Imagine for a second that you are like a little toy dog being sold at a yard sale. This little toy dog hasn’t seen much love. It’s scuffed up, faded from being left out in the sun, and is missing an ear. It sits all alone, away from all the newer and better toys.

No one comes near. No one is even remotely interested in this little toy dog. If they really wanted a dog, they could get a real one that could run and play and bark and fetch. Even if they didn’t want a real dog, they could still get a toy dog that at least barked and sat up on command. This toy dog doesn’t do anything but sit.

Anyone who saw this toy dog would think it was destined for the dumpster. Already, the price has dropped on the little toy dog three times and still no one has even come over to look at it, much less make an offer.

But wait. An old man slowly shuffles over to the toy dog. He picks it up with hands calloused and worn from many years at his labor. He’s a toy maker and this little dog is one of his creations.

He pulls out a pen, turns over the little dog, and signs his name on the bottom. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a little toy dog ear and puts in on the little dog. He takes a little touch-up paint and brings back the color to the little toy dog’s face. He takes the little dog to the homeowner and says, “I will give you $1,000 for this little toy dog.”

“The price for this little dog is only 50 cents and no one would buy it even for that. Why are you willing to pay so much?”

“Because I made this little toy dog as a child and it means a lot to me and I want everyone here to know how much I value this little toy dog.”

Maybe you’re like that. You’re scuffed and scarred from the years with a few pieces missing. You’re alone and neglected and feel like you have nothing to offer that anyone wants. All anyone has ever done to you is call you names and mistreat you. You feel worthless.

What if the Creator of the Universe found you? What if He picked you up, turned you upside down, and showed you were He signed you? What if that meant that you weren’t worthless, but priceless?

Jesus has come to the yard sale of your life. He found you, bought you back with His own blood, and is transforming you into a glorioius new creation. I nor anyone else can tell you what you’re worth, because it’s beyond counting. You are priceless. You are brokenness becoming beautiful again. You are BELOVED.

That’s the truth, no matter what anyone else has told you. That’s what Jesus is telling you now

(Big thanks to Mike Glenn for inspiring this blog for the image of the Artist showing you where he signed you)

I am a sucker for a good movie. I freely admit that. I have probably seen way too many in my time, a product of having a sad social life. Tonight I watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s, a movie I have seen countless times, and still loved it. Even though I knew how it would turn out.

There’s something about seeing a story well told with dramatic tension and conflict. The best part is always the happy ending where everything ends up neat and tidy. No loose ends.

I’m talking mostly about the classic TCM-type movies made back in the golden age of Hollywood when the studios ruled and movies were mostly shot on a backlot. I like newer movies, too, but for the most part they miss the magic.

I sometimes wish real life were like the movies. I wish all my turmoil and conflict could be wrapped up into a nice, Hollywood ending. The guy gets the girl, they find the missing cat, etc.

But when I read my Bible, I get the best possible happy ending of all time. The story goes like this:

We were dead in our sins, alienated from God and without hope. We were estranged not only from God, but from each other and from ourselves. We were completely and utterly lost in every sense of the word.

But a Hero showed up. This hero didn’t act like a regular Superman-type hero. He willingly bore punishment for a crime He didn’t commit. In the midst of all the injustice, He never opened His mouth to complain or criticize. He took it and even prayed for their forgiveness while they were in the very act of killing Him.

The best part of the story is that He did it for you. He did it for me. Because of what He did, all us nobodies are now beloved children of God. All us that nobody wanted and no one had any use for are now sons and daughters of the King of Kings, with lives that shine as testimonies to the greatness of our God.

This happy ending is one where every single injustice, every wrong, every evil act is made right. This is where those who have given up dreams and lost loved ones and made sacrifices will have everything restored a thousand times over.

Love wins. Jesus reigns and we get to see the ultimate happy ending of all time, one that is so perfect because it is so real.

I hold on to that hope when my own story doesn’t seem to make sense and a happy ending is the furthest thing from my mind. When surviving to see the next chapter is all I can do.

Jesus is not only at the end of your story, but He’s everywhere through it, with you every moment. This Jesus who authored the ultimate ending has promised to not only make sure you get there, but to personally bring you there.

That’s what I call a happy ending!

 

Nathan, I don’t know if you will read this or not. I hope so, because there are some things you should know.

First of all, I’m so grateful that we were friends at Ridgeway Briarcrest. Those were good days and having you for a friend was part of the reason why. I remember playing video games on our Commodore computers (I always envied you because you had a Commodore 128 while I was slumming it with a Commodore 64).

I still remember those field trips and slumber parties and hanging out at your house back when we were both still living in the Fox Meadows area. I especially remember my 4th grade birthday party at East End skating rink. I made the announcement that I was having my 10th anniversary. I think Andy set me straight when he informed me that aniversaries were for married people.

I’m sorry that I didn’t make more of an effort to stay friends with you when we both got to high school. It seems we ended up hanging with different crowds and lost touch. I wish we could have reconnected and shared all the good memories. It’s something I regret even today.

I hear you’re sick and don’t have much longer. It hurts my heart to hear that. To me, you will always be one of my best friends. I want you to know that.

I hope you’re at peace. I hope you know Jesus and know how much He loves you. I hope and pray that I’ll see you again in heaven. Maybe then we can tell stories about the old station wagon days.

I will always miss you,

Your friend,

Greg.

I love the movie Big, with Tom Hanks. I can so relate to the premise. I have felt like that 10-year old who one day wakes up in a grown man’s body. Some days, I have the fear that I am that kid. I fear someone’s going to finally catch me and send me back to 4th grade English class.

But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

I look at the Gospels and I see where Jesus says things like having the faith of a child or how we must be like a little child to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

The people who stand out to me the most are the ones who still have a child’s wonder at the world. They never stop being amazed at what they see around them and especially at what God is doing in and through them. They have escaped the cynical spirit of the age and still believe that the good side will win out and the good guys beat the bad guys in the end.

It’s not being childish. It’s not about throwing tantrums when you don’t get your way. That’s not it at all.

It’s about not forgetting what it first felt like when Jesus found you and rescued you. It’s about not letting all the other voices drown out the one Voice that whispers your name at night. The one Voice that tells you how precious you are and how very fond He is of you.

Most of all, it’s about dependence. A child knows that he or she is needy. Children don’t worry about whether asking is right or wrong, approrpriate or not. They just ask. For anything and everything.

You and I must come to that same place where we’re helpless children totally dependent on our Abba Father for every single thing. The independent, self-sufficient spirit in us must die and we must recognize our own poverty of spirit. We have absolutely nothing to bring except broken lives and broken hearts and broken dreams.

That’s what God wants. Just us, asking for what we need. Just us, crawling up into Abba Daddy’s lap, confident that He will provide.

By the way, I think I may be in need of a can of silly string. If you know where I can get some, I would be so thankful. I have some fake sneezing to do in my near future.

 

“If you wait, your heavenly Father will pick you up, carry you out into the night, and make your life sparkle. He wants to dazzle you with the wonder of his love” (Paul E. Miller, A Praying Life).

It took 400 blogs, but Ive finally come full circle. I started out wanting to write blogs about the amazing love God has for His people, how He is very fond of you and of me.

Then somewhere along the way, I had a blog or two that caught on with more people. I think I realize now that blogging became too much about how many people were reading my posts each day.

I’m now back to the point where I blog for me, to remind myself of the goodness of God. It’s one thing to know it in my head, but to see it all in black and white on a computer screen makes it more real to me for some reason.

I may be redundant and I may be that one-note symphony, but I don’t care. What I do care is that you really know down to the very fiber of your being that Abba God loves you, is in love with you, gave up everything for you, and wants you. That’s all.

It may not be clever or witty or original, but it’s true. It’s probably been said better in other places, but I only want to say it again in my own way.

Max Lucado said that Jesus would rather die for you than live without you. He did. He died for you rather than choose a comfortable life as a carpenter, unknown to the world and free from misunderstanding and hatred and torture and death.

He did choose the nails. He chose to bear your pain and carry your sins and die for you.

If I write 400 more blogs, I hope to keep saying just this: Jesus thought you were to die for and still does.

I am not a math person. I’ve heard the joke that goes like this. There are three kinds of people in the world: those who are good at math and those who aren’t. I can relate to that. But I do like numbers, because numbers mean something. Like these

10 – That’s how many years it will have been tomorrow since the terrible and tragic events of 9/11. The world changed forever on that day.

4 – That’s how many hits I had on my blog on Thursday, according to the good people who keep track of these things at WordPress.

0 – That’s how many times I’ve thought about giving up writing my blog. Heck, I’d do it even if it were just for me.

1,000,000,000,000 – That is how many second chances you get from God and how many times you can totally mess up and fall down and still get forgiveness and grace.

0.00 – That’s the percent of the chance that God will ever give up on you.

110 – That is the percentage of how much God loves you, is in love with you, and is just plain crazy about you.

20- That’s how many years it’s been since I graduated from high school.

1- That’s how many steps to take at a time, how many deep breaths to take, and how many days to survive to get through the hard stuff. Just 1.

66- That’s how many love letters from Home you get from God. They are all worth reading.

86 – It means to remove or to end something. Like this blog.

Thanks again for reading. I hope more than anything that these blogs will help you see that what matters in this life is knowing two things: 1) that you belong to your Abba Father and 2) He is still very fond of you. If I can get you to believe that, then I will count this blog a success.

 

“Love’s not a feeling Love’s not convenient
But I know love will change your life
Love takes sacrifice Love cuts like a knife
Sometimes love will make you cry
Love’s not easy But it’s worth it” (Francesca Battistelli)

This is the chorus from a really good song I heard in the car today. It talked about real love. Not the “ooh, I want you and I’ll die if I don’t have you right now” kind of love. Not the “you make me feel warm and fuzzy” kind. The “love is not convenient or easy and will cost you all you have, but it’s worth it” kind.

True love isn’t easy. It isn’t convenient. It isn’t something you fall into. True love is a choice you make, whether you feel like it or not. True love says “I’m all in”, regardless.

True love is Jesus, who was in the form of God, taking the form of a human and a slave, for you. True love is Jesus who would rather die for you than live without you (thanks to Max Lucado for that one).

Hollywood gets it wrong by making love less than what it really is. It’s not just feelings. It’s choosing to love when the feelings aren’t there.

I’ve come to this conclusion. I can’t really love anyone this way on my own. No one can. Love means giving without expectation of receiving anthing in return. Love means my needs come second. Love means I do whatever it takes to bring out God’s best in you.

That’s something I can’t do. Or you.

We need a love that’s stronger than death, that’s bigger than any doubt, that’s gentle enough to hold shattered hearts and broken lives.

Paul talks about the love of God poured into human hearts. That’s what we need to love anybody. We need hearts full and overflowing with 180 proof vintage Love as only God could make it.

“Love not of you
Love not of me
Come hold us up
Come set us free
Not as we know it
But as it can be” (Sara Groves).

That’s true love.

I always liked the initials KISS, which stand for Keep in Simple, Stupid. Those words are a good reminder to those of us who profess Jesus as Lord and Savior.

We do have a tendancy to complicate things. We add as many rules and obligations as the Pharisees did back in Jesus’ day. Sometimes we make it more difficult for people to find their way to Jesus, adding cultural and political baggage to the mix.

Jesus simply said, “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” It’s that simple.

I’m not saying following Jesus is easy. It’s hard sometimes to take up that cross daily and to die to myself and to love my enemies and all that. But it’s never complicated.

I love how Henri Nouwen summarized the Gospel in one sentence: “You are the beloved of God.” It really is all about God loving you so much that He sent Jesus for you so that you wouldn’t be lost and broken forever. The Gospel says that it’s never too late to turn around and fall into the arms of Jesus. It’s never too late to start over and be transformed by the radical love of Jesus.

It’s so simple that I need to be reminded every day of just how simple it really is. I need the Gospel daily to remember where I was when Jesus found me and where I am now in the process of sanctification, and where I’m headed.

I need the reminder that God looks at me and sees Jesus. He sees perfection. He sees holiness. He sees His child.

One little exercise that has helped me greatly is to repeat the little phrase over and over. I breathe in and say, “Abba Father, I belong to You.” I breathe out and say “Abba Father, You are very fond of me.”

I hope that helps you to remind yourself that at least one thing out there isn’t so convoluted and complicated: Jesus’ love.

This past weekend, I flew to Cleveland for a wedding of two friends of mine. For me, it was an interesting experience. At the Nashville Airport, I got pulled aside and patted down. They even took my shampoo. I guess they were worried I would break into the cockpit and wash the pilot’s hair. I don’t know.

I do think I will always remember on the flight home looking out the window and seeing the sky lit up like a flame as the sun sank into the horizon. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sunset in my life.

Those are the moments you remember. Not the ones you think you will remember. Not the ones you plan for and prepare for, but those moments you never expect. Those are the ones you recall with fondness years later.

I think grace is like that. It’s not the gratitude that you expect when you do something right, but the forgiveness when you’ve screwed up yet again after making yet another promise that you wouldn’t. It’s expecting the hammer to fall and finding a helping hand instead.

I don’t suppose I will ever get tired of grace. Especially the grace of God that wakes me up every morning and sees me through to the close of day. Grace is a good thing.

I could say I wish others could practice more grace with me and with other people. I wish I could say I will do better at showing grace. I know that grace is something only God does well. All I really know how to do is receive grace, and I don’t even do that well all the time.

Maybe that’s all we’re supposed to do. Receive grace gladly and gratefully and know that the grace of God is a transforming and life-changing kind of grace. No one can experience the grace of God and remain the same.

No one can see God’s grace at work in their lives and not be a little more graceful to those around them. It’s not possible.

So thank you, God, for sunsets at 23,000 feet. Thank You for new mercies every morning. And thank You most of all for grace.

Jon Acufff has a blog about the Jesus juke. Basically, a Jesus juke is where you take a normal, non-spiritual conversation and insert a religious response designed to bring about shame and guilt in the other person for not being as spiritual as you are.

Like when someone says, “My, isn’t it a nice day?” and you say something like “It’s not just nice. How can it only be nice when the God of the universe made it?” The other person feels shame for thinking the day was only nice.

I have my own coined phrase which will take off and be universally accepted and (I dream big) allowed as a word in Scrabble. My phrase is jungle-juiced.

When I was a kid, I loved Jungle Juice, the fruit punch drink with absolutely no fruits involved. Not too long ago, I saw a bottle of it in a convenience store and thought I’d take my taste buds on a trip down memory lane. It was awful.

Either jungle juice has undergone a radical reinvention or possibly my grown-up taste buds are a tad more discerning than my 8-year old ones were. I got jungle-juiced big time.

To be jungle juiced is to watch and old movie you loved as a kid and find out how really lame it is and how really lame you were for liking it.

Or to go back to Chucky Cheese and find out that the pizza is not nearly as good as you remembered. And the skeeball doesn’t quite bring the same spiritual euphoria as before. Not to mention you realize that you are quite possibly the world’s worst skeeballer, getting schooled by a four-year old a couple of lanes over.

Not everything lives up to our memories of them. Somethings are better left in the past, like He-Man and the Masters of the Universe.

It’s time to make new memories and give up Jungle Juice and move on to a more mature, grown-up drink– like Tahitian Treat.