relationships

Baggage Part I: Letting Go

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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.

Some Reminders For You and Me

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Sometimes, I need to be reminded because I am forgetful and easily distracted. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who needs the reminder. So here is a list of reminders for us to consider.

1) God is for us, not against us. He’s not out to kill our dreams or take away what brings us happiness and pleasure, but to be our Ultimate Joy and show us true fulfullment by helping us become all He made us to be.

2) You don’t have to be an expert theologian or communicator to share your faith. You don’t even have to be good. You just have to have a story to tell and a voice to tell it.

3) God is much more interested in your inside world than your outward appearance. It’s no good to wrap yourself in good works and activities if you have a bad heart. God doesn’t want all your best efforts; He wants all of you. He doesn’t want to make you better; He wants to make you come alive.

4) You need to be less hard on yourself. So do I. If God can forgive us, why can’t we forgive ourselves? I read that we should be able to believe what God says about us, no matter how beautiful it may seem.

5) Freedom starts with honesty. I can never be free if I’m not honest about where I’ve fallen short. Sure there’s grace, but grace doesn’t cover denials, only confessions.

6) Sometimes, we can worship strong with our hands held high. Sometimes, we need others to hold our arms up. Sometimes, we need others to pray the words we can’t find and believe for what we can’t see.

7) OK, there’s not really a 7th point, but I really didn’t want to end on 6. It just didn’t feel right.

Most of all, may we be reminded every morning and every night that our Abba Father loves us and is very fond of us and delights in us and sings over us every night.

Why Fairy Tales Last

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I saw Snow White and the Huntsman, based on the fairy tale, tonight in the theatre. I think for me there’s still something about a fairy tale well told that still tugs at my heart strings.

It’s more than just a damsel in distress. Or at least I think so.

We’ve all at some point pricked our fingers on a spindle or taken a bite of that apple. Suddenly, we find ourselves dead inside and out.

You and I need to be rescued. We need Someone strong and brave enough to fight for us. Someone who’s not afraid to die for us.

That’s the Gospel in a nutshell.

I love the story where Tolkien finally wins C.S. Lewis over when he tells him that the Gospel is a myth, but at the same time, a true myth.

I read a book recently that spoke of the Gospel as a tragedy, a comedy, and a fairy tale. The last third of the book made my heart come alive inside my chest. The idea of the Gospel being a fairy tale come true is something most of us have never thought or dreamed of, but that’s what it is.

We get the Rescuer. We get to be Princes and Princesses, royal children of the King of the Universe. And we get the happily ever after (read the last chapter of Revelations if you need proof).

That’s why fairy tales will never, ever go out of style.

The Far Country

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“The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols,breaking the hearts of their worshippers.  For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited” (Clive Staples Lewis, Weight of Glory).

I’ve been thinking about the whole prodigal story from a different perspective. For so long, I’ve always thought about the prodigal as someone other than me. Sure, I’m glad he came home, but I’m also glad that he wasn’t me.

These days, I can see myself as the prodigal son. I may not have run away from home and sowed my wild oats, but I have rebelled in my mind. I have been at times both the younger and the older son in the story.

We are all prodigals a long way from home. As good as this life is, it’s not home. I heard it put like this: at best this life is a clean bus station; you might not mind staying there a while, but you wouldn’t want to live there.

We are all on the road, trying to find our way home. We’ve all had moments when we’ve come to ourselves and realized that we need to change.

The magical part of the story is that we all have a Father who’s waiting at the end of the road. This Father is not disappointed in us. He’s not ready to turn His back on us or disown us.

He’s got his running shoes on and He can’t wait to run down the road and throw His arms around us and welcome us home. He’s got ribs on the grill and a party unlike any you’ve ever seen.

You may have plans to work your way into  His good graces, but the most important news is that it’s already been done. His own son has paid your admission fee.

So when you catch the scent of a new flower or hear snatches of a new song, you’re catching glimpses of a home you’ve never seen, but only heard of. But in your heart of hearts, you know it’s where you belong.

 

Night Volleyball

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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.

The Best Exotic Marigold Epiphany

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“Everything will be all right in the end… if it’s not all right then it’s not the end” (from the movie The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel).

I never thought I’d actually enjoy a movie about a group of retirees who move to a hotel in India to save money. But I did. It helps that the cast was stellar and the setting was fantastic and beautiful.

But there were a couple of lines that spoke to me more than if they’d come out of a devotional. The above quote and one other small exchange of dialogue:

Evelyn: “Nothing here has worked out quite as I expected.”

Muriel: “Most things don’t. But sometimes what happens instead is the good stuff.”

It does work out alright in the end. If it’s not alright, it’s not the end. If my life doesn’t make sense, there’s more to come. If I feel defeated and discouraged, there’s another chapter set to begin.

The Bible puts it another way: “God works all things together for good to those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.”

Maybe you’re in a low point in your story. Maybe you love someone who doesn’t love you back. Maybe you aren’t where you thought you’d be financially. Maybe you are like me and just got let go from your job. Maybe you feel like the story will never get better.

The best part of any story is the unexpected twist that always comes at the lowest point. And God is the best and coming through at the exact moment you need Him to. He delights in changing your story from a tragedy to a triumph.

You may not get what you expected, but sometimes that can be a good thing. A very good thing.

And believe me, the ending to God’s story for you is the best you’ll ever read. I promise.

My Unplanned Vacation

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Even now, it still seems so surreal and dreamlike. I still remember walking into that room and hearing the words that I was being let go, but it seems more like a dream than some actual dreams I’ve had. And I’ve had some wacky ones in my time.

So today, I took it easy. I went to see a movie and ate at Jason’s Deli. I finished up season 4 of Mad Men, where they had to let people go from their ad agency.

I am so thankful for all the well wishes and prayers from all of my facebook friends. Maybe that’s one reason why I’m not in full-on stressed out mode at the moment.

I also know that I’ve had to look for a job before and God has always provided. I am confident that He will come through this time just like He has so many times before through all the years I’ve known Him.

Regardless of what I think or how I feel, what I know to be true of my God is more real than anything I feel or think. This may be a time of testing where I am forced to rely on God’s strength when I have run out of my own.

Maybe this is where God takes away something good to give me something way better. That’s what I’m hoping and praying is the case.

No matter how big the obstacle you’re facing, God is bigger. No matter  how strong the opposition, God is stronger. Even when you don’t have the faith to believe, God is faithful even when we are faithless.

Despite all the changes and chaos and turmoil, that’s still true. And it always will be.

Prodigal

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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.

Sparks

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I think I had my eyes opened today. I’ve been living in a bubble and not really seeing the people around me.

I attended a one-day seminar/conference/retreat/you-pick-a-name-for-it called Spark, about how to intentionally create relationships with unbelievers.

I never realized how much time I spend in my little Christian bubble with my Christian activities and my Christian friends and am blind to the people around me who have needs and hurts and fears.

I don’t know how this will work out for me, practically speaking, but I know I can never go back to who I was this morning.

That’s how it goes when you learn or try something new. You get stretched and you can never go back to your original shape. You may not notice it or feel it, but you are a different person. You have been transformed.

I’m so glad I got stretched today. I’m even more glad I was surrounded by people that have already walked the same road and others who are just as ready and willing as I am to walk it.

I can’t wait to see what great things God will do through our little bit of agreement and obedience.

May God stretch you into something new and beautiful. May your life become a spark that ignites a flame that burns passionately for His glory.

Amen.