Stolen Wisdom

I ran across another gem of a post on the social medias today. Specifically, it was the Facebooks. There’s so much wisdom in it that I’m going to copy it and share it as is. It’s called “Habits I Stole from My Grandma that Make me Disgustingly Calm & Unbothered.” Of course there will be a link to the actual post after:

“1. Wash the stress off in the shower, then leave it there. She said your bed is for rest and your shower is for release — never mix them up. Let the water carry the day’s weight down the drain, step out, and start clean. Some things are meant to be rinsed off, not slept with.

2. Move slow, especially when everything feels fast. She walked slow, spoke slow, poured her tea slow. Rushing tells your body there’s an emergency even when there isn’t one. The calmest person in any room, she said, is almost always the one who simply refused to hurry.

3. Say your no plain, with nothing after it. No apology, no explanation, no reason someone can argue with. “That doesn’t work for me” was a full sentence to her. She said every excuse you add is just a handle for them to pull. Give them nothing to grip, and they let go.

4. Keep a little money tucked away that’s only yours. Not for secrets — for peace. She said a woman with her own quiet cushion never stays anywhere for the wrong reason. Calm isn’t just a feeling, she told me. Sometimes it’s a small amount saved that nobody can touch.

5. Don’t argue with anyone who needs to be right. You can’t reason a person out of a story they’ve chosen to believe about you. So she let them keep it and kept her own peace. Unbothered, she said, isn’t winning the fight — it’s quietly deciding not to show up to it.

6. Eat something warm when the sadness comes. Not for comfort — for the body. She said a cold meal on a cold mood makes both of them worse. Warmth is the oldest signal there is that the danger has passed and you’re safe now. Let your body hear it and settle.

7. Leave while you’re still enjoying yourself. She ended the call first, left the gathering early, walked away from talk that only circled. Staying past your limit, she said, is exactly how resentment is built. People remember the woman who left while things were still good.

8. Treat other people’s panic as their weather, not yours. Their urgency is a report on their own planning — it’s not an alarm your body has to answer. She paused before absorbing anyone’s emergency, and most of the time, she simply chose not to pick it up.

9. Keep your hands busy when your mind won’t quiet. Knead the dough, tend the garden, fold the washing slow. Idle hands, she said, let worry take the wheel. Give the restlessness something useful to do, and the storm inside quiets while something small gets made.

10. Set the grudge down — you’re the only one carrying it. The anger you hold punishes you, not them; they sleep just fine. Letting it go, she said, wasn’t forgiveness for their sake. It was finally unclenching the hands you’d kept in fists for years. Set it down.

11. Sit in the quiet every day, even for a few minutes. No radio, no chatter, no phone — just you and the silence most people run from. She said you can’t hear your own life over everyone else’s noise. The answers you keep searching for are already waiting in the still.

12. Keep one small ritual that belongs to no one but you. Tea at the same hour, the same slow evening walk, the same quiet moment before bed. Never shared, never explained. A truly unbothered woman, she showed me, always keeps one room that only she holds the key to.”

Stones

I heard a very cool story in my life group tonight. It started when a group of believers was building a church in Russia. They didn’t have an abundance of money or resources, so they were using stones from a Gulag from back during World War II. The were using the stones that had formerly been part of a prison.

One of them discovered a letter inside of a cannister amidst the stones and took it to one of the Russians because they couldn’t read the writing. The Russian, who was a pastor, immediately started crying. He said that the letter was from a believer who had been forced to build the Gulag from the stones that had formerly been his church building.

He had prayed that one day those very stones would be used for God and for a church again. Little did he know that 70 or 80 years later, his words would prove to be prophetic.

The Bible says Jesus that the stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone. That was a prophecy about how the Messiah who was rejected by the religious leaders ended up being the foundation of the Church that is still going strong 2,000 years later in spite of all the attempts to eliminate God and faith.

I think G. K. Chesterton said that Christianity has died and risen many times over the centuries because it has a God who knows the way out of a grave. We may seem defeated at times. We may feel overwhelmed. But God has not stopped working on our behalf and we can be assured that the ultimate victory that matters has already been won.

We as believers are a Church of living stones, rescued from bondage and our own prisons. We were held captive by sin and the enemy but we are now free in the Lord and God’s own hands and feet to our world.

Another Spurgeon Prayer for this Sunday

“We have no merit, no claim, no righteousness of our own. Dear savior, we look up to you. Oh, that some might look for the first time, and those of us that have long looked would fix our happy gaze again upon that blessed substitutionary sacrifice wherein is all our hope. Dear savior, we do take you to be everything to us, our sin-bearer and our sin-destroyer. We do not have a shadow of a shade of hope anywhere but in you, your life, your death, your resurrection, your ascension, your glory, your reign, your second advent; these are the only stars in our sky. Amen” (Charles Spurgeon).

That’s my prayer every Sunday — that many people will hear the gospel and believe. That many people will become disciples who make disciples and not just seat warmers. That God would call out missionaries and ministers to take His gospel to the ends of the earth. That we would fall more in love with the gospel and the Jesus of the gospel every single day until Jesus comes back to take us home to stay.

Room in the Inn

Tonight was the appreciation dinner/information gathering/unofficial kickoff to the next season of Room in the Inn. It’s a homeless ministry where local churches provide a place to sleep and a warm meal during the colder months. Many of those churches, including Brentwood Baptist Church, also minister to their spiritual needs by providing a Bible study where we share the hope of the gospel with these men.

Room in the Inn is one of my favorite ways to serve. I’ve been a part of this amazing outreach for something like 15 years. I’ve seen a lot of men come and go through the ministry. I keep thinking that I’ll be the one doing the blessing, but so often I’m the one who ends up being blessed.

So many of these homeless men have a faith that puts mine to shame. They see their current status not as a hardship, but they see so many blessings and are so thankful even in the midst of not having a physical roof over their heads while I complain about my iPhone being slow.

I love being able to teach in our Bible studies, but I really love sitting down and listening to the stories. My whole outlook on homelessness has radically changed since I started serving in Room in the Inn all those years ago. Most of them are a lot like me. Many are where they are because of unfortunate financial hardships or because of making some bad decisions when they were younger. I keep reminding myself there but by the grace of God go I.

I can’t wait to see their faces and hear their stories. I hope to be more intentional about getting to know some of them and letting them minister to me as much as I hope to minister to them. So many have a kind of wisdom that you only learn the hard way through years of hardship and suffering.

Lord, bless these men and even now begin preparing their hearts to encounter you through the volunteers at Brentwood Baptist Church every Monday night. As much as I’d love to see them find permanent housing, I pray they find their true home in You and know You as a shelter and a safe place no matter what they face. Amen.

You Really Like Me?

“Lord, when I don’t like me,

You still love me, You still like me, You still lavish me with acceptance.

When I am fed up with me, You invite me to Your feast,

When I am done — with me, with life, with everything,

You whisper, ‘Hang on — I am making *all things* — *you* — new.’ (Rev21:5)

And when I want to quit, You cup my face: ‘This great work I started in you? I won’t stop that beautiful work until you are fully, completely, gloriously beautiful’ (Phil1:6, 1Cor2:7)

So this becomes our brave & broken-hearted hallelujah, the one we sing into the dark, even when it’s hard to believe:

I am His Beloved, His Beloved, His Beloved… and even now I will be held.

In the name of the only One who loved us to death & back to the real & forever life… Amen” (Ann Voskamp).

I think we can have a harder time accepting the fact that God likes us than believing He loves us.

We can say that God loves me because He has to. He’s God. It’s His job. We can think of a million and one reasons why God must love us.

But saying that God likes us? That He actually wants to be around us and spend time with us? That’s a whole different story.

But it’s true. God loves me AND likes me. Even when my parents don’t like me? He does. Even when my spouse doesn’t like me? He does. Even when my kids don’t like me? He does.

God loves and likes you because He made you and redeemed you. He spoke you into life and then gave His life to bring you back to life.

Lord, thank Your for loving me. Thank You for liking me, You didn’t have to like me, but You did . . . and You still do. Everything I am is because of You. Amen.

The Cut-Out Bin

Back in the day, they had a thing called a cut-out bin. Whenever an album didn’t sell very well, they’d put a notch in it and mark it down significantly in price. Usually, a band would have a super big record and then the next one for whatever reason just didn’t do as well. The point is that you could find some great stuff in the cut-out bin if you didn’t mind a little notch at the top left corner of the album.

Lately, one of my favorite pastimes is to flip through the cheap bins of records. At one place, they have a whole stash of $5 records underneath the regularly priced ones. I’ve been known to flip through every single one in search of the elusive and unique find. More often than not, I see a lot of easy listening music from the 50s and 60s, but once in a proverbial blue moon, I’ll find an old CCM album or a test pressing or something out of the ordinary.

1 Corinthians 1:27-31 says, “Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don’t see many of ‘the brightest and the best’ among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn’t it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these ‘nobodies’ to expose the hollow pretensions of the ‘somebodies’? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have—right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start—comes from God by way of Jesus Christ. That’s why we have the saying, ‘If you’re going to blow a horn, blow a trumpet for God'” (1 Corinthians 1:27-31, The Message).

A lot of us were the human equivalent of the cut-out bin. Hardly anyone saw any value in us or thought anything about us was special. More often than not, we were the ones who were ignored and passed over. But God chose those nobodies rather than sticking exclusively to the Fortune 500 club. He chose those no one else wanted because He wanted us.

That gives me hope. That means that all of us that God chose matter. Maybe not to the in-crowd or the fashion police, but we matter to God. And what God thinks about us trumps what anyone else thinks about us. Period. You matter to God because He made You, and He don’t make no junk. Just remember that the next time you feel unworthy and unloved. God loves you. That’s all that matters.

Follow Me

“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).

That’s just it. I want guarantees that if I follow, I’ll get the desires of my own heart. It’s true that God did promise that, but maybe not in the way that I’ve always believed or wanted it to be. I think that as I follow in obedience, God changes my wanter (to borrow a phrase from my pastor). In other words, the desires of my heart as a mature believer probably aren’t the same as they were when I first said Yes to Jesus way back when.

I don’t get to set the terms. I don’t get to tell Jesus what the conditions will be before I follow. The famous verse from Paul says that I am not my own. I have been bought with a price. And who am I to haggle percentages and conditions when Jesus paid for me with His very blood on that cross. As in He paid all of His blood, not most or some, but all.

I’m not leaving it completely to blind chance. I know in whom I have believed. I trust the One I have committed to follow. I know His plans are for good and not harm, for prospering and not for evil. I know that I can read a whole history of saints who have surrendered to Christ and not one has ever been worse for it. Not one.

It all goes back to my own stubbornness and pride to think that I know better than God how my life should go. In fact, I’d go so far as to call it arrogance to think that if God doesn’t give me what I want when I want it, He must not know what He’s doing. I’ve learned enough to know that He gives me what I would have asked for had I known what He knows.

And that’s enough for me.

We Remember 25 Years Later

I can still remember where I was 25 years ago on 9/11/2001. That was the day that everything changed. I recall walking into the church office where I worked at the time and hearing about a plane that had flown into a building. It was so random and no one knew anything yet about who did it or why.

When the second plane hit, I think that’s when just about everyone figured it out. This wasn’t random. This was orchestrated. I spend the rest of the day in shock, feeling numb and disconnected and unable to process the scope of the tragedy that had just unfolded.

Those next few days were horrific as the rescuers combed through the wreckage looking for survivors but finding mostly bodies and debris. I can’t imagine being on the ground seeing what those people were seeing, especially when you consider how many were jumping from the towers because of the intense heat and flames.

Those days were also beautiful. We came together as a nation for the briefest of moments. For one shining moment, we weren’t white or black, male or female, young or old. We were all Americans. There was a spirit of cooperation and compassion that pervaded our way of life. Churches were full the next Sunday as people were seeking answers,

I can’t believe it’s been 25 years. It blows my mind that a significant portion of the population wasn’t even alive in 2001. So many know about the events only from reading about them in textbooks or seeing videos on social media. It’s easy for the next generation to forget and for all the lessons we learned to be forgotten.

That’s why it’s vital that we remember. It’s important that we pass on what we saw and what we learned. Life is precious and fleeting, and only a life that honors God is worth living. So many of those we lost were God-fearing men and women. We may never fully understand the why until heaven, but we can know that God took what was evil and made it into something good.

We can love each other well, never take those people in our lives for granted, and use every opportunity to tell people what’s most important to us — that Jesus still loves and saves sinners like us. We can keep the memories of those lost on 9/11 alive as we continue to remember.

Taking it Back to 1850

I ran across another hymn that I wish we could bring back. I’m a fan of modern worship, but sometimes I think we miss out by eliminating the old hymns completely. This is one that could possibly use a newer arrangement but the words are still powerful:

“Abide with me: fast falls the eventide;
the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away.
Change and decay in all around I see.
O thou who changest not, abide with me.

I need thy presence every passing hour.
What but thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who like thyself my guide and strength can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me.

I fear no foe with thee at hand to bless,
ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if thou abide with me.

Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes.
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven’s morning breaks and earth’s vain shadows flee;
in life, in death, O Lord, abide with me” 1 Abide with me: fast falls the eventide;
the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

2 Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away.
Change and decay in all around I see.
O thou who changest not, abide with me.

3 I need thy presence every passing hour.
What but thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who like thyself my guide and strength can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me.

4 I fear no foe with thee at hand to bless,
ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if thou abide with me.

5 Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes.
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven’s morning breaks and earth’s vain shadows flee;
in life, in death, O Lord, abide with me” (Henry Francis Lyte).

Missing Kairos

Sometimes, I’ll drop by Brentwood Baptist Church on a Tuesday. I’ll slip into Hudson Hall and look around for a moment or two. Usually, the lights are out, so I’ll turn on my phone’s flashlight and wave it back and forth in front of me. Typically, there will be chairs set up similar to when Kairos was still a thing.

I miss Kairos. For those who weren’t a part of the magic, Kairos was a young(ish) adult event that happened every Tuesday from 2004 to 2024. Since then, it has transitioned into something called Rally, which is more of a college ministry centered around small groups and monthly gatherings.

I’m thankful for Rally, but I do miss Kairos. I realize that as Ecclesiastes says, there is a season for everything. Perhaps, Kairos had a season and now it’s over. Maybe it served its purpose for what God intended to do through that particular ministry. I know it was very influential in my own life, as well as the lives of many, many others.

I was blessed to be a part of it for over 18 years, most of which I served as a greeter and prayer counselor. I saw some very talented people come and go through the years. We had some incredible speakers, singers, musicians, and tech people. We had people who were gifted in areas of hospitality and serving. But most of all, God showed up.

Was it a perfect ministry? No. Did we get a few things wrong over the years? Probably. But we tried to be obedient to the calling God has placed on us for such a time as this. The years to come will tell how successful we were. But then again, God never called us to be successful but simply faithful and obedient.

I may be the only one who’ll say this, but I miss Kairos. But there’s not a day that goes by where I’m not thankful that God allowed me to be a small part of it for all those years. I’m blessed.