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Love on a Tuesday Night

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Mike Glenn spoke about love tonight at Kairos.

No, it was not another sermon on dating or marriage or romantic love. It was about loving Jesus and what that looks like.

It looks like obedience.

As unpopular a term as that may be, obedience defines my love for Jesus. In other words, if I love Jesus, I do what He says. If I don’t do what He says, I don’t love Him, no matter how many warm and fuzzy feelings I get in a worship setting or how well I talk of Jesus or even how much I know about Him.

If I love Jesus, I will do what He says. I will obey Him. Not only when it’s easy or convenient or rewarding.

I think the gauge for my level of obedience is to ask those around me who know me best. Ask them if I really live out what I say I believe. Ask them if I look and act like Jesus on a daily basis.

I do know I fail to be grateful for being so blessed. I have so many people in my life who show me exactly what loving Jesus looks like in lifestyles that model obedience and faithfulness. I have so many people who love me with the love of Jesus and forgive me with a forgiveness that can only come from Jesus.

I don’t have to feed 5,000. I just have to give a cup of cold water to one. I don’t have to build a hospital in Kenya. I just have to visit one sick person or provide something to wear for one person in need. I just have to be faithful today, in this moment, to what I know Jesus is calling me to do and to be.

I don’t ever have any excuse to be disobedient to Jesus. No matter how my obedience is received, no matter how people disdain my efforts, no matter if anyone notices, I still am called to not only hear the words of Jesus, but DO them. To put them into practice. To live them out.

Like every fallible human saved by grace, I could do a lot better. But I’m thankful that ultimately the love that counts most isn’t my love for Jesus, but His unfailing love for me.

Broken and Shared

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A friend of mine wrote these words: “Unless grapes and grain are broken there will be no bread and wine. Unless the broken are shared there will be no communion.”

Elisabeth Elliot wrote, “If my life is broken when given to Jesus, it may be because pieces will feed a multitude when a loaf would satisfy only a little boy.”

Sometimes, in order for God to use me, I have to be broken before I can be shared.

No, I take that back. EVERY time God gets ready to use me He starts first by breaking me. Every single time.

I don’t mean every time I completely fall apart and lose every possession and wind up destitute. I mean usually a dream of mine dies. Or a friend lets me down. Or I find myself overwhelmed by life.

It’s the day to day stuff that I stumble over most often. The big crises find me more calm and trusting in God’s strength and provision. But the small details get to me.

Dying to self isn’t always as grand and dramatic as taking a bullet for someone you love. It means dying a thousand times in a thousand small ways every day. It means dying to self-rights, to pride, to vanity, to my own way of seeing and doing things. Those are the hard deaths.

If you are going through brokenness, take comfort in this. God will bless so many more with your broken life than He could with your perfect life. Everything you’ve lost, God will restore a thousand fold, in the lives of a thousand people who find the hope of God’s provision in your story of ruin and redemption.

I still don’t like pain. I don’t like discomfort or inconvenience. I get impatient in front of the microwave, for crying out loud.

But I trust God’s leading. I trust His heart more than my own feelings, my own perceived need for comfort and safety and calm. Trusting that the bridge built with planks of thanksgiving and joy will hold up until I get all the way Home.

Who Says You Can’t Go Back?

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It’s been 18 years since I graduated and 8 years since I last stepped foot on the campus, but today I went back to Union University, where I spent four of the best years of my life.

I knew in my mind that things change. I prepared myself for seeing a different Union than the 1995 version that I remember so well. But even then it was still so very surreal.

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Just about every building on campus was new or completely remodeled. Even the layout of the buildings was different. There were no walls around the guys and girls dorms. Maggie would not have been pleased.

It hit me that half the students on campus weren’t even born when I graduated from Union. Well, maybe 1/4. I was never very good at math.

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I found a vey few familiar places. The old library smelled exactly like it did in 1995. Funny how particular smells can trigger memories. For me, nothing stimulates remembering more than a certain combination of scents.

I found my old mailbox slot (and yes, it had mail in it and no, I didn’t open it). The cafeteria still looked the same.

I walked down the same sidewalk where I once had my trusty umbrella inverted by a sudden windy downpour. I could literally see the rain heading toward me as I walked to class. I also remember leaving for an 8 am class on a frigid winter morning with my hair still wet and arriving to class with my hair literally frozen.

None of the people who made Union great were there. New people are there making new lasting memories with new friends. Who knows? 18 years from now, maybe a current student will come back to unfamiliar people and buildings in 2031?

I know I’m not the same person who wanted so desperately for people to like him and to fit in and to belong. I’m not the same person who didn’t like himself very much and couldn’t bear to look at himself in the mirror. I’m definitely not the same guy who thought no girl could ever find him attractive or ever seriously consider a dating relationship with him.

Coming back reminded me of how far I’ve come. Maybe it wasn’t so much the new buildings and people that made my visit surreal. ,
Maybe it was me seeing everything with new eyes. Whoa. That was deep. 😁

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I found God’s peace and healing at Union. I made some amazing friendships with some amazing people. Some I’ve kept up with, some I’m not friends with anymore, but all of them I still am thankful for.

I remember still the feeling I had the first time I set foot on this campus. I knew without a doubt that this is where God wanted me. Today, I look back and I can see just as clearly why that was.

I remain blessed. I am still living my miracle. God is good.

Is God Fluffy? Questions I’ve Never Thought About Until Now

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I sat in on a very interesting conversation with some friends and a man who’s name I have unfortunately forgotten. It was surreal and made my brain hurt a bit.

The guy said that God called him on a quest. Immediately, I thought something along the lines of “They should make pills for this.” The cheese had obviously slid off of this guy’s cracker.

He said that sometimes He calls God “Master Fluffy.” That one had me scratching me head. Master Fluffy? Really?

I’m just being honest. Keeping it real, as the kids nowadays put it.

Then again, I remembered some things.

Aren’t I taking meds, too? How would I think and behave if I’d been through west this guy has been through (or even half). My cheese might be completely AWOL from my cracker.

And doesn’t God speak of protecting us underneath His wings? Doesn’t He know when the lowliest sparrow falls from the sky? Doesn’t He delight in all His children, including the ones with broken minds and broken hearts?

Most of all, didn’t God put on human skin and come to pitch His tent among us? To laugh and weep with us? To experience every bit of what we face, except without sin?

I can’t help feeling sometimes that the most “normal” of us don’t get God half as much as the ones who don’t always act and speak normally. The ones who need pills to make their minds work right. The ones who felt ugly and stupid and fat and unloveable until they understood how large a space God has reserved in His heart just for them?

To get into God’s Kingdom, you have to be like a little child. I know it means you have to come acknowledging that you are helpless without God.

I like to think it also means you need to see the world through the eyes of a child, with eyes that cling to dreams, look for fairies and pixie dust, find miracles around every corner, and never give up hoping that joy will win in the end.

Celebrate not that you are normal, but that you are unique. Celebrate that there is and will never again be anything in the world quite like you. Find joy in being “heaven’s poetry etched in lives” (Ephesians 2:10).

Then you will start out discovering Eucharisteo, finding joy and thanksgiving and grace in everything, and living your miracle.

Take it from one unique and blessed Ragamuffin.

Waiting and Praying Through

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“Did you catch what this self-assured judge said? If he can be moved to act justly, won’t God bring justice for His chosen people when they cry to Him day and night? Will He be slow to bring them justice? Mark My words: God will intervene fast with vindication. But here’s the question: when the Son of Man comes, will He find anyone who still has faith? (Luke 18:6-8)

Something Aaron Bryant said tonight at Kairos really caught my attention. He said something to the effect of “If God granted you that one big thing you’ve been praying for at that very moment you asked for it, what would happen? Would you be ready for it?”

If God gave you that hot-looking guy or gal, how would that turn out? Would that relationship implode because you weren’t emotionally ready for such a relationship? Would getting that career you asked for cause your family relationships to suffer because of the extra work hours and responsibility?

I know one of God’s best gifts to me has been not giving me what I asked for that I thought I had to have right then and there. For one, what I asked for was stupid and for two, I wasn’t near ready for it.

That girl that I was certain God should bless me with as a wife? I can’t even remember her name. All I know is that our marriage would have been one big hot mess.

According to one wise church member, God has four answers to my prayers: 1) “Yes”, 2) “No”, 3) “Maybe”, and 4) “Are you kidding me?”.

I know you could never imagine God saying that last one. But think of some of the things you’ve prayed for. I can think of times when I prayed for my team to win a game or another team to lose. I can think of a time or two when I prayed for a really attractive girl to be attracted to me. Probably we’ve all prayed that the whole bag of Oreos we ate in one setting would turn to muscle and not fat.

God sometimes makes us wait for what we pray for so we can see if what we’ve asked for is something we want or something we need. Like praying for a Porsche versus praying for reliable transportation.

Right now, my prayer is that God does whatever it takes to conform me into the image of Jesus. That people come away from me having met Jesus, even if they don’t remember my name. That I can be the best me that God made me to be.

And if you don’t remember anything else, remember to keep on praying and don’t give up. Ever.

Sometimes You Feel Like Fred Astaire, Sometimes You Don’t

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I went swing dancing at Otter Creek Church again. It’s normally one of the highlights of my week. But this time I just wasn’t feeling it.

I can’t explain it any better. Except maybe to say that even the most social of social butterflies occasionally feels like a caterpillar and needs some alone time. Or in my case, alone with the crazy cat time.

Not every day will be your best day ever. Some days will suck. Some days will be stellar. Some will just be kinda meh, neither horrible nor awesome. Just average.

But the truth is that you can still find joy in every day. You can choose joy in every moment and learn to see blessings and God’s gifts everywhere.

Even when your bank account has one of those distressing minus signs in front of the amount, you can live in joy.

Even when you feel unattractive and undesirable to anyone, you can choose joy.

Even when your dreams seem as far away as that full moon in the sky, you can count blessings instead of sheep.

Even if you don’t have a 13-year old feline therapist who has reasonable rates and very flexible office hours, you can find God’s gifts yo you everywhere if you can see with the right kind of eyes.

Me being able to write these blogs every day is a blessing to me. Me having an iPad to write them on is a blessing. Me waking up and experiencing a perfect Autumn day is a blessing.

I have joy because I see how much I am blessed. Even if I never get married or go on another date, if no girl ever finds me desirable in any way, I can say I’ve been way more blessed than I deserve.

My life is good because God is good and my life is now His. Every day I am living my miracle because Eucharisteo (giving thanks in everything with joy) always precedes the miracle.

My miracle is family who love me, friends who stick with me, cool fall breezes that caress me, pumpkin spice lattes that warm my heart. My miracle is life. Being alive to everything God is and has for me.

I love being me, but I love way more becoming who God is transforming me into– the character and image of Jesus.

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Making Mondays Good Again

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At first, it may have seemed like a typical Monday. First, I locked my keys in my car at Starbucks. I knew the moment my hand went to shut the door that I had messed up. Sure enough, there were my keys, still in the ignition.

Then, after my trusty sidekick and savior of the day a.k.a. Mom brought my spare keys, I went to start the car. Nothing. Other than a very annoying clicking sound. I was beginning to get annoyed myself.

I had AAA, so I got them to send a wrecker who was able to jump start my car and get me running. I ended up needing a new battery.

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Sounds like I should write off this Monday as yet another in a long line of bad days. Right? As Lee Corso says, “Not so fast, my friend.”

I woke up this morning, a privilege many didn’t get. I breathed in and out fresh air out of my lungs, felt my heart pumping life through my limbs, and got to experience the gift of another day of living.

There’s still not a moment where I’m not sustained and held together by the grace of God. There’s never a second where I’m out of God’s sight or not in His heart.

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I know I have so many people rooting for me on both sides of Heaven. I know I have saints lifting up holy hands in intercession for me. I know Jesus never ceases praying for me and His Holy Spirit never stops translating my sighs and groans into petitions and praises.

I’m good. I’m more than good. I’m blessed.

If God never did one more thing for me, if He showed me my empty box of blessings because I had used them all up, I would be good. I would still have enough reasons to give thanks and be grateful for the rest of my life.

Eternity will be too short for me to express my thankfulness to God for who He’s been to me and how He’s proved Himself faithful over and over. I’ll never get tired of finding new ways to say “Thank you!” to the King of the Universe who is also my Abba Father.

I’d say that makes even Mondays blessed.

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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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Storms Revisited

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“Never dread any consequence resulting from absolute obedience to His command. Never fear the rough waters ahead, which through their proud contempt impede your progress. God is greater than the roar of raging water and the mighty waves of the sea. ‘The Lord sits enthroned as King forever’ (Psalm 29:10). A storm is simply the hem of His robe, the sign of His coming, and the evidence of His presence.” (F. B. Meyer)

Wow. I never thought of storms that way. Either literally or figuratively.

I always thought of God going before the storm, being with me during the storm, and waiting for me after the storm. I never thought of the storm itself being a sign of His presence.

I’m wondering something else. Whenever I picture a storm, I see grieving parents hovering over the coffin of their dead child or a father holding foreclosure papers in his trembling hands. But maybe storms come in less noticeable ways.

Could a storm be that dull dread day after day that never seems to depart? Could a storm be the rut you’ve been stuck in for years that never seems to alter or change?

Some storms come and wipe off the land. Some come and go with no evidence they were ever there. But they are felt just the same.

Storms end. Dark clouds give way to sunshine. The waters eventually subside. Yet God remains.

I had some grand way I was going to tie all this together so that you would think me ever so wise, but it never materialized. All I know is that for every storm that comes, God is just as present. And He’ll still be there after the storm leaves.

These are not the most profound words I’ve ever written, but maybe someone out there who is holding on for dear life or merely dreading the monotony of the next day, these words will be something to cling to. I don’t know.

I know God is bigger than any storm. He still speaks and the winds and waves still have to obey. That’s all I know for now.

An Evening Prayer on the Last Day of August

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“O God, I thank You for this day of life
for eyes to see the sky
for ears to hear the birds
for feet to walk amidst the trees
for hands to pick the flowers from the earth
for a sense of smell to breathe in the sweet
perfumes of nature
for a mind to think about and appreciate
the magic of everyday miracles
for a spirit to swell in joy at Your mighty presence
everywhere” (Marian Wright Edelman)

Thank you, God, that you woke me up this morning and gave me good health and a body capable of enjoying your creation in all of its splendors.

Thank you for another day or grace and forgiveness and peace and joy.

Thank you that You don’t treat me a I deserve or according to my manifold sins and weaknesses, for I could never then hope to even catch a glimpse of Your face.

But now I see it everywhere.

In the last blooms of the last flowers before the autumn chill sets in.

In the laughter of old friends gathered together.

In the gentle breeze that blows where and when it wills.

In Van Morrison singing about Tupelo Honey in the airwaves above my head.

In the pink remains of yet another artful sunset.

In my own contented and peaceful heart.

Thank you for being here with me and being everything I need in this moment.

“Dear Lord,
be good to me…
The sea is so wide
and my boat is so small.” (Irish Fisherman’s Prayer)

“Lord, I don’t ask for a faith
that would move yonder mountain.
I can take enough dynamite and move
it if it needs movin’. I pray, Lord,
for enough faith to move me” (Norman Allen).