That’s my hope. The gospel of Jesus Christ is the only reason I’m alive and not in hell and headed for heaven.

The gospel of Jesus Christ isn’t something I trusted in once to get eternal life and then moved past. It’s what I believe in every single day.

This gospel is non-negotiable. You don’t get to pick and choose which parts you like to keep and which parts you don’t to discard. You need all of it all the time. I need all of it all the time.

The gospel of Jesus Christ isn’t about me making the right choice or being smart enough to follow Jesus. It starts with Jesus, keeps going with Jesus, and ends with Jesus. From first to last, it’s only and always about Jesus.

I love a good bargain. I also love to go to my local Goodwill in search of treasure. You really never know what you’ll find on any given day.

But my new favorite is hunting for vinyl at record stores. So far, my favorites are McKay’s, The Green Room, Pink Star Vintage, and Luna Record Shop. Recently, across this gem at McKay’s for a very reasonable price. I like all kinds of music, but lately I’ve been gravitating toward early Jesus music and Contemporary Christian music from the 70s.

It’s finds like this that make the hunt worthwhile. Also, when you find free records that the store is giving away, that makes for a pretty good day. Remind me and I’ll tell that story at a later date.

And side note, but is it weird that I love the smell of old records? I don’t know how to describe it, but it triggers memories of when I was a wee little tyke going through my parents’ record collection back when we were living at Fox Meadows in Memphis.

So I guess I’m officially a convert to all things vinyl, but my favorite part is flipping through stacks of records in hope of a treasure. Hopefully, there will be more in the not so distant future.

This picture captures the essence of Peanut quite well, I think. Even though it’s a bit blurry, it shows how she loves to roll over on her back and wait for the inevitable belly rubs to begin. She’s one of the rare felines who will actually accept people petting her belly without taking a pound of flesh. She even sometimes purrs.

She also likes to be undercover. As in literally under the covers. She will disappear underneath a blanket for hours on end. I wonder if she thinks that she’s invisible because she can’t see us. Or maybe she’s just in need of yet another nap. Poor baby only gets 23 hours and 45 minutes of sleep a day.

My favorite part is that she likes to be around me. She likes to camp out in my lap whenever I’m listening to records or flipping through channels in a (mostly) vain attempt to find something worthwhile on TV. She can be quite chatty when she’s in the mood (which is often, apparently).

I’ve learned that cats are like people. No two are alike. She’s about as polar opposite to my first cat Lucy as night and day. They both hold a special place in my heart. I really am thankful that I didn’t try to find a Lucy 2.0 when I went to the animal shelter over 6 years ago. I let the right animal pick me.

I’m not sure where I’m going with all this other than to say rescues are great. I’m all for breeders and purebred animals, but there’s something special about the love a rescue will give you. That animal will never not be grateful for your love.

“O my Father, give me eyes to see, a heart to respond, and hands and feet to serve you wherever you encounter me! Make me a billboard of your grace, a living advertisement for the riches of your compassion. I long to hear you say to me one day, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’ And I pray that today I would be that faithful servant who does well at doing good. In Jesus’ name I pray, amen” (Max Lucado).

That’s not a bad prayer for the upcoming week.

Most of us already are dreading the upcoming week. All those emails. All those tasks. All those deadlines. We look at the overflowing inbox and think that there’s absolutely no way to get it all done.

But what if we changed our focus? What if we choose to see our job as our place of ministry? What if we decided to be a witness in our workplace? What if we remembered that ultimately we’re not working for a boss or a supervisor but as unto the Lord Himself?

20 years from now, those tasks and emails won’t matter nearly as much as the people we work with. It won’t matter if you checked everything off your task-list if you didn’t make a kingdom impact on the people around you.

As much as I want to be praised for good work, what I really want to hear at the end of the day — and at the end of my life — is to hear Jesus say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

“‘Hush!’ said the other four, for now Aslan had stopped and turned and stood facing them, looking so majestic that they felt as glad as anyone can who feels afraid, and as afraid as anyone can who feels glad. The boys strode forward: Lucy made way for them: Susan and the Dwarf shrank back.

‘Oh, Aslan,’ said King Peter, dropping on one knee and raising the Lion’s heavy paw to his face, ‘I’m so glad. And I’m so sorry. I’ve been leading them wrong ever since we started and especially yesterday morning.’

‘My dear son,’ said Aslan. Then he turned and welcomed Edmund. ‘Well done,’ were his words. Then, after an awful pause, the deep voice said, ‘Susan.’ Susan made no answer but the others thought she was crying. ‘You have listened to fears, child,’ said Aslan. ‘Come, let me breathe on you. Forget them. Are you brave again?’

‘A little, Aslan,” said Susan'” (C. S. Lewis, Prince Caspian).

Susan had been giving Lucy a hard time. Her excuse was that Lucy had made the whole Aslan calling her business up. But really she was afraid.

How many times do you and I act out of fear? How many times do we doubt what we know to be true because of what our senses tell us?

Lest you and I forget, our senses can be deceived and can lie to us, but God never has and never will. Still we can be forgetful when we’re fearful.

But even then God calls to us and whispers our name. He still calls us out of fear and into faith. And not even failure can stop Him. It’s up to us to listen to the right voice.

“If you try to seize the day, the day will eventually break you. Seize the corner of his garment and don’t let go until he blesses you. He will reshape the day” (Paul E. Miller, A Praying Life).

I know for those of you who have seen the movie Dead Poets Society that we’re all supposed to go out and seize the day. Even if I knew how, I don’t think I could. It would be too overwhelming.

But I know for certain that I can seize the corner of His garment. I can be like that woman with the bleeding issue who clung to Jesus as if He were her only hope. I can take the day to Jesus and He will bless it instead of making my plans and asking Him to endorse what I’ve already decided.

I know what it’s like to try to seize the day and live it in my own strength. Typically, it hasn’t gone well for me. There’s always something that goes wrong to remind me that I’m not the one in charge.

But when I let God have His way and simply trust and follow, I do a lot better. Things may still go wrong, but it won’t wreck me when I am free to take it as a lesson of surrender and a reminder to look up occasionally for what God is trying to say to me.

Seize the hem, not the day.

That’s a powerful image. Chasing after anything instead of God to take the place of God is like drinking salt water in the desert. Not only does it not quench your thirst, it actually increases it. Eventually, it kills you.

The prophet Jeremiah said that God’s people had forsaken the living waters to dig broken cisterns that can hold no water. But why?

Maybe they didn’t like what God was telling them. Maybe they wanted to do their own thing and have a god who would never question their lifestyles or choices but smile benignly on them at all times. Maybe they wanted prophets and preachers who would only tell them what their itching ears wanted to hear.

They didn’t want the truth because the truth is sometimes painful. The truth is that we need to be made right with God. Deep down, if we’re honest, we know we’re not right or righteous. We do the things we don’t want to do and don’t do what we know is good and right for us to do. Sound a bit familiar? Kinda like the Apostle Paul in Romans 7?

We can’t make ourselves right. Only God can do that. Our part is to acknowledge that we are sinners in need of a Savior. We cry to Jesus to be that Savior. Jesus does the rest.

“Soak me in your laundry and I’ll come out clean,
    scrub me and I’ll have a snow-white life.
Tune me in to foot-tapping songs,
    set these once-broken bones to dancing.
Don’t look too close for blemishes,
    give me a clean bill of health.
God, make a fresh start in me,
    shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.
Don’t throw me out with the trash,
    or fail to breathe holiness in me.
Bring me back from gray exile,
    put a fresh wind in my sails!
Give me a job teaching rebels your ways
    so the lost can find their way home.
Commute my death sentence, God, my salvation God,
    and I’ll sing anthems to your life-giving ways.
Unbutton my lips, dear God;
    I’ll let loose with your praise” (Psalm 51:7-15, The Message).

“When Jesus Christ says ‘Follow Me,’ He never says to where; the consequences must be left entirely to Him. We come in with our ‘buts,’ and ‘supposings,’ and ‘what will happen if I do?’ (cf. Luke 9:5762). We have nothing to do with what will happen if we obey; we have to abandon to God’s call in unconditional surrender and smilingly wash our hands of the consequences” (Oswald Chambers, Not Knowing Whither).

It’s interesting that whenever Jesus calls people in the gospels, He essentially does three things: 1) He meets them where they are and loves them there, 2) He calls them out of where they are, and 3) He calls them to follow Him.

Not one of the people Jesus called in His lifetime had any idea of where it would lead them. For many of them, it meant suffering as well as joy. For 11 out of the 12 original disciples, it mean dying as martyrs for the faith. For every single one of them, it meant denying themselves and taking up their crosses.

Following Jesus isn’t easy. In fact, it’s impossible without the calling. It’s impossible without the indwelling Holy Spirit enabling you to follow. Our default setting is to seek our own ways and wishes and do what makes us happy, not following after Jesus.

But following Jesus is its own reward. It’s simply a better way to live because it’s how God originally designed us to live. The best part, even better than living forever, is being near to Jesus. I can’t imagine what it was like for those disciples to be able to sit at Jesus’ feet and hear His words, to see Him in action healing the sick and raising the dead. To see Him rebuking those religious leaders who were more interested in looking good than in doing good. To see Him loving those no one else saw or wanted.

Jesus said that if we followed Him, we’d see and do even bigger things than He did. I think that means that all around the world, followers of Jesus get to see hundreds and thousands of lives transformed, all those who were dead coming alive, all those who were strangers and aliens and hostile to God turning into a family with God as their Father. Those who were enemies coming together as one body with Jesus as their head. Following Jesus changes everything.

“Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One who is leading” (Oswald Chambers).

I don’t know if it’s because I’m fixated on smells, but one of my favorite parts of fall is the smell of fall. I don’t know if I can explain it, but since the sense of smell is strongly tied to memories (or at least for me), one whiff of fall can bring back so much for me.

What does fall smell like? I like to think of it as the smoky scent of sweet decay. It’s the smell of leaves that have turned and fallen and are now returning to the earth. It’s the smell of a blazing bonfire on a night when the air is crisp and keen. It’s the smell of hot apple cider and warm flannel. It’s the smell of pumpkins and pumpkin spice and pot-pourri and hot chocolate and orange spiced hot tea.

I personally think each season has odors that are distinct to it. Spring has flowers in bloom. Summer has cholorinated water of pools, suntan lotion, and freshly cut grass. Winter has that keen bite that stings your nose when you breathe deeply.

But fall is my favorite. So many aromas that can instantly take me back to when I was five and full of wonder. So many scents that revive memories of people who are no longer with me.

I really wish there was a candle that could capture all that. I’d buy it in a heartbeat (and probably pay way too much for it). But in the mean time, I’ll live slowly and deliberately and breathe deep as much as I can.

I’m listening to a book by Charles Martin, Long Way Gone, based on the prodigal son parable. It’s such a beautiful story of how the father never stops loving his wayward son no matter far away he goes. I love how he always leaves the front porch light on just in case.

If I’m honest, I can relate to that one sheep that got lost. I can’t say that I’ve ever gone on a weekend drinking bender or snorted up cocaine or done any crazy and wild stuff, but I know what it’s like to feel lost and disconnected. To feel alone.

I love that the Good Shepherd left the 99 to look for me. He was relentless in his search until he found me and brought me back. Those of us who have followed Jesus long enough come to recognize His voice when He calls us by name in our darkness and shame. That’s the voice that gives life and brings healing and leads us home.

Every single one of us have been a prodigal at some point. We’re either the rebellious younger son who strayed or the legalistic older son who stayed. The father in the story loved both the same. He pursued both the same. Both had an open door an a welcome mat.

One turned around and came home. The story on the other has an open ending. We don’t know if the older son joined the party or not. We’re not told if the older son forgave his younger brother. It is interesting that while we’re never given the specifics of what the prodigal son did while he was away, his brother seems to have a pretty good idea what he was up to. Maybe he was projecting a bit.

But still the Father watches and waits. He doesn’t lock the door and turn out the light. He sees his son a long way off and starts running down the road. I don’t know if you know much about ancient culture (and I’m no expert myself), but for an old man to run anywhere in those days was scandalous.

And that’s the kind of love the Father has for all of his prodigal sons and daughters.

“And everybody used to tell me big boys don’t cry 
Well I’ve been around enough to know that that was the lie 
That held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons 
Well we are children no more, we have sinned and grown old 
And our Father still waits and He watches down the road 
To see the crying boys come running back to His arms
And be growing young” (Rich Mullins).