Be Encouraged. B-E Encouraged.

“God didn’t set us up for an angry rejection but for salvation by our Master, Jesus Christ. He died for us, a death that triggered life. Whether we’re awake with the living or asleep with the dead, we’re alive with him! So speak encouraging words to one another. Build up hope so you’ll all be together in this, no one left out, no one left behind. I know you’re already doing this; just keep on doing it” (1 Thessalonians 5:11, The Message).

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to read this verse aloud at least once a day for the next five days. Unless you feel really weird reading it aloud, in which case you may read it in your “inside-your-head” voice. You have my permission.

Remember, Jesus didn’t die to give us a get out of hell free card. It isn’t about something that’s waiting in the bye and bye.

It’s here and now. It’s life– abundant and full and overflowing life– right now.

Some of us are having a hard time remembering that right now. Some feel so weighed down by grief or stress or despair that it’s hard to feel alive. It’s hard to live abundantly when you feel as if all you’ve been doing is treading water to stay afloat in the flood.

That’s why Paul tells us to encourage each other. He didn’t say think good thoughts toward each other and have the best intentions to let them know that their in your prayers. No. He said to actively encourage them through any and all means at your disposal, whether that be pen and paper, face-to-face affirmation, smoke signals, social media, or morse code.

Who needs your encouragement most? Who is God putting on your heart? Your real mission is to encourage that person in a real and tangible way in the next 24 hours. Go!

 

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.

 

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).

 

 

Thoughts About Rembrandt

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Rembrandt has a painting called Raising of the Cross.

At first glance, there’s nothing unusual about it. There’s Jesus on the cross, being raised by a couple of others and being jeered at and mocked by the surrounding crowd.

But at second glance, you notice something different about the man in the middle. He’s wearing a blue beret. Why? Because it’s Rembrandt painting himself into the picture.

There’s a profound statement in that painting. Rembrandt basically says that he helped put Jesus on the cross. And so did I.

The hymn says that it was my sin that held Him there. Because of my sin, Jesus died.

Jesus paid the highest price for the sin that I sometimes treat so lightly. It’s almost as if I can sin casually, knowing that I will be forgiven and all will be well in the end. Dietrich Bonhoeffer calls that cheap grace.

Sin may not bring punishment, thanks to Jesus, but there are always consequences to my sin. The more I sin, the less I can sense God’s presence. Jesus with all the sin of the world on Him, couldn’t sense God at all. His cry of “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” came out of that.

Sin kills me inside. It’s like a scar over an old wound where the nerves don’t work as well. Sin deadens me not only to God but also to others around me and ultimately, to myself.

Yes, I’m thankful for grace. I’m also thankful that when Jesus gets done with me, sin won’t be a part of my equation anymore. I won’t ever have to live with the shame and consequences of it ever again.

That’s what I’m looking forward to. Because the absence of sin means more room in my heart for Jesus. That’s the best part of all.

Again, I believe. Help my unbelief.

 

Notes from Ave South

“This is the kind of life you’ve been invited into, the kind of life Christ lived. He suffered everything that came his way so you would know that it could be done, and also know how to do it, step-by-step.

He never did one thing wrong,
Not once said anything amiss.

They called him every name in the book and he said nothing back. He suffered in silence, content to let God set things right. He used his servant body to carry our sins to the Cross so we could be rid of sin, free to live the right way. His wounds became your healing. You were lost sheep with no idea who you were or where you were going. Now you’re named and kept for good by the Shepherd of your souls” (1 Peter 2:21:25).

It’s easy to want to fire back at the person who insults or defames you. It’s easy to want to strike back at the person who questions your integrity or defaces your character.

But that’s not the way Jesus responded. That’s not the way Jesus calls His followers to respond.

Jesus let God defend Him. Even in the midst of a trial in which everything about Him was questioned, He kept silent. His mission in this world was not to be proved right, but to be faithful. And there’s a big difference.

I love what Pastor Aaron said. Even on the cross, Jesus’ words “Into Your Hands I commit My spirit” indicate that Jesus entrusted even His own death to God to make it right.

I personally find it very easy to get defensive when someone criticizes me. It’s very easy to return the favor when someone insults you or makes fun of you. Or for me, it’s easy to think of all the mean things I want to say but never actually say to that person.

Jesus never said that being one of His followers would be easy. In fact, sometimes it goes against everything that human nature naturally gravitates toward. He did say that in the end, no matter how much it costs or how much it hurts, it will have been worth it. More than worth it.

Our job is not to be right. Our job isn’t to defend our honor. Our job is to love God and to love people and let God take care of the rest. And trust me, God can defend you a lot better than you can.

Love Will Remain

I read this about a week ago and kept it in my archives to share with you at some point. So here it is, without any added commentary from me:

“Hope and faith will both come to an end when we die. But love will remain. Love is eternal. Love comes from God and returns to God.  When we die, we will lose everything that life gave us except love. The love with which we lived our lives is the life of God within us. It is the divine, indestructible core of our being. This love not only will remain but will also bear fruit from generation to generation.

When we approach our deaths let us say to those we leave behind, ‘Don’t let your heart be troubled. The love of God that dwells in my heart will come to you and offer you consolation and comfort'” (Henri Nouwen).

 

 

The New Normal

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the new normal.

It’s when something forever alters your landscape and everything else after will be different. You have to adjust to the way things are now.

For me, my new normal started when I lost my job three years ago. It was a totally out of the blue, unexpected event and changed a lot of things for me. I can say for certain that I am not that same person who got downsized from Affinion Benefits Group on May 22, 2012.

For you, it may be a job loss. It could be moving across town or across the state or even halfway across the country. It could be a career change. Or it might be the death of a parent, spouse, or child. Even the loss of a pet can trigger a new normal.

One comfort for me has always been that whatever the new normal looks like, one thing remains from the old normal– God. He’s the same in the new normal as He was in the old and will be in the new new normal.

God loves me just as much in the new normal as He always did. He has the same good plans for me, the same promise that He will work all things together for my good, the same peace that passes all understanding, the same everything.

I admit that change scares me. I like having the routine that I can occasionally break free from when I’m feeling spontaneous. I like having the people in my life, knowing they are around.

I try not to obsess over when and how my normal will likely change in the future. I want to be present to where God has me with who He has in my life while they’re still in my life.

Thank you, God, for my life. Forgive me if I take it or any of Your other gifts for granted. Forgive me if I don’t love it enough or love you enough.

As always, I believe. Lord, help my unbelief.

 

Easter Sunday 2015

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“It is good for us to remember that this stone was rolled away from the entrance, not to permit Christ to come out but to enable the disciples to go in!” (Peter Marshall)

“A man who was completely innocent, offered himself as a sacrifice for the good of others, including his enemies, and became the ransom of the world. It was a perfect act” (Mahatma Gandhi).

“God proved His love on the Cross. When Christ hung, and bled, and died, it was God saying to the world, ‘I love you'” (Billy Graham).

“But with Christ, we have access in a one-to-one relationship, for, as in the Old Testament, it was more one of worship and awe, a vertical relationship. The New Testament, on the other hand, we look across at a Jesus who looks familiar, horizontal. The combination is what makes the Cross” (Bono).

For me, Easter is a bit harder to prepare for than Christmas. You don’t have nearly the commercialism of the season constantly reminding you that the day is coming. Also, Easter isn’t on a fixed day every year like Christmas.

Most of all, Easter isn’t quite the feel-good story that Christmas is. You don’t have the cute little infant being cradled by loving Mary as a doting Joseph watches on. You have the gory spectacle of the cross and the death of an innocent Man to deal with.

But you need both, I think. You can’t have the Greatest Story Ever Told without both the virgin birth and the death and resurrection. If Jesus wasn’t born of a virgin Mary, then He’s not qualified to die for anyone’s sins but His own. If He isn’t raised from the dead, then we are still stuck in our sins and just as hopeless as before.

So I love both seasons. More than that, I love how Advent comes before Christmas and Lent comes before Easter, giving us time to prepare our hearts and minds for what it all means.

This year, Easter means that no life is wasted. It means that every life matters and every single person ever born matters to God. It means that your and my identity doesn’t come from honor rolls or bank accounts or resumes, but from Calvary. At the core, who I am is the Beloved of God, who proved that He thought I was worth dying for on that cross.

Oh, in case you’re wondering, there are only 263 days left until Christmas.

 

 

On a Rainy Good Friday

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I drove home in a monsoon. Or it felt like a monsoon to this Middle Tennessean. The picture above is a fairly accurate depiction of what I saw through my own windshield– not much at all– as I motored down the interstate. Twice, a passing car splashed a lot of water on my car and I literally couldn’t see anything for a few seconds that felt a lot longer than a few seconds. I gripped the steering wheel, prayed hard, and kept going.

I think I even passed through a small amount of hail, which I can safely say with almost 98% certainty was a first for me. I’ve never seen so many cars pulled over to the side of the road under overpasses to wait out the deluge. But I trudged onward, slowly and cautiously.

I was nervous, but not panicky. I figured that God was more than able to get me through the rain and it had to let up sooner or later. No rain, literal or figurative, can last forever.

On another Good Friday, there wasn’t a whole lot of sunshine. It was both literally and metaphorically one of the darkest days in the history of humanity. Jesus had breathed His last on the cross and they had taken Him down to be buried in a borrowed tomb.

I can read about it knowing the rest of the story, but for those living it in real time, they had no idea that a resurrection was coming. Those disciples who had fled during Jesus’ arrest had witnessed the crucifixion from afar. Or maybe they hid out and received reports from those who were there, Either way, they had seen their world end.

I’ve been there. I’ve been in places that felt like dead ends and wondered how I would ever get back.

But Easter is about a God who knows the way out of the grave. And though it may be Friday, Sunday’s comin’!

 

Spring Has Sprung (Again)

Officially, spring starts at the spring equinox at 6:45 pm EDT (or 5:45 for those lucky enough to be living in CST). For me, spring is here.

It certainly feels like spring. I can wear shorts and not have my legs turn blue, so to me that equals spring. Plus, all those flowers and leaves will soon be blooming everywhere. My apologies to those blessed with that lovely condition known as hay fever. You will be feeling it over the next few weeks.

I love seasons. True, I love fall most of all, but I love the fact that I live where there are four distinct seasons. It reminds me that in order for there to be new life, there must first be a death of sorts. I don’t think I’d love any one season if it lasted indefinitely. Even summer would get old for me after a while. I love summer because I know that autumn is not far behind. I love autumn because I know it is a harbinger of winter. I love winter because of the promise of spring. And I love spring because I know it’s a preparation for summer.

I’ve come to trust God in each season of my life. Whether that be a season of plenty or a season of lacking, I know that the same God of summer is the God of winter. I can be content whether my cup is running over or whether I’m empty-handed (to paraphrase the Apostle Paul).

To me, the lesson of the four seasons is that it is inevitable that God’s promises will come to pass. Just as winter turns into spring, God will whatever’s bad in my life into good. Just as spring passes into summer, so God will guide me through the difficult seasons of my own life. Just as summer morphs into fall, so my God will stay present in my life through every change of weather. And just as fall becomes winter, God will stay the same as He was in the other three seasons.

So yeah, I like spring.