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.

 

Switching the Price Tags

I heard a great illustration today, followed by an equally great point. The story follows that on the night before an estate sale, people broke in to the house. Only they didn’t steal anything. They switched the price tags around. The next morning, some people got astoundingly good deals on big-ticket items while others paid way too much for junk.

Isn’t that a picture of contemporary society. The media and culture hold up trinkets as priceless and dismiss treasures as worthless. Sex without love is prized, yet true committed love is trashed. People spend crazy amounts of time and money pursuing fleeting pleasures, but hardly will take the time to seek after eternal joys.

The old saying goes that something’s only worth what someone is willing to pay for it. So how much are you worth?

God showed how much you’re worth by sending his Son Jesus to die for you. That speak volumes about your worth. You are valued far more than any gold or silver or diamonds or bank accounts or lavish mansions. You are priceless.

So don’t ever settle for less. Don’t ever give yourself, your values, your beliefs, your body, your mind, or your health away. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that you don’t belong or don’t matter. Don’t believe for a moment the lie that the world would be better off without you in it or that it would have been better off if you had never been born.

God saw you at your worst and thought you were worth every precious drop of his Son’s blood. All of it. He couldn’t pay high enough of a price for you. That’s how much you’re worth.

I’m certainly not claiming any originality for these thoughts. I heard them tonight from a pastor and I’m sure he heard them from someone else. I just want every single person who reads this to know that you are not worthless. You’re priceless.

 

Simple Yet Profound

I was skimming through the vast ocean of tweets on Twitter and I ran across one that was simple in its concept, yet the more I thought about it the more profound it seemed. I know Twitter is rarely profound, with 99.9% of my own tweets as proof. But I read this little statement and it grabbed hold of me and hasn’t let go since.

“What you behold you become.”

It’s not only profound, but intensely convicting, for it begs the question, “What am I beholding?” followed by the question, “Do I want to become that?”

Am I beholding what the world defines as love, success, contentment, and happiness? I’ve seen enough of reality TV to know that I’m watching a severely skewed version of reality. What passes for love is really lust, what passes for success is greed, what passes for contentment is selfishness, and what passes for happiness is blissful ignorance.

I’m reminded of a verse in 2 Corinthians. Side note: before you start thinking how super-spiritual I am, you should know I had to do a keyword search on biblegateway.com to find this verse.

“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Corinthians 3:18).

Transformation happens when we behold the glory of God. When we turn our eyes upon Jesus and look full in his wonderful face, as the old hymn puts it. If you look at Jesus long enough, you can’t help but become like him.

But how much am I looking at Jesus as opposed to everything else there is to see? For me, not nearly enough for real and lasting transformation to take place. I’m too easily distracted by everything around me.

That’s what I need. To look at Jesus more and look in the mirror a little less. To look at God and how he sees me more and the world around me and how they perceive me a little less. That’s where real change for the better lies.