grace of God

Grace Notes on a Thursday Night

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As I type these words, I have one extremely sleepy therapist curled up in my lap. I can feel my blood pressure dropping and my stress melting away. It’s almost like I’m living inside a Norman Rockwell painting.

I visited my favorite place on earth again. Downtown Franklin for me is almost like leaving Middle Tennessee and entering Middle Earth. If Middle Earth had amazing frozen yogurt and talking crosswalks.

I saw two of my favorite friends down there and ate at McCreary’s Irish Pub yet again. I felt like a senior adult eating at 4:30 pm, but I didn’t have to wait and I was able to sit outside and people-watch while I ate.

I really think the way to slow down your life is to be intentionally thankful for each moment, grateful for each frame of your fleeting life, and to seek joy where you are. Once you start looking for them, you’ll be amazed at how plentiful the blessings are. How numerous the little joys are that quietly intrude on your day.

Sometimes, you have to put down the iPhone and the iPad and the MacBookPro and live in the moment. Actually be present in your life to the people and places around you.

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I find that my gratitude increases my awareness of grace and my need for it and my capacity to both receive and give it. Everything I have and everything I am that’s worth anything at all is grace, including possessions, people, health, education, and (as hard as it is for me to admit) even the faith to believe in the promises of Jesus.

I say take time to bless those people behind the counter. I went back into Sweet CeCe’s after I finished my divine Southern Sweet Velvet yogurt and told the girl working there that they always did such a great job and made me feel welcome every time I went in there. I’m sure plenty of people probably complained or took out their frustrations on her, so I felt she needed at least one positive and encouraging word that day.

Even if it’s only a smile, you can change a person’s world. And as I’ve said before, to change one person’s world is to change the world.

Gee, I do so love grace.

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Yes, It’s Hump Daaaaay (and Yes, I’m Sick of That Geico Commercial. Enough Already)

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it’s Wednesday (in case you were one of the two people living under a rock who didn’t know what hump day was). Currently, I am in one of my many therapy sessions with Doctor Lucy, per usual, sleeping on the job. At least her rates are very affordable and she accepts my insurance.

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I am at peace with the world. Or at least my world. I am very content with where I am and what I have, knowing that I am smack dab in the middle of God’s plan for me and that I am in Christ and He is in me. Every promise of God belongs to me and there is nothing that I lack. Every single thing I need for life to the full and holiness is mine.

So why is that not enough for me most of the time? Why do I always want more than what God offers in the moment? Why can’t I let go of the trinkets in my hands to receive eternal treasures?

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I don’t have any good answers.

i do know that I am still living my miracle, surrounded by a cloud of witnesses and spurred on daily by family and friends who speak blessings and life and healing and peace into my being.

Joy is still found not by looking ahead or looking back but from seeing the now and being present in this moment. It is so elusive to those with no time or patience for it but is found by those who need it most. When they need it the most.

 

Life is still good, God is still great, and I am still so very blessed.

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A Beautiful Puritan Prayer

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“O God of Grace,
Thou hast imputed my sin to my substitute,
and hast imputed his righteousness to my soul,
clothing me with bridegroom’s robe,
decking me with jewels of holiness.
But in my Christian walk I am still in rags;
my best prayers are stained with sin;
my penitential tears are so much impurity;
my confessions of wrong are so many aggravations of sin;
my receiving the Spirit is tinctured with selfishness.
I need to repent of my repentance;
I need my tears to be washed;
I have no robe to bring to cover my sins,
no loom to weave my own righteousness;
I am always standing clothed in filthy garments,
and by grace am always receiving change of raiment,
for thou dost always justify the ungodly;
I am always going into the far country,
and always returning home as a prodigal,
always saying, Father, forgive me,
and thou art always bringing forth the best robe.
Every morning let me wear it,
every evening return in it,
go out to the day’s work in it,
be married in it,
be wound in death in it,
stand before the great white throne in it,
enter heaven in it shining as the sun.
Grant me never to lose sight of
the exceeding sinfulness of sin,
the exceeding righteousness of salvation,
the exceeding glory of Christ,
the exceeding beauty of holiness,
the exceeding wonder of grace.”

From The Valley of Vision – A collection of Puritan Prayers & Devotions
Edited by Arthur Bennett

Hank Sr and the Night Air

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I spent another night in downtown Franklin with two good friends. It was another picture perfect evening, weather wise and in every other respect. I could almost literally feel the smile of God over me as I walked with my friends and revisited my favorite spots.

On the way home, I selected Hank Williams because it felt right. I had the windows rolled down, the night air blowing in, and that plaintive voice from the past crooning me to a happy place on my way home.

Hank died over 60 years ago under mysterious circumstances that may never be fully known or understood. From what I understand, he led a very sad life. I read an apt description that he was going 90 miles an hour down a dead end street. But he could write some of the most poignant, heartfelt lyrics.

I’d rather listen to his music any day than most of what passes for country music these days. It feels mass-produced and manufactured, even though the production sounds a lot better and recording studios have come a very long way.

Sometimes, it’s good to go back. To revisit the old values and the old sayings. To remember the stories handed down through generations and the ancient wisdom time-tested and proven true.

Like this one. It is more blessed to give than to receive. If you want to save your life, you have to lose it. If you want to be treated a certain way, you have to treat others that way.

Or this. Love God with everything you’ve got and love your neighbor as much as you love yourself. That’s the Bible in a nutshell, all the laws and commandments at their purest, and everything you need to know.

Oh, I almost forgot. You can’t love God until you’ve found out how much He loves you and then received that love as your own. You can’t love your neighbors if you haven’t discovered who you are and where you belong and found that you have priceless worth as one not only created by your Abba Father, but redeemed by Him.

That’s an old truth that will never ever get old for me.

 

 

M.I.A. iPhone 5

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My iPhone 5 (not the new 5S or 5C) went missing sometime this evening between 5:30-6:30 pm. In the Connection Center (ironically enough) at Brentwood Baptist Church before Kairos. Apparently, so did my memory during that hour or so.

I have absolutely no clue what transpired in that hour. All I know is that at one point, I had my phone in my hand and at another, I didn’t. I do know I thoroughly checked the place from top to bottom at least twice.

The good news is that if the worst case scenario comes to pass and my phone is gone or stolen, I have insurance on it and can get a replacement.

It also reminds me of the great lengths God went to in search of me when I was lost. It reminds me that God’s not about to rest until He gets me home safe and sound.

So it truly is all good.

A Good Non-Gaming Game Night

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The Green Hills Community Group scheduled a game night for tonight. Sounds like fun, right?

It was. The only minor complication was that it wasn’t really a game night. Only four people showed up, so we attempted Catch Phrase, but ended up doing something much better.

We had a bit of church.

I don’t mean we broke out the hymnals or burst into song. No one got up and preached and no one testified. Well, at least not in a Pentecostal way.

We had meaningful conversations and got to know each other a little bit better. To me, that’s church, where we figure out life together.

I couldn’t have asked for three better people to spend a rainy Friday night with. Even if I was tired and a bit dizzy, I still had a blast.

Life is like that. You show up expecting one thing, but get something else entirely. You make plans based on where you think you’ll be in ten years, but ten years later, all those plans and expectations are moot.

God rarely meets my expectations. He rarely does anything according to my timetable.

What He does always exceeds my expectations and His timing may not be mine, but it is always perfect. He gives me what I need exactly when I need it and not a moment too soon or a second too late.

I think if I have any expectations going forward, it’s that God will continue to astound and amaze me at how He turns setbacks and quiet nights into blessings.

He’s so very good at that.

On a Night Like This 3

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My friends and I played sand volleyball again tonight. For the record, no one confused any of us with professional athletes, but we had fun. And that was the point of the evening.

I’ve noticed all of us have improved over time. We each have grown more confident in our own abilities and brought out the best in those around us. We’ve learned to trust each other and we know what any given person’s strengths and weaknesses are. We’ve learned to play as a team.

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I really believe that’s Church. We figure out life together. We offer encouragement in the face of failure and mistakes and we cheer for successes and victories. We know that in order to win, we need all of us together, on the same page with the same endgame in mind.

We learn to work together, knowing that we can be strong for others in areas where they’re weak. We learn to admit where we need help and to humble ourselves enough to ask for that help.

And as simplistic as it sounds, the most important part of living is showing up. It’s being present in your own life and not just a spectator watching and biding your time until you get to that next phase. It’s about intentionally choosing to engage with those around you and breathe in the night air and find joy in the details and to see God at work right where you are right when you’re there.

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Plus, it helps if you can laugh at yourself. I think my shining moment was tripping over my own two feet in a frantic effort to get to the ball. Did I mention I’m not Olympic material?

No one will remember next week which teams won or lost. No one will remember whose teams thry were on. But we will remember a perfect night with good friends and laughter and good memories. And best of all, joy.

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Twelve Years Later on 9/11

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“In honor of all those who have come behind…. in honor of Christ who lived like that: Go into a hurting world and live your life as a First-Responder.”

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I still can’t believe it happened. Even 12 years later, it doesn’t seem real to me.

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I googled 9/11 images today and found hundreds of pictures ranging from patriotic and stirring to emotionally gripping and heartbreaking to chilling and disturbing.

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I still remember exactly where I was when my boss at the time called me into his office to witness replays of the first plane hitting the first of the World Trade Center twin towers.

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Almost 3,000 people lost their lives that day. And yet it could have been much more catastrophic. Thanks to the heroism of first-responders, many who sacrificed their own lives, there were far less fatalities than there could have been.

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The best in us rose to the occasion for when the worst in us showed its ugly colors.

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Yet around the world, many people still face on a daily basis what we faced on one day twelve years ago. Many will lose their lives today simply because of their beliefs, their ethnic origins, their gender, or out of pure evil. Many will see loved ones massacred in many horrific ways.

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I’m praying for us as a human race today. I’m praying for our nation.

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But I’m not praying for God to save us from extremist Islamic terrorists.

I’m not praying for God to deliver us from President Obama and the liberal agenda or the Tea Party and its right-wing policies.

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I’m praying this prayer today: “Lord, save us from ourselves. Lord, save me from myself.”

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imageI’ve seen in my worst moments what I could have been apart from grace, and it is not pretty. I can be petty and vindictive and selfish and lazy and hateful and rude. Left to myself, there’s no telling what I’m capable of.

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We as a human race are our own worst enemy. We have a worldwide pandemic raging through our population, affecting every single person who has ever lived called sin. Because of the Fall, we are fallen and broken people living in a fallen and broken world. Thousands of years of history has proven that we can’t save ourselves from ourselves. We are in desperate need of a Savior.

We have one. That pandemic called sin didn’t actually affect every single one of us. Jesus, the God-man born of a virgin, lived and died a sinless life and an atoning and sacrificial death on our behalf. He did for us what we could never do for ourselves– He came to save us.

So I remember 9/11 again on this day, but I also remember that one day Jesus is coming back to set all things right again, to restore what the locusts and the terrorists and the politicians and the narrow-minded pharisees have stolen. He’s coming to bring true peace and true joy and true life.

So I pray on the 12th anniversary of 9/11, but not just on this day: “Jesus, come quickly.”

Going Against the Flow (When a Guy Becomes a Man)

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Tonight was a good reminder for me as a man of what I’m up against. Never in history has true masculinity been under such attack. Men are viewed alternately as unnecessary, evil, primitive, oppressive, and the cause of all that’s wrong with the world.

The alternatives are 1) to give up and drop out as a functioning member of society, 2) give in to the stereotypes of men as beer-swilling, skirt-chasing buffoons who only live by their appetites.

Then there’s what’s behind door #3. This option is the hardest but most rewarding.

It means choosing to be a man in a world of guys. It means choosing to be a gentleman in a society where manners and values are viewed as anachronistic and old-fashioned. It means swimming against the currents of culture, fashion, societal opinion, popular world-views, and even our own sinful human nature.

It means knowing who you are and where you’re going and living with intention and purpose. It means seeing and savoring Jesus, of devoting a lifetime to pursuing Christ and His heart for the world. It means Jesus becomes not one of my top priorities or even my #1 priority, but my only priority through which everything and everyone else falls into place.

it means transformed friendships, careers, goals, hobbies, and dreams.

I am in the process of finding these things out. So far, I know Whose I am, which tells me who I am– namely, God’s Beloved. I know where I’m going insofar as I want to be conformed into the image of Christ and one day become a husband who loves his wife like Christ loves His Church.

I want people to really grasp who they are in Christ and how much God values and cherishes and loves them. To show them they truly are uniquely and wonderfully made.

I can’t look for a girl who will tell me who I am or where I’m going. I can’t find my true identity in a career or a hobby. What a true woman of God will find most attractive in me is me coming alive to my calling, knowing my identity and purpose, and inviting her to be a part of it.

Notice, I did not say that finding and winning her is the adventure. That’s too small of a goal. I find someone who I can love and cherish and serve a hungry world with and who as a team and a couple can display in a godly marriage just how much Jesus loves His own Bride, the Church.

We will find that we can serve out of a Kingdom mission and purpose far more effectively together than we ever could apart. Our marriage will be about so much more than two people in love, but be about the Kingdom of God lived out in flesh and blood, bound by a covenant until death do us part.

So, I invite you in the words of the movie Say Anything: don’t be a guy. The world is full of guys. Be a man.

A Good Night for a Homecoming

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It was a good night for a high school homecoming game. It seemed more than a bit surreal to be at Beech High School on their homecoming night, but you couldn’t ask for better weather.

The home team won. Barely. The game was probably more suspenseful than it needed to be, as the Beech Buccaneers kept letting Gallatin back in the game. All that matters in the end is that the home team won and lots of good memories got made.

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I was purely a spectator. I didn’t know anyone at the game save for the handful of folks from my community group. I was feeling a bit weary and disconnected, so I did my fair share of wandering alone through the masses there to celebrate one of the truly great and time-honored rites of passage still left sacred in our society.

I was a bit saddened by the regret of one blog I wrote about a friend some months ago that caused a strain on our friendship. I’ve since deleted the post, but it’s still not the same as it was (and may never again be). If I could go back in time, I’d tell myself not to write that blog. It’s one thing I wish everyday that I could go back and undo.

But enough of that. I got over it. I saw a very strange but creative halftime show by the Beech High School marching band. Apparently, it was themed around the M. Night Shyamalan movie Signs, but all I saw were little green men and women scurrying around a fake cornfield and playing eerie movie music. Kudos for creativity, but not so much for making sense.

I made a new friend (Rachel), had some very salty Powerade, witnessed a great game, and hung out with some amazing people called the Green Hills Community Group.

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It’s funny how at times I remembered exactly how I felt as a 17-year old during my high school homecoming game. All the uncertainty, fear, doubts, insecurities, and joys came rushing back. But I saw it all through (hopefully) wiser 41-year old eyes.

I hope to do the high school homecoming game thing again, but hopefully not after putting in 40 hours of work in 4 days and hopefully more rested.

God is just as good to me at 41 as He was when I was 17. It’s nice to know some things never change. Even when I’m 64, that same God will be with me and for me and love me just the same He did when I was in high school and like He does now.