Looking for the Pause Button

Sometimes, I wish life had a remote control, like in that Adam Sandler movie where he fast-forwards through the boring parts of his life.

Only I wouldn’t be looking for the fast-forward button. I’d want to pause my life.

Today, I went to the funeral of a friend’s dad. I hadn’t seen or talked to him in a long time, but I remember him as being a quiet, gentle man who loved his God and his family and who also happened to own the first PC that I had ever seen.

I saw him lying in the coffin, looking like a perfect wax replica of a person. Then I remembered that I was looking not at the man, but at the shell. The moment he breathed his last he was instantly in the presence of Jesus, fully alive and healthy and happy.

I heard where two Briarcrest students who were set to embark on their senior year of high school died Friday at the hands of a drunk driver who had four DUIs in the last five years.

There’s too much sadness and loss in the world. Too many people had to say goodbye to the ones they loved, while more than that never got the chance.

I sense more than ever how precious and fleeting this life is. I understand more how important it is never to take anyone in your life for granted.

I’m thinking about the quote from the movie The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel– “There’s no present like the time.”

I recall a pastor who said that at best this life is like a clean bus station. You don’t set up a bedroom suite and move all your belongings into a Greyhound terminal, because it’s only a stop along the way toward your final destination.

This life is so brief because this is not our final destination. Heaven is. As much as I keep forgetting, as much as I want that pause button to work, I know that I can’t stop that second hand from racing clockwise toward another tomorrow.

I can only choose to live each moment fully and to be fully present to every person in every place at every moment that I’m given. I can know that in God’s economy nothing is ever wasted and the good a person does follows after them. Your legacy will far outlive you and in the end, it won’t be what you did for a living or who you knew, but who you were and what you did with what God gave you.

 

Hymns in the Dark

“Along about midnight, Paul and Silas were at prayer and singing a robust hymn to God. The other prisoners couldn’t believe their ears. Then, without warning, a huge earthquake! The jailhouse tottered, every door flew open, all the prisoners were loose.

 Startled from sleep, the jailer saw all the doors swinging loose on their hinges. Assuming that all the prisoners had escaped, he pulled out his sword and was about to do himself in, figuring he was as good as dead anyway, when Paul stopped him: “Don’t do that! We’re all still here! Nobody’s run away!”

The jailer got a torch and ran inside. Badly shaken, he collapsed in front of Paul and Silas. He led them out of the jail and asked, ‘Sirs, what do I have to do to be saved, to really live?’ They said, ‘Put your entire trust in the Master Jesus. Then you’ll live as you were meant to live—and everyone in your house included!'” (Acts 16:25-35).

Today at The Church at Avenue South, Matthew Page preached on the passage where Paul and Silas sang hymns in prison. I wonder if I could do that, especially if I were behind bars for something I didn’t do.

Matthew spoke about how they lived a questionable life, as in a life that led people to ask questions about what kind of men they were and why they lived the way they did.

The most powerful part of their witness was being able to sing praise songs in a prison cell. That more than anything captured the attention of not only the fellow prisoners but of the prison guard as well.

I wonder if the earthquake would have happened if Paul and Silas has remained silent. Or if they had chosen instead to make a laundry list of all the wrongs and injustices inflicted upon them. Maybe. Maybe not.

The result was that a prison guard and his entire family came to faith in the Jesus that Paul and Silas sang about. Some scholars think that the other prisoners converted to Christianity as well.

Matthew went on to talk about being in the ER with a family whose daughter was near death. The prognosis was grim but some of those there with the family broke out singing hymns.

Do you sing as loud during the dark as well as during daylight? Do you praise God during the hard times when life doesn’t make sense? Does your speech reflect gratitude and thanksgiving in the midst of extreme trials and tribulations?

There was a doctor in that ER that eventually chose to follow Jesus because he saw what he couldn’t understand. He had probably seen people rage and curse at God but he had most likely never seen people worshipping through tears in the midst of tragedy.

By the way, the girl miraculously survived.

I won’t say that every time you praise Jesus, everything will automatically turn out the way you want it to, but I will say worship will change the way you see your circumstances.

It was convicting. Maybe I need a little more praise and a little less anxious analysing.

As always, I believe. Help my unbelief.

 

For Those Who Grieve

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.

At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.

There are moments, most unexpectedly, when something inside me tries to assure me that I don’t really mind so much, not so very much, after all. Love is not the whole of a man’s life. I was happy before I ever met H. I’ve plenty of what are called ‘resources.’ People get over these things. Come, I shan’t do so badly. One is ashamed to listen to this voice but it seems for a little to be making out a good case. Then comes a sudden jab of red-hot memory and all this ‘commonsense’ vanishes like an ant in the mouth of a furnace” (C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed).

C. S. Lewis wrote this after his wife passed away from cancer. It is the most brutally honest book on grief that I’ve ever read (not that I go around reading books on grief all the time).

“Then I heard a voice from heaven saying, ‘Write: The dead who die in the Lord from now on are blessed.’

‘Yes,” says the Spirit, ‘let them rest from their labors, for their works follow them!'” (Rev. 14:13, HCSB).

“I heard a voice out of Heaven, ‘Write this: Blessed are those who die in the Master from now on; how blessed to die that way!’

‘Yes,’ says the Spirit, ‘and blessed rest from their hard, hard work. None of what they’ve done is wasted; God blesses them for it all in the end’ (Rev. 14:13, The Message).

 

 

More of My Mind Blown at Kairos

Tonight, Uncle Mike (or Mike Glenn, as he is known to those outside of Kairos) spoke on the passage in Matthew where Pilate offers up a choice to the people.

“Whom do you want me to release today? Jesus or Barabbas?”

He does this hoping the crowd will want to release Jesus, but to his dismay, they ask for Barabbas instead.

“Don’t you know what kind of man this is? Are you sure you want this man over your Messiah?”

I’m sure Pilate thought but never spoke these words. Instead, he washed his hands of the whole business. Literally.

I wonder if you could have been close enough, would you have heard Jesus saying, “Release Barabbas”?

The truth of the matter is that Jesus chose Barabbas. Jesus chose to go to His death so that Barabbas could go free.

I would not have picked Barabbas. He was not a nice guy in the most extreme sense. But Jesus did.

Don’t forget that Jesus also chose you and me. He chose to die for you and me so that we could go free.

You might say that you’re not as bad as a Barabbas, but the Bible says you have sinned. I have sinned. We have all fallen short of who God made us to be. We had the choice and chose the other side over God.

But when God had a choice, He chose us. Jesus chose us over His own life.

My mind is once again officially blown.

Hangin’ with The Magician’s Nephew

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Some people like to spend their annual vacation in Panama City or Savannah or Gatlinburg. I myself like to visit Narnia on a yearly basis. So it’s that time again when I pick up The Magician’s Nephew and commence on re-reading The Chronicles of Narnia.

Back in the day, the series started with The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe and went in the order in which C. S. Lewis wrote them. Now, the series starts with The Magician’s Nephew, which involves the creation of Narnia, and progresses chronologically in terms of the story line rather than in the order in which the books were published. Is that clear as mud?

Either way, they’re great books. They always encourage me and reaffirm my faith without being overly preachy. Even those who don’t care much for Christianity can read these books and find much to like. Or so I would imagine.

I highly recommend these books to anyone who likes allegorical fiction (even though these books aren’t really allegories in the strictest sense) or just good literature. They were written for children but anyone who is young at heart will love them.

I will keep you updated as I move through the seven books in the series.

 

Quotes I Love Part One

I think this says it all.

“WE CAN SAY THAT the story of the Resurrection means simply that the teachings of Jesus are immortal like the plays of Shakespeare or the music of Beethoven and that their wisdom and truth will live on forever. Or we can say that the Resurrection means that the spirit of Jesus is undying, that he himself lives on among us, the way that Socrates does, for instance, in the good that he left behind him, in the lives of all who follow his great example. Or we can say that the language in which the Gospels describe the Resurrection of Jesus is the language of poetry and that, as such, it is not to be taken literally but as pointing to a truth more profound than the literal.

Very often, I think, this is the way that the Bible is written, and I would point to some of the stories about the birth of Jesus, for instance, as examples; but in the case of the Resurrection, this simply does not apply because there really is no story about the Resurrection in the New Testament. Except in the most fragmentary way, it is not described at all. There is no poetry about it. Instead, it is simply proclaimed as a fact. Christ is risen! In fact, the very existence of the New Testament itself proclaims it. Unless something very real indeed took place on that strange, confused morning, there would be no New Testament, no Church, no Christianity.

Yet we try to reduce it to poetry anyway: the coming of spring with the return of life to the dead earth, the rebirth of hope in the despairing soul. We try to suggest that these are the miracles that the Resurrection is all about, but they are not. In their way they are all miracles, but they are not this miracle, this central one to which the whole Christian faith points.

Unlike the chief priests and the Pharisees, who tried with soldiers and a great stone to make themselves as secure as they could against the terrible possibility of Christ’s really rising again from the dead, we are considerably more subtle. We tend in our age to say, ‘Of course, it was bound to happen. Nothing could stop it.’ But when we are pressed to say what it was that actually did happen, what we are apt to come out with is something pretty meager: this ‘miracle’ of truth that never dies, the ‘miracle’ of a life so beautiful that two thousand years have left the memory of it undimmed, the ‘miracle’ of doubt turning into faith, fear into hope. If I believed that this or something like this was all that the Resurrection meant, then I would turn in my certificate of ordination and take up some other profession. Or at least I hope that I would have the courage to” (Frederick Buechner).

-Originally published in The Alphabet of Grace

When You Can’t Think of Any Good Blog Ideas . . . .

Since I am fresh out of original material, I thought I’d pick the brain of one C. S. Lewis and see if he has anything worthwhile to say. I found this in an email and thought it worthy enough to share with you. Plus, it uses words like solecism, which I’m going to have to look up now because I have no idea what it means. Here goes:

“If the world exists not chiefly that we may love God but that God may love us, yet that very fact, on a deeper level, is so for our sakes. If He who in Himself can lack nothing chooses to need us, it is because we need to be needed. Before and behind all the relations of God to man, as we now learn them from Christianity, yawns the abyss of a Divine act of pure giving—the election of man, from nonentity, to be the beloved of God, and therefore (in some sense) the needed and desired of God, who but for that act needs and desires nothing, since He eternally has, and is, all goodness. And that act is for our sakes. It is good for us to know love; and best for us to know the love of the best object, God. But to know it as a love in which we were primarily the wooers and God the wooed, in which we sought and He was found, in which His conformity to our needs, not ours to His, came first, would be to know it in a form false to the very nature of things. For we are only creatures: our role must always be that of patient to agent, female to male, mirror to light, echo to voice. Our highest activity must be response, not initiative. To experience the love of God in a true, and not an illusory form, is therefore to experience it as our surrender to His demand, our conformity to His desire: to experience it in the opposite way is, as it were, a solecism against the grammar of being.”

I looked up solecism. According to my handy-dandy Merriam-Webster dictionary, it means “an ungrammatical combination of words in a sentence.” In other words, to experience the love of God in an illusory form is basically to go against the very fabric of our existence. Or something like that.

The fact that God created us and redeemed us and loves us for no other reason than He chooses to do so blows my mind. God didn’t– and still doesn’t– need me but He still wants me. He still wants you, even when it seems nobody else does.

That’s a good thought to take with you as you drift into dreamland tonight.

 

My Occasional Soapbox Post Strikes Again

I have to admit something. I’m a little concerned about evangelical Christianity in America.

I hope I’m wrong about this, but it seems we’ve sold out. In order to get along with everybody and to be at peace, we have compromised our convictions and doctrines in order not to be offensive. We’ve come to the point where we believe that all lifestyles and beliefs are valid and true and where no one can ever say that anything anybody else says or does is wrong. At least not if we don’t want to be labeled as “judgmental” or “bigots” or “hate-mongers.”

From what I know about Christianity, the gospel itself is offensive. It’s scandalous. If we’re faithful to proclaim it and to strive to be conformed to the likeness of Christ, we will be rejected. And ridiculed. And persecuted. How do I know that? Because He Himself promised it would happen.

The Bible says that we apart from God love darkness and hate the light. We hate the truth and anything or anyone associated with it. It takes more than just convincing of our logic. It takes the love of God invading our hearts for us to be transformed.

I think part of the problem is that we interpret what the Bible says through the lenses of emotion or sexuality or politics. It should be the other way around. The truth is not politically correct and it isn’t always the popular opinion. In fact, many times, the truth will be in the minority.

I do believe in the Bible the same way orthodox believers have believed in it for centuries. My faith is the faith of the apostles and saints through the ages. That is Christianity. Anything else is not. You are free to believe and practice your belief however you choose, but if your faith has stepped outside of the boundaries of orthodox faith, you are believing in something other than the Christ of Christianity. I don’t say any of this out of pride or arrogance. In fact, I’m a fairly lousy Christian at times, saying one thing and living another. Or in my case, not really saying anything at all.

I still believe that Christians are called to love those who think and act differently, regardless of whether they ever change. Jesus loved those who opposed Him most vehemently, yet still proclaimed the truth boldly, calling a spade a spade. Jesus died for the ones who murdered Him.

Love is still the way to go, but not love that has no standards. That’s not love. That’s just permissiveness. God’s love says in effect, “I love you just the way you are right now, but I refuse to leave you that way. My love will make you everything I created you to be.”

As always, I’m just a ragamuffin out there telling other ragamuffins where to find the Bread of Life.

 

 

Lessons from Van Gogh

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Tonight at Kairos, Michael Boggs did a bit of art history. I have to share what he said because it really does have implications for 21st century American Christianity.

Van Gogh started as a missionary living in a mining community. He totally immersed himself in their world tried to be Jesus to them. The result was that the church who put him there fired him because they felt his behavior wasn’t becoming of their standards.

He painted his famous church painting much later. The painting is beautiful, but also telling in what it leaves out. First, there are no lights coming from within the church. There’s not a path leading to the church. Finally, there are no doors anywhere on this church.

It was as if Van Gogh was communicating how he felt church leaders shut him out and how he couldn’t get back in. He felt like they put up barriers between him and God.

A question my friend posed (and one I’ve been thinking about a lot lately is, ” What would Jesus undo?” He even wrote a book by that title with just that question in mind.

I believe Jesus would undo the walls we put up to keep people out. Not the boundaries we put up to protect ourselves, but walls we use to ostracize those who think and act different than us.

Most of all, I think Jesus would undo the holy huddle mentality that has kept the lost people around it at arm’s length and shut its eyes to the dire need around it.

Jesus would undo the religious hyper-activity that keeps us too busy going to church throughout the week to be able to take Jesus to those around us who really need Him.

Jesus would definitely undo my smug superiority over those who sin differently than I do, reminding me that my sin is just as offensive as theirs. I need Jesus as much as anyone and it took just as much grace to save me as it took for any felon or drug addict.

I plan on buying the book, What Would Jesus Undo by Michael Boggs, and I hope you will, too. Shameless plug.

Patience and Kindness

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I think I finally figured out what won these dogs over that I’m dog-sitting. It wasn’t my oh-so-charming personality. It wasn’t giving them a little extra food in their bowls. It wasn’t my hypnotic and soothing voice. What was it?

It was patience and kindness.

That’s how God won me over. Probably that’s how God captured your heart, too.

That’s what will win the world, I think. Just plain simple patience and kindness. No one wants to listen to a message of love from someone who’s impatient and rude. No one wants to be yelled at.

It is so true. People don’t care what you know (or even Who you know) until they know you care about them. Not just as souls to be saved but as people who really and truly matter to God. People created in the image of God who have worth and value simply because God made them.

I know I personally need quite a bit of patience and kindness both from God and from other people. That’s why I try to give it out whenever I can.

By the way, this is a milestone. My 1,500th blog post. Yay me.