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God’s Yes: Tonight’s Takeaway from Kairos

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“For no matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘Yes’ in Christ. And so through him the ‘Amen’ is spoken by us to the glory of God” (2 Cor. 1:20).

Most people see Christians as people who are against stuff. Kinda like the old saying: “I don’t smoke and I don’t chew and I don’t go with girls that do.”

Pastor Mike talked about how the church he attended growing up would get together and celebrate not having done anything bad. They didn’t drink or smoke or cuss or gamble. In fact, they celebrated having not done anything at all.

I believe God speaks a far louder YES than most people realize. When He says No, it’s only because He has a far greater Yes in mind for you. Or maybe it’s something you’re not quite ready for.

My mom wouldn’t let me stuff myself with candy before dinner. Why? Because she wanted to be a killjoy? More likely it was because a) I’d make myself sick from all the candy, b) I’d be a fat kid with cavities, and most importantly, c) I’d be missing out on something far more satisfying and beneficial.

I think even the No’s of God are a way of directing us to His Yes. To borrow from a C. S. Lewis metaphor, he takes us out of the slum where we’re making mud pies to offer us a holiday at sea.

God doesn’t want to repress you or depersonalize you. He wants you to become everything He created you to be. For you to be most fully alive and most fully you. And Who would know better how to do that than the One who made you?

I want God’s YES for me even if that means I have to say NO occasionally to my appetites and desires. Even if that means I chose the delayed reward over immediate gratification. Well, at least I do most of the time.

Radner Lake and Henry David Thoreau

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image When was the last time you paused and stood absolutely still and silent for one minute? When was the last time you went to a place of solitude and did nothing more than listen to the quiet? I walked my favorite trail at Radnor Lake State Park again today. Even after so many times, it still feels like I’m leaving Middle Tennessee for Middle Earth. I feel like I could be Frodo Baggins out for a hike in the Shire. image When I stood still, I could hear nature all around me. Leaves rustling, birds singing, wind humming. Even myself thinking. I think God speaks loudest to me in the quiet. When I’m still and my brain isn’t racing with 9,956 tabs open at the same time. Like He did with Elijah, God often chooses to speak through a still, small voice that won’t compete with all the noise and clamor around us. image I can hear that Voice when I’m at Radnor Lake and when I’m sitting in St. Paul’s Episcopal Church or when I’m laying in bed late at night. I confess I’m still not very good at listening. I’m still too impatient and easily distracted. If I try to be still, immediately I think of something I need to do or a note I need to write. Complete stillness is so unnatural for me. For all of us.

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I need to get out more. And by out, I mean to these quiet places with no flashing neon lights or constant noise. Sometimes I think I could be like Mr. Thoreau and find myself a Walden Pond to visit for a while. Yeah, that’d be nice.

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Old Houses

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve been drawn to old homes. Especially those with a front porch and hardwood floors and fireplaces.

Old homes have character. You know that if these walls could speak, they’d have plenty of stories to tell about families and memories and times of celebration and of sadness.

To me, new homes are just too cookie-cutter. They all look the same. They look like castles where people go to shut out the rest of the world.

Old homes always seem more inviting, like you expect to see someone on the front porch with a glass of sweet tea inviting you to sit a spell (as we say here in the South). I imagine that even the ghosts in old homes are friendly, like Casper (only slightly less annoying).

Maybe one day someone will leave me an old home in their will (hint, hint), along with a little extra money to help with the upkeep. That would be nice. I’m fairly certain that if I had a real genuine front porch, I’d almost never leave it but sit in my front porch swing and watch the people and cars passing by.

Old homes are a throwback to a simpler time and a slower way of life. Like Andy Griffith and Mayberry. A time when people were more satisfied with what they had and not always in such a hurry to acquire more and do more and possess more all the time.

I’m also open to house-sitting in an old house. Maybe for like four or five years, perhaps?

Family Reunions

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My cousin posted a picture on Instagram that got me thinking. It was a picture taken of the extended family gathered together, all smiles and laughter.

It made me think back to all those family reunions we used to have back in the day. I so enjoyed seeing those people, many of whom I only saw that one day a year.

Looking back, I have one regret. Why didn’t I get to know these people better when I had the chance? Why did I wait until it was too late?

I think everyone who has ever lost a close loved one will feel like they took their loved one for granted to some degree, that they left words unspoken or good deeds undone.

I look at this picture and I see a lot of people who aren’t around anymore. So many that I miss. If I only had some kind of time machine to go back, even if It were only like watching an old home movie. That would be enough.

You think you will have enough time with those you love. You won’t. You think that if they live a good long life, their passing won’t hurt as much. It will.

All you have is the time you’re given. All you have is today, as the old Robert Earl Keen song goes. Every moment you spend with a loved one now is one less regret you’ll have tomorrow.

Don’t think that I have only sad memories. The majority of the feelings that come from this picture are happy ones. Good ones. I feel like I grew up in a family with a long legacy of love, laughter, honor, and faith. I was (and still am) very blessed.

Life Lessons from a Chick Flick

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I should probably go ahead and hand in my man card. Or just burn it. I saw a movie that would definitely rate as a chick flick. And I sorta liked it.

Ok, it was formulaic and a lot of the conflict felt forced and unnatural, but I still couldn’t help liking it in all its glorious corniness.

The two main characters got so caught up in the wedding hype that they almost lost a friendship over it. Oops. Spoiler alert there.

In my opinion, a lot of girls and guys get so caught up in the perfect proposal and the perfect wedding that they forget to plan for a great marriage.

Don’t get me wrong. Weddings can be a true testimonial to the power and beauty of Christ’s love for Hie church. But I also think a more powerful testimony is the witness of a good marriage where the husband loves his wife the way Christ loves His own bride, the Church.

In all honesty, the wedding day is not about the bride. Not ultimately. It’s not about the mother of the bride. It’s about Jesus.

Also, you know you’re finally growing up when you can see your friends finding their own happiness in relationships and instead of envy and bitterness and cynicism, you find joy are able to wish them the best with the utmost sincerity in your heart.

What I’m learning is that if you’re not complete and whole in who you are as a single individual, marriage won’t fix that. If you’re not comfortable in your own skin and if you don’t know who you are in Christ, a marriage partner won’t fix that. You have to love you. You have to truly accept the love God has for you before you can give it to someone else.

By the way, the movie in question was Bride Wars. Not Oscar material by any means, but a pleasant enough diversion for an evening.

4 Years Later

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5 days ago, I received a notification from the PTB at Facebook (PTB= Powers That Be) of my 4th anniversary of blogging through this very lovely and wonderful blogsite (shameless plug).

It’s been four years. And I still don’t like the term “blog.” It sounds too much like “blah.” But as there’s not a better word for what I and millions of others write every day, it’ll have to do.

I’ve written 1,466 of these blogs since that fateful day in July 2010. Actually, counting this one, it’s 1,467. For some reason that I still have yet to determine, the good people at WordPress felt led to notify me when I reached that all-important plateau of 1,337 blogs. That felt extremely weird and random.

I feel like this is a way for me to share me to the world– my story, my passions, my likes, my history, and my day-to-day. I hope that someone out there reads what I write and says, “You know what I’m feeling and what I’m going through. Because of you, I’m not giving up.”

As an interesting addendum, I figure that if I average 300 words per blog, then I’ve written approximately 440,100 words. My goal is 1 million words. And maybe to make $1 per word. That’d be nice.

Right now, I’m reminded of an episode of Friends where Phoebe says something like, “If you want to be on my email list, you’re gonna have to donate money so I can buy a computer.” I don’t know what made me think of that or what it has to do with anything. It just came to mind.

So here’s to another 4 years. At least. Here’s to the discoveries and experiences and dreams that are yet to come. Here’s to finding joy and hope and love and light in the unlikeliest and most unexpected of places. I hope you stick with me, because it’s been a fun ride so far and I am still so very grateful to all those who take the time to read these things. Even you, Mom.

Autumn in July? Yes, Please

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I forgot my lunch today. I walked right out the front door and the word “lunch” never even crossed my mind. That happens when you’re in full-on Walking Dead mode, pre-coffee.

I ended up walking across the street to the hospital cafeteria. Don’t worry. They have a grill which actually has decent food. I myself had a turkey burger, being ever the culinarily adventurous type. And yes, it was slap yo momma good.

I love fall. I especially love these sneak previews in the month that’s notorious for making me sweat like a pig that’s about to become bacon. July and I normally don’t get along very well. The same goes for August.

But today was a pleasant surprise. I like to think of it as a bit of weather serendipity. When you’re eyes are opened by grace, you’re able to see these things as small blessings, gifts from God.

Kairos was spectacular as always. The question of the night was this: why do you believe in Jesus? Is it for a comfy life? Or for good luck a la Genie in a bottle? Is it for a free ticket to heaven and a get out of hell card?

While each of these have varying degrees of merit, none of them alone are enough to compel anyone to want to follow this Jesus for a lifetime. Or for them to follow after your lead.

The best reason to follow Jesus? Because He’s worth it. Because He’s more than just a good man or a good teacher or a good example. He’s God in human skin, or as tonight’s speaker put it, God in a bod.

I ended up at Chick-fil-A, enjoying the night air and my own thoughts. And a grilled chicken sandwich, too. It was as close to perfection as this side of heaven allows.

Waiting

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I learned another valuable lesson about waiting and patience. I was supposed to meet a friend at the Radnor Lake State Park parking lot. The only thing was that the lot was full and there was quite a line of cars waiting to get in.

I was very tempted to turn around and head home. Surely, I’d be sitting in my car in that line for a long, long, long, long, long . . . well, you get the idea . . . a long time. It didn’t seem worth it to me.

Some did turn around and leave. But something in me told me to wait and to have patience. Surely enough, I saw people walking towards their cars and leaving and slowly but surely, that line of cars got smaller and smaller. Finally, I was able to find a spot.

I wonder how many people give up on their goals and dreams when they are on the cusp of seeing them realized. We are such an impatient society. We’ve forgotten that just about anything worthwhile takes time and effort, trial and error, and patience.

I’m so glad that God’s patience with me isn’t like me patience with Him or with myself. His patience toward me is infinite. He sees a future for me that I can’t see, a glorious end just on the other side of those seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

Mr. Churchill was right. Don’t give up. Don’t evah, evah give up (I even typed it with a British accent). It will be way more than worth it.

PS It was worth it. Under the trees with a cool breeze blowing, it almost felt like fall. My friend and I saw two deer, some sort of exotic bird (I think it was a heron), a squirrel, and a very sleepy raccoon taking a nap up in a tree. I have evidence.

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More Good News

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“Here is the message we heard from him and pass on to you: that God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to be sharing in his life while we walk in the dark, our words and our lives are a lie; but if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, then we share a common life, and we are being cleansed from every sin by the blood of Jesus his son.

If we claim to be sinless, we are self-deceived and strangers to the truth. If we confess our sins, he is just, and may be trusted to forgive our sins and cleanse us from every kind of wrong; but if we say we have committed no sin, we make him out to be a liar, and then his word has no place in us” (1 John 1:5-10).

That was the text of the sermon from The Church at Avenue South.

The good news I’m referring to is this: it’s not about what I’ve done or said that will get me forgiven. It is all about what Jesus has already done. It’s about me clinging to that finished work and trusting in Jesus.

Sure, I have good days where I feel like I have my stuff together. Then there are days when I can barely tie my shoelaces successfully. There are moments when I wonder if the pills are really working because I feel so far from normal. Like all of us do from time to time.

On the good days and on the bad days, my forgiveness and my hope come from Jesus. Never from me or my talents or my mad skills or my ingenuity.

The old hymn says it best. My hope IS built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. Not on any self-made systems of support, which always come crashing down sooner or later.

Only in Jesus. To me, that is news that never gets old and never stops being good news.

Notes on a Muggy Night

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I made my weekly pilgrimage to Franklin. It just so happened that this weekend is a bluegrass festival, Bluegrass Along the Harpeth. They had a section of Main Street blocked off and there were LOTS of people milling about. And it was hot.

Well, no. It wasn’t so much hot as it was muggy. Which is worse. I confess that I sweat. A lot. And I was positively dripping after two hours of being outside.

I personally would much rather be too cold than too hot. For one, you can always add clothes or go inside to warm up. You can’t really do too much of you’re too hot except go inside. Or go naked. And generally that’s frowned upon.

I had a thought. Sometimes, you have to let the past go and not worry about the future. Sometimes, you just have to be in the moment. You have to enjoy where you are and not miss the moment worrying about tomorrow or the next day.

Jim Elliott once said, Wherever you are, be all there. Live to the hilt every moment you believe to be in the will of God. Or something like that.

That’s what I tried to do tonight. I think I succeeded. Even if I did sweat quite a bit.