Lavished Love

“Consider the kind of extravagant love the Father has lavished on us—He calls us children of God! It’s true; we are His beloved children” (1 John 3:1a).

Don’t rush past this like I’ve done all these years. Take it in slowly and savor what you’re reading.

This Father, the King of the Universe, has LAVISHED his love on us.

I can’t help but thinking of a chapter I read in a book called The Autobiography of God by Lloyd John Ogilvie. The very first chapter is called The Prodigal God, about the parable of the prodigal son.

In it, Ogilvie defines prodigality as that of being extravagant, excessive, and wasteful. He says the character in that parable that best fits the description of prodigal is the father.

The father is the one who had every right after his son left home to hold a mock funeral and to live as though he had only one son. He could very well have written his son off the way his son had written him off.

But that’s not what happened.

I imagine that father waited every day in the same spot on that front porch, looking out into the horizon for any sign of his son.

I know for a fact that the father RAN (something dignified men NEVER did back in that day and age). The father fell on his son’s neck and lavished him with fatherly kisses and affection.

This was my son who was dead, he said, and is now alive.

That’s the picture of the extravagant kind of love the Heavenly Father lavishes on us. It’s that excessive. It’s that wasteful when you consider how many of us ignore it or take it for granted (and I am one of those).

The Father is running after you, not to scold or punish you, but to envelop you in His arms and tell you right now that He loves you just the way you are, soot-covered, shame-covered, sin-covered, but He in His love refuses to leave you the way He found you.

He wants you to be living out of the full knowledge that you are a son, a daughter, a child of God.

 

The Five Longest Minutes

I tried an experiment on my second visit of the evening to St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. I set the timer on my phone for five minutes, and I spent five minutes in silence, not reading anything, not saying anything, not looking my phone. It was just me sitting in a pew in semi-darkness for five minutes.

Five long minutes.

It’s amazing how society has conditioned us to need almost constant stimuli from the radio, television, tablets, internet, and smart phones. Our attention span is so much shorter than it was even twenty years ago.

It’s good for the soul to be silent.

I think of it like rebooting a computer every so often. It helps it to run more smoothly and to reset the equilibrium when things get a bit off-kilter.

We need rebooting periodically. That’s what silence and meditation are for.  That’s what prayer and fasting are for. That’s why God instituted the Sabbath as a day of rest, although historically His people haven’t been very good at using that day for the purpose of which it was intended.

I’m not very good at any kind of silence. That five minutes seemed a lot longer to me than five minutes. It definitely seemed a lot longer than five minutes spent on Pinterest or Instagram. I’ve been known to waste way more than five minutes scrolling through the posts on Facebook at the end of the day.

Silence takes discipline, something that the culture around us seems to treat with disdain. You don’t see or hear many advertisements extolling the virtues of discipline and self-denial. Usually, it’s quite the opposite.

So there I was in that quiet space for five whole minutes, not saying anything, not reading anything, praying as I felt led. It was refreshing and soul-cleansing. I felt more relaxed and less anxious. I felt at peace with myself and with God.

I should probably do that more often.

 

Dem Golden Streets

The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate expertly crafted from a single beautiful pearl. And the city street was pure gold, yet it was as transparent as glass.

And in the city, I found no temple because the Lord God, the All Powerful, and the Lamb are the temple. And in the city, there is no need for the sun to light the day or moon the night because the resplendent glory of the Lord provides the city with warm, beautiful light and the Lamb illumines every corner of the new Jerusalem” (Revelation 21:21-23).

Today as I was driving home from work, I was almost blinded by the setting sun blazing directly in my eyes.

I also noticed how the way the sunlight reflected off the pavement made the road looked golden. It was almost as if I-440 West was paved with gold.

It got me thinking about the place in the Book of Revelation where John describes the streets of heaven as being paved with gold.

This is just me thinking out loud, but what if those streets appear golden because they are reflecting the glory of God. After all, the same book mentions that there will be no need for sun or moon because God and His glory will be the only light there.

I never thought the afternoon commute would ever turn so theological. Nashville traffic inspires lots of thoughts and ideas, but most of them are very non-Baptist. So it was a nice change of pace to be sitting in rush-hour madness thinking of heavenly streets of gold in a new way.

So take that for however you want. It’s just a thought I had.

 

A Certainty that Cannot Be Shaken

“We say, then, to anyone who is under trial, give Him time to steep the soul in His eternal truth. Go into the open air, look up into the depths of the sky, or out upon the wideness of the sea, or on the strength of the hills that is His also; or, if bound in the body, go forth in the spirit; spirit is not bound. Give Him time and, as surely as dawn follows night, there will break upon the heart a sense of certainty that cannot be shaken” (Amy Carmichael).

I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around what happened in Paris.

Granted, I didn’t even hear about it until I’d gotten home from work.

I turned on CNN and saw where at least 153 people had been killed in what looks like ISIS terrorist attacks on innocent civilians.

If it happened there, it could happen here. But still, the fact that it happened anywhere matters. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said that injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. Attacks on liberty are a threat to liberty anywhere and everywhere.

I still don’t know why things like that happen. I know it’s a fallen and broken world. I know that people are capable of the worst acts, as evidenced by the Holocaust and Slavery and a million other atrocities.

I also know that God is in control.

I know that God can take the worst tragedies and turn them into something beautiful.

I still believe that in the end, Love wins. Jesus wins.

I know and believe with all my heart that, try as it might, darkness can never truly drive out the light. The only failure is a failure of the light when it refuses to shine.

I’m praying for Paris. I’m praying for all those who are burdened by oppression and injustice tonight.

May God have mercy on us all.

 

Why I Love Old Abraham

“By faith Abraham heard God’s call to travel to a place he would one day receive as an inheritance; and he obeyed, not knowing where God’s call would take him. By faith he journeyed to the land of the promise as a foreigner; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, his fellow heirs to the promise because Abraham looked ahead to a city with foundations, a city laid out and built by God.

By faith Abraham’s wife Sarah became fertile long after menopause because she believed God would be faithful to His promise. So from this man, who was almost at death’s door, God brought forth descendants, as many as the stars in the sky and as impossible to count as the sands of the shore” (Hebrews 11:8-12).

“That’s what Scripture means when it says, ‘Abraham entrusted himself to God, and God credited him with righteousness.’ And living a faithful life earned Abraham the title of ‘God’s friend'” (James 2:23, The Voice).

I like Abraham. I can relate to Abraham.

Sure, he was the father of many nations. Sure, he’s the one through whose line came the Messiah, the Hope of the World.

But he also had clay feet at times.

Remember the time when he lied about his wife, saying she was his sister? Twice?

Remember when he tried to help God out by agreeing to go to bed with Sarah’s servant Hagar to produce the heir God promised?

Remember when Abraham had a hard time believing that God could keep His word in giving him a child?

Yeah, I can relate to all of that. Abraham’s my kind of guy.

The Bible is full of people like that. Not saints in the sense of people who walked through life with halos hanging over their heads who never messed up or got a hair out of place or got their knickers in a bunch. More like saints who stumbled and fell often, but kept getting back up, kept trusting in the next step, kept trusting that God knew where he was leading them through all the deserts and foreign countries.

Sometimes faith is simply showing up and taking the next step, trusting that God knows where He’s leading you. As Corrie Ten Boom said, faith is trusting the conductor of the train when it goes into a pitch black tunnel instead of jumping off the back of the caboose.

I suppose we’re all thankful that even faith the size of a mustard seed can move  mountains and uproot trees. It can change stubborn old hearts like yours and mine.

Best of all, faith leads you to the place where God is, where you were always meant to be, the place where your heart can rest.

 

More Borrowed Wisdom From One Mr. Lewis

I have the crud, so I invited a guest blogger to share his thoughts. Well, I copied and pasted from something C. S. Lewis wrote. It blew my fuzzy, hay-fevered mind. I hope it blows your mind as well.

“An ordinary simple Christian kneels down to say his prayers. He is trying to get into touch with God.

But if he is a Christian he knows that what is prompting him to pray is also God: God, so to speak, inside him.

But he also knows that all his real knowledge of God comes through Christ, the Man who was God—that Christ is standing beside him, helping him to pray, praying for him.

You see what is happening. God is the thing to which he is praying—the goal he is trying to reach. God is also the thing inside him which is pushing him on—the motive power. God is also the road or bridge along which he is being pushed to that goal.

So that the whole threefold life of the three-personal Being is actually going on in that ordinary little bedroom where an ordinary man is saying his prayers. The man is being caught up into the higher kinds of life—what I called Zoe or spiritual life: he is being pulled into God, by God, while still remaining himself” (C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity).

You’re welcome.

Praying starts and ends with God. Sure, I bring my needs and wants to God, but sometimes there are no words. Sometimes, I need to know that God inside of me is praying to the God above me through the God in Christ who is beside me.

That’s prayer.

 

Coming Home

“Isn’t it right to join in the celebration and be happy? This is your brother we’re talking about. He was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found again!” (Luke 15:32).

Editor’s Note: I still have The Crud, compete with intermittent coughing spells, so forgive me for any typographical errors I made while I was in the middle of hacking up one of my lungs. Hopefully, I’ll be better soon.

Every one of us has been a prodigal at some point. Every one of us.

Not all of us have run away to a far country to waste our lives and money on scandalous living.

Some of us have stayed at home and been just as far away from the Father.

As my pastor Mike Glenn reminded me today, lostness isn’t a matter of geography as much as it is of relationship.

All of us wander off in our affections and in our priorities. All of us.

All of us at some point will have that awakening when we come to ourselves and realize just how far away we’ve gotten.

It’s not Jesus who was lost. I was. You were. We were. Jesus found us. That’s the story of the Gospel. That’s my hope.

Some of you are praying for prodigals in your life who still haven’t come home yet. Some of you are the prodigals still out in the far country, ashamed and embarrassed to admit defeat and start the journey homeward.

Remember that God is the Father who never turns away any prodigals who come back in true repentance and faith. This is the God who doesn’t wait for us to get to Him. He runs after us while we’re still a long way down the road.

Every one of us at some point will be a prodigal again. It’s in our nature to wander and it’s in God’s nature to bring us back.

That will never not be good news to me.

The end.

 

 

Music I Like

I’ve gotten to the point where I really don’t care how old the music or what format it is. If it speaks to me and tells me my story, I like it.

I used to look down my nose at country music. I thought it was too hick for me. Then I tried to listen to it and didn’t like it.

Later on, I found some Dwight Yoakum. It turns out that I really did like country music after all, just not the sugar-flavored pop with a twang that passes for country music these days. Yes, I just showed my age.

I have just about every kind of genre from just about every decade that music has been made. I like it all.

Lately, I find myself gravitating toward the road less traveled, musically speaking. I don’t tend to go for top 40 as much. I like more alt-country and Americana-style music.  But not to the point of being hipster. I’m not there yet.

There’s still nothing better to me than the right song at the right moment. It’s almost like the song becomes a part of the soundtrack of your life and the moment becomes etched in your memory.

I like the Grateful Dead, mostly because every time I listen to one of their songs, I think about Uncle Bob and how much he loved the Grateful Dead. It makes me happy. Hopefully he’s up in heaven smiling at my new musical broad-mindedness.

I also tend to avoid music awards shows like the bubonic plague. All they do is reward mediocrity and popularity over actual talent. Generally speaking. And that was my soapbox speech for the evening.

The beauty of music, as well as art, is that there really is no such thing as bad art. Art and music are subjective, and chances are that what turns me off completely may speak to you where you are and you may love it. More power to you.

As Uncle Mikey aka Mike Glenn says, that’s why Baskin Robbins has 39 flavors of ice cream. Not everyone likes Rocky Road. Not every one likes what I like in music. Some actually like Justin Bieber. God bless and keep listening. Just make sure you have your headphones on when you’re around me, please.

 

 

Neighborliness

“Neighborliness is not a quality in other people; it is simply their claim on ourselves. Every moment and every situation challenges us to action and to obedience. We have literally no time to sit down and ask ourselves whether so-and-so is our neighbor or not” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship).

Who is my neighbor? That’s the question that the expert in Jewish law asked Jesus. In other words, who am I required to love?

Jesus turned the question around from “Who is my neighbor?” to “How am I being a good neighbor to those around me?”

So, a neighbor is anyone who is in need and who is within my power to help. I can’t help every single one in need, but I can meet the needs of those who are in front of me, and those by Jesus’ definition are my neighbors.

Ultimately, the Good Samaritan is a picture of Jesus Himself. I’m the one who foolishly took the dangerous road alone and ended up beaten up and robbed. I’m the one lying half-dead on the road whom the Neighbor spotted and had pity on.

That changes the parable quite a bit, doesn’t it? It means just as the Good Samaritan wasn’t the kind of hero the Jewish audience was expecting, Jesus wasn’t (and isn’t) the kind of Messiah we were expecting.

We prize physical strength and virility. We prize magazine-cover good looks. We love take-charge, grab-the-bull-by-the-horns people.

I wonder sometimes if we’d know Jesus as Messiah if He showed up today as He did almost two millennia ago. People were expecting someone to rally the people against Rome, but instead got a man who insisted that we turn the other cheek and go the extra mile.

Sure, Jesus overturned those tables in the Temple, but He also said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

I’m thankful most of all that in Jesus, I got not the kind of Savior I might have wanted, but the kind I so desperately needed. He loved ( and still loves) me just like I am but refuses to let me stay that way.

PS Credit for all of this goes to Mike Glenn, courtesy of tonight’s Kairos message. Check it out some Tuesday evening if you’re ever in the Brentwood/Greater Nashville area.

 

Takeaways From Another Immersion Conference

I attended an Immersion: Going Deeper conference at Brentwood Baptist Church over the last two days, featuring Union University professor Dr. George Guthrie.

It was as good as billed and more.

God’s Unfolding Story was the theme and Dr. Guthrie spoke about how grace always has a face and a space in which to work. To me, that says that grace works best not as a theoretical proposition, but as a concrete reality lived out in the midst of where we live, work, and play.

Grace says that I have a standing invitation into the throneroom of the God of the Universe that never expires and never gets rescinded. As a student at Union University back in the day, I’d never have dreamed of barging into University President Dr. Hyram Barefoot’s office and telling him fears and dreams.

But God invites me to do just that. It is His desire that I come to Him at any moment with whatever’s on my mind. He is a good, good, Father, as the current worship song says.

Sometimes, it’s good to simply sit in God’s lap and bask in His presence. Other times, only two words will do for my prayer: thank you.

There have been times when the hurt and pain go too deep for words, yet God hears the sighs and groans that go deeper than any words can ever express.

It was great seeing Dr. Guthrie again, as well as Chuck Maxwell. It was also fantastic getting to hear Michael Card perform a couple of songs on Friday night. That alone was worth the price of admission.

Sometimes, it’s good to go deeper into God and to find out that He’s way more amazing than you had ever imagined in your wildest dreams. He never disappoints those who seek Him with pure and willing hearts.

That’s a fact.

The end.