Friday, March 27, 2009

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."

Thursday, March 26, 2009

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.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

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.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

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.