To Live is Christ

Here is a post based on a devotional I did a couple weeks ago. I hope it blesses you.
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I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me.

Philippians 1:20-22a

 

I imagine that most Christians have heard this text a few times in their life. But if we are honest with ourselves, I don't think that is how we live or even how we want to live. It was about this time last year that hurricane Ike swept through Houston leaving power out for many for a week or more. By day five, I was seriously contemplating the whole Tower of Babel concept. I like creature comforts. Video games, TV, Internet, AC. I can live without them but there is a reason I don't go camping. For me, and I think American Christians on the whole, it can be so easy to get caught up in our things.

The average American Christian sees the Christian life as being a good person, go to church, and raise good kids. None of that is bad but it makes life so small and so safe. This is not the life that the early Church was called to and it is certainly not the pattern Christ set for us. In fact, when Jesus was tempted by Satan himself all of the temptations were to make Christ's life easier. Turning the stone into bread was a life of luxury, a life without need. Jumping off the temple was a life of invulnerability, a life without pain. And bowing to Satan was a life of fame, a life without anonymity. Christ turned away from all of this, even though He deserved all of those things. Instead of luxury, Jesus dies poor with even the few possessions He had being taken from Him. Instead of invulnerability, Jesus was beaten and died the most painful of all deaths. And instead of fame, He died abandoned by His friends and mocked by the lowest common denominator. All that Satan offered to Jesus were things that He had possessed in Heaven. It is not that Satan tempted Jesus with bad things but with bad timing, to seek paradise on earth. To seek Jesus' comfort over God's will. Instead, Jesus sought the will of His Father above His own life so that we might be saved and God would be glorified.

And this is what it means when we say to live is Christ: to pursue the will of God with single-minded purpose. Again, if I am honest, I would have to say that my pursuit is seldom single-minded. What holds me back, same as you, is sin. Whether it is ours or another's, we can neither receive nor grant forgiveness. The pain or the guilt seems too great. Ultimately, it comes from our lack of belief that Jesus is big enough to deal with our sins, or that the problem is too small or insignificant for Him to care. And yet the God we serve is He who knows both the number of stars in the sky and the number of hairs on your head for He made them both. The Creator of all things, who knows all things, chose you and me and He did it with full knowledge of who we are.

Here is this huge thing that we miss about Jesus and the cross, mainly because we know how the story ends. The cross is the most painful and despised death in human history and it was reserved for only the worst offenders. For the Jews, it signified being cursed by God. By any standard of the ancient world, the cross meant defeat. This is why Peter, while being used by Satan, spoke out against Jesus when Jesus spoke of the death He would die. For Peter and the others, any work Christ would attempt would be undone by the cross. And yet, God turned the worst possible defeat into the greatest victory, to the point that the cross is always the center of the gospel. And this is what the God we serve has always done and continues to do: He turns our biggest weakness or shame or defeat or sin, by His redemptive work, into an example of His grace. Abraham, childless till his late nineties, is known as a father of nations. Moses, having a speech impediment, spoke for God to Israel. Gideon, a coward, was called a mighty warrior and led 300 against hundreds of thousands. David committed adultery and murdered to cover it up. Elijah ran away in fear of Jezebel. Peter denied Christ, himself. Paul persecuted the Church. And the list goes on and continues to grow because this is what our God does and He is very good at it.

And so, with a God who is so much greater than we can fathom, how can we remain quiet about Him? There is work to be done, to proclaim the gospel and encourage the brethren. There is no retirement plan, at least not this side of Heaven. But one day, we will walk golden streets with those who have gone before us. And there, we will get to see Him whom we love face to face and hear Him say those words I long to hear: "Well done, you good and faithful servant." And we really will rest with Him forever.

 

Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 3:13 & 14

Purpose and Practice

Well, my month of mourning is done. Time to get back on the stick. Here is the question that I am dealing with: what am I going to do with the rest of my life?

The first part of the question deals with purpose. I went to Temple to help start a church and that went belly up in less than six months. I don't regret that decision but I am still a little gun shy, I guess. I mean that I still want to serve God by building up the Church universal but I don't know how to go about it. If I didn't have to worry about the lease in Temple, I would see about joining up with a church planting organization. As it stands right now, I have no idea what is next. I think I can be okay with that, it just means that now is a time to prepare for whatever comes next. Time for spiritual and physical self-discipline.

The second part of the question deals with practicality. I need money to survive so that I can serve. And I just don't see myself getting a career that is not in ministry. Frankly, I don't do well in jobs I don't care about and I find it harder and harder to care about any job that isn't directly ministry. But a funny thing did happen to me, in that Holy Spirit sort of way. I typed in a Google search, asking God what job He wanted me to have. And the first item on the list was about monetizing my blog, among other things. So, before this month is through, I am going to get my own blog address and see what there is to see. I'll post an update with the new address when that is ready. In the mean time, I'll have to make money more traditionally. We'll see what I can scrounge up.

I am 28, single, and back living with my parents. A year from now, I have no idea where I might be. But if 27 was any indication, it should be a wild ride. I hope it will be interesting to the audience, too. But mostly, I hope to serve You well.

The Short Version

It has been two months since my last post. Though I have written things in that time and am in the process of writing more, there has been no utilization of this blog. So, I might as well put up an update:

My car broke down. I was on my way to Abilene when my car overheated without warning. Unfortunately I was on the road and needed to get back to town. So my radiator was totally busted (which turned out to be not that big of a deal) but the heat caused damage to my engine. My brother's brother-in-law is working on it but for now I am sans ride.

I called my friend a false teacher. In case someone is reading this and is not a Christian, what that means is I said that he was worse than a non-believer. So yeah, we're not hanging out anymore. For the record, the teaching which he promotes is a false gospel and not a mere difference of opinion. But yeah, for my birthday I got to see a friendship of nearly 10 years die.

I turned 28. Almost thirty. I feel like I should be mature and responsible. Not so much.

I moved back to Houston. I was delivering pizza and helping my buddy with his church. With those two things gone, there was not much to keep me in Temple.

So yeah, busy. Also, those events happened, from start to finish, in a little less then 2 weeks. Only 14 days for my life to disassemble. I hurt still and am waiting to see what God has in plan next. My mentor said something to the effect that when God removes one thing it is to replace it with something better. I don't know what that will be but I do want to find out, and soon.

Unless its patience.

Seeing the Whole Board

I remember watching this episode of the West Wing (over which I will probably still get grief from my very conservative father; Dad, it didn't turn me into a liberal, I promise) and the president and Rob Lowe's character were playing chess. And Sheen kept reminding Lowe to look at the whole board. It has stayed with me because I like to think strategically. What action will lead to the greatest good for the most people. And by and large I do okay, unless I am under quite a bit of stress or I think I have seen the task I need to complete to finish my larger plan. Case in point: when I was a kid, 12 or so, I was playing against my cousin in a game of Connect Four. We were several rounds in and then I saw it, the series of moves I needed to make to win. So I went after it with reckless abandon, and very quickly lost. While I went with a slow, sneaky route to victory, my cousin, seeing my distraction, went for a more direct path. That surety of victory replaced with the reality of defeat has stayed with me over 15 years because it reminds me of just how focused I can become on whatever it is. Then I stop looking at the whole board. Kind of like this last week.

I was in quite a bit of a funk this last week, mostly on Tuesday and Wednesday but a little for the rest of the week and on into this one as well. I didn't really think about what might be the underlying cause. I had some trouble with lust on Tuesday and I just wouldn't let go of the guilt or shame. I wasn't accepting the grace of God, even though I know better than to reject it. It doesn't serve Him to beat myself up or help me to avoid failure in the future. It's pretty meaningless. But the funk remained. And it didn't come together for me until Wednesday night what was going on. Hank had a meeting with the elders of our church Wednesday night about the direction of the congregation and his vision for it. It was one of those meetings that could well determine the future of our church for the long term, as well as what tasks we have before us in the short term. And even with knowing that this meeting was going to happen, even with knowing what is at stake, it didn't occur to me that I might face spiritual oppression leading up to it. And not just me but our whole crew. I forget about the reality of spiritual warfare. I stop looking at the whole board.

I was listening to John Piper this last week ad he was talking about prayer. He used the analogy that prayer is like a war-time walkie-talkie. He went on to say that the reason we have so much trouble with prayer is that we use it as if it were an intercom to get the attention of our servant. This just makes sense for the Christian. The Christian longs for Heaven, to see Jesus face to face, no more pain, no more tears, just unending joy and fellowship. Yet we are still on Earth, and with that being the case there must be a good reason why God has not called us home yet. And that must be to serve Him, to share His love and His grace to a world that is dying. And we will need His power to do it. So prayer is us on Earth radioing into Home Base for new orders or back-up or a resupply. It's not us asking for things to make us comfortable but that which makes us combat ready.

Even though I remained oblivious to what is now very obviously a spiritual attack, I was useful, for which I praise God. Nor do I think missing such attacks would make one useless. The issue is that if you are a soldier and you start taking fire, if you ignore it you will get shot. And I took more than a few hits because of my lack of awareness. All of that is to say, Lord, teach me to be more observant and to pray more in whatever circumstances I find myself in. I need Your wisdom and Your power so I can fight well, so I can bring glory to Your Name. May Your Name be exalted in my life.

Inner Battles

"We are the middle children of history, with no purpose or place. We have no great war, or great depression. The great war is a spiritual war. The great depression is our lives." –Tyler Durden, Fight Club.

So, I was watching Fight Club with my friends the other night. It remains probably the most quotable movie of my generation. But I noticed something last night that I had not noticed previously. There is about a 5 minute stretch with humping sounds in the background. This was strange to me because I forgot about it. I remembered the brief sex scene, but not that. Which just reminds me how desensitized I became while looking at porn. Also, I was watching with a mixed crowd, which always makes such things more awkward, at least for me. But all that is mostly a side note. Here's the real deal: I increasingly wanted to get drunk and get in a fight. And I don't fight. Or drink.

So, after we stopped for the night, I went for a walk so I could think and pray. Not to calm down, because I wasn't mad. It felt like there were embers in my belly that needed just a little fuel to become a fire. And I needed that fire; I just didn't know what for. Here is what I learned:

I have always been afraid of a fight, but not simply because I am afraid to get hurt. I am 6'4" and about 285 pounds. Suffice it to say, I have always been big for my age. And I have, for as long as I can remember, been afraid to hurt others. It's strange, because I see that same fear in my friends' kids. They aren't worried about hurting kids bigger than themselves but they are for the smaller ones. And I am surrounded by those smaller than myself. What if I break them?

What that has resulted in is a subconscious desire to weaken myself so I would be easier to restrain. So I didn't drink or smoke or curse, I never made myself stronger, and I did everything I could to not be intimidating. And this is not the only reason I avoided things but the more I look at it the more I see it as the underlying reason. Now, I'm not saying any of this is evil or wrong, but what it is for me is refusing to grow because I don't want the added responsibility that being stronger would mean. Because what if I fail? What if I break someone?

Now, it's been a few weeks since that night and here are some things that have happened since then: I have been trying alcohol. I have sampled a few beers and a Crown Royal my brother got for me years ago and I tried a cigar. So far, they have not been to my taste. And if the end result is that I try these things and nothing is to my liking, I can live with that. If I stick with root beer instead of real beer, it won't be out of fear but preference. But here is what I did not expect, and that is that I am not as afraid of heights anymore. I was hanging out with my friends last Saturday and saw a ledge to jump off of that was probably ten feet off the ground. So I jumped it. And it was fun. I was walking over a bridge that was at least 30 feet off the ground and I looked over at the ground. And it was okay. And just in general, I am less afraid because I don't have to fear myself; I just have to trust God. Trust Him that He will keep me in check but also that He is actually bringing about all things for the good of those who love Him. And Lord, you know I love You, and I am so grateful that You love me and are teaching me to love You better and better. It's a good life. Let us press on.

The Thief on the Cross

Not much to do, hanging there. The pain of it makes minutes into hours. The insults of the crowd don't help much. As if the pain, as if the price of my life weren't enough. So I take what shots I can. I have never been a man of words, certainly no poet or philosopher. But right now curses flow from my lips like water down a stream. Any fool who gets close enough gets dowsed by a different fluid. Just trying to cool off some hot heads.

I listen to the others with me, too. The guy on the far side gives as good as he gets. But the one in the center stays pretty quiet. I know some folks aren't too chatty because of the pain. But I don't hear him sobbing either. Breathing hard when he can. Gasping for breath on occasion. So when he does open his mouth, I listen:

"Forgive them, they know not what they do."

Forgive them? Them? "You're the one on the cross, buddy." No reply.

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For all of the people who pass by the spectacle which is a crucifixion, you don't see a whole lot of acquaintances to the soon-to-be deceased. I look anyway. No family in town, not that they would be here even if they were local. A few friends, though friends like mine probably wouldn't want to hang around with so many soldiers. But I keep looking, hoping someone will want to say goodbye. What else is there to do?

As I'm looking, I see a group work its way to the front. It's an odd group, certainly for the occasion. It's mostly women, and old women at that. You don't see women at a crucifixion. It doesn't happen. They may pass by on the way to wherever they're going, but they don't linger, certainly not in groups, and definitely not at the front.

They reach the front of the mob, right by the center cross. And they just stand there, weeping. It's not too long after they start that I hear the man in the middle say, "Dear woman, here is your son." Then, a little pause. "Here is your mother." He spoke clearly, though tired. And he spoke with compassion, as though their pain was greater than his own.

After he spoke I saw the man with them, pretty young, turn to the woman crying the most. She must have been center guy's mom. I wonder if my Mom will shed any tears for me. I wonder if she'll ever find out. Anyway, the old woman turned to the young man and seemed to nearly collapse onto him.

The group stayed a bit longer but then the young man started to lead them away. I think the man in the center motioned for him to do so because the young man gave a little nod. So away they went, at least to the back. But I don't think much could have dragged them away from this scene. And I started to ask myself, "What is so special about this man?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

And then I heard a name: Jesus. And I remembered a day many months ago. I was in a large crowd, so large people were getting trampled on. My kind of crowd. It is hard to notice someone reaching for your pouch when five other people are already pressing into you. I didn't even know why the crowd had gathered, not until I heard Him. "Be on your guard," were the first words out of His mouth. I would have run right then if there had been any room to do so. Suffice it to say, He had my attention.

He spoke about avoiding hypocrisy and that all our actions would be revealed. Wish I had paid more attention then or I might not be hanging here right now. And then He said not to fear those who can kill you but He who can throw you into Hell. And He spoke about our lives having value in the eyes of God. And then, He said, "I tell you, whoever acknowledges me before men, the Son of Man will also acknowledge him before the angels of God." And for a moment, even through the crowd, I could swear He was looking right at me. But then the moment passed.

The Man spoke some more and I listened a little. As the crowd dispersed, they called Him Jesus. I've tried to forget Him, everything He said. That look. I didn't make much that day anyway. And now, here I am, all of five feet from Him. And even now, at the very end, my life still has value to Him. What kind of man forgives those who mock and kill Him? I've never met the like, but surely no one who deserves to die, surely not like this. They called Him the King of the Jews. Maybe they were right.

As I am thinking about all this, the guy on the right chimes in again. He heckles Jesus, saying, "Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us!" And then I surprise myself: "Don't you fear God, since we are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong." It all just flowed out. And as I paused to think about what I had just said, I believed every word. And I knew what I had to ask for next. "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And it was quiet for just a moment but that moment seemed to stretch on forever. And finally, He answered, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise." And then it gets dark.

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I'm not too old, but old enough to have seen some strange weather: fierce wind and rain; thunder and lightning; the roof torn off one house while the house next door is fine; clouds so thick they look like the gates of heaven. But I have never seen anything like this. It was a clear day, no clouds, a little wind. And I blinked. I closed my eyes to blue skies and opened them to pitch black. It wasn't like night. There was no moon, no city lights. It was so surprising that out of reflex I tried to rub my eyes. I couldn't reach them, of course.

At first, some of the people thought it was an eclipse. But a minute passed, then two, then ten, and still no light. Some of the soldiers, after the shock wore off, tried to light torches. And it looked like the light was being sucked into the darkness. It was eerie and quiet, broken only by the sounds of our breathing. And the sounds Jesus was making. I don't know that I could describe it. He had been tired before, but now it was like He was burdened, deeply so. He had been sad before but now it was as if He were in the greatest anguish a man could know. It was almost as if He had lost the best thing He ever had and was given the worst thing He could ever imagine. And it was like this for hours. To hear such sounds…no one spoke. Everyone there just bore silent witness. Finally, Jesus spoke, loud and clear, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." And just like that, Jesus died.

It was quiet again. A centurion broke the silence: "Surely, he was a righteous man." I don't say anything, don't even nod my head. What more could I add to what I have just witnessed? The crowd started to disperse, beating their breasts as they went. They came for a spectacle and they certainly got it, just not what they expected. They didn't care to ridicule anyone anymore today, to see anyone else die. Not everyone left, though. I could see that Jesus' friends were still off at a distance. Even now, they couldn't let go. I don't blame them a bit. Even though the price I paid was my life to be this close to Jesus, I would pay it again. To have seen Him, to hear Him, to know Him…not even this pain compares. And in my last hours, I keep thinking about the words He told me: "Today you will be with me in paradise." Today. Just a little bit longer. And when I see the soldier come up with the hammer, I know that it is just a little bit longer. And as the life is leaving my body, I feel that it is just a little bit longer.

And then I blink. I close my eyes to a world of darkness, and open them to a world of all-encompassing light. And I feel this weight I never knew I had lifted from my shoulders; I feel His forgiveness, His acceptance into His family. And finally, I see Him. He is no longer a broken and beaten man but a glorified king. No more a man of sorrows but endless joy. And for a moment I know He is looking right at me. And the moment stretches into eternity. And the moment never passes.

I’m Not That Guy

I was writing a blog post in regards to a viewing of Fight Club and what that revealed about me. And truly, I will post that soon. But events have occurred which must be transcribed. And so, here we go:

I believe it was the second week I was in Temple that I met Trey (ah, the joy of coming up with names to protect the innocent; soon I am going to have to make a cheat sheet for myself). He works at a nearby eatery that has free wi-fi and is a regular haunt for ministers. Comfortable chairs, nice atmosphere, good snacks, and no one will bother you; perfect for someone needing to prepare a lesson or a sermon. Hank and I went there so he could study and I could use the internets unhindered (well, not counting X3Watch, which I highly recommend; free internet accountability software is ftw). As we were browsing online, Trey and his boss were trying to move something rather heavy. Hank and I helped and Trey found this to be very admirable. He sees a lot of ministers at work and few of them would have offered to help as Hank had. It made a pretty big impression on him. So when I came by myself the next week, we talked a bit and became friends. This is in itself strange but I will come back to that.

As it happened, Trey was in the midst of getting an outreach program for veterans underway. Yeah, isn't that suspicious timing. So we go grab some lunch a few days later and then go to a research meeting for his project. The meeting goes well, extremely well in truth and I even had some useful contributions. Go figure. He then snags my resume because he has a lot of contacts in the area and he might be able to find me something. And he does at that, a very nice gig for UMHB, for which I was and am very appreciative. But I thought about it and prayed about it and full time work would not allow me the flexibility to minister that I have with my current part-time job. So I thanked him for his help but hadn't talked to him in a couple weeks.

This week, I heard that his job had closed its doors. So I called him to see if he wanted to have lunch this week, which we did today. And I find out that there is a dispute with the owners over some supposed debt but also that someone wanted to turn the place into a hookah bar. At this I was intrigued because Hank and Halley have been talking about opening a hookah bar since I got here. The thing is that the place is designed to be a ministry as well as a business and so the owners want the place to have a certain feel. So I got to talk to Trey about the gospel and the implications, a little bit about missional living and Christianity versus religion, and about hookah and how there is no place to do anything legal in the Temple area after 11 pm. And it was a good conversation. Trey told me about how he had been burned by Christians (for which I apologized) but how guys like me give him hope (for which I thanked him). And I got to invite him to my Monday Night Bible Study, which I have been toying around with for awhile and this was just the kick I needed. He's even coming to church on Sunday, which will hopefully go well.

All of that is to say this: I am not that guy. I don't say this to be humble or to dismiss my gifts. I'm saying this because I have lived with me. When I say I am anti-social it is because I am, or at least I was. When I say that now to people who have only known me for a couple months, they look at me like I am speaking Swahili. Now, apparently, I am making friends with strangers, sharing the gospel, trying things I used to shun, meeting people that before I would have said I have nothing in common with. This is my life now and I have no idea where it is headed. But thank You, Jesus, that I get to live it for Your glory.

Peter on Easter Morning

"Do this in remembrance of me."

He said those words only a few days ago. He held the bread and the wine and made them significant. His life poured out, His body broken. And He said to remember. Now, I'll never forget.

It wasn't long after that He took us to the garden and asked us to pray for Him. I didn't know why. It was the Passover, the third one we had shared. He'd been looking to the future, speaking about His death. But surely that was still a ways off. He hadn't even begun to deal with the Romans. The only people mad at Him were some of the Jews, Pharisees and leaders. Surely they wouldn't do anything to Him, not during the Passover? I didn't feel the urgency of it at all. Even when He pleaded with us to stay alert and pray, I couldn't keep my eyes open. "Simon…could you not keep watch for one hour." My first failure. If only that had been my greatest.

"Do this in remembrance of me."

It's Sunday morning, early. None of us have been sleeping well. Haunted by the last time we saw Him, our leader, our teacher. There is not much to eat but no one is particularly hungry. Just some left over bread and wine. No one has much to say, just the occasional glance at each other. And the two seats left empty.

When I saw Judas come up, I was surprised. My thoughts were still a little hazy from sleepiness. I didn't know where he had gone. I didn't know that he had gone. But I looked over at Jesus and he wasn't surprised at all…just sad. No, not sad…disappointed. And then there were soldiers and I wasn't sleepy anymore. We scattered, but I stayed nearby along with John. Part of me wishes we hadn't.

"Do this in remembrance of me."

John looks at me, like he is about to say something. Not for the first time. Everyone keeps waiting for me to lead, to give a speech, to do something, anything. But I don't have anything to say. I just keep waiting. And thinking.

John and I followed as close as we dared to see where the soldiers would take Him. As I went inside the courtyard, I was asked, "Are you one of His disciples?" Such a simple question. Just a few hours earlier, I would have puffed up my chest and answered with pride. But I was so scared. I just shrugged and mumbled no. But that didn't settle it. Another person asked, so I told him, "You've got the wrong guy." And then one more, till I cursed and screamed, "I don't know Him!" And then the rooster crowed and Jesus looked right at me. Even with the scream, He was too far away to have heard me. But He knew. The shame was too much for me. So I ran. And I wept.

"Do this in remembrance of me."

I've stopped weeping, but it feels like I'm still running. Or at least waiting to run again. Eventually, the Pharisees will look for us. Eventually, we will all have to get out of Jerusalem. We all know it. And everyone is waiting for me to say it's time. No one pressed yesterday, because of the Sabbath. Strange to care about that still. I betrayed my friend. What would God want to have to do with me now?

I wasn't there when He was found guilty, when he was beaten nearly to death. I wasn't there to cry for His release instead of Barabbas or to help Him carry that cross he bore on His bloodied back. I wasn't there to see Him suffer on that cross. I wasn't there to see Him die. I wasn't there.

But I saw the sky darken for three hours and I heard about the curtain in the temple being torn. And so I wait, but I don't know why.

Until the door flies open:

"The Tomb is empty! Jesus is risen!"

"What? Empty? Risen? Oh. Oh!"

And then I remembered. I remembered that He said He would suffer. He said he would be rejected. That He would die. And that He would rise.

And so I rose. And I ran. I ran as hard and as fast as I could to the tomb. I had to see it. I had to see Him. And the stone was rolled away. And the linens were empty. The Tomb is empty. My Lord is Risen.

What Happened This Week…or Why I Haven’t Written Anything

So, I have been a little busy this week, which is why I have no little story for you, my avid readers (all three of you). Here is a little break down:

 

Sunday:

All day hilarity. My youth minister friend, who I will call Hank, was preaching for the first time since college, I think. Twice, no less, one for the church and one for a youth rally. So church went well. Well, mostly. I work the slides and one of the youths was the worship leader that day. He does wonderful work and I think it is fair to say that he is gifted. However, he doesn't stay on script all the time, or even most of the time. This is fine for the congregation because he is really in to it and so they follow suit. But for me, who has all the slides lined up, well…it makes me look like a fool! That's fine. The youth group had a fundraiser lunch for a summer event. Tacos FTW. Went home, read a little, then went back to church to go with the youths to hear my buddy preach again. Both sermons went well. He has a little to learn but I think that has more to do with growing comfortable with preaching. The best preachers are themselves at the pulpit. His theology is solid, he loves Jesus and preaches Him, and he listens to a ton of preaching as well as being naturally a good communicator. We went out to eat afterwards, lots of fun. Went home and slept.

 

Monday:

Not a lot happened on Monday. Filled out an application for a pizza delivery job, checked on prices to get my car worked on, and screwed around on YouTube. A little reading, a little sorting and cleaning, and then sleep.

 

Tuesday:

I listened to Mark Driscoll's sermon on Men and Marriage from a couple Sundays ago and got owned in the face. Short version is that I have lived as a coward, and truly I still struggle with it, as you will see below. On the plus side, Jesus loves me and is working on me. Hooray! I then started my new project: praying for Temple College. I wandered the campus for an hour, praying over buildings and any people I saw. I thought about implementing stage two, which was to ask the staff if they need help with anything, along with anybody else who looked like they could use a hand. However, I wussed out. Next was an interview for the pizza delivery job. I will start next week. It's not much but then I don't need much and it leaves my schedule available to be of service in whatever way God leads me. Then I went over to Hank's house and helped with some cleanup in prep for a baby shower his wife (who I will call Hally) was throwing today (or Saturday, since I didn't post it right away). Then went and helped my neighbor with some grounds keeping work at his church. We mowed the lawn and watered the lawn and plants. He gave me $40 for two hours work (I told him it was only an hour and a half but he wouldn't have it). I would have done it for free but all the same, it is appreciated. Read, sleep, repeat.

 

Wednesday:

Implemented stage two for Temple College, with some intriguing results. As it happened, the college was having its Spring Fling. Lots of food and activities as well as a live band. I took a look and then went on and prayed and read the Bible a bit. I thought about checking if anybody needed help there but wussed out again. So I went across campus to the Administration building and started asking there. Well, one of the staff was a Christian and she suggested that I go see if they needed any help with the cleanup of Spring Fling. I said I would check it out, all the while thinking "Okay, God, I get it." So I head back across campus, ask a few people, and someone bites. A couple student organizations had teamed up to raise money for a potential homeless shelter, along with the start of a clothing drive. So I helped them cleanup and then we went to go set up boxes for the clothing drive. It was a bizarre experience. The group was made up of a white guy who had started and organization called Students Improving Lives Together (SILT); a black and extremely gay guy who was with True Colors, which is connected to the Gay, Straight, and Lesbian Alliance; and a white girl, and I'm not sure which organization she was a part of. Pretty diverse and I didn't really think I would meet any students so soon. The conversation at first was pretty standard banter for the first hour or so and then turned extremely sexual for the last hour. And the two guys were both Christians. Welcome to TC and to the Bible Belt.

 

Finished up there then went over to my buddy's house for a little more cleaning before heading to church. I sat in with the youth group (I'm kind of like a de facto intern for Hank and Hally, which is fine by me). The lesson was from James and we talked about what is holding us back from God, what things we weren't giving up. I said fear, which is true. What was strange is that when it came time to pray, I was the last person, and I was just nailed. I was crying, which usually happens when the Holy Spirit was on me. I said, "I am a coward and I'm awkward, and I don't know why because I have seen how awesome You are. Lord, if I am left sitting in the ashes of my life, I want to find joy because I have You." I meant every word, but I am rarely that honest, let alone with teenagers. But the teens really seemed to connect; a couple were even encouraged. Yea, Holy Spirit! Went back to Hank's and painted a little. Went home and slept.

 

Thursday:

Went to TC, read and prayed. The prayer lasted longer than expected, which I found strange. Went to check if one person was in but she was out that day. As I am about to leave, I bump into the guys from the other day. They are about to gather up the first load of clothes and take them to the Salvation Army. I help them count the clothes and then we load them in my car. The white guy and his sister ride in his car while the black guy and I follow along. I chat a little with my passenger, nothing big. We drop off the clothes (where I found a decent microwave for $10) and then look at a possible location for the shelter. There is an abandoned nursing home by the school that would work nicely but the price is $900,000. We'll see what happens.

 

Went from there to the church building to meet Hank and our other friend. We then had a two hour debate on the future of the church. They had talked about an idea earlier in the week and were telling me about it. I was pretty adamantly against it because of some of the implications. So we hashed it out and made our cases. The debate ended on the up and up and I think I got my points across as well as listened to theirs because the following day we were pretty well on the same page (I know I am skipping ahead…sorry). Kept an eye on my buddy's kids so he could take a nap and his wife could read and clean before life group at their house. Their kids are pretty awesome and we had a nice time. Had life group, went home, and then tried to sleep for several hours. I was bugged by church things, mostly the lack of spiritual maturity, but I eventually nodded off.

 

Friday:

Got up before 8 am, which is weird for me. Went to TC, read and prayed. I went to some other offices scattered around campus. No help needed but the people seemed to appreciate it, even though it surprised them. Not an unusual reaction. What was strange is that one woman wanted me to stop asking. She said, "I don't think we can take solicitations here." "But I don't want a job, I just want to help," I replied. "I know, but still." "Well, okay." Apparently she was so disturbed by a Christian wanting to help at random, just out of a desire to serve, that she shut me out. I know I am a big guy and all, but all the same, it was odd. I did, however, get to pray for one very nice lady as well as have a conversation about John's relationship to Jesus (short story, Jesus is the best youth minister, ever). So, all in all, I count it as a win.

 

Went back to apartments to grab a shovel from my neighbor and took his battery to Auto Zone. Then I went to my buddy's for more baby shower prep. Dug up some shrub stumps, ran a few errands. My friend asked why I was helping him so much. That question worried me. I find most ministers feel that they are not entitled to the same grace that they offer. I asked him, "Who ministers to you?" "No one." "Well, I'm here to help, and frankly, you are awful at asking for help." He'll work on that.

 

Then I went home. I had an interesting conversation with one of my older neighbors. Apparently multiple people in the complex think I am a minister. Not exactly, in that it is not my profession, just my life. Anyway, he asked how long I had been in ministry. So I told him a little about my life, school and working for my Dad and struggling with pornography (actually, struggling is the wrong word; failing would be more accurate), and I was about to tell him what God was bringing about in my life when he asked why I looked at porn. The simple answer is that it was easy, which is no excuse. Sin is sin, no doubt about it. So he was talking to me about that and that it would affect my ministry and that lust was the real issue, at least in his own sort of folksy way. I didn't disagree with him, partly because he wasn't entirely wrong and partly because he was older than me, and I am big on respecting my elders. In the end, it wasn't anything I hadn't heard before. But I think he was missing something. Every person mentioned in Scripture has their faults listed out, and they get pretty bad. Peter's betrayal of Jesus and Paul's persecution of the Church come to mind. Why does Scripture mention these failings? Because the plans of God are not dependant on the quality of His servants but on His power and wisdom. In fact, God often picks the worst recruits for His glory. Which is why I have to be honest about my life. Because if God loves a slacker like me, if He is willing to use a former porn-addict in His kingdom, then why not you? Anyway, I listened and then went to my apartment and went to bed, pretty early at that. Long day.

 

Saturday:

And then there is today. I spent about five and a half hours helping my buddy and his wife get ready for the baby shower. Cleaning some fancy, pink dishes (girls, am a right), sweeping the porch, and cleaning the rooms. No individual task was major, but combined it was quite a bit. Spent the next hour and a half talking with my friend while we watched the guests' children. There weren't a ton but they were rambunctious so we had to stay on our toes. Came home and typed all this. In doing so, I noticed a pattern I had not seen before: every day had cleaning of some sort. I don't know what that means yet but I'll post if I come up with anything. And now, I will read the Bible a bit, play a little Civ 4, and then go to sleep. Sunday is often busy, but it is always interesting. And a new day is a new chance to serve the God I love, the God who loves me better than I have ever loved Him. But He's teaching me.

A Writer’s Dilemma

So, here is my problem. I'm a writer now, I guess. I have long toyed with the idea. For nearly a decade I have had a handful of stories I wanted to tell, maybe a commentary on Genesis to write, and other assorted items. I always thought some day would come when I would get down to business and actually put pen to paper, or whatever form writing would take by the time I got to it. I'm still hoping for reliable voice-type, if not out and out thought transcription, but that is neither here nor there. Now, God inspires me every day with a new topic, a new idea. And by and large, they are pretty good. But what do I do with them?

At the rate of inspiration to transcription, I should probably have a 100-page book before the end of the year. The real problem is, do I see if I can make any money off this or get a job? To be honest, I wouldn't really know what to do with anything I have written or plan to write. Something to research. For right now, it means I will keep writing and either leaving them on my laptop or posting them here. Suggestions are welcome. And, just so no one feels cheated by my random musing, posted below is a little though about heaven. Please enjoy.

On Beginnings

I saw a great multitude, of peoples from every tribe, nation, and tongue. They had all gathered in front of a massive wall with an equally massive gate. There was an air of expectancy there but no one was jostling to get the front of the line. All of the people were talking with those around themselves. Many seemed to have met before; others had been separated by location or even time. They shared their stories; some I recognized, many I didn't. And yet, somehow, I heard them all and understood them in my own native tongue. And what I heard was amazing, to great for me to do it justice. But there was this common thread, of tragedy turned to triumph, of personal struggles becoming public edification, of being lost and then being found. And it seemed, somehow, that each story came to a climax at the same time. And though each story was different, the last word was the same, a name that made all the difference.

When that name had finally been uttered, the gate opened, and out came the hero, dressed in dazzling white and…glory? Like He had made a fabric out of splendor. Time flowed strangely again. The King was speaking intimately and personally to everyone, laying out the pattern of their lives in the tapestry of history. I began to recognize people then, though many of whom I did not know before this, and certainly not as they looked now. There are no children there, not exactly. Everyone is healthy and whole and in the prime of life. I see people I know are the great-great grandchildren of babies I know now and also my grandparents an great grandparents and more looking no older than myself. And more generations beside. I see Lewis and Wesley and Augustine and Paul and Peter and Elijah and David and Moses and Abraham and many, many more. And the First and the Last is talking to all of them, telling them all about their lives and what He did with them. And He's pointing to others who are gathered in that throng, telling them that because of their obedience, someone else got to know Him and love Him. And He tells them these words, words they had been waiting for all their lives:

"Well done, my good and faithful servant."

There were some tears then. And the Good Shepherd wiped every one of them away. I knew those would be the last tears that ever saw their cheeks. And again, He was at the gate, with a gleam in His eye and a smile on His face.

"Welcome home. Come on in."

A great cry rung out. As one, the crowd began to run. There was laughter all around and singing like I had never heard before. "Worthy is the Lamb that was Slain," sung in a thousand languages by a billion tongues in a harmony richer than ivory. An orchestra a million strong played a symphony that would have pierced the most jaded heart. It was too great for me and yet it was as if my heart had expanded to experience the joy of it. A day was like a thousand years and a thousand years were like a day and everyone finally understood what predestination was all about.

I watched them all pass into the first day of eternity. But for all I saw, all I could suddenly understand, I had a question:

"Where was I in that group?"

Jesus answered, who had been there all along:

"Oh, you were in there. I didn't want to give you any spoilers."

I get pretty quiet for a minute.

"…So, umm, how did I do?"

He puts a hand on my shoulder, looks me in the eye, and smiles.

"Didn't you hear? You did well."

The Better Man, The Better Me

The Christian life is one of sacrifice. For many, that sacrifice is done begrudgingly. We fear that we will be less without our things. But what we find is different.

I remember being scared of who I would become without my baggage. It was the summer of ’02 and the church I was interning at was sending me to counseling. I was depressed and one of the members was a psychiatrist, and a good one at that. After a few sessions, I began to see the possibility of being free of so much junk. That frightened me. I was afraid that I would lose those things about myself that I liked, as if somehow they were consequences of my brokenness. But more than that, I was afraid that my family and friends wouldn’t recognize me, wouldn’t accept me, wouldn’t love me. As such, I hung onto my brokenness, to my detriment.

Thankfully, God is good and faithful. He has cleansed me of so much, my lust, my laziness, my loneliness. And here is what I have found. Those things I liked about myself, my humor, my wisdom, my desire to serve, have not diminished in the slightest. In fact, they have grown, along with joy and love. And even things I disliked about myself have taken on new aspects.

I have long felt that my sensitive nature was a liability. I cry pretty regularly. It’s bothersome and not particularly masculine. I have always had me heart on my sleeve, and it has always made me vulnerable. Consequently, that meant I was not very social. The more people around, the more likely you are to get burned. For me, those hurts never healed right. I had hoped that the process of maturing in Christ would mean that I would toughen up some, that things just wouldn’t trouble me as much. Instead, with every step that I take closer to Jesus, my tears increase. They were not tears of pain but of joy. All the same, it bothered me for awhile.

But my thinking has changed lately. In life, you have two kinds of armor: the type where you feel nothing or the type where nothing sticks. I wanted to feel nothing, but that means no pain or joy. But what if, instead of being impervious to pain, I can just give it all to God and let Him take care of it? I still get to feel joy as deeply as possible and I don’t have to hold onto any of the pain. There is risk involved, but now, the tears I cry are not because of slights and rejections from days long past. I cry because my heart is just not big enough for all the joy Jesus keeps heaping upon me, at least not this side of eternity.

It’s like taking your broken bike to our dad. You have had it for awhile and you have grown to like the bell or the cards in the tires. It’s your bike and you couldn’t imagine riding anything else. But the chain keeps slipping, there is rust in portions, and the tires keep losing pressure. You worry that it would be simpler to get a new bike, but even though a new bike might ride better, it wouldn’t be …yours. Instead of the new bike, however, you get your own bike back, and even better than ever. All the things you loved before are still there but sleeker, faster, stronger. And even better things are in store.

A day is coming when even the gifts we have now will pale in comparison. Today, I like what I say or write if it merely resembles what God has put in my heart. First Corinthians, 13:12 puts it this way: Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. What if this applies to gifts as well? One day, the painter will be able to capture the exact image in her head; the singer will hit all his notes and right ever time; the architect, the composer, the writer…we will be creative like Him who created us. And it will be beautiful and He will be pleased. We will serve our Audience of One and we will serve Him well.

Changes

So I was looking at an unpublished post from last September. It set out some goals for myself for the future. No need to go into everything because there is a reason I didn't post it. But imagine my surprise to find that I have not given up what I set out to do six months ago.

It is very strange to me to have found a level of consistency. Surely, it is not my doing. I have never been one to follow through on my lofty ideals. Every school semester started with setting out to do all the reading and get in shape and maybe learn an instrument. By the third week I'm barely skimming the books, watching TV most of the time, and could barely whistle.

I do not say any of this to say what a slacker I was (though, truly, I was), or how much better I am doing now (though, clearly, I am). I say this to say that Jesus is so much more gracious and good than I thought He was. And if He can use a screw up like me, why not you? If He loves me as greatly as Scripture promises and I have had the joy and privilege to witness, why not you?

Philippians 3:10-14:

¹⁰I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, ¹¹and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.
¹²Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. ¹³Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, ¹⁴I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

Let us press on.

P.S. I edited this post to make it clearer. A new thing to add to my to-do list: work on clarity of thought. Hooray.

So, this is my life now

So, here is what has been going on in the last week:

Saturday I get the nod to do the communion thought. I end up running with the Quest (it's a very Spirit-filled week long retreat; I highly recommend it) idea of remembering Jesus as a friend and not just thinking about doctrine. So I put that together on Saturday evening and then try to sleep. But I can't because I keep on thinking about grace. It was just a very sweet time with Jesus where I couldn't sleep till after 4:00. But during that I wrote a short story about Heaven which I will post later and the whole process was just incredibly moving. So Sunday comes and I deliver the communion thought, which goes fine. Then we get to talking about Easter and I get an idea for the Easter communion thought, which is also to come. And Sunday night is also pretty fulfilling, submitting my singleness to the Lord and just getting loved on.

Monday comes and I felt the night before that it had been a bit since I fasted with the move and all so I should fast on Monday. I write up the Easter thought on Monday, take care of a few other things, and then feel the need to drive. Temple doesn't have much of anything to do so I'm just driving and looking around and I see a women on the side of the loop, and she looks very distraught. So I pull over onto the shoulder and walk back to check on her, thinking she probably will just need a ride and maybe someone to talk to. It never occurred to me that she might be suicidal. But she was.

We talk for about an hour to an hour and a half about her life and God's faithfulness. She is in the middle of a divorce where it is looking like she will lose her 4 year old daughter to a poser who has been abusing her from day one it sounds like. Well, in any event she calms down, and right when I am about to drive her home, a police officer shows up. Which is crazy because if the officer had shown up even 15 minutes earlier he would have seen her state of mind and the report he would have written would probably have guaranteed that she would have lost her court case. The other great thing about it is that the woman sounds more than a little man crazy and God gave me a very reasonable out so that we would not spend any private time together (and yes, I realize that a "so you want to kill yourself" conversation is personal but cars were driving by the whole time so there is some protection). Which is the other thing. I was completely there in that conversation and a whole lot wiser than I usually am in conversation. This came together in my mind that the two previous nights as well as the desire to fast that day were the Holy Spirit filling me up to minister in a way I never had before.

Yea, Holy Spirit!

So, I call my friend, my mentor, and my Dad, pretty much floored to the point of freaked out at how awesome Jesus is. And then I get the desire to go eat some fast food to celebrate. I was planning on not eating till Tuesday but it felt like the Spirit had done what He had intended and it was a good way to wind down. But the desire as not eat just anywhere, but specifically at Whataburger. So I go and order and as I am waiting for my food, a trucker comes in and orders. I see that he doesn't want any soda so I ask him about that. And that conversation turns into talking about work and life. He is a baby Christian, separate from his wife, learning about Jesus. He was an alcoholic, pretty much forced his wife to leave with their kids. He hit rock bottom and found Jesus there waiting for him. So I got to tell him about what Jesus has been doing for me in this last year, the restoration He has been working in me (overcoming lust and porn and laziness and immaturity), and how He has used me of late, namely with Wendy all of thirty minutes prior. And so, God put a guy from Houston and a guy from Austin in a Whataburger in Temple to mutually encourage each other.

Yea, Holy Spirit!

And, to top the day off, the Psalms I read for the day, 71-75, were aimed right at Wendy, and I had gotten up to the first Worf episode in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Pretty much the craziest, awesomest, best day ever. I wonder how God will top it? I look forward to finding out.