brennan manning

2,200 and Counting

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“And don’t be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God’s place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there. God, not your marital status, defines your life” (1 Corinthians 7:17, The Message).

I recently received a notification of my six-year anniversary with WordPress. I’ve come a long way since that very first blog way back in July of 2010 that announced my arrival into the wild and exciting world of blogging (said with sarcasm).

I’m still not a fan of the word “blog.” It sounds like something you do that you don’t ever discuss in polite conversation, especially in mixed company. It also sounds like something you blow out of your nose when you have a cold.

In the ultimate irony, I’m slowing learning that to grow up and get to the place God created you to be, the best place to start is to learn to be content with where you are and who you are. The more you strive out of insecurity or envy, the more you find you’re vainly fighting the air while running in place. You don’t get very far that way.

The best way to find contentment is gratitude. Giving thanks makes what you have enough (as Ann Voskamp has said more than once) and it makes your life fuller and richer by putting your focus on what you have instead of what you lack.

Giving thanks opens your hands to receive more true riches from God’s hand. The problem with the prosperity gospel is that it focuses on the temporary riches that rust and fade, but the true riches that come with thanksgiving are the kind that are eternal and changeless.

I’m thankful tonight for a job that I enjoy, a cat who also moonlights as a very affordable therapist, a comfy bed, people who care about me, and a God who is crazy about me even after all these years.

I’d call that the good life.

 

Another Night of Worship

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It’s 10:19, I’m tired, and my feet hurt. A little. That’s a good thing. A very good thing, in fact.

I tallied just over 13,000 steps today after getting in over 22,000 yesterday. I’ve put in quite a bit of walking lately, which hopefully translated into burned calories and lost weight.

Tonight was the semi-annual Kairos Night of Worship. The theme was Wildfire, praying  to be the spark that leads to revival fires breaking out in this land.

I’ve been praying for revival, especially in my own heart. Everyone goes through seasons of dryness and numbness in their spiritual walks and I am no exception to the rule. I know faith isn’t solely about feelings, but I also know that it can be rough when it feels like you’re going through the motions.

Still, God is faithful, even when I’m not. His fidelity more than makes up for my lack of it. If it were up to me, I’d have fallen away a long time ago, but it’s not. God is more than up to the challenge of holding on to me during the seasons when I’ve felt like letting go and giving up.

It was a great night. Sure, the worship songs were amazing and the teaching was stellar. For me, the best part was the reminder that my primary identity, the core of who I am deep down, is that of Abba’s child.

All of my failings and weaknesses do not define me any longer. My on-and off-again passivity does not define me. Being Abba’s child and hearing my Abba call me Beloved is what defines me both now and forevermore. That’s what I choose to identify myself as from this day forth.

I’m thankful for family and friends who consistently remind me of my true identity and who encourage me to be better today than I was yesterday. Thanks, everyone.

 

 

Return to Radnor

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I returned to Radnor Lake State Park. Sure, it was hot and sticky. Combine that with my propensity for sweating and the result is usually not pretty. But I didn’t care.

I was in my Walden Pond. I was in my safe haven.

I trekked down my favorite trail and then added about an hour’s worth of walking. I put in about 2 1/2 hours of walking, totaling just under 6 miles. I should sleep good tonight.

My favorite part is the silence. I don’t mean the total and complete absence of sound but the absence of the usual noise and clamor I hear for the greater part of my day. All I heard around me were the subtle sounds of nature.

The thought occurred to me as I was walking that the silence around me was sacred and to disturb it would be profane. So many people in this day and age are almost afraid of silence, filling their lives with nonstop noise and ceaseless clamor. I believe that silence can be the empty space where the words of God fill in, where my heart is finely tuned to hear what He’s been saying to me all along in all my busyness, hustle and bustle, ceaseless clanging noise.

I didn’t see as many critters this time. Perhaps they’re just as weary of the heat and humidity as I am. Maybe I just wasn’t looking in the right places. I’ve been known to not always be the most observant person.

I’m still game for living in Thoreau’s Walden Pond, even if that means taking a break from all things electronic. Some days, I could use that break to restore my calm.

PS I got my steps in (and then some). I ended up with 22,245 steps, or about 9.87 miles. No wonder my feet hurt.

 

Who Holds the Day

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“Our circumstances are not defined by what the day holds but by Who holds the day” (Aaron Bryant, Campus Pastor of The Church at Avenue South).

You and I both know what the day holds. There are already not enough hours in the day to get it all done. Some of you are already hyperventilating at the mere thought of the overwhelming list of tasks that await you when you get to work on Monday.

I have a new mantra based on a sermon I heard this morning at The Church at Avenue South. Our circumstances aren’t defined by what the day holds but by Who holds the day.

God is more than enough to handle what your day brings. He is more than enough to calm your fears and carry you through your stressful day. He is more than enough to make up for your woeful inadequacy to face what’s coming.

The One who holds the day holds every single day of your life in His capable hands. He’s the one who knows when a sparrow lands. He’s the one who knows the number of hairs on your head. He’s the one who clothes the lilies of the field and feeds the lowliest of those sparrows. He will take care of you.

I’m still not a fan of Mondays. I’m thankful they don’t come more than once every seven days. I seriously don’t think I could handle more than one Monday a week.

I’m even more thankful that the Lord of the Sabbath is Lord of the Mondays, too. He’s just as able to save and deliver you on Monday as He is on Sunday (and on every other day of the week as well).

Once more. Your circumstances are not defined by what the day holds but by Who holds the day. You will be just fine.

 

Thank You

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It’s easy sometimes to get caught up in a numbers game when you write a blog. Especially after you’ve had a few days where you get more than your usual number of readers.

I need to be reminded periodically that these numbers represent people who take time that could have been used for other important things to read what I’ve written. I hope I never take that for granted.

So thank you to everyone who has ever read one of these posts– even those who read only one and decided I was too weird to follow. Thanks to those who used to read my posts regularly but for whatever reason have moved on.

Some days, the words flow. Some days, I get halfway through a blog and still have no idea what I’m writing about. That’s the struggle when you write daily posts instead of weekly or every few days. My goal is always 300 words.

I’m aware that many of you who follow me have your own blog posts. I’ll try to do better about reading yours as much as you read mine. I’ve been slacking in that department and for that, I apologize.

I can’t promise there won’t ever be filler posts where I feel like I’m writing words to take up space (like this one). Hopefully, even those posts will mean something to you.

I’ve said it before and I will probably say it again in the future, but I don’t care if I get 1 million views or just 1. These posts are for me and if I were the only one reading them, they’d still be worth it.

I urge you to express your thoughts through writing, whether it’s through a blog or in a journal or in some other format. It doesn’t matter whether you can spell or used correct grammar. That doesn’t matter nearly as much as you releasing what’s inside of you, whether anybody else ever reads it or not. Just write.

Here endeth the blog.

 

 

 

A Blog for Friday, July 22

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I finally got around to watching the Lawrence Olivier adaptation of Hamlet from 1948. I bought the movie some time ago when Borders was going out of business and got it for 50% off.

It was worth the wait. The acting was, of course, fantastic, but my favorite part was the cinematography. The dark and gloomy castle setting almost felt like a character in its own right, and the black and white photography brought out the impending sense of foreboding and doom that foreshadowed the entire film.

My favorite line is the last line spoken– “Farewell, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.” It gets me every time.

Of course, my favorite part of Friday is sleeping in the next day. Not having to set the alarm on my phone for 5:15 am? Priceless. Knowing that I will wake up with a sleeping and very contented cat on the pillow next to me? Even better.

Lately, I love my sleep even more if possible. Ever since my mild case of pneumonia, I tend to get tired more quickly and not have quite as much energy as before. Hopefully, that will soon remedy itself.

I’ve never been more disturbed and concerned about the current political situation than I am for this upcoming election. I’ve never been less impressed with the two major political candidates for President. Maybe this will be the year that a third party shakes things up a bit and causes both the Democrats and Republicans to take some hard looks in the mirror about their own parties.

I still love my Mac. My only regret is not taking the plunge back in 2012 when I thought they were overpriced and not worth the extra moolah. They were and are. This laptop is so much better than my Sony Vaio.

God is still great, life is still good, and grace is still very much what I need the most.

The end.

 

All Is Still Grace

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That’s it. At the end of the day, all is still grace.

That breathing in and breathing out thing you’re still doing? Grace.

Being able to see and hear and touch and feel and smell and live? Grace.

That job that you go to every day and the car you drive in to get there? Grace.

The food in your belly and the pillow beneath your head at night? Grace.

Karma is you getting what’s coming to you. Grace is you getting what you never expected in a million years and never counted on because you knew you didn’t deserve it.

Waking up tomorrow to a new sunrise and new mercies? Grace.

 

Reminders from Uncle Mikey

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I’m laying in bed next to a very sleepy geriatric cat. That’s what I call the good life. It has nothing at all to do with what follows, but I thought I’d throw that little tidbit in for free. You’re welcome.

I’ve been thinking a lot about last night’s Kairos. It started off with a blown generator and a bunch of us sitting in the dark. That always makes for an interesting evening.

It also marked the triumphant return of Mike Glenn to Kairos as guest speaker. It felt like old times again.

He talked about how while each of us have given names at birth, we all have names that either we’ve given ourselves or we’ve been given by others. These names are usually the result of our mistakes and failures. I’m sure many of us have names that involve profanity of some sort.

The prime example is the possessed man among the tombstones who identified himself as Legion. There were so many competing voices in his head that he couldn’t find his own identity anymore.

When Jesus calls someone, He gives that person a new name. Think of Paul becoming Saul, or Simon becoming Peter. He gives us a name that describes not who we are but who we are becoming, our very best self that Jesus is in the process of bringing about.

You are not your worst mistakes. You are not the names people called you before they wrote you off as hopeless. You are not your addictions or your fears.

You are who Jesus says you are. You are Chosen, Beloved, Son or Daughter, Friend.

You have a name that only Jesus knows that one day He will reveal to you. One day, He will write it on a white stone and give it to you. Then and only then will your story make complete sense and you will see how everything in your life has led to you becoming who Jesus always meant you to be.

Thanks, Uncle Mikey, for another good and timely word. Do come back to Kairos soon.

 

To E. G.

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I confess I hadn’t thought about you in a while until tonight. I sat across from someone at Chick-fil-A who reminded me sharply of you.

I hope you’re doing well these days. I imagine that you’re married, maybe with a kid or two. I hope that you’ve found a career where you’re successful and are able to make a difference in the world around you.

I’m beyond thankful that God put you in my life for a season. You encouraged and blessed me more than you probably will ever know. The time you told me that you read my blogs still ranks as one of my all-time favorite surprises.

I will always think of you whenever I get those grape-stuffed leaves from Kalamata’s. I will always think of you whenever I think about The Mall at Green Hills and the time we  walked through that place without any idea of where we were going.

If it’s God’s will for me to marry, I hope she’s a lot like you. You are one of those rare people who make life better just by your being in it.

I doubt that I will ever see you again this side of heaven, but just know that if you’re ever back in the Nashville area, there’s an open seat at the Starbucks in Green Hills with your name on it.

God bless you, friend.

 

My Deepest Awareness

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“When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest and I still play games. Aristotle said I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer.
To live by grace means to acknowledge my whole life story, the light side and the dark. In admitting my shadow side I learn who I am and what God’s grace means. As Thomas Merton put it, ‘A saint is not someone who is good but who experiences the goodness of God.’

The gospel of grace nullifies our adulation of televangelists, charismatic superstars, and local church heroes. It obliterates the two-class citizenship theory operative in many American churches. For grace proclaims the awesome truth that all is gift. All that is good is ours not by right but by the sheer bounty of a gracious God. While there is much we may have earned–our degree and our salary, our home and garden, a Miller Lite and a good night’s sleep–all this is possible only because we have been given so much: life itself, eyes to see and hands to touch, a mind to shape ideas, and a heart to beat with love. We have been given God in our souls and Christ in our flesh. We have the power to believe where others deny, to hope where others despair, to love where others hurt. This and so much more is sheer gift; it is not reward for our faithfulness, our generous disposition, or our heroic life of prayer. Even our fidelity is a gift, ‘If we but turn to God,’ said St. Augustine, ‘that itself is a gift of God.’

My deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done nothing to earn it or deserve it” (Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel: Good News for the Bedraggled, Beat-Up, and Burnt Out).

Occasionally, I like to bring in special guest writers. By that, I mean that I am too tired (and/or lazy) to do my own writing and I quote from a writer who expresses my own thoughts better than I ever could ( with the lone exception about having an incredible capacity for beer, which I do not). This is why I named by blog The Ragamuffin Gospel.