Baggage Part III: Trials Turned to Gold

I’ll admit that I am addicted to comfort too much of the time. I don’t want to step outside my comfort zone too often.

But I keep thinking about the believers in Thessalonica. They only had Paul and Silas for a few short weeks. They were new converts, yet they still managed to turn their world upside down.

The big takeaway for me was how they endured persecution and ridcule, but how that endurance and trial turned into perserverance. That perserverance turned into character, which led to a hope that nothing and no one and nothing could quench.

What you’re going through will end, but your story won’t. Who better to talk to someone struggling with alcoholism than a recovering alcoholic? Who better to help someone cope with the loss of a child than someone who has walked the same road and cried the same tears? Who better to help someone deal with doubt and discouragement than you after you’ve been through a dark night of the soul when you felt hopeless and alone, but finally saw daylight at the end of your trial?

I love the quote from a movie I saw that said that only those who have lost can truly lead. Only those who have been hurt can help bring healing. Only those who know how they have messed up their lives and what Jesus save them from can truly love well and lead well.

It’s all about loving well. It’s not how religious you can talk or how well you keep the rules. It’s not about how convincingly you can point a finger at people and expose their faults. It’s about how you can be a vessel of God’s love and love people right where they are for who they are.

I’m not really good at loving well, but I’m getting better. Those rare moments when I did love well were moments when I forgot about me and let Jesus take over.

My prayer is that you learn to embrace your story, even the painful parts, and help others to find the good in their stories, too.

Above all, may we all learn to love well.

Baggage Part II: Polaroids of the Past

If you’ve lived long enough to make at least one incredibly stupid decision, you’ve got some of these. Maybe you’re like me with lots of small regrets, moments of time captured in your mind as clear as the images on a polaroid.

They call it flash bulb memory, where you can remember every single detail of a certain moment in time where something in your life changed. Those happen in good moments, in tragic moments, and most of all, in moments where you and I screwed up.

Maybe you are like me and have been carrying around a suitcase full of those images for years. The suitcase keeps getting heavier and heavier as you compile more polaroids of shame and guilt. More moments you would give anything to go back and undo.

Jesus wants those polaroids. Not for the reasons you think. He’s not going to be shocked or surprised by what He sees. He knows about each and every one. In fact, He was there when they happened.

He wants all of these pictures, not to hold them over your head every day or to make you feel perpetually ashamed. He wants to take them from you and case them as far away from you as possible. As far as the east is from the west. As far as the heavens are above the earth.

I am not my mistakes. Neither are you. Who I was in my weakest moments is not who I am. The way you acted all those years ago isn’t really you anymore. If anyone is in Christ, he or she is a brand new creation. Not a better you, but a completely new you.

It’s time to stop being weighed down by the past and start walking in the freedom that comes with new mercies and clean slates each morning. It’s time to really live in the freedom Christ purchased for us, the condemnation-free life that is now ours.

Baggage Part I: Letting Go

Who doesn’t have baggage? I certainly know I do. I’m pretty sure anyone who is over the age of 5 and who still has a pulse has accumulated some kind of baggage over the years.

What is my baggage? Probably right now, I’m carrying around the constant need to be validated, affirmed, approved, and liked every single moment.

I find myself at the end of conversations thinking I’ve said or texted the absolute wrong thing and ruined the relationship. Things like, “Did I really just end the conversation with ‘Text me’? Is it even possible for there to be a lamer ending to a conversation?”

I think I let go of a little bit of my baggage tonight. I think I’ve finally come to the point where I may not trust myself to keep my relationships alive, but I know that God will keep the right people in my life for as long as they need to be there.

I’ve mentioned before that I am a work in progress. I’m 4o and my dating history reads like a black comedy or a tragedy (either one works, so take your pick). I haven’t had a real girlfriend since I was 5 (her name was Carrie, by the way).

I think I’m more comfortable with my own path and not trying to hijack God’s plan for someone else. I’m learning to enjoy the process and the journey and not be so OCD about the destination.

I think I’m learning that I don’t have to be clever or witty (or even overly coherent) for God to speak through me.

I’m finally learning to be patient with my own process and who I am becoming. I’m more patient with the shortcomings of others, because I’ve seen so much of my own and I’ve seen how very strong God can be in my weakness.

What is your baggage? You have a choice. You can either hold on to your shame and guilt and fear and anger or you can hold onto Jesus, but you can’t hold on to both. And yes, I borrowed that one from Mike Glenn.

You don’t have to carry that baggage forever. You don’t have to let it define you or be a pemanent part of your wardrobe. It all begins with saying, “I can’t do this anymore. I need you, Jesus, to take this and carry it for me.” It may be a process, but it’s so much fun to feel the weight fall off.

May you find that what you’ve carried all this time is one day no longer a part of you. May you find more and more freedom in Christ. May you hear and believe the words at this very moment that “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Amen.

Why Fairy Tales Last

I saw Snow White and the Huntsman, based on the fairy tale, tonight in the theatre. I think for me there’s still something about a fairy tale well told that still tugs at my heart strings.

It’s more than just a damsel in distress. Or at least I think so.

We’ve all at some point pricked our fingers on a spindle or taken a bite of that apple. Suddenly, we find ourselves dead inside and out.

You and I need to be rescued. We need Someone strong and brave enough to fight for us. Someone who’s not afraid to die for us.

That’s the Gospel in a nutshell.

I love the story where Tolkien finally wins C.S. Lewis over when he tells him that the Gospel is a myth, but at the same time, a true myth.

I read a book recently that spoke of the Gospel as a tragedy, a comedy, and a fairy tale. The last third of the book made my heart come alive inside my chest. The idea of the Gospel being a fairy tale come true is something most of us have never thought or dreamed of, but that’s what it is.

We get the Rescuer. We get to be Princes and Princesses, royal children of the King of the Universe. And we get the happily ever after (read the last chapter of Revelations if you need proof).

That’s why fairy tales will never, ever go out of style.

Lee Majors Need Not Apply: Lessons from Another Great Kairos Roots

A good friend of mine spoke from Colossians 2 about Christ being all-sufficient, being everything we could ever need or even hope to need.

One thing he said that stuck out to me was that Christ didn’t come to make us better, but to make us new.

He didn’t come to make us like Lee Majors– faster, stronger, taller, better-looking. He came to make us completely new creations. He came to make us into men and women who are everyday being changed into the image of Christ Himself.

Maybe you remember how you were before you came to Christ. You remember the decisions you made and the priorities you lived by. Now you have a completely different way of living. It’s not just an upgrade on an old system; it’s a new system.

Do the people you live and work and play with know that you’re different? Can they see the difference? Do your actions match your words? Could people tell you belong to Christ solely because of how you live (even before you open your mouth?)

Too many times I am not different enough. I blend in too well. I am too much like the people around me for them to see any difference.

I bet you’ve felt the same way.

It’s not about trying harder or being better. It’s not about me finally being strong enough in my own power to change.

It goes back to Jesus being all I need. He will be my Strength. He will be my Wisdom. He will be the Transformation in me that makes me think and act and speak in a way that points people to Him.

By the way. Colossians 2 has that great verse about how all the fullness of the deity dwells in Jesus in bodily form. Jesus isn’t a great example or a great prophet or even a great man. He’s 100% God who is also 100% man who lived out a perfect life and died in our place.

All that to say that in every situation, good or bad, trial or blessing, Jesus is enough.

Prodigal

Both sermons I heard today touched on the parable on the Prodigal son. I can think of no better story that really illustrates the scandalous nature of God’s love for His children.

In fact, the parable could more accurately be called The Prodigal God, since the word prodigal means “characterized by profuse or wasteful expenditure” or “recklessly spendthrift” (according to Merriam-Webster). God’s love is both.

It’s prodigal that God paid way too high a price for me with His Son Jesus. It’s prodigal that Jesus didn’t shed some or most of His blood, but all of it for me. It’s way more than I or anyone else deserves.

There’s a fantastic book that’s been out of print for years called The Autobiography of God by Lloyd John Ogilvie. He has a chapter on “The Prodigal God” that impacted me when I read it the first time and still comes to mind every time I hear the Prodigal Son story.

It was shocking to the hearers of the parable the way the father in the story let the younger son have his share. For the son to ask for it while the father was still living was to say in essence, “Drop dead!” and show the utmost comtempt for him.

Even more scandalous was how the father not only received his son at the end of the story, but how he ran to him and threw his arms around him and kissed him. Well-respected men in that day didn’t run. It was not considered dignified. But this father wasn’t about to wait one more second for his son who was coming home.

The Cross is so much more shocking and scandalous than we normally paint it in our sanitized sermons on the subject. By the time Jesus got to the cross, He was barely recognizable as human.

That’s the kind of scandalous, prodigal love God has for those of his prodigal children, whether we rebel in a far country or at home. Honestly, the far country doesn’t have to be geographically distant. It can be relational distance, too.

So if you have experienced radigal grace and forgiveness, take time today to express your gratitude for this prodigal God whose prodigal love for us is the reason we are forgiven and free.

The Ticket

Sometimes you are reading along in a good book and something jumps out of the text and you have to stop and re-read it at least two or three more times. That’s the way it was for me reading The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom.

She was talking about being fearful of persecution or death. Her father described it like a child with a train ticket.

The father doesn’t give the child the ticket months and months ahead, because the child might misplace it or accidentally tear it up. The father waits until they are ready to board the train until he gives the ticket to the child.

In the same way, we find that we are given grace to handle adversity not way before, but just as we are about to face it.

Jesus told His disciples not to worry about what they would say when facing hostile persecution. He promised that at just the right time, the Holy Spirit would give them the words to speak. Time after time, the disciples were able to speak out with a boldness that could only come from the indwelling power of the resurrected Christ.

Are you worried about the passing of a loved one? Are you fearful of your own death? Are you anxious about how you would handle persecution and if you would deny Christ and live rather than die professing His name?

Just trust Him for today and let tomorrow take care of itself. Pray for strength for the day and whenever death or trouble or trials come, you will find that God gives you what you need to stand up in it.

You find that your world didn’t end like you thought it would and you will hear words coming out of your mouth that only Jesus could put there. You will find strength in the exact moment you need it, usually not a moment before.

I love this quote from The Hiding Place about how each of us will face Jesus when we die:

“Dear Jesus, thank You that we must come with empty hands. I thank You that You have done all . . .on the cross, and that all we need in life or death is be sure of this.”

 

I Know: Living in Captivity

“I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for” (Jeremiah 29:11)

Lots of people quote the above as their favorite verse. Lots of people go even further and call it their life verse, me being one of them. It’s nice to know that God’s got your future in His hands.

But when you look at the context, this is written to people in captivity who are longing for home. The funny part is that they are longing for a home they’ve never seen, but only heard stories about.

Many of us feel like captives. Maybe you feel trapped in a job you don’t like, but you’re afraid to step out in a bad economy and look for new work, so you stay and stress and count the minutes to the end of every day.

Maybe you feel like your family doesn’t know or appreciate you. Maybe you feel like your spouse is always tearing you down and never offering anything positive. Maybe you’ve being going to a church for a while and you still feel like a stranger and an outsider.

Maybe you feel like your friends have all moved on and left you behind in your pain. Maybe you had your romantic hopes dashed yet again and feel even less desirable than ever.

Read the first part of the verse. God knows. He’s aware of your distress. He sees the tears you cry in the dark when you’re alone and feels the pain that hides behind the facade of a smile.

He has a plan for you. He has a dream for you that is bigger than you but that you get to be a part of. He has a future for you that is as wide-open and free as His amazing grace.

I love how one author said that when you are in a dark place, listen very carefully because God has a special and very precious word for you that you won’t be able to receive any other way.

Jesus knows what it feels like to be alone and forsaken. That’s why He said He would never to either to you. Ever.

Keep trusting and keep believing, even when you don’t feel like it. Keep clinging to Jesus. If all you can pray is “Help me,” keep praying that over and over until it becomes your mantra.

I have never known a storm that didn’t leave a rainbow or a night that didn’t turn into day. Your time is coming and God’s got good things coming your way. Hold on.

An Awesome Definition for Worship

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“Worship is extravagant love and extreme submission.”

I love that definition.

Too often, worship is all about singing songs. It’s all too easy to sit back and critique the song choices and musical styles and whether or not those around me are worshiping the “right” way.

In Nashville, it’s easy to let worship become all about the level of musicianship and charasmatic personality. It’s easy to manipulate a crowd into a frenzy if you’re talented enough, but that’s not worship.

Worship is extravagant love. I can’t help but thinking about the woman who poured the expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet and then wiped those feet with her hair. That was more than inconvenient. That was extremely costly and humiliating. That’s worship.

It’s also extreme submission. It’s surrendering my own illusion of self-control and admitting that I have a desperate need for God. And it starts long before you enter the sanctuary and the church service and doesn’t end when you pass the exit doors on your way out into the parking lot.

Worship is not an event, but a lifestyle of saying, “Not my will, but Thine.”

I don’t normally do this, but I posted a link to a fantastic blog about the nature of worship that I ran across today.

http://allsonsanddaughters.com/2012/03/26/art-in-worship-join-the-conversation/

I challenge to you read it and let it soak into your very being.

If I’m truly worshipping in Romans 12:1-2 fashion and being transformed by the renewing of my mind and offering my body as a living sacrifice, then it won’t matter whether I’m singing the most current and trendy modern worship songs or the old, old hymns.

It won’t matter if there’s a rockin’ worship band, or a guy with a guitar, or an orchestra and choir, or just a piano and organ.

It will be worship. It will declare the great worth of God to the world.

After all, like the song says, it’s not about me. It’s all about You, Jesus.