hope

A Kairos Challenge

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Tonight, Mike Glenn spoke about the disciples on the road to Emmaus and how they failed to recognize Jesus because so often the last place we look for Jesus is right where we are. Jesus showed the highest compliment to his disciples when he called them friends and proved it when he laid down his life for these friends.

We are called to do the same. We are called to walk alongside people and be their friend, not for any gain or for any return, but simply for the sake of friendship. Even if the other person shows no inclination toward your viewpoint and wants nothing to do with your God, you are still called to be a friend.

The example Jesus showed us is that a friend is a friend, regardless. I can never give up on a friend because Jesus never gave up on me even though he had plenty of opportunities and reasons to do so.

We’re also called to be neighbors. Not in the sense of location, but in the sense of hospitality. The Good Samaritan parable shows us that the definition of a neighbor is someone who has a need that we have the power to meet, regardless of whether that person looks like us, acts like us, or believes us. Regardless of whether that person is likable or not.

I can’t remember where I heard it before and I’m sure I’ve shared it before, but I love the idea that Jesus is the ultimate neighbor. I was the one lying beaten and bloody on the side of the road, half dead. Jesus was the only one to stop and help me. He was the only one who paid for my care.

So, the challenge tonight is to be a friend and a neighbor. Not necessarily to shove my faith down anyone’s throat or prove the existence of God and the Bible. Just to love people where they are for who they are just like someone once loved me.

That’s all.

April Fool’s Day

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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.

An Easter Reboot

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“The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God’s eyes, called the Beloved from all eternity and held safe in an everlasting embrace… We must dare to opt consciously for our chosenness and not allow our emotions, feelings, or passions to seduce us into self-rejection” (Henri Nouwen).

The stone was rolled away from the door, not to permit Christ to come out, but to enable the disciples to go in” (Peter Marshall).

Sometimes, it takes Easter to get my mind refocused. Like so many of you, I can get off track so very easily and forget who I am and what I’m here for. I need to be reminded that I am indeed the beloved, the chosen child of God. My purpose is to live that out as best I can, to become what God has already declared me to be.

I take Easter for granted because I already know how the story ends. Or at least I think I do.

In fact, Easter isn’t an end, but a beginning. C. S. Lewis in his book, The Last Battle, said that all of history was merely a title page and a preface. Eternity is the real beginning of the book, where each chapter is better than the last and the story is truly neverending.

Easter reminds me that my forgiveness might have been free for me, but not free. it might have not cost me anything, but it was not without cost. I don’t need to forget that my forgiveness cost God the very highest price and is the most extravagant gift ever given in history. I don’t need to take that lightly or for granted.

Easter also reminds me that failure isn’t final, that goodbyes aren’t forever, and that truth and faith and love and hope all survive the grave and come out stronger on the other side. I guess that’s why I love it so much.

 

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

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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?

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The Seven Stations of the Cross

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Tonight, I went to a Prayer Experience at Brentwood Baptist Church. It was about praying through the seven stations of the cross. I know that the Roman Catholic Church has 14, but we’re Baptists, so seven for us is a good start.

I didn’t spend too much time at each station, but just enough to grasp a little more of what the Cross meant for me.

I’ve always known about Jesus dying on the cross to save me, but I guess I never really let myself go there in a really deep and meaningful way. If you do, you find shame and humiliation. You find excruciating pain and suffering. You find the most agony one man has ever endured in the history of mankind.

I became aware that it was my humiliation and shame that Jesus bore. It was my sin that he carried on that cross and it was my death that he died. I should have been up there, nailed to that piece of wood.

I realized for the first time that Jesus doesn’t want my sympathy for what happened to him there. He doesn’t want me to feel sorry for him up there. He wants me. All of me. My heart, my mind, my will, my life, all of it.

Just as Simon of Cyrene picked up Jesus’ cross and carried it for him, I’m called to pick up a cross and carry it. That’s what being a disciple means.

Jesus would have done all of it for me, even if I were the only one in the world who needed it. That thought still astounds me. He loves me that much.

So don’t skim over this part of the story. Allow yourself to go there emotionally and mentally and spiritually. Stand in front of the cross and witness the suffering Savior and grieve with his followers. Watch as he is laid in the tomb. Remember that all of this is for you.

Then you can celebrate Easter Sunday.

Good Friday

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“[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’.

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

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I’m convinced that when you’re waiting for something, time moves half as fast as normal, so 15 minutes seems like 30, and 30 like an hour. That especially applies for doctor’s waiting rooms and motor vehicle registration offices.

If you’ve ever had to wait after a job interview, you know how frustratingly slow the process can seem. For me, there’s enough time to go from exhilarating optimism to crushing despair to somewhere in the middle during that time.

But waiting is good. Waiting is where God makes us who he wants us to be. Waiting is where God speaks to us the most.

But I still hate waiting.

I have to be honest. I’d rather have a root canal than have to wait. I’d rather watch episodes of Real Housewives of Atlanta than wait. You get the idea.

But I also know it’s good for me. It slows me down. It helps me to refocus and reorient my thinking. It’s like rebooting your computer periodically so that it works better.

Waiting means that I am no longer in control of the outcome. I acknowledge that God, and not me, is in control of the situation. He knows better than I do what the best outcome is, so I’ve learned to trust that.

It shouldn’t, but it always surprises me that God has impeccable timing. He’s never too soon or too late, but always shows up at the exact right moment. You’d think by now I’d expect that and be ready, but it always catches me off guard.

So I wait. I’m learning to wait well. I’m still not sure what that looks like, but I think I’m starting to catch on. It means expectancy of God showing up and getting ready for when that happens.

I just wish waiting didn’t take so long.

Rise: A Night of Worship and What Came Out Of It

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I went to a very special and unique Kairos event. It was billed as another Night of Worship, but started off very different than any service I’d ever been to before.

It started as a mock funeral. Mike Glenn led somber-faced pallbearers carrying a casket into the sanctuary. He then proceeded to preach a funeral service for Jesus just as he might for any member of the congregation who passed away.

It might seem a bit macabre, but it really brought two points home to me.

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First, the sin I so easily dismiss and take for granted has consequences. As Mike said, sin brings death to everybody every time. In this case, Jesus took the death that should have been mine. Whenever I look lightly at my sin, I need to remember that it cost Jesus his life.

Second, I must never forget the price paid for my life. Jesus thought I was worth every drop of his blood. That means that I have value beyond my income potential or job title or social status. I have value both in being created in God’s image and redeemed by his Son Jesus.

You can’t have Easter Sunday without Good Friday. The resurrection doesn’t mean anything without the cross. The triumph loses its impact without the suffering and the agony that proceeded it. I love what I read earlier today that the cross wasn’t a defeat and the resurrection the victory. The cross was the victory and the resurrection was the icing on the cake, the proof of that victory for the world to see. You need both.

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For me, the worship at the end meant more because I saw what my sin cost Jesus and what great lengths he went through for me because he’d rather go through hell for me than go to heaven without me (to borrow from Max Lucado).

May you and I have the courage to face Good Friday and take every bit of it in and not just skip to Easter Sunday and the happy part. May we never take lightly or for granted the sin that cost Jesus his life or treat as cheap the life he paid the ultimate price to redeem.

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Remember When You Used Cell Phones for Phone Calls?

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The old running joke about iPhones was that you could do just about anything with one. Buy concert tickets, check the weather, deposit money into your checking account. The only thing you couldn’t do was make a phone call.

I remember when all you could do with a cell phone was to make a phone call. That’s it. No internet. No music files. Not even a calculator.

We’ve come a long way from the old brick phones of yesteryear. Funny how no one is nostalgic about wanting one of those.

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This was my very first cell phone. I believe it was a dual phone capable of transmitting in both analog and digital frequencies. And it had a retractable antenna. I miss those. I mean retractable antennas, not the phones. Sad to say, but I’m pretty sure Qualcomm cell phones have gone the way of the Commodore computer and the dinosaur.

I’ve had a more than a few cell phones since then. I’ve had camera phones, flip phones, touchscreen phones, you name it. Some I liked better than others. All of them are obsolete now.

That’s technology for you. The faster it progresses, the less you’re able to use it before you have to upgrade to the next model or the next platform. One thing that dates a movie more than anything is the use of technology that was current and even ahead of its time then, but not so much now.

Faith never goes out of date. God is never obsolete. You won’t need to replace it in a year or even in five years.

I’m loving my latest phone. It’s an iPhone 5 that does virtually everything, including– believe it or not– making phone calls.

But one day soon, it too will become obsolete and need replacing. I’m sure that further down the road it will seem quaint and dated in light of the increasing advance of technology.

But my faith won’t. My God will still be the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Finding the Silver Lining

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After seeing Silver Linings Playbook, I’m 4 down and 5 to go in my quest to see all the best picture nominees for 2013. Hopefully, I can accomplish this quest in 2013. So far, it’s looking good.

But that movie resonated with me at a deep level. It’s about mental illness and broken people trying to fit the pieces back together again. The reason I could relate to it so very well is because I recognize the brokenness inside of me. In fact, I believe that everybody is fundamentally broken at some level. Some are just better at hiding the cracks and appearing normal. But face it, we’re messed up in one way or another.

So many times, we approach relationships with the mentality of “fix me” and “save me.” Maybe instead, we should have the attitude of “how can I make you better?” or “how can I bring out the best in you?’

Too many romantic relationships fail because one person tries to make another their world. No one person can be another’s world. It’s simply too much pressure and expectation. But that person can make the other’s world better. That person can make the other’s world a little brighter.

I still love how God has a heart for broken people like you and me. I love how gently he can bring together all the scattered pieces and put them back together to where you can’t see the cracks anymore. I don’t know how that all works, but I know that it does.

There’s no one better at loving broken people than someone who has embraced their brokenness and the healing that comes with it. There’s no one better at helping to pick up someone else’s broken pieces than someone who’s had their broken pieces fitted back together.

My goal shouldn’t be for you to complete me or fix me, but to see you become a whole person in Jesus, to see the image of God restored in you. So I look for the best in you and you look for the best in me and we help each other see not who we are but what we could be and– by God’s grace– will be one day.