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

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.

 

Hindsight Really is 20/20

I do this every single year. I look at my NCAA tournament bracket as it is in the process of imploding and wonder how I could have made some of the picks I did. I mean, Montana? Really?

At this point, I’m rooting for all the underdogs and scrapping any dreams of winning big cash with my brackets. If I’m going down, I want all the other brackets busted, too. I have no basketball pride.

It’s so easy to look back at the choices I’ve made in other areas of my life and wonder what I was thinking. I know you look back and cringe at some of the monumentally dumb decisions you’ve made.

But look at it this way. I may regret some of my choices, but not where they’ve led me, because I know God is better than anyone at bringing good out of a bad situation. Just ask Joseph (either one). Or David. Or practically anyone from the Bible.

Honestly, the only way not to fail spectacularly is not to play. And that is the worst failure of all. Failing is inevitable, but failure doesn’t have to be. You can learn from your mistakes. More importantly, you can see what God does with those mistakes, bringing you into places you might not ever have gone and to people you might not have otherwise met.

You will know better than anyone else what to say to someone because you’ve been in that same place. You can say, “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.”

I love what a pastor said. I’ve said it before, but it can’t be said enough. What you thought was your worst moment, your worst decision ever, what you swore you’d never tell anybody ever, God turns into the very first line of your testimony. Because your mistake no longer defines you. God does. The way he redeemed your failings does.

As for my bracket, I’ll fill one out again next year, hopefully a little wiser about who to pick and who NOT to pick. Or maybe I’ll just flip a coin and go with that.

 

Even the Lone Ranger Had Tonto, Right?

I hate watching nature shows that come on Discovery or the Animal Planet. There. It’s out there. I admit it for the whole blogging world to know.

The part I hate is when a cheetah or a lion separates a gazelle from the herd and. . . well, I can’t bring myself to describe it.

You feel bad for the gazelle, starting off the day with such high hopes and ending up on someone else’s dinner menu. Not the best way to go.

But I think about how so many believers do the very same thing. We allow ourselves to get cut off from fellow Christians, to get isolated with no one to keep us accountable or hold us in check. We have no one to offer empathy and encouragement. Then we fall.

The trick of the enemy is to get us alone. He knows that whenever two or more are gathered together he has no chance, but when he gets one of them alone, his odds go up dramatically.

You know the drill, right? Either you get cocky and think you don’t need anyone else or you get embarrassed at how low you’ve sunk and can’t bear to let anyone see you like this. Or maybe you think no one really cares so why bother?

I’ve believed all of these lies at least once at some point and I bet you have, too, because sometimes the lies just feel easier to accept. The truth is hard when it goes against what we feel to be true.

You and I both need someone in our corner to encourage and stir us on. We also need that one person who has permission to ask the hard questions and steer us back when we’ve drifted off course.

No man is an island, as the saying goes. There is no such thing as Lone Ranger Christianity (at least not any that I’ve found in the Bible). And didn’t even the Lone Ranger at least have Tonto (not to mention his trusty horse)?

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

“Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have got it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known” (Garrison Keillor).

I’m generally not the best judge of what I really want. How do I know? Because of all the times I got what I thought I wanted and thought would satisfy me and almost instantly was out looking again for what I really wanted.

I’m thankful (as I know you probably are) that I didn’t get most of what I asked God for. First and foremost, because God’s not a cosmic vending machine bound to give me whatever I asked for. Also, I’ve changed and my wants have changed and– hopefully– matured since then.

There’s the old saying that what looks good to you isn’t usually what’s good for you. You have to be disciplined and mature enough to know the difference. And I have not been very good at either of those. Improving, yes. Very good, no.

I think if I ever focused on what I have, I’d be a lot better off. My checking account would be, too.

What do I have?

All that really matters.

I have family, friends, air to breathe, health, freedom, a good mind, and today. Most of all, I have a God who knows what I need better than I do. He knows what I’m seeking after when I can’t even put a name to it.

As the old Rolling Stones song says, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need.” There’s some good theology in those lyrics.

There’s not a neat and tidy theological wrap-up to all this. I just realize that if I’m not getting what I want, sometimes it’s because I need better “wants.” By the way, that sentence made perfect sense in my head.

May you always find that even though God doesn’t always give you what you want, he does always give you what you need.