resurrection

More Life Lessons from Swing Dancing

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image

Tonight, September 7, was the first night of swing dancing back at Otter Church of Christ after a summer at Centennial Park. It was like returning to a place of comfort for me.

I had the beginner part mastered in no time. The intermediate part? Not so much. I needed an encouraging word or two and some dancing partners practiced in the art of showing me grace.

I had fun. And I learned a few lessons in the process:

1) People just need someone to believe in them. All I needed at first was someone to say, “You can do this. We got this.” Even after the fifth straight time of me getting the steps wrong.

2) You don’t have to be an expert to lead or teach someone. You just have to be one step ahead. Even if you’ve only been swing dancing five times in your entire life, you can teach a newbie some steps and help them out with some of their confusion.

3) You never go wrong by showing someone grace. Never.

Life is a lot like that. Sometimes, all you need is a friend who’s been where you are and can help you navigate job losses and relational awkwardness. Someone who can say, “You can get through this. You’re gonna be fine.”

Jesus has been that for me. He’s been through everything I will ever face. Temptation, rejection, loss, being misunderstood– He’s faced it all.

The best part is that He doesn’t just offer empathy. His Spirit lives in me. The power that raised Him from the dead resides in me. His perfect righteousness is now mine.

And Jesus roots for me one better, too. He doesn’t just say, “You can do this,” but “I’m in you giving you the power to do this.”

He doesn’t just root for you. He intercedes for you before the Father day and night. He defends you from any and all accusations from the enemy. He is your Forever Advocate.

Remember, Jesus does grace better than anyone. He invented it. He gives it fresh and new every morning that you wake up and don’t have a cloud of sin-baggage and failures hanging over your head.

Just remember these things and you will be just fine.

A Seat at the Table

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titanicending

“He went on to tell a story to the guests around the table. Noticing how each had tried to elbow into the place of honor, he said, ‘When someone invites you to dinner, don’t take the place of honor. Somebody more important than you might have been invited by the host. Then he’ll come and call out in front of everybody, ‘You’re in the wrong place. The place of honor belongs to this man.’ Red-faced, you’ll have to make your way to the very last table, the only place left.

“‘When you’re invited to dinner, go and sit at the last place. Then when the host comes he may very well say, ‘Friend, come up to the front.’ That will give the dinner guests something to talk about! What I’m saying is, If you walk around with your nose in the air, you’re going to end up flat on your face. But if you’re content to be simply yourself, you will become more than yourself.”

“Then he turned to the host. ‘The next time you put on a dinner, don’t just invite your friends and family and rich neighbors, the kind of people who will return the favor. Invite some people who never get invited out, the misfits from the wrong side of the tracks. You’ll be—and experience—a blessing. They won’t be able to return the favor, but the favor will be returned—oh, how it will be returned!—at the resurrection of God’s people.'” (Luke 14:7-14).

I’ve observed in a few Nashville churches that the “holier than thou” club has been mostly replace by the “hipper than thou” crew. There are a few telltale signs. 1) Their pastor and/or worship leader(s) wear skinny jeans. 2) The church building doesn’t look anything like a church building. 3) The worship songs are the latest and newest songs that haven’t even hit the radio yet.

To be fair, I’ve had my share of “hipper than thou” moments, as well as “holier than thou.” I’ve caught myself a few times comparing myself with others and detected more than a little pride in my pop culture knowledge and vast and educated musical tastes.

The fact is, anyone could look at me sitting in a seat at Kairos or in a church pew and rightfully ask, “What are you doing here? You don’t belong here.”

It’s true. I’ve done stupid things. I’ve said and typed much that I regret. I’ve had such thoughts that I truly hope I never run into a mind reader who can read my past thoughts. That would be tragic and awkward.

The fact is that in the Kingdom of Heaven, no one belongs and everyone belongs.

No one deserves to be there. I certainly don’t. Everyone has sinned and sin brings death to everyone every single time (to paraphrase my pastor Mike Glenn). The only reason anyone gets in is grace.

Because of grace, everyone can get in. The door is open. The invitations are sent. Everyone is welcome and no one who wants to get in will be left out.

In my opinion, there’s no such things as bad or good Christians. There are only sinners saved by grace. I love Thomas Merton’s definition of a saint– not someone who is good, but someone who has seen the goodness of God.

Don’t think you’re so very wise and holy that you get the best seats in the house. You’ll find yourself getting knocked down a few rungs on that old ladder. Remember Jesus, who didn’t consider anything or anyone beneath Him, but lowered himself to the position of a slave and didn’t think that death on a cross was too scandalous or too much of a sacrifice to get you and me into His kingdom.

If you’ve accepted the invitation, Just be thankful you’re in. And if you’re still undecided, remember there’s always room for one more– you.

Things I Love 8: Greg’s Sanity Has Left the Building

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island hammock

FYI: these blogs will continue until I get to 1,000 things I love. It’s from the book, One Thousand Gifts, so I’m trying to list out– wait for it– 1,000 little things that I believe are God’s gifts to me and daily reminders that stir me to gratitude and thanksgiving as a lifestyle. Plus, I don’t have to worry about what I will be blogging on until at least July of 2014. Just kidding. Sort of.

Ok. Here goes the list, starting at #168. Drum roll, please.

168) Looking through old photo albums and reliving those old memories and remembering people who’ve been gone from my life for a while (and thinking they’re looking down from heaven and smiling at those photos, too).

169) My extremely loud Hawaiian shirt, which one random teenager called “sick.” I guess that’s a compliment. I’m not really sure.

170) Everything related to either Narnia and Wardrobes or Middle Earth and Hobbits.

171) Surprise birthday parties (hint, hint, subtle subliminal suggestion. . . cough).

172) Celebrating Easter and remembering that the Resurrection changed EVERYTHING. Including me.

173) That Jesus would have chosen the nails and the cross and the agony if only for me alone.

174) By Jesus loving me unconditionally and prodigally, he made me loveable.

175) Silent movies.

176) Box hockey (and the fact that I know what box hockey is).

177) All my high school reunions where I see old friends and get to catch up after 10 (or 20) years apart.

178) That I get to be a small part of Kairos, a worship gathering for young adults, every week and I see God at work there every single week.

179) Being content in my relationships and not obsessively wondering where they might or might not be headed,

180) Knowing that if the absolute worst case scenario should happen, I would still be loved by Jesus and God would still work even that out for my good and his glory.

181) How randomly my brain works these days.

182) The vast array of autumn colors from the leaves changing and falling.

183) Doing small random acts of kindness for people when they least expect it.

184) Any positive news stories (because they are sadly the exception and not the rule).

185) That I’m down to 715 more things to be thankful for.

186) Now it’s only 714.

187) That I’m not what everyone else thinks I am or even what I think of myself, but only what Jesus says I am– Chosen, Redeemed, Beloved, Child of God, Forgiven, Free, etc.

188) That Jesus won’t ever stop reminding me of my true identity and sending friends who will help me remember the song in my heart when I forget the words.

189) Lightning bugs at night in an open field.

190) Cheese grits made just right.

191) That I probably have at least 32 more of these blogs a-comin’ your way. But not in a row.

Notes on a Sermon

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I heard something really cool today in a sermon. Even though I didn’t get much sleep, I still paid attention, so that doubles my Baptist Brownie points, I think.

Anyway, the point is this: you don’t have to be a victim to your past or let what others have said or done to you enslave you. The power of the risen Christ gives you the freedom and opportunity to choose a new future and break the cycle of negativity and lies.

You don’t have to be defined by past failures or by friends who abandoned you. And on a side note, real friends will give you the benefit of the doubt at all times and dig behind the misunderstanding to find your true meaning instead of assuming the worst. But that’s another topic for another day. Maybe.

The future is wide open. It’s not bound to what you did in the past or the rut you’re currently stuck in. The future is where God is already waiting to show you something better than you could ever have imagine or dreamed up on your own. The future is where you become all that God meant for you to be when he dreamed you up.

So let go of those who won’t look for the best in you and try to bring it out of you. Embrace those who bring out the Jesus in you and help you to find your own unique story. You are special because you have a calling and purpose that only you can do– to be exactly yourself in a world that will do anything and everything to get you to be anything else but you.

The best part is that you can always start over. You don’t have to wait for the first of the month or for the next full moon. You can start today. You just have to want it bad enough to work for it and to wait expectantly for God’s promises to be fulfilled in you.

And now maybe I’ll take a much-needed nap.

April Fool’s Day

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I have to admit. I missed out on the fun. I was neither the prankster nor the prank-ee, although Monday itself is enough of a bad prank for anyone.

I went on my first run since December and did better than expected. I thought surely I’d be huffing and puffing and passing out after a few blocks, but I ran 2 miles in 21 minutes, which may not be any new world record for speed but was good enough for me.

I wore my brand-new, never-worn, red New Balance running shoes. And man, they are red. I suppose if I clicked my heels together I might wind up in Kansas. They are that red.

It seems like there’s always a bit of a letdown after any major holiday. For me, I always dreaded the day after Christmas, because all that hype and excitement was over and there were 364 more days till the next one. I could always console myself after Thanksgiving with leftovers, so that wasn’t so bad.

But for Easter, I somehow seem to forget so easily what I just celebrated. That Jesus is alive, that not even death and hell could hold him, that there is new life and new hope now that wasn’t there before.

I guess I’ll have to look into this Pentecost Sunday business and find out what it’s all about. It wasn’t on my Baptist radar growing up, so I don’t know too much about it. I just know that one day isn’t enough to celebrate the resurrection anymore than one day is sufficient to celebrate Jesus’ miraculous birth.

I just looked up Pentecost on Wikipedia and found out that the main sign of Pentecost in the Western Churches is the color red, symbolizing joy and the fire of the Holy Spirit. So maybe I’ll wear my red shoes.

Next year, I hope I won’t be fooled into letting the meaning of Easter slip away so easily after only one day. And maybe I can come up with a good prank.

An Easter Reboot

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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.

 

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An Easter Toast Revisited

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“We raise our glasses and drink to love that never gave up.”

Easter isn’t about defeat. Probably you’ve heard that the Cross is where the devil had his way and won and the Resurrection is where Jesus came from behind and won the victory once and for all.

Ok, maybe not in those words, but something to that effect. Let me set the record straight.

The cross was a victory. Why do you think the devil tried so hard to tempt Jesus into deviating from His mission, first in the desert in the beginning and then in the garden at the end?

But instead we get to share in the spoils of the victory Jesus won. We get a share in His inheritance. When God looks at us, He sees Jesus perfection because that perfection is now ours.

I’m not perfect and I sure don’t claim to know all the answers or have every fine point of theology figured out. But I do know that once I was without hope and now I have hope, thanks to the cross.

Once I was lost and now I’m found, thanks to the cross.

Once I was a stranger and an outcast and an outsider, but now I’m family and a child of God, thanks to the cross.

Just as God raised Jesus from the dead and defeated death, I know that God will one day raise me up to eternal life, just as surely as I know the sun will rise in the morning.

I like what I read in The Book of Common Prayer today. It says what I want to say better than I could:

“O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquillity the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever Amen.”

That’s worth raising your glass and toasting.

 

For Whitney: The Questions None of Us Can Ever Escape

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I watched most of Whitney Houston’s funeral. I kept thinking the whole time, “This shouldn’t be happening. This should be the funeral of someone much older who had lived a full life and was ready to go.” If Whitney was in the news, it should be that her comeback album was due and how she was sounding better than ever.

But that was not the case.

Kevin Costner’s tribute resonated with me the most. He said that when she was auditioning for the leading female role in the bodyguard, she was plagued with insecurities. She kept asking, “Am I good enough? Am I pretty enough? Will people like me?” Those were the questions she had asked all her life.

For so many of us, we ask those same questions. I personally have never asked if I was pretty enough, but I did wonder if I really had what it takes and if I could ever be attractive to the opposite sex.

Sadly, many look for answers in the wrong places. Too many seek to numb the pain of the questions when they can’t find the answers. Whitney’s own struggles with her own demons were ones she couldn’t overcome in the end.

I am thankful I can look at my faith and find the answers to these questions. I’m thankful that when Jesus said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life,” He meant it.

Whitney, if I could tell you anything, it would be this. Yes, you were more than good enough; you were great. You were more than pretty enough; you were beautiful. You were so much more than liked; you were loved by so many.

Not because you could sing better than just about anybody who has ever lived. Not because you were beautiful and had that breathtaking smile that made us believe what you sang about.

Not because you sold millions of albums or had sold-out concerts or had those 7 #1 singles in a row. It was because you were a child of the King. It was because Jesus loved you before you were even born and set His affections on you from the very beginning.

Jesus loved you through it all, the good and bad days. Even when you were hopelessly addicted to drugs and alcohol. Even when you had wrecked your once-glorious voice. Even when you had become a running joke to the media.

And Jesus loves you still. Nothing will ever change that.

I can’t speak to Whitney in person, but I can speak to millions of teenage Whitneys out there, crying for someone to tell them they are good enough and pretty enough and to love them for who they are.

Jesus does. He can take the most wrecked and ruined life and transform it into something more beautiful than anything you can imagine. He can take your very worst moment and turn that into the first sentence of your testimony.

Whitney, you may have lost the battle to drugs, but you won the war in Jesus. You are now free from those fears and anxieties you never could shake, those painful memories that haunted you, those voices that not even cocaine and alcohol could drown out.

As I heard in the funeral, it seems like death had the last word. But Love is so much stronger than death, for Jesus disarmed it completely when He stepped out of the grave on Easter Sunday morning.

The legacy of your music and your love for Jesus will outlive the drugs and alcohol and scandal. You fought the good fight and God looked down and saw it was time for you to come Home.

Rest in the arms of your Abba Father tonight, Whitney.

More Thoughts on Fighting From Victory (And not For It)

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chariots of fire

I normally don’t do follow-up blogs to ones I have posted. Kinda like the line about not repeating this ever again or something like that. Did I mention my brain is a little fuzzy this evening?

Someone posted a comment on my blog that got my attention. I failed to mention or say correctly that we should pray for strength. Absolutely. We should pray that God will strengthen us with power through His Holy Spirit.

It seems to me that sometimes we should claim the power that is already in us. The Bible states that the power that raised Christ from the dead is in us. It is in us because the risen Christ is in us.

The power that my sin couldn’t overcome. The power that death could not conquer. The power that the grave couldn’t hold down. That kind of power.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t pray to be strong, but rather that God would be strong through me. I want to be a vessel that God pours through, that God loves through, that God comes through.

Sometimes I know how I want to say something in my head and for whatever reason, it doesn’t quite come out in print. On a side note, I have become quite familiar with the taste of shoe leather for as many times as I have put my foot in my mouth and said really dumb things. That really makes me feel like a heel.

Pray for strength. Yes. Claim the power of the risen Christ in you. Yes. The point is that you don’t have to live defeated and downtrodden. You can live in victory because the Victor lives in you.

That’s what I am praying and claiming for myself and for all of you tonight. May God’s peace rule your hearts tonight, friends!

Boasting in weakness

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“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

When was the last time I boasted in my weaknesses? I seldom even acknowledge that I have any weaknesses. Usually I try to sell myself on what I consider my best qualities. But weaknesses? I try to hide them or pretend they don’t exist.

I truly believe that there is a power that comes only through weakness and brokenness that will never come through self-reliance or self-sufficiency. Only when I am weak, when I admit to the world that I am weak, then I am strong. And Christ in me is so much stronger than I could ever be.

What if I boasted in the fact that my social skills are slightly better than nonexistent? That I back down when I should stand up? What if I shout to the rooftops that I am weak, helpless, afraid and utterly broken? Maybe then I am at my strongest and the power that raised Christ from the dead is unleashed in me.

This is so very against the culture that it is unthinkable. But aren’t I supposed to be counter-culture? What if we are too busy fitting in and so much like the world that we have completely lost the power that can save the world? Maybe that’s why Christians are so despised. Not because we are different, but because we are not different enough.

A broken world can’t relate to perfect, holier-than-thou Christians who have it all together. They respond when they see what our brokenness looks like and when God’s grace is able to transform our weakness into His strength. Grace is what the world needs, not our perfection.