and keep you and make his face shine on you and grant you peace. Every time I order a chai frappacino with caramel drizzle, I will think of you and smile.

Phil. 1:3,

Your forever friend in Christ.

It’s a Beautiful Thing

It’s a beautiful thing when you are grateful for waking up each morning and fully appreciate all the blessings you have been taking for granted.

It’s a beautiful thing when you can raise your hands in worship as fervantly in when life is falling apart as when life is going great.

It’s a beautiful thing when you’re in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way and you realize you’re perfectly content to be friends with that person and to be the best friend you can be.

It’s a beautiful thing when you can release your child to be all God made him or her to be, even if that takes him or her half a world away.

It’s a beautiful thing when you see your marriage as a chance for you to love your spouse unconditionally like Christ loved the Church.

It’s a beautiful thing when you have no reason anymore to hope, but hope remains.

It’s a beautiful thing when you’ve fallen for the thousandth time, but you get up one more time, thankful for Grace that never gives up.

It’s a beautiful thing when you say goodbye to friends but hold them in your heart at the same time and know that distance is no great barrier for those God has brought together in friendship.

It’s a beautiful thing when you can say “Thy will be done,” even if it means saying “All my dreams and plans and desires be undone” at the same time.

It’s a beautiful thing when you can pray, “God, use me however, wherever, and whenever you want. I give you my money, my time, my body, and my very life for Your Kindom.”

It’s a beautiful thing when you stop praying for blessings and start praying to be a blessing.

It’s a beautiful thing when you become a conduit for God’s power and love to flow through to the world and God can see people with your eyes, go to them with your feet, touch them with your hands, and love them with your heart.

It’s a beautiful thing indeed.

The Kind of Friend I Want to Be

I get it. I’m an idealist at heart. I have good motives (most of the time), but lousy execution (some of the time). On the way home from Movies in the Park, I got to thinking again what kind of friend I want to be. I apologize in advance if some or all of this is a repeat.

I want to be that friend who never gives up on you. I want to extend forgiveness and second chances to you as many times as God did for me. Which is quite a lot, I can tell you.

I want to be that friend who believes the best in you even when you can’t see it yourself. I’ve had those friends who did that for me. I have a God who does that better than anyone else.

I want you to be better because of me. I want to do everything in my power to help you become every part of who God made you to be. I want to see you realize all of God’s dreams for you. And believe me, His dreams for you are bigger and more amazing than anything you or I could come up with.

Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I do this out of my own need. These are all things I long for in my friends, so maybe the first step is me becoming all of those things to the people I call friends.

Obviously, the most healthy relationships are built out of wholeness and completeness, not neediness. But I do think we help each other to become whole and healthy and complete by friendships based on forgiveness and unconditional sacrificial love.

If I try too hard sometimes and get a bit Steve Urkel on you, I apologize. Like I said, my good motives are sometimes executed poorly. Sometimes, I get carried away with the posts and texts and messages. But it’s from a good place of wanting to encourage and bless you, so just remind me to take a pill and give me grace, ’cause I always stand in need of it.

I’m getting better. I am learning that you can’t fill my needs and validate me as a human being. Only God can do that. Once you learn that, you are free to be the kind of friend you always wanted.

As my friend and fellow blogger always says, “You think about that.”

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.

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.

Prodigal

Both sermons I heard today touched on the parable on the Prodigal son. I can think of no better story that really illustrates the scandalous nature of God’s love for His children.

In fact, the parable could more accurately be called The Prodigal God, since the word prodigal means “characterized by profuse or wasteful expenditure” or “recklessly spendthrift” (according to Merriam-Webster). God’s love is both.

It’s prodigal that God paid way too high a price for me with His Son Jesus. It’s prodigal that Jesus didn’t shed some or most of His blood, but all of it for me. It’s way more than I or anyone else deserves.

There’s a fantastic book that’s been out of print for years called The Autobiography of God by Lloyd John Ogilvie. He has a chapter on “The Prodigal God” that impacted me when I read it the first time and still comes to mind every time I hear the Prodigal Son story.

It was shocking to the hearers of the parable the way the father in the story let the younger son have his share. For the son to ask for it while the father was still living was to say in essence, “Drop dead!” and show the utmost comtempt for him.

Even more scandalous was how the father not only received his son at the end of the story, but how he ran to him and threw his arms around him and kissed him. Well-respected men in that day didn’t run. It was not considered dignified. But this father wasn’t about to wait one more second for his son who was coming home.

The Cross is so much more shocking and scandalous than we normally paint it in our sanitized sermons on the subject. By the time Jesus got to the cross, He was barely recognizable as human.

That’s the kind of scandalous, prodigal love God has for those of his prodigal children, whether we rebel in a far country or at home. Honestly, the far country doesn’t have to be geographically distant. It can be relational distance, too.

So if you have experienced radigal grace and forgiveness, take time today to express your gratitude for this prodigal God whose prodigal love for us is the reason we are forgiven and free.

Trusting

I’ve always heard it this way: Don’t trust people, but trust the Jesus in people.

I think there’s some truth to that.

People in and of themselves have good intentions, but short attention spans. They are forgetful, busy, distracted, and human. They make promises and break them, not because of malice, but because of everyday life getting in the way.

If you are my friend, I make this pledge. I won’t promise to keep every promise I ever make to you. I know myself too well for that.

I can promise to extend you grace for when you fail. I can promise to pray for you when you’re happy or sad, whether you are in a good place or struggling, whether you live out of the joy of being Abba’s Child or don’t know who you are that day.

I can promise to always give you the benefit of the doubt and no matter what, see the best in you. I’ve had people who saw good things in me even when I couldn’t and helped bring those things out in me. And I’m better for it.

I want to see Jesus shining brightly through you and you to be every bit of who God made you to be, confidently standing strong in your faith and taking a bit of Heaven with you everywhere you go.

I love hearing your stories. I love seeing how God has worked in your life and how you are being transformed daily. I would love to meet with you and hear your faith stories (the ideal place is Starbucks, but I am flexible).

May the Lord bless and keep you and make His face to shine on you. May you hear Him singing over you tonight and leaping for joy over you in the morning.

Christian Reciprocity Revisited, Or What I Learned from Kairos Roots Tonight

I feel like Mr. Rogers. “The word for today is reciprocity. Can you say reciprocity, boys and girls? Very good.”

Basically, the word means give and take. It’s all about giving and receiving.

There will be times when God blesses you. You will pick up your Bible and truths and insight will practically jump off the pages. You will have an unexpected bonus from work or a pay raise or some other financial blessing. You will be in a good position to give.

Then there will be other times when you read the Bible and it might as well be in Greek for what you get out of it. You have an overdraft or two at the bank and your bank account has a rather unpleasant negative sign in front of the number. Then you are in a good place to learn how to receive.

Even life experiences can be shared in the same way. You go through tragedy and heartbreak at times and find others who are willing to share your load and get you through. Later,  you are able to walk with someone else who is going through the same valley.

I do believe that we are most like Jesus when we are giving freely, expecting nothing in return, to those least likely to reciprocate the favor.

I also believe that it is a good lesson to learn to receive gratiously and humbly. To not receive is to rob someone else of the blessing of giving out of pride or false self-sufficiency.

The bottom line is that all we have is from God. We didn’t earn one red cent apart from His grace and provision. In the end, we’re not owners. We’re stewards, taking care of what really belongs to God.

Lord, give us Your eyes to see the need and Your generous heart to reach out with what You gave us to help meet that need. May we not give just our resources and our time but our very lives away for the cause of Christ every single day for the rest of our lives. Amen.