shame

Crazy Little Thing Called Fear

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I’ve heard that the command “Don’t be afraid” (or some variation of it) occurs 365 times in the Bible. Then I read somewhere else that it’s nowhere near that many times. I’ve read arguments on both sides.

First of all, is it really necessary to argue over everything? Is it so all-important to be proven right all the time?

I know this command is used more than the commands to “Love others” or “Tithe more” or any other. I know it’s because we’re fearful people, prone to worrying. I’ve known fear for much of my own life. Too much in fact.

Jon Acuff mentioned that his favorite verse about fear comes in Matthew where Jesus tells us we are worth more than birds, whom the Father feeds and clothes and takes care of. He uses the most common example so there’s practically nowhere I can go without a visual reminder of why it’s safe to trust Jesus instead of listening to my fears.

Fear has kept me bound to the past, to shame, to the humdrum. Fear has kept me from stepping out on adventures and trying new things.

Maybe fear has kept you from asking that certain someone out on a date.

Maybe fear has kept you from going deeper in your marriage and dealing with all those unresolved issues.

Maybe fear has kept you bound to a job you hate, to a routine that feels more like a rut, to a life without much meaning.

There’s no such thing as a comfortable adventure or a safe quest. Bravery isn’t the absence of fear, but going forward even though you feel like crying and throwing up and passing out all at the same time.

I’ve always loved this definition of courage: “Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.”

May you find that the perfect love of Jesus really does cast out all fear.

May you step out in faith even in the midst of fear to find out the bridge built on planks of thanksgiving and joy really does hold (thanks to Ann Voskamp for that one) and that Jesus will be with you in the fieriest furnaces and the darkest nights and the coldest days.

Fear ends. The love of Jesus never will.

That’s where my hope lies.

Pre-WordPress Writings Part 5

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An poem I wrote back in the day

18 March 2010

 
The Prodigal is You 
 
How tragic is the mess I made 
And I no better than a slave 
Yet to me the world You gave 
The Prodigal is You 
 
How blessed just to be the one 
For whom the Father-King would run 
To kiss my cheek and call me, “Son” 
The Prodigal is You 

You wore the robe that I defiled 
And gave Your own to this mean child 
Your love carried me all the while 
The Prodigal is You 

No more fear

29 March 2010

 

I have a confession to make. Well, another confession. I have been afraid for most of my adult life. I have lived in fear, which is not really living at all, but existing. Passing time. Waiting it out. I have not taken chances. I have played it safe. I have taken the road well-traveled and regretted every single time not taking that other road. I have been nice and timid and ignored, and I deserved to be ignored, because I was boring. 

I am so done with fear. Do you hear me world? Do you hear me, Satan? I refuse to let fear dictate anymore who I am and what I do. I refuse to sit quietly when I should take a stand. I will take chances, because the old motto says “Those who risk, win.” I will learn to live my life to the fullest and be willing to fall on my face a few times. 

Those of you who knew me a month ago, that is not me anymore. I am so done with that life. This is me now, standing bodly and proclaiming that MY GOD HAS LOVED ME PERFECTLY AND THAT PERFECT LOVE CASTS OUT ALL FEAR!!!!!

You Know My Name

12 March 2010

 

When I am alone and nobody seems to care, 
Lord, You know my name. 
When I am ignored in a crowd, 
Lord, You know my name. 
When I am screaming inside with a smile on my face, 
Lord, You know my name. 
When I have one more step left in me before I quit, 
Lord, You know my name. 
When I have all that I want and am still empty, 
Lord, You know my name. 
When I forget You and walk away from Your promises, 
Lord, You know my name. 
When I am in heaven and see You waiting for me there, 
Lord, You know my name. 
For it is written in stone and on Your heart.

A Little Sunday Perspective

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“Look carefully at your call, brothers and sisters. By human standards, not many of you are deemed to be wise. Not many are considered powerful. Not many of you come from royalty, right? But celebrate this: God selected the world’s foolish to bring shame upon those who think they are wise; likewise, He selected the world’s weak to bring disgrace upon those who think they are strong. God selected the common and the castoff, whatever lacks status, so He could invalidate the claims of those who think those things are significant. So it makes no sense for any person to boast in God’s presence. Instead, credit God with your new situation: you are united with Jesus the Anointed. He is God’s wisdom for us and more. He is our righteousness and holiness and redemption. As the Scripture says: “If someone wants to boast, he should boast in the Lord” (1 Cor. 1:26-31).

Hi. My name is Greg and I used to be a nobody with no hope, no purpose, and no future. I was hopelessly lost and about as far from God as humanly possible.

Then Jesus found me.

Those of you who know my story might be scratching your heads right now and asking, “Weren’t you 7 when you got saved? What bad things could you possibly have done at age 7?”

Well, according to the Bible, anyone without Christ is dead in sins and alienated from God. That was me.

I look back at when Jesus found me. I don’t remember the exact day or feelings I had. I do know Jesus changed me and has been transforming me ever since. I do know I got a direction, a purpose, a new name, and a future.

According to Forbes or GQ or Entertainment Weekly, I am a nobody. But Jesus knows my name. That more than makes up for looking like a fool and an idiot in the eyes of the world for what I believe and how I live my life.

Jesus knows my name.

I can’t get over that.

At least when I’m not caught up in mind games about how this person may or may not like me. Or how I might have offended this or that person.

If I have everything the world has to offer and don’t have Jesus, I really have nothing. I lose. If I have Jesus and absolutely nothing else, I have everything. I win.

I am so forgetful about what really matters. The best things in life aren’t free; they’re not even things. They are the people God brings into your life, whether for one hour, one day, one month, or a lifetime. They are the ones who remind you of who you really are and Whose you really are.

You can replace things. You can never replace people once they’re gone from your life.

So that’s why I can say I’m blessed. I’m rich in the currency of love. I am living my miracle every day, the miracle of seeing blessings everywhere, of finding joy in every place and circumstance, of always finding God right where I am if I only know where and how to look.

It truly doesn’t matter if people remember my name after I’m gone. It won’t matter if no one ever finds me attractive or desirable. My Abba is very fond of me, has chosen me, made me His child, and forever called me His Beloved.

That’s enough for me to last a lifetime. That’s enough for a lifetime of lifetimes. I’m good.

An Invitation

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believe-ticket
Imagine you go to the mailbox. It’s a crisp autumn day and the leaves are just starting to fall off the trees.

Inside the mailbox, you see the usual assortment of bills, ads, junk mail, and more bills. But one stands out. It’s a very ornate envelope with your name handwritten in calligraphy.

Inside you find a golden ticket with your name engraved, inviting you to a special banquet. Imagine the fanciest restaurant you’ve ever eaten at times ten and this is where you’re invited.

Jesus has invited you to dine with Him.

Some will decline. Some will make excuses and find reasons not to come. Some will put careers or possessions or relationships ahead of this invitation.

Maybe you feel like declining for different reasons.

You say, “How can I possibly afford this?”

There’s a slip inside the envelope that reads, “Paid in Full.”

You think, “Does this person know who he’s inviting? I’m nobody. I don’t matter to anyone. If I died tomorrow, nothing would be different and no one would notice my absence.”

Or you think, “Does he know what I’ve done. How I’ve lied and cheated and stolen and broken promises? How I’ve left a train-wreck of destroyed lives and broken people?”

You know you don’t deserve an invitation. I didn’t. I offered up every excuse I could think of. “No one wants me there.” “I ruin everything I touch.” “People are better off without me in their lives, or better yet, would have been better off if they’d never met me.”

The invitations kept coming.

“I know who you are and what you’ve done. You matter enough to me for me to purchase your place at My table with My own life and My own blood.”

Do you know Jesus wants you? Do you believe it? Do you understand He thought you were to die for? Do you fully grasp that Jesus loves you in this moment, just as you are and not as you should be or could be?

All you have to do is say YES to His invitation and He steps into Your life, into the messiest, most broken parts you’ve been too ashamed to show to anyone. He starts bringing healing and wholeness and purpose and direction to your life.

Will you say YES? It’s up to you. No one will force you to go. But this offer won’t last forever. Trust me. Whatever you think is more important doesn’t begin to compare with this feast, with Who’s offering it to you.

Just you think about that for a while.

To All the Rahabs in the World

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I’ve blogged about Rahab before. Maybe because she’s got such a beautiful story. Maybe because I can relate to her brokenness so well. Or maybe it’s because it shows God at his redemptive best.

Rahab was a prostitute who hid the Israelite spies and lied about their whereabouts to the local police. She led them to safety on the promise that they take care of her family when they come to invade the city. Note: she didn’t ask for herself, just her family.

Rahab’s past is synonymous with shame. She had seen her life spiral downward into something she could never have imagined as a little girl. Anyone else in her position could have turned hard and cold and not even let those foreign spies in.

But there was something about them that got her attention. Something about those stories of their god who had led them through the desert and defeated their enemies. All her own gods had failed her. Maybe there was something different about this Yahweh.

When people look at people like her, all they see is something broken. Something to discard, to throw away. God sees the perfect piece that will fit into his master plan of redemption. He sees the mother of Boaz, the father of Jesse, the father of King David, out of whose line came Jesus.

I love the saying that broken pieces make the best stained glass windows. It’s true. The best testimonies come from the worst moment of your life when you saw that God could stoop low enough to find you in your filth and raise you up. That he could save anyone, even you.

So to all the Rahabs in the world, just remember this. You have a place in God’s story. You have a place in God’s heart. You are not a dirty whore. You are a beloved daughter, a beloved son, a beloved child of God.

Your Abba is indeed very fond of you.

 

The Seven Stations of the Cross

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stations

 

Tonight, I went to a Prayer Experience at Brentwood Baptist Church. It was about praying through the seven stations of the cross. I know that the Roman Catholic Church has 14, but we’re Baptists, so seven for us is a good start.

I didn’t spend too much time at each station, but just enough to grasp a little more of what the Cross meant for me.

I’ve always known about Jesus dying on the cross to save me, but I guess I never really let myself go there in a really deep and meaningful way. If you do, you find shame and humiliation. You find excruciating pain and suffering. You find the most agony one man has ever endured in the history of mankind.

I became aware that it was my humiliation and shame that Jesus bore. It was my sin that he carried on that cross and it was my death that he died. I should have been up there, nailed to that piece of wood.

I realized for the first time that Jesus doesn’t want my sympathy for what happened to him there. He doesn’t want me to feel sorry for him up there. He wants me. All of me. My heart, my mind, my will, my life, all of it.

Just as Simon of Cyrene picked up Jesus’ cross and carried it for him, I’m called to pick up a cross and carry it. That’s what being a disciple means.

Jesus would have done all of it for me, even if I were the only one in the world who needed it. That thought still astounds me. He loves me that much.

So don’t skim over this part of the story. Allow yourself to go there emotionally and mentally and spiritually. Stand in front of the cross and witness the suffering Savior and grieve with his followers. Watch as he is laid in the tomb. Remember that all of this is for you.

Then you can celebrate Easter Sunday.

A Good Lesson from A Lost Key

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I went walking on the beach today in my ever-so-stylish swimming trunks. Imagine the polar opposite of speedos and you have an idea of what they looked like.

I headed out to the beach and went about waist-deep into the ocean. I waded like that for a while before I remembered to reach down and see if my key to the condo was still in my pocket. It was not.

I had a moment of panic. Or more accurately, a minor heart attack. I was thinking of how my keys were probably halfway to the Bahamas, or wherever the next destination is across from the ocean in South Carolina. I was figuring out in my head how much the fee for a lost key would be.

When I got back to my beach chair and looked through my backpack, there my key was where I left it when I took it out of my pocket. Apparently, I outsmarted myself again.

Sadly, this was not the first time I was too smart for my own good. On a college and career retreat to Panama City, I was convinced that I had lost my watch on the beach, only to find it in my bed. After much panicking and searching and fretting.

I was reminded tonight of the prodigal on his way back home to see his father. He was thinking, “I have lost everything. How am I going to explain that? What excuse could I possibly use to keep from getting unceremoniously thrown out the door?”

Little did he know that his father was already running down the road to meet him, not caring about all the money he wasted. All the father cared about was that his son had come home.

God doesn’t care about your wasted days and years. He doesn’t care about how you misused all those gifts he gave you. All he cares about is seeing you come home.

I worried for nothing. I made a big deal out of nothing. All my fears turned out to be groundless lies.

Whatever is keeping you from coming back to God is a lie. As big as your sin or mistake or failure, God’s grace is bigger. A past of shame and scars and waste is no barrier to the great love of God. There is nothing to heinous or scandalous that he won’t forgive. Nothing.

Your Father God is calling you. Will you come home?

The Biggest Loser

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“Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don’t see many of “the brightest and the best” among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn’t it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these “nobodies” to expose the hollow pretensions of the “somebodies”? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have—right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start—comes from God by way of Jesus Christ. That’s why we have the saying, “If you’re going to blow a horn, blow a trumpet for God.” (1 Corinthians 1:26-31)

I remember back in elementary school at recess, I always dreaded the selection process. That’s when the team captains (usually the most popular and most athletic) chose teams. I generally was picked near the end.

But what’s really bad was to be the one not chosen. The one that the first team captain said to the other, “Oh, you can have him (or her). I’ve got all the people I want.”

To be chosen last is bad enough. But to not be chosen at all is worse. Nobody wants to feel left out or unwanted. Everybody at some level wants to be appreciated and validated and acknowledged for their own unique gifts and talents.

Jesus wanted you. Jesus wanted me. He picked you and me, not because He had to, but because He wanted us. He wants us to be a part of his team and to be a part of the work he’s doing.

God picked those who are considered foolish and weak. God picked the nobodies of the world. Look at the twelve disciples. Most leaders would have picked the cream of society and the smartest, prettiest, powerful people around. Not Jesus. He picked fishermen and radicals and tax collectors, none of whom had much of an education.

That’s comforting. At least to me.

It’s also a warning. If we get caught up in how wise we think we are, God might just send someone to confound our wisdom. If we get too hung up on our own strength, God just might send some to shame us. And if we strut around thinking how great we are, God might just send a few nobodies to adjust our perspective.

But for most of us most of the time, it’s good to know that Jesus wants us around. He wants to use people exactly like you and me to reach the world, to be the people to be his hands and feet, to take this great message of reconciliation and hope to those who need it most.

To the world, you may be a nobody. You may never win any awards or make millions of dollars or make any who’s who lists. But in God’s eyes, you are a treasure beyond price. You are worth every drop of Jesus’ blood. You are the apple of your Abba’s eye. You are the Beloved.

I don’t know about you, but that’s enough for me.

PS Thanks again to Mike Glenn for inspiring this blog.

 

Baggage Part II: Polaroids of the Past

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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.

Some thoughts about worship

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Jesus didn’t die for our good works or good intentions. He didn’t die to make good people better. Or for that matter to make bad people good. He died to make dead people come alive. He died for our dark places, our wicked deeds. He came to take our blame and our shame and give us His perfection. Jesus died to make us worshippers.

John Piper says in effect, Worship, not missions, is the purpose of His people. The reason that missions exists is because for so many peoples, worship does not. People can’t worship a God they don’t know. People can’t worship a god made in their image that is too small to save or love or rescue anybody. Redeemed people worship a real God. Really when you look at it, missions and evangelism are both forms of worship– declaring the great worth and works of God to all peoples.

Worship is Romans 12:1-2, offering our bodies as living sacrifices. In the Old Testament, part of worship was offering sacrifices like bulls and goats. Since Jesus did away with the old sacrificial system, what we bring as our offering of worship is ourselves. Worship is giving to God our bodies, our souls, our true selves. Worship is giving back to God what was already His and acknowledging that He owns it all, including us.

Worship is James 1:27. When we give to the widow and the orphan, we give to Jesus. Whatever we do for the least of these, we do for Jesus. Jesus didn’t choose the popular or strong or wise; He chose the throwaways of the world, the lepers, the outcasts and the abandoned to be His worshippers. Worship also means keeping yourself unstained by the world, to be set apart and different. Worship is either a 24/7 lifestyle or it’s nothing at all.

Worship is taking your two loaves and five fishes and watching Jesus turn it into a meal for thousands. When we give what little we call our own to Jesus, He takes it and not only blesses the multitudes, but gives back to us more than we can contain.

Worship means to kiss, to adore and to sacrifice. It is saying that God is supremely worthy of all of me. It means I will give my life away on a daily basis for the Kingdom of God. It means that every breath is a praise and every thought a prayer.

Honestly, after all this, I still don’t really know what worship is. I’m not very good at it. Or I should say I am not very good at worshipping the right thing, i.e. Jesus of Nazareth who died on the cross and rose triumphantly from the grave and has all authority in heaven and on earth, including authority over my life.

In the New Testament, when people worshipped, they fell on their faces. In the book of Revelation, the apostle John fell on his face before Jesus as a dead man. That’s what I pray for: to die to everything else, to fall on Jesus, and live to Him, with Him and for Him only.

As always, I believe. Help my unbelief.