theology
Things I Love 8: Greg’s Sanity Has Left the Building
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.
Things I Love 7: The Blog Series That Wouldn’t Die (Like Freddy Krueger)
I realize that I’m getting ridiculous with this 7th installment of the blog series of things I’m thankful for, but I do really have so many things (most of them small and seemingly insignificant) that I love and am thankful for. This one starts with #146. And yes, I am that scatter-brained that every time I do one of these I have to look up the last one to see what numbers I ended with.
146) The people who read my blogs. Each and every one of you make me feel special.
147) That even if I’ve completely blown it with a friend and the worst case scenario happens and she never wants to see me or talk to me ever again (which I hope is NOT the case), then my world won’t end and life will go on and I will be okay because God’s grace is still sufficient.
148) Running my favorite trail in Crockett Park.
149) Dog-sitting (or cat-sitting) for a friend or family member. And yes, I can be hired for a reasonable fee.
150) When I realize how truly blessed I am to be alive and healthy for another day and how many won’t ever get that privilege again.
151) When I can make people smile or laugh.
152) When I see the face of someone who really gets how much God truly does love them.
153) The salty smell of the ocean air when I’m near the beach.
154) Listening to my grandfather’s old pink tube radio and thinking that it’s the same one that kept him company in his workshop all those years.
155) When I am simply overwhelmed by the joy of the Lord.
156) The sun breaking through after several grey, rainy days in a row.
157) Whenever and wherever mercy triumphs over judgment.
158) The calming sound of a ceiling fan at night that helps me drift off to sleep.
159) Seeing answered prayers for those I’ve prayed for a long time.
160) When I fail family and friends and find grace and forgiveness rather than judgment and condemnation.
161) My old comfortable pair of sandals that have taken me to many places and adventures with good friends (and kept me from getting blisters).
162) Being able to look back on friendships that ended and remember the joy and good times instead of the hurt.
163) Mixing the creamy jalapeno ranch and the salsa at Chuy’s for the perfect dip for those amazing tortilla chips.
164) The chicken tortilla soup at Chuy’s (after those chips and dip).
165) The joy of sparking new conversations at restaurants and coffee shops with strangers who become later become friends.
166) That my Abba Father still delights in me, dances with joy, and sings me to sleep every single night.
167) Sitting still in the pre-Civil War St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in downtown Franklin and feeling the peace of Christ wash over me.
To All the Rahabs in the World
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.
My 1000th Blog!!!
It’s true. I’ve written 1,000 blogs since I started this 2 1/2 years ago (it will be 3 years in July). I never thought I’d be mega-popular or successful, although I occasionally had moments of delusions where I was hoping to see massive readership. But that’s just not my style.
It’s mostly a way for me to get my feelings and thoughts out there. It’s been very therapeutic for me and, hopefully, for you as well. I stand by my statement that if I were the only one who read my own blogs, I’d still write them. It would still be worth it.
Who knows? One day I might get Jon Acuff-like numbers. I doubt it, but in this crazy world, just about anything’s possible.
My process is still usually to take a topic or a phrase that grabs my attention and run with it. I could hear a song or a speech or watch a movie and be inspired that way. Sometimes I sit down at my laptop and have no idea what’s going to come out.
I still do very little revisions or rewrites. It’s still basically a one-take deal. That might not work for everybody and it’s probably not the way professionals do it, but it’s what I’m comfortable with and it works for me.
I’m still so grateful for anyone who reads these things. I’ve been astounded and amazed by the people who tell me that what I write means so much to them. I usually have no idea. But I’m so blessed to have so many who faithfully keep up with me.
I hope you will continue to read these and pass them along to others you think might benefit from them. I will continue to write them as long as God allows. It’s not about numbers, it’s about putting what’s on my heart on these blogs. That’s all.
Here’s hoping there’s 1,000 more.
Thoughts About the Boston Bombers
I know there are some people out there that are celebrating the capture of the two individuals who allegedly set up the bomb devices that killed three and injured so many at the end of the Boston Marathon. I know many people out there want these two to die slowly and painfully so that they feel all the suffering they inflicted on their victims.
But I wonder how many out there will pray for them? I wonder how many out there really believe that Jesus really died for EVERYONE and that God’s love is truly UNCONDITIONAL. Even for terrorists and criminals.
I think so. Just ask the Apostle Paul.
I also wonder what might have happened if either of these two men had seen the love of Jesus lived out before them. If someone had come alongside of them years before and said, “I’m your friend,” not out of a need to convert somebody but out of a genuine love that expects nothing back in return.
I wonder who will mourn the tragic tale of two lives gone horribly wrong and how they got so blinded that they willingly embraced the lies and the hate that could only lead to nothing but destruction and despair.
I am saddened at the lives lost– all of them. I am glad that justice is served, but that doesn’t mean that I rejoice over death. Even God doesn’t rejoice in the death of the wicked (see Ezekiel 18:23 and Ezekiel 33:11).
Faith shouldn’t ever be about us versus them. It should be about us and God. It should be about who we are and who we would have been apart from the grace of God. It should be about seeing the best in people, not the worst, and helping them to see it, too. It should be about holding on to the Love that is stronger than Evil and Death and Hell and believing that this Love ultimately wins out in the end.
The Reason I Started Blogging in the First Place
“Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is illusion” (Brennan Manning).
When I meet Mr. Manning in heaven one day, I think I’d tell him something like this:
Thank you for teaching me about grace.
When I first started reading your books, I was very legalistic and judgmental. I looked down on others who didn’t fit my idea of a good Christian, all the while smiling at them and being nice.
Then someone told me about Ragamuffin Gospel. I don’t remember where or when exactly I first read it, but I know that started a monumental shift in my thinking about a lot of things.
Through the years, I’ve come to realize that I’m just as messed up and frail as anybody out there and that I need the grace of God every single day. I have fears and doubts and shame just like anyone else.
I’ve also been learning how to extend this amazing grace I’ve received to others. I’m learning to forgive freely. I’m learning instead of expecting others to act toward me in a certain way, to be the kind of friend that I want others to be to me.
Thank you for helping me find freedom in the knowledge that I am the Beloved of God the Father and that my Abba is very fond of me. Thank you for reminding me that nothing and no one at any time can ever or will ever change that.
Thank you for these words of yours that still wreck my world even now:
“Because salvation is by grace through faith, I believe that among the countless number of people standing in front of the throne and in front of the Lamb, dressed in white robes and holding palms in their hands (see Revelation 7:9), I shall see the prostitute from the Kit-Kat Ranch in Carson City, Nevada, who tearfully told me that she could find no other employment to support her two-year-old son. I shall see the woman who had an abortion and is haunted by guilt and remorse but did the best she could faced with grueling alternatives; the businessman besieged with debt who sold his integrity in a series of desperate transactions; the insecure clergyman addicted to being liked, who never challenged his people from the pulpit and longed for unconditional love; the sexually abused teen molested by his father and now selling his body on the street, who, as he falls asleep each night after his last ‘trick’, whispers the name of the unknown God he learned about in Sunday school.
‘But how?’ we ask.
Then the voice says, ‘They have washed their robes and have made them white in the blood of the Lamb.’
There they are. There *we* are – the multitude who so wanted to be faithful, who at times got defeated, soiled by life, and bested by trials, wearing the bloodied garments of life’s tribulations, but through it all clung to faith.
My friends, if this is not good news to you, you have never understood the gospel of grace.”
The Seven Stations of the Cross
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.
Storms
This is like one of those albums you buy where there’s a disclaimer that reads something like “all songs previously released. In other words, I’m not saying anything new.
I heard recently that there are three kinds of people: those in a storm, those coming out of a storm, and those fixin’ to get ready (as we say in the South) to head into a storm.
No one is exempt. Storms come to the just and the unjust, to the houses built on solid foundations as well as those built on sand.
What matters in a storm is being ready, because when the time comes, you won’t have time to get ready. You’ll have to be ready.
What does being ready look like?
I think it means you have Jesus in your boat.
I’m pretty sure when my storm comes I’ll be freaking out like the disciples did and telling Jesus to wake up so we can die together.
But Jesus has a way of speaking peace over the storms. And even when he doesn’t calm the storm, he calms his child in the storm.
I’d like to take credit for all that, but it’s not original to me. I’ve heard or read it all before. But these blogs are often reminders for me as much as they are for you.
So I can take credit for about two percent of this blog. It’s a good thing I’m not having to use footnotes.
Just remember he who is in you is greater than whatever’s out there, including storms.
DIY Christianity
I am a fan of Do It Yourself. I’m not that handy myself, but I admire those people who are. I just don’t personally think it’s such a good fit when it comes to faith.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for a better marriage, better job, better parents, and better health. But that’s not all there is.
At the heart of Christianity isn’t about a better me, but a brand new me. That’s borrowed from a friend of mine who said it better than I just did.
At the heart of Christianity is another five-step program or 12 steps to get a better life. What Jesus calls me to isn’t humanly possible. The faith he calls me to requires a righteousness that exceeds that of the Pharisees. It means laying down my rights and ultimately, my life. It means being perfect as God is perfect.
I believe that Christianity isn’t something I do, but something that’s done in me. The big two-dollar words for that process are sanctification and transformation. It’s what Jesus does in me.
I’m not saying I sit back and do nothing. I bring to the table a willing spirit, a cultivated heart, and an engaged mind. I bring sacrifice and surrender. I bring me.
Until I see that my faith is bigger than me and my well-being, I’m not seeing the big picture, which is God’s glory. The endgame of my faith is God receiving as much glory as possible. Fortunately for me, his glory equals my greatest good. It’s a win-win.
If someone comes up to me claiming to have every aspect of faith and belief figured out, I have to wonder. Even though I may sometimes act like I’ve got my Christianity neatly packaged into tidy little compartments, I really don’t. I’m still figuring it all out.
That’s why we have the Church. It’s a place where we figure it out together. In the end, we can’t live the faith alone, which is why we need each other. We can’t live out the faith out of our own strength, which is why we still need Jesus.
Hopefully, this made as much sense to you as it did in my head when I was typing this all out.
Or, to put it this way, “Did you get all that?”
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