A Mind Blowing Act of Service

I went to the movies again. This time, I watched The Chosen episodes 4-6 of season 4. As usual, it was incredible and moving. I won’t post any spoilers in case those reading haven’t made it to the theater or are waiting for the episodes to hit streaming.

One fascinating character that had increased prominence in these episodes was Judas Iscariot, masterfully portrayed by Luke Dimyan. He captures all the nuances of the disciple most known for betraying Jesus.

I know I just said that I wouldn’t post spoilers, but this one is in the Bible, folks. It’s not like anyone who has had even a passing knowledge of Scripture and the Gospels doesn’t know who Judas Iscariot is. I know you know the phrase “Judas’ kiss” referring to the act that identified Jesus to the ones who arrested Jesus.

I was reminded of the night where Jesus instituted Communion, or the Lord’s Supper, and started off by washing the disciples’ feet. The part that struck me particularly was where Jesus washed the feet of Judas Iscariot.

It blows my mind that Jesus washed the feet of the very one who was to betray Him, knowing full well that Judas had it in his heart to betray his Rabbi and Messiah. I remember the quote that said that the true test of discipleship isn’t as much about loving Jesus as it is loving Judas.

Jesus wasn’t speaking in abstract theory when He talked about loving your enemies. He had very specific individuals in mind, including some of the Pharisees and Scribes and Judas himself. Jesus spoke from a very real place where people were actively seeking to destroy His ministry and end His life.

Jesus never calls any of us to do anything He was unwilling to do. When He calls us to forgive those who hurt us and love our enemies, we can remember that Jesus forgave the very ones who killed Him as they were in the very act of murdering Him. And now we have the Spirit of Jesus living in us to enable us to live out everything that Jesus commands of us.

My mind is officially and completely blown.

I Need Jesus

That’s it. I need Jesus, not a better car or a better job or a more stylish wardrobe or a devoted spouse.

Because at the end of the day, a better car will eventually break down and need to be replaced.

A better job will have its own issues and you can still get fired or downsized or laid off there, too.

Wardrobes go out of fashion fast. What was stylish last year is already laughable. Plus, clothing wears out like anything else.

Spouses are great, but they can’t be everything. If you’re expecting a marriage to fix all your problems and for your spouse to fulfill all your needs, you are going to be bitterly disappointed. There’s a reason why over half of marriages (including Christian marriages) end in divorce.

Anything not rooted in Jesus is bound to fail and fall short. If I’m not satisfied in Christ at my deepest level, then nothing else will ever bring me lasting peace or joy or contentment. I will always be stuck in the more syndrome — a little more money, a little bigger house, a different partner, a better career, and so on unto infinity.

The saying remains true. Everything but Jesus = nothing. Nothing else but Jesus = everything.

Church Is Hard

I’d say Church is hard because we’re all broken and flawed people, scarred and marred by the ravages of sin. Church is filled with imperfect people. Yes, Church is filled with hypocrites because as much as we want, our lives never exactly line up with our words.

Let these words sink in and remember that while Church is hard, is where God has never failed to meet us:

“CHURCH IS HARD.

Church is hard for the person walking through the doors, afraid of judgement.

Church is hard for the pastor’s family, under the microscope of an entire body.

Church is hard for the prodigal soul returning home, broken and battered by the world.

Church is hard for the girl who looks like she has it all together, but doesn’t.

Church is hard for the couple who fought the entire ride to service.

Church is hard for the single mom, surrounded by couples holding hands, and seemingly perfect families.

Church is hard for the widow and widower with no invitation to lunch after service.

Church is hard for the deacon with an estranged child.

Church is hard for the person singing worship songs, overwhelmed by the weight of the lyrics.

Church is hard for the man insecure in his role as a leader.

Church is hard for the wife who longs to be led by a righteous man.

Church is hard for the nursery volunteer who desperately longs for a baby to love.

Church is hard for the single woman and single man, praying God brings them a mate.

Church is hard for the teenage girl, wearing a scarlet letter, ashamed of her mistakes.

Church is hard for the sinners.

Church is hard for me.

It’s hard because on the outside it all looks shiny and perfect. Sunday best in behavior and dress.

However, underneath those layers, you find a body of imperfect people, carnal souls, selfish motives.

But, here is the beauty of church—

Church isn’t a building, mentality, or expectation.

Church is a body.

Church is a group of sinners, saved by grace, living in fellowship as saints.

Church is a body of believers bound as brothers and sisters by an eternal love.

Church is a holy ground where sinners stand as equals before the Throne of Grace.

Church is a refuge for broken hearts and a training ground for mighty warriors.

Church is a converging of confrontation and invitation. Where sin is confronted and hearts are invited to seek restoration.

Church is a lesson in faith and trust.

Church is a bearer of burdens and a giver of hope.

Church is a family. A family coming together, setting aside differences, forgetting past mistakes, rejoicing in the smallest of victories.

Church, the body, and the circle of sinners-turned-saints, is where He resides, and if we ask, He is faithful to come.

So even on the hard days at church—

The days when I am at odds with a friend, when I’ve fought with my husband because we’re late once again. When I’ve walked in bearing burdens heavier than my heart can handle, yet masking the pain with a smile on my face. When I’ve worn a scarlet letter, under the microscope. When I’ve longed for a baby to hold, or fought tears as the lyrics were sung. When I’ve walked back in, afraid and broken, after walking away.

I’ll remember, He has never failed to meet me there” (Pat Smith).

New Year’s Day 2024

This is my favorite quote for the new year. It was written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer while he was in a concentration camp after a failed attempt to assassinate Adolf Hitler. He penned these words, knowing they might be some of his very last and that he probably would not live to see the next new year.

These words are timeless and just as needed in 2024 as they were in 1945:

“With every power for good to stay and guide me,
comforted and inspired beyond all fear,
I’ll live these days with you in thought beside me,
and pass, with you, into the coming year.

While all the powers of Good aid and attend us,
boldly we’ll face the future, be it what may.
At even, and at morn, God will befriend us,
and oh, most surely on each new year’s day

The old year still torments our hearts, unhastening:
the long days of our sorrow still endure.
Father, grant to the soul thou hast been chastening
that Thou hast promised—the healing and the cure.

Should it be ours to drain the cup of grieving
even to the dregs of pain, at thy command,
we will not falter, thankfully receiving
all that is given by thy loving hand.

But, should it be thy will once more to release us
to life’s enjoyment and its good sunshine,
that we’ve learned from sorrow shall increase us
and all our life be dedicate as thine.

To-day, let candles shed their radiant greeting:
lo, on our darkness are they not thy light,
leading us haply to our longed-for meeting?
Thou canst illumine e’en our darkest night.

When now the silence deepens for our harkening,
grant we may hear thy children’s voices raise
from all the unseen world around us darkening
their universal paean, in thy praise.

While all the powers of Good aid and attend us,
boldy we’ll face the future, be it what way.
At even, and at morn, God will befriend us,
And oh, most surely on each new year’s day!” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer).

Lessons Learned Slowly

“‘A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices.’

This tiny window when the world falls asleep (or attempts to) on Christmas Eve is my favorite. Anticipation. What a gift!

Yes, we will wake up in the morning and devour our presents. We will rip our wrapping paper to shreds and down our favorite Christmas fare at the table. And then, we will feel it. The air falls flat. The glow from the lights fails to warm us fully. What’s different? Time has betrayed us. Another thing we love just cannot last.

That’s when my favorite Christmas song kicks in. “The thrill of hope” doesn’t expire tomorrow afternoon. We can access it anytime, even on a random Tuesday in March. The promise lingers. The truth remains. His birth was an entry point into time and space. His life and death? A timeless revolution. When will we ever learn that our silly calendars hold no sway.

Let us come together tomorrow with the understanding that the joy that this world affords is always tinged with sorrow, an afterburn that leaves us unsettled. Even still, let us lift our eyes to the eternal and everlasting promise. Our world IS weary, but our ‘thrill of hope’ can never, ever die!” (Jennifer Whitwell Christensen).

I used to love and dread Christmas Day.

I loved seeing all the presents as a kid and feeling all the nostalgic emotions as I got older, but I dreaded the inevitable letdown of Christmas being over for another year. I knew all those festive decorations would be going back into boxes and back into storage for another 11 months.

I dreaded coming to the end of Christmas Day and hearing the words “Christmas is over” when I was not even close to being ready for it to be over. Especially lately, when the whole season seems to fly by as quickly as one of Santa’s sleighs in the night sky.

It’s like the magical part disappears and the humdrum reappears and life goes back to grey after bursting forth in green and silver and gold and a multitude of other colors for a while. No more Christmas for 364 more days.

But the older I get, I realize that what I love most in this world are merely shadows pointing to a truer form I will know in the next. Everything that brings me joy now is a foretaste of a greater joy that no sorrow can steal nor death destroy.

When all the packages are gone and decorations put away, the hope of the season remains. I can truly be like Scrooge and honor Christmas in my heart all the days of the year because Christmas means that God has come near, and that remains true into January and beyond.

Advent, Memories, and a Christmas Story

I checked one off my list for required holiday movie viewing. I watched a Christmas Story tonight with all its round-faced kid glory. When I came to the part [spoiler alert ahead] where he finally got his long-sought Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas, I knew exactly the joy he felt.

I remember getting that present I had wanted all year. For me, it was a Commodore 64. For those who aren’t old, that’s a personal computer that had as much memory in it as a calculator. You could probably take the combined memory of every Commodore computer ever manufactured and it still wouldn’t add up to the memory in one iPhone. But it was a dream present.

I remember the joy of opening up gifts of Christmas morning to find something I had wanted and waited for the whole year. But sooner or later, the magic faded. The joy that was so strong at first waned. A lot of those presents eventually got sold at garage sales or got donated to Goodwill.

That’s the kind of joy that comes when we make Christmas a one day event where the focus is on opening presents and consuming lots of food. Soon, the giddiness is replaced by a kind of letdown and a sadness of having to wait 364 days until the next Christmas.

But when we focus on the child in the manger born on Christmas Day, the joy carries over. This child became the Savior of the world who doesn’t just live in our hearts one day of the year but all the days of the year.

This kind of joy lasts beyond December 25, even past the 12 days of Christmas. This joy is based on a hope that does not disappoint or decay or die. This hope is the now and the not yet of the kingdom of God. Now we see partly and catch glimpses of God breaking into the world, but one day we will see and know fully and see God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.

We can celebrate the gifts and the food but keep our eyes fixed on the true reason for Christmas, Jesus.

Trials and Tragedy into Gold

I heard that the Middle Tennessee area got hit with some tornadoes today, some of which did significant damage. Six people lost their lives. It seems like such a random and senseless tragedy smack in the middle of the Advent season.

But then I remember that we live in a beautiful but broken world where nothing is as it should be and chaos seems to be the order of the day. But I’ve read the last chapter of the Bible and I know that the story doesn’t end in ashes. Hope wins. God wins. The best happy ending of all is coming.

I remember that God stepped into our world at its darkest and became a baby so that we who live in that darkness might have hope. That light of the world still shines, though all kinds of powers and people have done their best to put it out. All the darkness in all the world still can’t overcome even the smallest light.

The greatest gift of the Advent season is one that no wars or storms or pandemics or political unrest or anything else in the world can ever take away. We celebrate this season the coming of Emmanuel who can take the worst and turn it to good. Hope is born again.

Broken Crayons

Have you heard the saying that broken crayons still color? It’s true.

It’s also true that God uses broken people to bring out the colors in the world. Those, and not the perfectly whole people, are the ones God favors to work in and to work through.

God uses wounded healers because He is a wounded healer. He still bears the scars from His wounds by which we were healed.

Those marks on His hands and feet are to remind us that we weren’t healed and saved to bask in our deliverance, but to turn around and help others find healing. We have been reconciled through shed blood in order to facilitate a ministry of reconciliation based on the Prince of Peace.

Love That Says No

“Love loves unto purity. Love has ever in view the absolute loveliness of that which it beholds. Therefore all that is not beautiful in the beloved, all that comes between and is not of love’s kind, must be destroyed. And our God is a consuming fire” (George MacDonald).

I think as a society we’ve turned love into a vague kind of permissiveness that tolerates anything and has no will of its own, a thinly disguised kind of lust that puts self-gratification above all else.

Not so with the ruthless, radical, relentless love of God. Not so with the love that took Jesus to a bloody death on a cross.

I’m finding out in my own life that this love of God, while pure and perfect and good, won’t tolerate anything but God’s very best for me.

While I’ve received God’s YES in Jesus, often that YES means a No to lesser desires and wants in my life. Sometimes, they’re bad and harmful. Sometimes they’re good. But just as bad is an enemy of good, so can good be an enemy of the best.

I still believe that the times God has said no to my prayers have been great mercies, maybe even more so than when He says yes. He’s kept me from finding the end result of me getting my own way, which usually doesn’t turn out well. Especially since I’m not always certain that I actually know what I want.

God will burn away anything in me that’s not pure and lovely. The bad, the ugly, and yes, sometimes the good. That’s what hurts the most.

Maybe the best kind of love is that which seeks to bring out the best in others and won’t settle for anything less. That’s God’s kind of love. The kind that sometimes says no.