repentence

Things I Love 12: Tested And Approved by Lucy The Wonder Kitty

/ Ragamuffingospelfan / 1 Comment

island hammock

Lucy is in my lap, approving  whatever I type. Of course, she can’t read, but if she could, she would add her own comments (most of which would not be fit to print in a family-style blog such as this one). So I’ll take her silence as either approval or extreme sleepiness.

The list commences with #264 (I think).

264) Ice-cold water to quench my thirst on a humid summer day.

265) A long walk alone under a full moon at night (as opposed to all those moonlit walks during the day).

266) That I’m finally at a place where I’m comfortable alone or in a crowd.

267) Planned spontaneity.

268) That I’ve come to the place where if I never see a certain person ever again (and at the moment it appears very likely to be the case), that I will be glad for the friendship; I will miss her, but my life will go on.

269) Those quiet moments of peace where God speaks into my silence.

270) That with God, every day is a day to look forward to.

271) Reading collects out of The Book of Common Prayer and seeing my own prayers expressed better than I could ever put them.

272) That this blog site has spell-check so that I can appear smarter than I really am, i.e. that I can actually spell.

273) That I really don’t have to be friends with everyone or have everyone like me to be content.

274) That everything will be fine in the end, and if it’s not fine, it’s not the end.

275) Good lines from good movies (like the one I just referenced earlier).

276) Chocolate bars with bacon in them (it sounds gross, but tastes divine).

277) All of my quirks

278) That I have to show my driver’s license to prove that I really am the age I say I am.

279) That even though Jon Acuff might have more readers for one blog than I’ve had for all my 1,000+ blogs combined, that I have touched and impacted lives that wouldn’t have been touched and impacted had I chosen not to write a blog.

280) That I can use bad grammar, and bad punctuation, in my blogs, if I so, choose.

281) Those rare times when the Church is known for what it’s for rather than what it’s against.

282) That I can learn something from anybody, no matter what their philosophical, theological, political or social beliefs and regardless of whether or not they have the same worldview as mine.

283) That hamburger from The Pharmacy with bacon, ham, and a fried egg (10,000 calories of deliciousness!)

284) That the last spoken words from Jesus in the Bible aren’t a condemnation but an invitation.

285) When I talk into a box fan and make my voice sound like a robot.

286) That being grown-up doesn’t always mean having to be mature all the time.

287) That the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.

288) The way my cat Lucy hovers when she goes to the bathroom.

289) Not knowing all the answers (or even all of the questions).

290) A perfectly made and perfectly thrown paper airplane.

291) That I saw the actual Batmobile from the campy 60’s TV show tonight in downtown Franklin

292) That this list will continue– maybe tomorrow, maybe not. You’ll just have to tune in tomorrow to find out. Same bat time, same bat channel.

A Desparate Prayer

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Have you ever been to a party and found out you were being socially awkward? Did you feel like you were trying too hard and forcing conversation and you imagined the other person was like, “Please, just stop talking before you hurt yourself”? Did you think to yourself, “Wow. Did I really just say that? What the heck?” and find that you couldn’t make yourself stop?

Have you ever felt like you were forcing a friendship or other relationship instead of letting God guide it in His own way? Did you feel that even you knew that God’s plan for the relationship was better that you couldn’t stop trying to take control?

Have you ever felt like no matter how you jumped through all the religious hoops, you never could pray enough or evangelize enough or worship loud enough to meet the exacting standards?

Then you probably know what the tax-collector felt when he prayed, “God, be merciful to me, the sinner.”

Note: He didn’t say that he was a sinner, one among many, but the sinner. Not just someone who messes up, but isn’t as bad as others, but the chief of sinners. That’s from the Greek.

Guess what? When you can pray that prayer and mean it, you are truly set free.

You are set free from trying to earn God’s approval, as well as the approval of others. You find that approval is already yours through the finished work of Jesus Christ. You find that you are good enough, because God says you are good enough.

If you’ve ever gone through a season where you can see your own brokenness, then you know that sometimes the only words you can find to pray are “Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.”

God says that He is close to the cries of the broken-hearted, those who know they don’t have what it takes in and of themselves. His strength is still made complete when we confess that we are weak and not only confess, but boast in that very weakness.

May that be your prayer today. “God, be merciful to me, the sinner.”

And go to fellowshipnashville.org to check out the sermon on which most of this was based. It’s amazing.

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.