Ragamuffin Gospel

The Fasting and the Feast

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“When the fast, the death, the sacrifice of the gospel is omitted from the Christian life, then it isn’t Christian at all. Not only that its boring. If I just want to feel good or get self-help, I’ll buy a $12 book from Borders and join a gym. The church the Bible described is exciting and adventurous and wrought with sacrifice. It costs believers everything and they still came. It was good news to the poor and stumped its enemies. The church was patterned after a Savior who had no place to lay his head and voluntarily died a brutal death, even knowing we would reduce the gospel to a self-serving personal improvement program where people were encouraged to make a truce with their Maker and stop sinning and join the church, when in fact the gospel does not call for a truce but a complete surrender.
Jesus said the kingdom was like a treasure hidden in a field, and once someone truly finds it, he will happily sell everything he owns to possess that field. a perfect description of the fasting and the feast. It will cost everything, but it is a treasure and an unfathomable joy. This is the balance of the kingdom; to live we must die, to be lifted we bow, to gain we must lose. There is no alternative definition, no path of least resistance, no treasure in the field without the sacrifice of everything else” (Jen Hatmaker, 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Access).

So I finished reading the book 7. I highly recommend it to anyone who’s tired of the same old same old and is looking for something fresh and different. It’s for those who are weary of the prevalence of consumeristic Christianity that has overtaken much of America’s churches, along with a definite trend toward style over substance.

Most of what passes for the gospel these days is either some form of sin management, self-help program, or a variation of the “I’m okay, you’re okay, everyone’s okay.” The Apostle Paul said very clearly more than once that even if he or an angel should proclaim any other kind of gospel other than the gospel of Jesus as presented and expounded upon in the writings of Paul, let him (or her) be condemned.

I was convicted in several areas about my own excesses and my bouts of self-centeredness in opposition to serving others. We in this country have the means to alleviate a lot of the world’s suffering, but we choose rather to spend on lavish buildings   with the latest technologies and comforts. In other words, we’d rather spend it on ourselves.

So I’m telling you to run to your local bookstore (or your local laptop and your local amazon website) to get this book. You will not regret it.

 

The Love of God

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“Could we with ink the ocean fill, And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill, And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole, Though stretched from sky to sky”

I had several ideas of what to write about for tonight’s post, but when I read this stanza that I posted back on this day in 2011, I knew what I had to write about.

This, the love of God, supersedes any political debate or doctrinal questions. The love of God is stronger than our doubts and deeper than our fears.

The love of God will last longer than the earth and  sky and all of human history. Nothing that the worst of humanity could ever devise will ever put and end to it or stop it from achieving its end.

I’m thankful tonight that this love of God sought me out relentlessly and wouldn’t let go until I finally relented. I’m more thankful that this love of God has never stopped pursuing me through seasons of selfishness and self-doubt.

According to what I read, this last stanza in the great hymn The Love of God was a revision of an ancient Jewish writing from over 1,000 years ago. The person wrote it on the walls of the insane asylum where he lived and was found after he died. Apparently, this was during one of his moments of lucidity.

The rest of the hymn was added around it later, but these are the words that haunt me tonight and have given my soul great rest and peace. May they do the same to you and may you remember them in the days to come when life gets hard and hectic.

 

Reaching Out with Joy

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“Father, our source of life,
You know our weakness.
May we reach out with joy to grasp your hand
and walk more readily in your ways.
We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever” (from The Liturgy of the Hours).

I posted this prayer exactly three years ago today on Facebook and it still echoes the longings of my heart. Too often we’ve felt weak and afraid and unsure. Too often we listen to the wrong voices that lead us into isolation and loneliness rather than into community and fellowship.

Reaching out with joy to God is admitting that we can’t overcome our weaknesses. It’s confessing our great need for God to guide us through this life.

The joy part comes in knowing that God never turns away anyone who seeks Him in earnest and will not fail to come to those who seek Him in faith.

May we reach out with joy to the God who reaches out to us in our weakest and most shameful moments.

Growing Young: What Maturing in the Faith Looks Like

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I listen to a lot of talk about what it means to grow up in the faith. A lot of it sounds like variations of “buckle down, grit your teeth, and try harder” or “have better morals” or “follow this 10-step plan to guaranteed maturity in six months or less.”

My idea of Christian maturity is becoming a child all over again. It’s about growing young.

I don’t mean acting childish. There is a world of difference between being childish and being childlike. You’ve all been around kids enough to tell one from the other.

Children aren’t shy about admitting their dependence. They know they need help– and lots of it. They aren’t embarrassed to seek out that help.

Too often, believers buy into the lie that you have to figure it all out on your own. That your own spiritual growth is up to you. Jesus saved you, but from now on it’s all up to you.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for the disciplines of the faith and training your body, mind, and spirit to follow hard after Christ.

The best way to grow is to grow in community with those who will encourage and support you (as well as occasionally challenging you and holding you accountable). The most mature believers are the ones least ashamed to ask for help when they know they need it. They are the most aware of their own flaws and weaknesses and the grace that covers all their sin.

Christianity is all about “we” not “I”. That’s why God instituted the Church. He never intended for Lone Ranger Christians to strike out on their own and try to mature in solitude.

I still love the idea of a declaration of dependence. That’s what the Christian faith is all about. It’s not a DIY religion but an every day surrender and dependence on God and His grace. Your greatest strength still lies in surrendering and submission.

 

 

A Good Night

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So I inadvertently recycled my sunglasses tonight.

I was in the process of depositing several plastic bottles into one of the recycle containers in the Connection Center of Brentwood Baptist Church (also known as The Place Where They Have Kairos on Tuesdays).

I’m still not exactly sure of the order of events (or even 100% positive of the sunglasses part) but I believe that when I bent down to beautify the planet by not adding to the already overflowing landfills and being green and all that, my sunglasses slipped off my shirt and into the container (along with one unopened water bottle that I fully intended to drink).

Something a guy I work with came to mind: if that’s the worst thing that happens to me tonight, I’m having a good night.

Later, the main speaker, Chris Brooks, said something that arrested my attention. He said that while emotions can be very real, they aren’t always reliable. Immediately, my mind went to Jeremiah 17:9 where the heart, the seat of all emotions, is described as “most devious and incurably sick.”

I’ve learned that one the hard way over the years. Trial and error have taught me never to trust my emotions when I’m fatigued or hungry (and especially not when it’s a combination of the two).

While feelings can be legitimate, they can be misleading. I remember something a friend said once that I’ve never forgotten– feelings can lie to you, so you go with what you know.

In my case, I remember that Jesus promised that everything would turn out fine in the end (and if it’s not fine, it’s not yet the end). Jesus promised that He’d work all things together for good. Jesus promised never to leave or forsake me.

I cling to these promises when my feelings tell me they have failed. I hold fast to what Jesus said over what I feel because while my feelings come and go, Jesus’ words are eternal and secure.

I ended up making a late night run to Kroger’s and picking up another pair of shades just like the ones I accidentally discarded. Next time, I hope I’ll be a little less careless when saving the planet.

 

Being Good Stewards

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“But as certainly as God created man in His image, He first created the earth. With the same care He designed  sixty thousand miles of blood vessels in the human body, He also crafted hydrangeas and freshwater rapids and hummingbirds. He balanced healthy ecosystems with precision and established climates and beauty. He integrated colors and smells  and sounds that would astonish humanity. The details He included while designing the earth are so extraordinary, it is no wonder He spend five of the six days of creation on it.

So why don’t we care for the earth anywhere near to the degree we do our bodies? Why don’t we fuss and examine and steward creation with the same tenacity? Why aren’t we refusing complicity in the ravaging of our planet? Why aren’t we determined to stop pillaging the earth’s resources like savages? Why do we mock environmentalists and undermine their passion for conservation? Do we think ourselves so superior to the rest of creation that we are willing to deplete the earth to supply our luxuries? If so, we may very well be the last generation who gets that prerogative” (Jen Hatmaker, 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess).

It really bothers me that people will go out of their way NOT to recycle. It may seem like such a small detail, but I think it’s a symptom of a lackadaisical disregard for the planet we live on.

We are called to be stewards. So why then do we act so often like consumers and users instead? If we honor God by honoring His creation, do we dishonor Him when we abuse and disregard what He has made?

What are we telling our children about the value of creation when we don’t take care of it and waste its resources?

I’m asking these questions because I am trying to figure this all out for myself. I don’t want to be another of those who are wasteful because they believe that our earth’s resources are unlimited.

At the end of the day, I’m thankful for grace that is greater than any of my wastefulness and greed and selfishness. I’m thankful for grace greater than any of my sin.

 

 

Kudos to all the Dads Out There

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Fathers get a bad rap. Sure, they get one day out of the year where we celebrate them in the aptly named Father’s Day. We buy them greeting cards and lots of neck ties.

The rest of the time, we seem to get the impression (from a lot of the media and culture out there) that they really aren’t all that necessary.

Nothing could be more wrong.

Of course, there are  lots of well-adjusted, normal, and productive people who were raised by single mothers out there. I give a shout-out to all those women out there who are pulling double duty as both mother and father. You deserve every bit of praise that comes your way.

I still believe that the best environment for a child is one where the father is present. There are certain things that are taught best by fathers. A boy can best learn how to be a gentleman from his father. A son best learns how to treat women by watching how the father treats the mother.

I admit that there are lots of bad examples of fathers who are abusive and domineering. I confess that a lot of people are uncomfortable with the idea of God as Father because of their upbringing and all the pain and suffering caused by their own earthly fathers.

Still, I think there’s nothing quite as beautiful as a father speaking affirmation over his children, drawing out the strength in his sons and the beauty in his daughters. Their words have incredible power to build up and create as much as to tear down and destroy.

The best way to be a father is to put your children third. I know it sounds scandalous, but here’s how it should look. The order should be God first, wife second, children third.

Thanks to all the fathers out there who are loving their families sacrificially on a daily basis. None of them are perfect and none of them will ever get it 100% right but they are the ones who keep showing up and never giving up on themselves or their wives or their children. They know they can’t do it without a lot of help so they start out every day on their knees before God in a posture of submission and surrender for the strength to be the best fathers possible.

Kudos to you.

 

Thoughts on the Book of Jeremiah

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In my quest to read through the Bible in a year (again), I’ve made it to Jeremiah. I confess that the prophetic section of the Old Testament can be hard to read at times — I see time and time again where God’s patience runs out as the Israelites have abandoned Him and chased after other gods for so long.

I also see hope. I love the parts where God speaks of restoring His children to their land and to their former glory. Even though they deserve annihilation because of all their philandering and idolatry, God has promised after a time to bring them back to their home.

That gives me great hope. It means that the worst part of your story is never the last part. The part where the darkness seems never-ending and where hope seems so far away is not the last chapter. The ending is so much better.

Elisabeth Elliot once said that God’s story never ends with ashes. It never ends in exile and despait. Death and destruction do not have the last word. Neither does evil.

The terrorists do not win in the end. Fear and violence will one day be forever past tense. Love and mercy will be the currency of the new world order.

I truly believe in my heart of hearts that one day Jesus will come back and set everything right again. What got derailed in Eden will finally be fully and forever realized.

There’s a beautiful verse that speaks about how overjoyed the people will be when they see Jerusalem restored. It will be like dreaming with your eyes wide open, too good to be true yet still very much true.

The best part (to me) will be that all the pain and suffering that seems now like it will never end will one day seem light and momentary compared to the glory and joy that’s coming. It won’t even begin to compare.

All that from one little book in the Bible.

 

 

A Little Glen Frey for the Night Ride Home

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Note: I inadvertently took the night off from blogging last night after getting home a bit late. I supposed I was more tired than I had originally though.

My Wednesday adventure started off after work with dinner at The Smiling Elephant. For those not from Nashville or not familiar with this place, it is an amazingly fantastic Thai restaurant a little over a mile down the road from my church, The Church at Avenue South.

I had some Pad Kra Pao on a dare (to myself). It was super spicy. I was quoting Paris Hilton non-stop– “That’s hot.” It’s probably the hottest, spiciest thing I’ve eaten on purpose (not counting that wasabi that I thought was guacamole).

From there, I went to Ave South for a Summer Series Bible Study, led by my friend Parker Bradley on 1 Timothy 3. It could have been very dry and academic, but he did a great job of making it interesting and relevant.

After, some of us headed over to The Sutler, where I had maybe the best dessert known to man. I don’t remember the name, but I remember that it had chocolate and peanut brittle and about 50,000 calories. It was Christmas and Easter combined and made edible. It was that good.

On the way home, I had the music of one Mr. Glenn Frey to keep me company. It was one of the rare moments when the music matched my mood and perfectly fit the nighttime setting.

More people are familiar with his work with the Eagles, but not as many know about his solo projects. He was as good a musician, singer, and songwriter as just about anyone in the business. He was the real deal.

I got home and had some quality therapy time with one very sleepy and very geriatric cat (you probably know her as Lucy the Wonder Cat a.k.a. Lucy Furr).

It was one of those days filled with a multitude of small blessings and graces that I hope I’ll always remember for as long as I live.