One Thousand Gifts

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.

My Salvation Story

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I’m sitting here on this gorgeous Fall Sunday, watching the embarrassing end to an embarrassing footfall game. By that, I mean my beloved Tennessee Titans losing to the previously winless Jacksonville Jaguars. Can we say, “Bye-bye, playoffs?”

In much happier news, I’ve been reflecting on my own salvation experience.

I can tell you what my salvation is not:

It is not based on me walking an aisle or signing a card 30 years ago. If my salvation is fire insurance from hell and nothing more, then it’s not legit. If all I did was pray a prayer and recite some words, then I’m just as lost as I was then.

It’s not knowing facts about Jesus or attending church or being born to Christian parents or being American or Republican or knowing all the Christian buzzwords. None of that.

It’s about when I gave up control of my life to Jesus. It’s when I said YES to everything Jesus has for me.

I was saved (justification) once and for all the day I opened my heart to Jesus and let Him begin His work in me.

I am being saved (sanctification) daily by putting off my old sinful self and putting on Jesus. Or you could say, I’m being saved by Jesus finishing what He started in me like He said He would.

I will be saved (glorification) when Jesus comes back for good and all those annoying sin habits and destructive thought patterns go away forever. When I become what God has already declared me to be– a perfect replica of His Son Jesus.

As Pastor Mike Glenn says, if I don’t live it, I don’t believe it. No matter how eloquent my words are, they mean nothing if I don’t live what I preach.

I’m so glad it’s not up to me being good enough or smart enough or strong enough. I’d never make it. Thankfully, it was and is and always will be about how Jesus found me and rescued me and did for me what I could never to for myself.

That calls for a celebration, don’t you think?

Downtown Franklin, Fall, and Other Random Stuff Thrown in For Free

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My blogs sometimes feel like one of those boxes of assorted chocolates. You know. The ones where you pick a chocolate and hope for the best. Which for me is the creamy chocolate filling, which makes me go 😆.

Sometimes you get the pink ones, which are😐. Or coconut, which for me is 😖. You me never know unless you pick one and try it. Unless you cheat and look at the diagram on the box. 😱

So, I did my weekly Thursday visit to downtown Franklin. I visited my usual places, saw some of my favorite people, including Amanda at McCreary’s and my new friend Courtney at Sweet CeCe’s. It was a beautifully crisp fall night, the kind where you went to curl up in a cozy arm chair next to a roaring fire with a good book.

Being in my favorite place during a perfect night in my favorite season makes for a perfectly happy me. My wish is that someday some of you might join me and share in my joy. 😊

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I took a picture of a classic example of why I love fall. The tree still had most of its leaves in a wide range of yellows and oranges that would have made Ansel Adams switch to color photography on the spot. Yeah, they were that pretty. 😍

This doesn't come close to capturing the wide range of colors.

This doesn’t come close to capturing the wide range of colors.

So I once again extend my invitation for you to join me in Downtown Franklin. I offer a personalized guided your of all my favorite spots, complete with wildly inaccurate facts and figures and completely irrelevant asides. It will be fun. 😁

So, until next Thursday (or tomorrow when I write another blog), I wish you all the sweetest of dreams and the soundest of sleeps. And may you all have a lap dog or a lap cat who will show you the true meaning of loyalty, affection, and devotion. 😻

Until next time, keep living the dream!

Random Bits of Advice

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It's only moderately tacky but it was also only $5.

It’s only moderately tacky but it was also only $5.

I had a very interesting and unusual day– in a good way. No one died or got laid off or broke any part of their body. I did get off work a bit early and spent some time thrift shopping.

I found some stores on Charlotte Ave near 49th Ave in Nashville. I went in search of THE ultimate tacky Christmas sweater (with moderately successful results) and came away with a few unexpected treasures. Thrift shopping is like that. Life is like that.

I’ve come away with a few tidbits of wisdom I’d like to share:

1) Gravitate toward the people who love you for who you are, who are always happy to see you, who actually want you around, who live out the Gospel in actions and attitudes that reflect the heart of Jesus.

2) Never pass up any opportunities to visit old bookstores. There’s just something magical about being around lots of old books with their musty smells and rich histories that does my heart good. I love my iPad, but nothing beats the feel and smell of a good old book in your hands.

3) When it comes to getting things done versus spending time with people, remember how fragile life is. Chances are very likely most of your to-do list can wait, but those people may not be around tomorrow.

4) Give yourself a break. Objects in your mirror, i. e. you, are not nearly as ugly or goofy or clumsy or hopeless as they appear. There has never and will never be anyone quite like you ever again. That alone makes you special. Unique. Beautiful. Priceless.

There are probably more, but I’m too tired to think of any of them at the moment, so I’ll save them for a later post.

Good night to all my favorite people. That’s means you. Thank you for making my life blessed and amazing and a miracle every single day.

What Does the Fox Feel?

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A friend of mine posed a very good question tonight at Chick-fil-A. I mean, everyone knows what the fox SAYS, but does anyone care about how the fox FEELS? Maybe foxy, if the fox is female. But what if it’s a male fox?

I saw a fox running across the parking lot of Brentwood United Methodist Church. I’m not sure how he or she felt about the current state of affairs or local politics. I didn’t get the chance to ask.

I know how I feel: tired. The kind of tired that makes me want to turn into a hibernating hermit. The kind where the social butterfly turns into the cranky caterpillar.

After tonight’s Kairos message, I know the question on the Final Exam, the one Jesus will ask me, won’t be how I felt about Him or how much information I amassed about the Bible. It will be about what kind of person I was.

It’s interesting that the people Jesus praises in Matthew 26 for serving Him by serving the least of these will be totally taken by surprise. They will have been so engrossed in following Jesus and taking on His character that the serving will be second nature, something they do without even thinking about it.

Too often, I am too focused on me. I’m reminded of the great definition of humility, which is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.

Some days, that comes easily. Some days, it’s all I can do to notice the people around me from being so wrapped up in my own pity party and overanalyzing every little thing.

I am learning to allow myself to be imperfect and to have bad days and to occasionally lose focus. It’s not okay to stay there and it’s not okay to take it out on others. What I do is give thanks for the good date and those around me who see me at my worst and love me and help to bring out my best.

Even foxes have days when they don’t feel so foxy.

Another Monday In the Books

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As with most Mondays, there’s the good, the bad, and the ugly.

The ugly? I’d go with my reflection in the mirror at 5:00 am. Not so much that I think I’m ugly, which I don’t. It’s just that no one looks good in the bathroom mirror at the pre-dawn hour of 5 am. Well, maybe Cindy Crawford, but I’m fairly certain she’s not human.

The bad? How about this? I left my lunch and my debit card at home. Whether I’ve totally lost my mind is up for debate, but if you happen to run across it, take good care of it for me. 😁

The good? I woke up this morning. I went to work. I ate three meals today. I walked to lunch and breathed in the crisp autumn air and breathed out all my worries.

That Eucharisteo that I keep talking about works. A thankful heart and a grateful spirit opens up your eyes to see so many more small gifts that ordinarily lie unopened, like all those gift cards that go unredeemed every year.

Gratitude makes what you have enough. Yes, I stole that from Ann Voskamp. But it’s true. If comparison is the thief of joy, then joy keeps that competitive spirit at bay. If you keep your eyes on Jesus and the joy of knowing Him, then you’re not consumed with keeping up with the Joneses.

Also, thankfulness shifts your perspective from what you don’t have (a spouse, children, your dream job, a mind, etc.) to what you do have (amazing friends, wonderful family, a place to live, food to eat, senses to enjoy life with, sunrises and sunsets, etc.).

I choose joy again today because joy is a choice that you make every single day. To not choose joy is to choose bitterness and envy and dissatisfaction. Basically, to choose to live defeated and discouraged.

I’ve lived that way and I know it’s no way to live. You’re no good for you or anybody else.

May you choose joy. May you embrace a spirit of Eucharisteo (joy with thanksgiving in grace) and find all those small gifts waiting to be opened and all those blessings waiting to be shared and all that joy waiting to be given away.

I guess that makes this a good Monday.

Character (And Not the Cartoon Kind)

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I’m sure you’ve heard the word character defined as “what you do in the dark” or “how you behave when you think no one is watching.”

I agree with that. But my question in response is: so what does that look like in real life?

I think it means keeping your word. Regardless.

It means following through on a commitment, even if it becomes inconvenient.

It means when I say, “I’ll pray for you,” actually praying. I can say that I’m about 50/50 on that. Sometimes, I pray and sometimes I intend to but life and forgetfulness get in the way. I need to work on that.

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It means when you say you’re a friend, actually being a friend and not just being friendly. To me, being friendly means “whenever I gave spare time or whenever I feel like it.” Being a friend means sacrificing by taking time out do other important things to make time for a person.

Character means when I say I’ll be somewhere, actually showing up.

Character means more than good intentions and good feelings. It means I am the same person to all people in all situations. Not like the old joke, “I’m frank and earnest with all my women. In Memphis, I’m Frank and in Nashville, I’m Earnest.”

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When life squeezes me, what comes out? Is it anger? Is it annoyance? Is it impatience?

The reality is that what I’m filled with is what comes out. If I spend time with Jesus and get filled up with Him, He’s what comes out.

People are watching me whether I know it or not. People will decide whether or not Jesus is worth following by examining how much I talk about Him and how much I look and act like Him.

And sometimes, it’s fun to be a character. But that’s another topic for another day.

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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.

Theology from a BBC Sitcom

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I’ve discovered a great new (to me) BBC sitcom called Miranda. It’s about a very tall and very awkward English woman named– wait for it— Miranda, played by –again, wait for it– Miranda Hart.

The whole concept of the show is Miranda being socially awkward, clumsy, and hapless in just about every situation. Something none of you can relate to, I’m sure.

Maybe you find your self talking to someone you’re romantically interested in and you find the most bizarre things coming out of your mouth. Your mind is thinking, “What in the world?” but is completely helpless to stop your mouth from talking.

No one? Then how about this one, sports fans?

I’m not a woman. Big shocker.

And I’m not 6’1″. At least everywhere except in my own happy little world.

But I’ve had my share of socially awkward moments, of trying way too hard to be friendly, of being both obsessive and compulsive with certain relationships, and of not being “normal.”

But I’ve come to the place where I wouldn’t trade places with anyone. I’m having way too much fun being me. I’ve finally caught a glimpse of God’s heart for me and His dream for me and how He made me like no one else.

Not everyone will get you. That doesn’t make you inferior or less worthy. Trust me, God will bring people into your life who will more than just get you. They will embrace you and celebrate you and champion you. They will make you feel like a superhero on days when you can’t even button your shirt up right.

Remember that God Himself more than gets you. He made you. He designed you just the way you are to be like no one else and play a part in His ongoing Story that absolutely no one else could possibly fill.

I’ve seen 5 episodes so far and I love it. I also love the way my family and friends love me. I adore how God adores and celebrates and rejoices in and dances over and shouts over me.

I call that a very good reminder for this All Saints Day.

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.