A Good Word from Dietrich

“Christians are persons who no longer seek their salvation, their deliverance, their justification in themselves, but in Jesus Christ alone. They know that God’s Word in Jesus Christ pronounces them guilty, even when they feel nothing of their own guilt, and that God’s Word in Jesus Christ pronounces them free and righteous even when they feel nothing of their own righteousness…

Because they daily hunger and thirst for righteousness, they long for the redeeming Word again and again. It can only come from the outside. In themselves they are destitute and dead. Help must come from the outside; and it has come and comes daily and anew in the Word of Jesus Christ, bringing us redemption, righteousness, innocence, and blessedness. But God put this Word into the mouth of human beings so that it may be passed on to others. When people are deeply affected by the Word, they tell it to other people. God has willed that we should seek and find God’s living Word in the testimony of other Christians, in the mouths of human beings.

Therefore, Christians need other Christians who speak God’s Word to them. They need them again and again when they become uncertain and disheartened” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer).

That’s called community. If I read my Bible right, community is not optional for the believer. It’s required. It’s essential. If I really want to do more than tread water spiritually, I need brothers and sisters around me who can encourage and exhort me toward godliness in all areas. If I want to prosper, I need to be in a place where people gather together to sing, pray, hear God’s Word proclaimed, and give.

My pastor always says that the first person you lie to is yourself, so you need other people around you who will remind you of what’s true, whether you feel it’s true or not. Tonight was a good example as we broke bread together for the first time on a Wednesday night at The Church at Avenue South. It was a good Baptist gathering, so there was fried chicken, of course. But also there was plenty of fellowship.

Life can be a bit of a grind sometimes, so it helps to have people who speak life into you and lift you up in prayer. Some days, you will be in a good place, so you can return the favor. The beautiful thing about community is where I am weak, you can be strong for me, and where you are weak, I can be strong. In all our collective weaknesses, we find God’s strength is perfected.

I look forward to the next few weeks of fellowship and Bible study at my church. It will be a break from the norm, but sometimes that can be a really good thing.

Being Present to the Present

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A few years ago, I bought a set of DVDs called Sunrise Earth. They are exactly what you think they are. Each program is 50 minutes of spectacular sunrises in some of the most beautiful places in the U.S., captured without any additional music or commentary. In short, the filmmakers let nature speak for itself.

I confess that I haven’t really watched any of these until very recently. I even forgot I had them.

But I rediscovered them and found myself watching the beauty of nature unfold. Instantly, I was in North Maine at Kidney Pond, watching a mother moose with her calf cavorting in the water. I could literally feel my blood pressure falling and a feeling of calm and serenity coming over me.

I confess. Too often, I don’t see the nature in front of me because I’m too focused on where I have to be on Wednesday or something coming up on Sunday. I fret and I worry about what may or may not happen in the future or what could or should have happened in the past.

I can’t change either one of those. I can choose to live in this present moment and be alive to all that God is unveiling before me. I can choose to look out my window and see the sunset (or God forbid, actually forklift myself out of bed at the ungodly crack of dawn to witness a sunrise).

I can also choose to be thankful for the moment I’m living in. I can decide that I don’t want to be so obsessed over the future and the past that I miss this present. Jesus said that tomorrow will take care of itself. And that God will take care of you when that tomorrow comes. It won’t make one bit of difference if you worry or not, because fretting over the future won’t change one iota of it.

So I’m going to continue to be a broken record and say that I want to be fully present to where God has me right now, whether it’s everything I hoped it would be or not. I can look down at empty hands and see all that I am missing out on or I can see those hands as ready to receive all that God is preparing for me in a future that is so much bigger and wilder than anything I could ever dream of on my own. It’s all about my perspective.

It’s my choice. It’s your choice, too.

 

Tuesdays Are Still Good

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Tuesdays are awkward. They’re those misfit days between the dreaded Mondays and the (I think) vastly overrated Hump Days known as Wednesday.

But for me, Tuesdays are my favorite. That’s because Kairos is on Tuesday.

I’ve been involved with Kairos for 8 years. I’ve volunteered as a greeter for almost as long. I’ve seen lots of people come and go and been through quite a lot in that timespan.

The attendance numbers have soared way up, plummeted back to earth, then achieved a sort of happy medium. The teaching and music have remained consistently good.

The latest series was Letters to Me. It was based on the idea of what you might tell your younger self if you could somehow get hold of pen, paper, and a time machine. Or a 1985 DeLorean.

Probably, you’d tell yourself to avoid some people. You’d tell yourself not to do some things and not to go certain places.

I love the idea that there’s nothing in your past that is irredeemable. There’s nothing God can’t use and nothing God can’t turn into something good. Just ask Joseph. Or Jacob. Or Abraham.

My favorite line from Kairos is the one that says that God can take that worst moment of your life, the one you swore up and down that you would never tell ANYBODY about, and make it the very first line of your testimony.

If you’re ever in the Nashville area on a Tuesday night, check out Kairos. It’s at 7 pm in Hudson Hall at Brentwood Baptist Church, located off I-65 exit 71. It’s kinda hard to miss.

God willing, I plan to be there for at least the next 8 years.

Halfway Day

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As I’ve stated before, I am so over the whole Wednesday as “hump day” camel thing. It has run its course. The commercials were cute and clever the first 10,000 times I saw them, but they have gotten old, as well as all the other references to them.

So I propose a new moniker for Wednesday. I say we call it Halfway Day, because you’re halfway to the weekend at this point.

Ok, so maybe it won’t catch on, but I like it and I think I’ll use it even if no one else does.

I like it because I am half way to Friday. I am half way to that day that I get to sleep in and not have to fight any morning traffic.

Not that I’m complaining. I really like my job and I really like the people I work with. I do not like having to drive halfway around the world to get to work (which is an exaggeration– it only seems that way).

I’m tired, but it’s a good kind of tired. Not the kind of tired that comes from anxiety over having no money to pay the bills with. The kind of tired that comes after an honest day’s work.

So Happy Half Way Day! May the next two days be even better!

 

 

I Absolutely Refuse to Refer to Wednesday as Hump Day Anymore

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There. I got your attention, didn’t I?

I don’t have any moral or religious objections to the phrase “hump day” or even that  talking camel. I just think the whole joke’s been overdone a tad. And by a tad, I mean a gazillion times too many.

My Wednesday was just fine. How was yours?

It rained where I was. Not a downpour, but a pleasant soft-falling rain that always soothes and calms me. Except when I have to drive in it. Or more accurately, when I have to drive amongst all those others who absolutely cannot drive in the rain.

Wednesday means that the work week is halfway over. Wednesday means that only two more days remain until that blessed event called Friday and the start of the weekend.

I’m thankful for Wednesdays and not just because of being halfway to Friday. I’m thankful that I woke up this morning and that I have a job and that I still have a God who loves me in spite of my plethora of quirks and failings and broken promises.

I’m thankful for the rain that will bring growth and new life. And hopefully less humidity.

I’m thankful because I know that I already have exceeded the amount of blessings that I truly deserve. I far exceeded that a long time ago.

How many blessings do I truly deserve? None. But how many do I get in spite of that? Too many to count. Too many that I take for granted and don’t even see.

If God told me my bag of blessings was empty and I had used them all up, I’d be okay with that. If God never did one more thing for me, He’d still have been way, way better to me than I ever could have hoped or deserved. In a million lifetimes.

I call that a good Wednesday.

 

It’s Wednesday . . . Again

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Sometimes, you gotta count the little blessings. So, here I am typing this out on my iPad 3 (which may no be the latest and greatest but works just fine for me).

I have one very sleepy cat in my lap who is consenting to being used as a makeshift iPad desk for the time being.

I woke up this morning. I wasn’t bedridden or comatose. I was able to get out and enjoy a lovely (almost) spring day.

I didn’t go hungry and I had a roof over my head. It’s all good.

Most of all, I have a God who still loves me, who still wants me around, who still roots for me, who still has my best at heart, and who will never give up on me or leave me or stop until He’s finished making me exactly who He meant for me to be.

I may not have everything I want but I have everything I need. I have enough.

I have joy because I choose it and because I choose to see through a different set of eyes. Eyes that see blessings and not lack. Eyes that look for the good and not at what’s wrong.

I think that makes this a good Wednesday. Don’t you?

A Ragamuffin’s Take on the Gospel of John

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As part of a Wednesday night class I’m taking at my church, I read through each of the four gospels, ending up with the Gospel of John this past week.

As I’ve mentioned before, my favorite is the Gospel of Luke because of his attention to detail and his inclusion of those on the fringes of society. But I really, really like John.

To me, the Gospel of John is like an epic movie in the style of a Cecil B. DeMille or a David Lean. Think grand along the lines of a Lawrence of Arabia or Doctor Zhivago.

Of all the gospel writers, John is the most unapologetically apologetic (not in the sense of saying “I’m sorry,” but in the sense of defining and defending the faith). He practically puts his purpose in bold red letters: so that you may believe that Jesus is the promised Messiah and believing, find eternal life in His name.

I like to think of John 1:1-18 as a kind of overture with themes expanded upon in the rest of the book. It’s got Jesus as the incarnate Word coming to pitch His tent among us, rejected by His own, but granting life to those who recognize Who He is and believe.

It has light versus dark, life versus death, righteousness versus sin, ultimate good versus ultimate evil. And in case you’re wondering, good wins.

I love how John’s Gospel is the most love-centered gospel. John even refers to himself as “the beloved disciple” and “the one Jesus loves” because he can’t get over the fact that Jesus could love a hot-headed mess like him.

Ultimately, I love how each gospel writer injects his own personality into the stories and helps draw out different facets about the life and ministry of Jesus. The end result is a very three- (or four-) dimensional portrait of the Messiah.

On a totally random note, I wonder if John read the other Gospels and said something like “Oh, you have the ascension of Jesus in yours? That’s cute. I have the freakin’ vision of Heaven in my book.”

Probably not. But that’s just the way my warped mind works.

I still highly recommend reading through all four Gospels as often as humanly possible. Those books never get old.

Yes, It’s Hump Daaaaay (and Yes, I’m Sick of That Geico Commercial. Enough Already)

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it’s Wednesday (in case you were one of the two people living under a rock who didn’t know what hump day was). Currently, I am in one of my many therapy sessions with Doctor Lucy, per usual, sleeping on the job. At least her rates are very affordable and she accepts my insurance.

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I am at peace with the world. Or at least my world. I am very content with where I am and what I have, knowing that I am smack dab in the middle of God’s plan for me and that I am in Christ and He is in me. Every promise of God belongs to me and there is nothing that I lack. Every single thing I need for life to the full and holiness is mine.

So why is that not enough for me most of the time? Why do I always want more than what God offers in the moment? Why can’t I let go of the trinkets in my hands to receive eternal treasures?

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I don’t have any good answers.

i do know that I am still living my miracle, surrounded by a cloud of witnesses and spurred on daily by family and friends who speak blessings and life and healing and peace into my being.

Joy is still found not by looking ahead or looking back but from seeing the now and being present in this moment. It is so elusive to those with no time or patience for it but is found by those who need it most. When they need it the most.

 

Life is still good, God is still great, and I am still so very blessed.

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It’s Wednesday

I keep thinking about how Aaron Bryant described the father in the prodigal son parable. Especially about how radical his expression of love for his son was.

The son had his return speech down-pat. He would be a servant and work his way back into his father’s good graces. At least this way, he would have three square meals and a roof over his head. Better than that pig slop and pig sty he came from. Literally.

What did the son see? Did he see his father standing far off with his arms crossed and a look of disappointment or anger or shame? Did he see his father turn his back away to not see him coming down the road?

No.

He saw his father take off running down the road, tears streaming, and practically tackle him in the biggest bear hug ever in human history.

From a cultural standpoint, there are several things wrong. First of all, grown men didn’t run back then. At least not respectable ones. Second, the right thing to do would be to disown the son and have a funeral and consider him dead.

I think the definition of prodigal fits the father more than the son. It’s lavish, excessive, extravagant, and almost wasteful. That describes perfectly this love the father had for his wayward son.

That’s the kind of love the Father has for us. A love that caused Him to take on the lowly flesh of a slave and take that long, arduous, painful march to the Cross to die a humiliating and criminal death for you and me.

It’s Wednesday. You’re halfway through another week, looking forward to another weekend that will probably be over all too soon with another Monday right behind.

Remember that you are greatly blessed, highly favored, and (best of all) deeply loved. Your Abba is still very much fond of you and always will be.

May that be what carries you through Thursday and into the weekend and beyond.