Those Crazy Spider Monkeys!

monkey

I heard something very interesting about monkeys and coconuts. And no, there’s not a Monty Python joke coming. Or a reference to any Animal Planet show currently airing.

I heard that a way to trap a spider monkey is to drill a hole in a coconut just big enough for its hand to fit in and put food in there. The little monkeys will reach in and grab the food, but with their hands in a fist clutching their prize, they can’t pull it out again.

The end result is either death or capture.

My first reaction is: aren’t those just greedy little monkeys?

My second is: what is so great about what they’re holding onto that they can’t let go?

Then I wonder how many times I’ve been trapped like that by holding onto something I don’t need to. Like a wound from my past. Or maybe a failure I can’t forgive myself for. Or maybe a selfish desire of mine.

Maybe you’re holding onto your idea of how your life should play out. Maybe it’s a relationship that’s toxic and hazardous to your health and your heart. Maybe it’s unforgiveness that keeps you up nights. It could be anything that takes the place of Jesus in your heart. Even good things.

Whatever it is, you can’t move forward until you let it go. You can’t be free unless you release your grasp of whatever it is that you’re white-knuckling.

I’m reminded of a story of a little girl whose father gave her some imitation pearls. She loved those pearls and wore them everywhere. She even slept in them. But one day her dad asked the unthinkable.

“Give me your pearls,” he said.

“No, Daddy. You can have anything else. My dollies, my stuffed animals, but not my pearls.”

So he let it go that night. But he asked again the next night. And the night after that.

Finally, with tears in her eyes, she said, “Yes, Daddy. You can have my pearls.”

With one hand he took the imitation pearls, and with the other he gave her a box containing very real and very expensive pearls. He had been waiting for her to let go of the imitation so she could have the real thing.

What are you holding onto that keeps you from receiving what God has for you? It may be a good thing, but if it keeps you from God’s best, let it go. If it keeps you from full devotion and obedience to Jesus, let it go.

Trust me, what you give up won’t even compare to what you get in compare. Or as a guy named Jim Elliot once said, “He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”

April Fool’s Day

I have to admit. I missed out on the fun. I was neither the prankster nor the prank-ee, although Monday itself is enough of a bad prank for anyone.

I went on my first run since December and did better than expected. I thought surely I’d be huffing and puffing and passing out after a few blocks, but I ran 2 miles in 21 minutes, which may not be any new world record for speed but was good enough for me.

I wore my brand-new, never-worn, red New Balance running shoes. And man, they are red. I suppose if I clicked my heels together I might wind up in Kansas. They are that red.

It seems like there’s always a bit of a letdown after any major holiday. For me, I always dreaded the day after Christmas, because all that hype and excitement was over and there were 364 more days till the next one. I could always console myself after Thanksgiving with leftovers, so that wasn’t so bad.

But for Easter, I somehow seem to forget so easily what I just celebrated. That Jesus is alive, that not even death and hell could hold him, that there is new life and new hope now that wasn’t there before.

I guess I’ll have to look into this Pentecost Sunday business and find out what it’s all about. It wasn’t on my Baptist radar growing up, so I don’t know too much about it. I just know that one day isn’t enough to celebrate the resurrection anymore than one day is sufficient to celebrate Jesus’ miraculous birth.

I just looked up Pentecost on Wikipedia and found out that the main sign of Pentecost in the Western Churches is the color red, symbolizing joy and the fire of the Holy Spirit. So maybe I’ll wear my red shoes.

Next year, I hope I won’t be fooled into letting the meaning of Easter slip away so easily after only one day. And maybe I can come up with a good prank.

An Easter Reboot

resurrection

“The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God’s eyes, called the Beloved from all eternity and held safe in an everlasting embrace… We must dare to opt consciously for our chosenness and not allow our emotions, feelings, or passions to seduce us into self-rejection” (Henri Nouwen).

The stone was rolled away from the door, not to permit Christ to come out, but to enable the disciples to go in” (Peter Marshall).

Sometimes, it takes Easter to get my mind refocused. Like so many of you, I can get off track so very easily and forget who I am and what I’m here for. I need to be reminded that I am indeed the beloved, the chosen child of God. My purpose is to live that out as best I can, to become what God has already declared me to be.

I take Easter for granted because I already know how the story ends. Or at least I think I do.

In fact, Easter isn’t an end, but a beginning. C. S. Lewis in his book, The Last Battle, said that all of history was merely a title page and a preface. Eternity is the real beginning of the book, where each chapter is better than the last and the story is truly neverending.

Easter reminds me that my forgiveness might have been free for me, but not free. it might have not cost me anything, but it was not without cost. I don’t need to forget that my forgiveness cost God the very highest price and is the most extravagant gift ever given in history. I don’t need to take that lightly or for granted.

Easter also reminds me that failure isn’t final, that goodbyes aren’t forever, and that truth and faith and love and hope all survive the grave and come out stronger on the other side. I guess that’s why I love it so much.

 


 

The Seven Stations of the Cross

stations

 

Tonight, I went to a Prayer Experience at Brentwood Baptist Church. It was about praying through the seven stations of the cross. I know that the Roman Catholic Church has 14, but we’re Baptists, so seven for us is a good start.

I didn’t spend too much time at each station, but just enough to grasp a little more of what the Cross meant for me.

I’ve always known about Jesus dying on the cross to save me, but I guess I never really let myself go there in a really deep and meaningful way. If you do, you find shame and humiliation. You find excruciating pain and suffering. You find the most agony one man has ever endured in the history of mankind.

I became aware that it was my humiliation and shame that Jesus bore. It was my sin that he carried on that cross and it was my death that he died. I should have been up there, nailed to that piece of wood.

I realized for the first time that Jesus doesn’t want my sympathy for what happened to him there. He doesn’t want me to feel sorry for him up there. He wants me. All of me. My heart, my mind, my will, my life, all of it.

Just as Simon of Cyrene picked up Jesus’ cross and carried it for him, I’m called to pick up a cross and carry it. That’s what being a disciple means.

Jesus would have done all of it for me, even if I were the only one in the world who needed it. That thought still astounds me. He loves me that much.

So don’t skim over this part of the story. Allow yourself to go there emotionally and mentally and spiritually. Stand in front of the cross and witness the suffering Savior and grieve with his followers. Watch as he is laid in the tomb. Remember that all of this is for you.

Then you can celebrate Easter Sunday.

Storms

This is like one of those albums you buy where there’s a disclaimer that reads something like “all songs previously released. In other words, I’m not saying anything new.

I heard recently that there are three kinds of people: those in a storm, those coming out of a storm, and those fixin’ to get ready (as we say in the South) to head into a storm.

No one is exempt. Storms come to the just and the unjust, to the houses built on solid foundations as well as those built on sand.
What matters in a storm is being ready, because when the time comes, you won’t have time to get ready. You’ll have to be ready.

What does being ready look like?
I think it means you have Jesus in your boat.

I’m pretty sure when my storm comes I’ll be freaking out like the disciples did and telling Jesus to wake up so we can die together.

But Jesus has a way of speaking peace over the storms. And even when he doesn’t calm the storm, he calms his child in the storm.

I’d like to take credit for all that, but it’s not original to me. I’ve heard or read it all before. But these blogs are often reminders for me as much as they are for you.

So I can take credit for about two percent of this blog. It’s a good thing I’m not having to use footnotes.

Just remember he who is in you is greater than whatever’s out there, including storms.

Remembering When You Were Lost

forkintheroad

I fondly remember my years as a Boy Scout. For the most part. I paid my dues, aquired my merit badges, and eventually attained the rank of Eagle Scout, one month shy of my 18th birthday. Then there was that one time when I got lost at Boy Scout Camp.

I know what you’re thinking. Aren’t Boy Scouts supposed to be really good at directions and reading compasses and finding their way around? Not me. I am both directionally-challenged and compass-deprived.

I just remember the hopeless feeling of not knowing where I was or how to get back to where I wanted to be. I can think of few times in my life when I felt as helpless and terrified as I did in that moment.

I think a lot of people are spending their lives like that. They don’t know where they are in life or where they’re going, but they know for sure it isn’t where they want to be. They’re lost and scared that they’ll never be found.

I’m thankful God isn’t one to wait around for us to finally get our acts together and start heading in the right direction. Before you and I knew we needed help, God already was down here looking for us. We were as important as the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son in the eyes of God and he went to extravagant lengths to find us and rescue us.

Maybe you remember what you were like before Jesus changed you. I know I’ve seen enough glimpses of what I could have been without Jesus to be immensely grateful for what he’s done in my life. I am reminded every day that no one is better than God at finding those who are lost and bringing them home. He won’t ever give up at any point seeking his lost sheep and lost sons until he brings every last one of them home.

That’s what I love about God.

By the way, my Scout troop found me and brought me back to camp. I probably lost my Scout-cred for good that day, but I didn’t care. I was just glad to be found again.

 

The Wild Weekend of YEC

I’m tired. It’s been a hectic, crazy 48 hours, but it has been so much more than worth it. I volunteered again for the Youth Evangelism Conference at the Municipal Auditorium in downtown Nashville. The atmosphere was electric, with close to 10,000 students and adults in attendance, anticipating what God was going to do next.

Well, God didn’t disappoint. I saw lots of students going forward, making decisions for Christ, not just being satisfied with playing religious games but willing to give everything to follow Christ.

One thing I remember from the weekend was the speaker talking from Jeremiah how God boiled down his people’s rebellion into two things: forsaking the fountain of living water and trying to quench their thirst from broken wells. They gave up the living water to drink mud.

The solution to my struggles and your struggles isn’t to try harder or to be more committed. The issue isn’t about effort. It’s about appetite. What are we feeding on? Is it everything the world says will fulfull us? Those things may taste good at first, but they leave us unsatisfied and still hungry and thirsty.

Or are we seeking after Living Water and the Bread of Life? For me, am I cultivating a good appetite for God and letting him fill me up so that I’m too full for anything else?

The answer is to feast on Christ. Let him be enough. Let him be your strength, your power, your supply, your joy, your reason for living. Anything else that you devote your life to or prize highly is an idol. Anything other than Jesus that tells you that it will take care of you no matter what is an idol.

I’m sure that I heard this somewhere else, so I can’t take credit for it. How do you defeat an idol? You starve it. You don’t give it any time or a affection. Instead, you give all that to God who deserves it in the first place.

I went to serve and be a blessing and once again found myself blessed and served. I was challenged and motivated to hunger and thirst after God more than ever before.

I hope that’s your desire, too.

 

Seeing With New Eyes

I had a flashback to an old memory. Actually, it was less of a flashback and more of a memory of my mother telling me about it.

When I was 4 or so, I had the notion to pour Comet Cleanser on my head. It seemed like a fine idea at the time to my 4-year old mind. That is, until it got into my eyes.

I don’t remember any of this, but apparently I burned or damaged my retinas pretty severely. I had to stay in a dark room away from bright lights and have drops in my eyes every four hours. According to the story, there was some doubt as to whether my retinas would grow back.

They did.

I don’t know what triggered that memory. I do know that I’ve had experiences that have caused me to look at myself and others through new eyes.

Like tonight. The teacher at Kairos spoke about the tale of the Good Samaritan. Only he said that Jesus taught the parable to show us not that we’re the Samaritan who helps others, but the badly beaten, naked man lying in a ditch on the side of the road, desperate for help.

Maybe you’ve thought to yourself, “Hey, I’m a nice person. I try to help others and do the right thing most of the time.”

But if you’re honest you look at your life and you see deception and manipulation. You see those times when you failed and didn’t do the right thing. You know that if people could read your mind and see some of the thoughts you have in the dark of night, they wouldn’t think you were so nice.

The fact is that we’re all in need of rescue. We’re not as noble or kind or brave as we thought we were. We’re not nearly as able to help ourselves.

But Jesus is so much stronger than we ever knew. He’s so much more than able to reach down and rescue us from the messes we fall into. He’s able to change us into loving people who don’t do kind things as much as they exude kindness. It’s his love inside us by which we love others who aren’t lovable.

I know even after more than three decades of being a Christian, I need Jesus every bit as much now as I did when I first believed. The only thing that’s changed is that I see so much more clearly how good and great he is, how much he loves me, and how committed he is to me.

I haven’t had any more eye emergencies since. Hopefully, I’m smart enough now not to pour household cleaners on my head. Lesson learned.

 

Sanctuary

I love old churches.

There’s one I particularly love in downtown Franklin. It’s an old Espiscopal church that dates back prior to the Civil War, and every time I step inside I feel like I’ve been transported to a vanished age. One where life was a lot less fast-paced and complicated.

A sanctuary is a place of safety and peace. It’s also a place where God comes and takes up residence.

The Apostle Paul said that believers are the temple of God. That means that you and I are the place where God dwells, where people come to meet God and to find peace.

I love that.

In a world filled with violence and unrest, people are desperately searching for calm. Where there’s so much upheaval and turmoil and chaos, people are looking for rest.

We as believers should be that place of calm and rest. People should see our lives and be drawn to our light. They should see God in us and the difference he makes in the way we respond to the storms and turmoil in our own lives.

That means that when those storms come, we know that God isn’t vaguely out there somewhere beyond the clouds. He’s not trapped in a building with a steeple or locked away behind  ornate church doors. He’s in us, with us, and for us.

We can know the peace of having the same Jesus who calmed the storms with a word of his mouth living in us. That same Jesus that overcame death and hell.

I’m thankful for sanctuary. I’m thankful that God has come to make his home in me and in all those who cling to Jesus as Lord and Savior. I know that means that I should be different than those around me, so they will be drawn to the God inside.

Lord, help me to love others as much as you loved me, and to show them the way to You the way you once showed me.

Amen.

 

 

A Letter from Jesus to His Church

Disclaimer: If you’re looking for something warm and fuzzy and feel-good, this is not it. You can skip to the next blog, which will be about fuzzy bunnies and cute kittens.

I was wondering if Jesus wrote a letter to one of his churches, particularly the post-modern trendy churches popping up all over the place, I’d bet it would go something like this:

“I came to one of your services and sat in the back row. I felt unwelcome and unwanted. Nobody turned around and greeted me. Nobody even so much as acknowledged my presence there.

They sang songs about me with great enthusiasm, about how great I am to save and how mighty God is. The preacher spoke at great length about how important it is to know me. But I walked in and out of the building and no one even saw me.

You have an amazing facility with some of the latest technology. You have some of the best singers and musicians leading the worship and one of the best speakers to motivate my people. But if there’s no real love behind it, it’s all just noise. And I didn’t see much love.

I came as one of the least of these. The outcast, the loser, the nobody. The ones you say you love, but your actions prove otherwise.

Get back to loving the unlovely. Don’t just associate with the popular and the trendy and those who have it all together. Take time for the ones who are sitting by themselves, who are  socially awkward, who can’t do anything for you and probably can’t even say “Thank you.”

When you serve one of the least of these, you serve me. When you ignore them you ignore me.

Remember that I loved you when you were one of these. I loved you when you hated me, when your life was a wreck and you were hopelessly lost. Remember how that love felt and how it made you come alive. Then go and share it with someone who needs it most.