Today is day 330 of the year 2013; my Bible-In-A-Year plan told me so. All I have left to read are the Minor Prophets, a couple chapters of Proverbs, a rehash of the last 30 Psalms (you read them all twice in this plan), and the last few books of the New Testament. Three hundred and thirty days down, thirty five to go.
I will admit that it has been harder than I thought it would be, for several reasons:
The experts tell us if we do something regularly, at the same time every day, for a certain number of days in a row it will become a habit. I don’t know why, but reading the Bible just doesn’t seem to want to fit that mold for me. I started off reading every morning, then I switched to every night, and then I swapped back and forth intermittently. It has never become a “habit.” Reading the Bible is/was/has been something that I have to make myself do each and every day. It is not that I don’t want to read it, I just frequently “find” easier or more interesting things to do. At this point, I am realizing that may just be how it was intended to be, something intentional as opposed to a mindless act.
It can be a very hard book to read. No, I’m not talking about the reading level, I’m talking about the content.
Most people complain about books like Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, but I breezed through the Pentateuch without much problem. The books that bogged me down were the major prophets; Isaiah and Ezekiel were the toughest. They are looooonnnnnngggg and tend to get very repetitive. In addition, they really can twist your brain in a lot of different directions with difficult concepts, images, and content. Some of what’s in there is just “hard” to read in an “I want to poke my eyes out” kind of way.
There are many uncomfortable parts, especially in the Old Testament. It is a book (or many books) filled with stories of murder, rape, incest, violence, genocide, and expectations and/or laws that just seem unjust or oppressive. Those parts are uncomfortable because God is often represented as being the very opposite of the loving, white-bearded, golden-aura-shrouded, grandfatherly, geriatric, passive, forgiving, and almost senile God that so many of us in Western Christendom WANT our God to be.
I’ll be honest, if I hadn’t taken a course in Biblical Interpretation last spring…I might have given up back on day 39 or 40…most certainly by day 52. I would have quit for the same reason(s) that so many others who have tried to read the entire Bible give up; it IS hard, it makes me feel uncomfortable (often in a bad way), it is sometimes boring, and it really challenges me from a faith perspective to KNOW what this foundation my faith is built on is really about. In class I learned that I have to read the Bible through at least three main “lenses”:
The world in behind the Bible: the historical context/understanding of the world that preceded the writing of whatever portion I may be reading.
The world inside the Bible: the historical context/understanding of the world at the time of the writing of whatever portion I may be reading.
The world in front of the Bible: the context/understanding of today.
Focusing on those first two lenses helped me get through some of the parts that were most difficult. They are passages written to/about a people with whom I have little to no historical context. I can study up on them and their time, but I can’t “know” it the way I know my own context today. This doesn’t mean those passage can’t/don’t hold meaning for me, just that I need to try to understand what it meant to them first.
In all this reading, there is one passage that has come up three times and, as such, stands out to me as a guide for “being a better Christian.” I first studied it in class as part of a lesson in exegesis, then Pastor Mark preached on it twice this past month (November 3 and November 10), and I read it yesterday as part of my plan. The passage is from 1 Peter 3:8-18, and I really feel like it sums up the message of what I’ve been reading for the past 330 days, how I really want to live the rest of my life, and how I hope other Christians want to live, too. Allow me to paraphrase (probably poorly):
As Christians we should be:
Agreeable
Sympathetic
Loving
Compassionate
Humble
This goes for ALL Christians! There are no exceptions.
There should be no room in our lives for retaliation.
There should be no room in our lives for sharp-tongued sarcasm.
Instead, we should bless others…that’s our job! To bless!
If we can practice living this way we’ll be a blessing and get a blessing!
You want to embrace life? You want to see your day fill up with good? Try doing these things:
Say nothing evil or hurtful.
Snub evil and cultivate good.
Seek peace with every ounce of your energy!
God approves this message!
God listens and responds when we talk to Him, but He also turns his back on those who do evil things!
If you practice living this way, do you really think people will ask you to stop?
Even if people respond to your kindness, goodness, and good living with hatred or persecution, you’ll be better off! Stop worry about what non-Christians think about you or say about you!
God will deal with them in his own time, so don’t worry about it or respond negatively or inappropriately!
Just keep your focus on Christ…no matter what!
If people do get curious about your life, or challenge you about the way you are living, make sure you understand your faith so you can respond correctly; however, make sure you respond respectfully!
If people want to mistreat you for doing good things, that’s their problem and God will deal with them. At some point they’ll realize they are in the wrong, even if it’s only at their final judgement. If you respond to their attacks with attacks of your own, your conscience won’t be clear.
If you’re truly suffering because of your faith and good living, if that’s the place where God has put you, just remember that you’re way better off than those who will be punished for ignoring and/or disobeying God.
Christ’s role in all this is definitive! He suffered because of other people’s (including your, my, and our) sins! He was righteous and suffered for our unrighteousness. Remember, Christ went through it all—suffering, death, and resurrection—to bring us closer to God!
If you pay any attention to my Facebook timeline, you’ll see me share the Coffee With Jesus comic strips, from Radio Free Babylon, on a pretty regular basis. The author, David Wilke, has published a Coffee With Jesus book, which will be available in paperback on December 1, 2013. However, you can buy it today in several different electronic formats. I bought a copy last night to read on my Kindle app and find myself having to put it down so that I can enjoy it over time rather than just gobbling the whole thing up all at once.
I am a Christian. I’m not ashamed of that; but, I also know I’m not always the best example or role model. I want to be, but my humanity sometimes gets in the way.
So why do I share those comic strips? Because they really do represent the Jesus I know today…the one I wish everyone knew.
I wish this was the Jesus I had known for the first four decades of my life. Regardless of how He may have been presented to me, I spent most of my life thinking I wasn’t good enough, couldn’t be good enough, and felt like there was no way He could love me. The burden of salvation rested on my shoulders and I was failing miserably at achieving Heaven. My spiritual life consisted of a bunch of “do’s” that I wasn’t doing enough, if at all, and a bunch of “do not’s” that I too often found myself doing. My vision of the final judgement was pretty bleak. It was me, standing in front of God, alone, and He was pretty angry about it all.
I’ve got a new perspective today. One that gives me hope.
The Jesus I know today doesn’t say, “you must.” He reaches out and says, “let me.”
The Jesus I know today doesn’t say, “do not.” He reaches out and says, “I have a better plan.”
The Jesus I know today doesn’t waggle His finger at me and shake His head from side to side with that “I told you so” look we all dread. No, He’s the Jesus who jumps up off the porch when He sees me off in the distance, trudging back home in my rags that smell of pig manure and other waste, a lost and hopeless look on my face, desperation in my plea, and He runs, as fast as He can, swooping me up in His arms, a smile on His face, with joy and love and compassion in His voice, giving orders for the preparation of a feast of celebration, all the while shouting, “this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” (Luke 15:11-32)
That’s the Jesus I know today. My vision of the final judgement looks a lot different. I’m still standing there in front of God, but Jesus is standing in front of me. That is all God sees, His blameless son, taking on my sin, advocating for His client, paying the price, absorbing the wrath that was supposed to be for me.
“As a Christian, I wanted to show people a practical savior, one who used humor, sarcasm and gentle ribbing to address their concerns. Through various social media, the comic took off, and I soon felt the need and obligation to portray Jesus as I know him. “Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline” (Revelation 3: 19 NASB) is a verse that came to mind whenever I had Jesus speaking a stinging rebuke, but it was time to show that he is, above all, merciful. Does he care about your first-world problems while other believers are being martyred in the third world? Yes, but he might put your problems in perspective for you. He’s going to question your motives, examine your heart and reveal to you some ugly things you might be overlooking, all while loving you.” (Wilke, David (2013-02-19). Coffee with Jesus (Kindle Locations 98-105). InterVarsity Press. Kindle Edition.)
I was privileged to share my testimony in both services at the Spring Arbor Free Methodist Church on April 21. The process of preparing to share was both difficult and rewarding. Reflecting on the past two years of my life grates against wounds covered in fresh pink skin while at the same time allowing me to see where God has moved in my life.
If you're not into reading, you can watch and/or listen as I read it for you:
For the academics among you, below is the text of what I was reading. The one thing I wish I could have done is presented my testimony through song, a musical as it were. Music has played a vital role in both my grieving and my spiritual journey. Even as I type this up, iTunes is pumping out the soundtrack of the past two years for me:
God is God - Steven Curtis Chapman
Come Thou Fount - David Crowder Band
How Deep the Father's Love for us - Kendall Payne
In Christ Alone - Owl City
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms/'Tis So Sweet To Trust In Jesus - David Crowder Band
O Love That Will Not Let Me Go - Christ Rice
You Are My Vision - Rend Collective Experiment
Before the Throne of God Above - Chris Rice
10,000 Reasons - Rend Collective Experiment
Build Your Kingdom Here - Rend Collective Experiment
It's a soundtrack that takes me from the miry pit to the pinnacle of asking God to help remind me to build His Kingdom here on earth. These are songs that bring me comfort, hope, and great joy. The are filled with some good theology, filled with the Christology of the resurrected King of Kings.
If you have time to read, and for some weird reason prefer that to listening to me drone on in the background, have at it:
Good morning! A few of you already know me, know who I am, and know where I come from. A larger number of you know who I am in the “your family has gone to church here for a long time” way of knowing someone. And some of you might not know me at all. If you’re a Spring Arbor University student who was in chapel on April 8, I’m the guy who fell off the horse in Belize.
Those of you who know me the best know that I’m incredibly uncomfortable right now. Not so much because I’m speaking, but because I’m not wearing a t-shirt and jeans or shorts. Of course, I’d be even more comfortable wearing a motorcycle helmet and listening to the sound of pavement passing beneath me. I can feel comfortably at home just about anywhere if I’m riding on my motorcycle.
The good news is I’m not here to preach today. I don’t really feel qualified to preach. I’m not trained to be a preacher, I haven’t studied to be a preacher, and at this point in my life I don’t feel called to be a preacher. I’m just a guy who sat down to lunch with Pastor Mark, 61 days ago, and was asked to share the testimony of how God has been working in my life with you today.
And I pray that I can do that in the vein of Micah 6:8, “He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Whether you know me or not, my goal today is to humbly allow God to show you what He has been doing in my life over the past couple of years.
For those of you who may not know me, let me introduce myself. I’m Chad Cole. I have three brothers, Ryan, Jared, and Aaron, and two parents, Jim and Kathy. Over the past 17 years I’ve managed to pick up a couple of sisters-in-law, an adopted sister from Estonia, and some wonderful nieces and nephews.
The Spring Arbor Free Methodist Church has been the home church for my family since my parents first moved to Spring Arbor back in 1969. Like a number or you, I first started attending the Spring Arbor Free Methodist Church as a small bundle of cells being knit together in my mother’s womb. That was back in 1971. I grew up in the nursery, attended Sunday School, children’s church, and CYC on Wednesday nights. I went to young teens and senior teens. I even remember the old stone church. I remember when the chapel was the sanctuary. I remember the day when we celebrated the opening of this sanctuary; I was seven years old and there were lots of balloons. I have been on mission trips with the youth group to the Ozark Mountains and have been to Rancho Betania, in Mexico, twice. I graduated from Western High School and went to Spring Arbor College. I dropped out of college when education just didn’t agree with me and I went back when it did. By the time I finished the course work for my degree it become Spring Arbor University.
Like a lot of college students, I met my wife at Spring Arbor. Our first official date was October 27, 1995. On January 11, 1996, I asked her to marry me when I took her out to dinner to celebrate her 20th birthday. It wasn’t planned, it just happened. We were married on August 10, 1996…288 days after that magical first date.
A few years later, I took the like opportunity to open the discussion about family. Her response was not what I expected. When we were engaged and first married, we’d always talked about having children. She had changed her mind. There were some extenuating circumstances with the health of one of her family members, she had come to conclude that having children was not something she could do, and even if she could, she shouldn’t. In addition, she felt too young, there was too much life left to live to worry about having kids when she was only 23.
I would bring the subject up, a couple times a year after that, but the conversations were short, and always ended the same. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t want a family; she just didn’t think it would be possible to have children. As my 20s gave way to my 30s, I asked about it less and less. By the time I had reached my mid-30s, it wasn’t something we discussed anymore. I had come to accept the possibility that we might never have children. I was resolved to a life of being a good husband and a good uncle. For the first time in my life it really kind of felt like life is not fair…
Early in 2009, when I was 37 and Sara was 33, as we crawled into bed on a cold winters night Sara said, “There’s something I need to talk to you about.” My heart started racing. We had been married 12 and one half years at this point and I don’t think Sara had ever said those words to me, ever, about anything. My hesitant “OK” was followed by a long silence…a very long silence. After a while, I asked her if she was going to let me in on the secret or if she wanted me to guess…she thought guessing might be the faster route. I loved this woman with everything in me and I could only think of two things she would tell me we needed to talk about at 11PM on a work night…she either had been lying to me about how she felt about me and wanted to leave me or she wanted to have a baby. I quickly and quietly told her I was going to pick the more positive of the two things I was thinking and I asked her if she wanted to have a baby…she said yes…and my whole future changed. It took everything in me to not jump out of bed, shouting with joy, and run out into the street and let everyone who could hear know about this wonderful change of heart. Instead, I hugged her close, told her that it was wonderful, and we both fell asleep happy.
However, the joy of wanting a baby turned quickly to frustration. Even though there were documented and persuasive reasons to suspect fertility might be an issue, her doctor did not want to test anything until we had tried all the natural methods for a least a year. And so we tried…and month after month after month went by with the same results…negative…negative…negative. The following spring after a year of trying and 3 months of tests and referrals…the doctors prescribed the treatment we had been seeking for over a year. And we tried. Negative. And tried. Negative. And tried. Negative. It was now mid-June 2010…after almost a year and a half, our joy had been replaced with a sense of resignation…it wasn’t going to work. Life is not fair...
On Saturday night, June 19, Sara took one last test, just to affirm the last negative test. On Monday morning she was going to call the doctor and let him know we were done. We wouldn’t be pursuing IVF due to personal convictions. Our desire to be parents was not going to be fulfilled. For the first time in over a year, I didn’t sit and wait with Sara for the test to display its results. I waited in the family room, head down, emotions clouded, discouraged, dismayed, and disappointed. Life is not fair...
Sara’s shouts startled me out of my sad stupor. She was screaming that I needed to come to the bathroom. I wondered if she’d somehow fallen and hurt herself. As I rounded the corner to the bathroom, my concern dissolved as I saw the joy on her face as she jumped up and down waving that little white stick in the air like a pennant. I grabbed it from her hand and looked…two pink lines. We were going to be parents…
Despite the immense joy and pride we felt, we managed to keep the pregnancy secret until late August. We had wanted to make it to Grandparents Day in September to make the announcement, but Sara had finally grown tired of sucking it in all day at work. The announcement was greeted with bewildered joy. I was 38 and Sara was 34, we’d been married for 14 years. I think most people had just started to assume children were not on the docket for us. Our due date was late February 2011. Registries were created. Quilts were sewn. We had a baby shower at Thanksgiving. Holidays and birthdays came and went, each one drawing us closer to that impending due date.
On February 4, we drove over to the Toy House, in Jackson, and picked up the baby seat for the car. Here is my Facebook post from that night.
…and then you blink…and life changes. In the span of less than 1 minute you can go from bliss…to blank…from a future full of joy, challenges, and delight…to a future that seems as black as night. A reality where life is not fair…here is my Facebook post from the next night.
One minute I was sitting next to my 37-week pregnant wife, having a pleasant conversation with her parents. The next minute the minivan we were passengers in was a crumpled tin can and I was lifting her chin and asking her if she was OK. I watched as her pupil dilated, her lips and face lost their color and I found false hope as the primal reflex that causes a baby to take its first breath caused her to take her last. The seatbelt designed to save Sara’s life had held firm during our accident. It held her in place as a semi pushed us down the snow-banked median of I-94 crawling farther and farther into the back of our vehicle. The pressure caused her uterus, designed by God to protect the life within to rupture. She was gone…in an instant…and that small life within her would fade in the minutes that followed. The safety measures, both man made and God designed, put in place to save life, had taken it.
It took almost an hour to get Sara to the emergency room. Miranda was delivered less than 1 minute after arriving at the hospital. The doctors and nurses were able to miraculously start her heart and get her on a ventilator. She had already been moved to labor and delivery when they rolled me into the emergency room, strapped down to a gurney, unable to turn my head. They let me hold Sara’s hand as the staff continued to perform CPR, everyone knowing it was in vain but refusing to give up, eventually the chaos stopped, the room got quiet, and what I had known in my heart for over an hour was officially declared…she was gone. Life is not fair…life just is.
Even though the hospital staff had been able to revive Miranda, she had been without oxygen for too long. A little more than 72 hours later, late in the evening on February 8, after all the other family members had filed through and taken time to hold her, I held my daughter, Miranda Evangelene Cole, in my arms as the life support systems were disconnected. I held her and waited…waited for her perfect tiny little heart to beat its final beat. All of my hopes, all of the joy of the previous 9 months, the expectations of a lifetime, the family I had always wanted…were gone. My future was an empty and bleak wasteland. Life is not fair…life just is.
I remember waking up the next morning and staring into the mirror for what seemed like forever. I did not recognize the man standing and staring back at me. A man who felt like everything he had been living for had been taken away from him. His eyes were vacant, with barely a glimmer of life in them. I did not know who he was. The rest of that week was a whirlwind of numb activity. The hours spent planning visitations and a memorial service, taking care of loose ends at the hospital in regards to birth documentation, taking visitors, and sharing in meals provided by caring members of the community at my parents home here in Spring Arbor.
On Friday, as I got into my car to head to the church for the visitation, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. I turned on my car radio and switched it over from ESPN to a local Christian radio station. The first song that came on was a decade old song by Steven Curtis Chapman. I heard these words that morning:
And the pain falls like a curtain, on the things I once called certain And I have to say the words I fear the most…I just don't know And the questions without answers, come and paralyze the dancer So I stand here on the stage afraid to move, afraid to fall, oh, but fall I must On this truth that my life has been formed from the dust God is God and I am not, I can only see a part Of the picture He's painting. God is God and I am man So, I'll never understand it all; For only God is God
God is God...and I am not. Those words got me through two visitations and the memorial service the following day. For the first time in my life I had an experience with the Peace that Passes All Understanding. I was also starting to understand the message behind life’s not fair…life just is. When I was earning my degree in communication from Spring Arbor back in the early 90s, we had a professor who would always respond to the repeated pleadings of his students cries of “that’s not fair” with the simple phrase, “life’s not fair…life just is.” In looking back on this, nearly 20 years later, I now have eyes to see and ears to hear, and I can hear the story behind the phrase. I had heard his testimony 20 years ago this very month, as he shared about the pain of losing his son before he himself came to know Christ. Now, I can understand the truth of “life’s not fair, life just is.” It takes on a whole different meaning when you’ve lost like that. You see, life isn’t fair. We were never promised fair. Fair is what you get in a fairy tale, not in this life. I had a new appreciation for, a new perspective on “life is not fair…life just is.” But in that unfairness God is still God, and I am not…he is still sovereign…and the story isn’t finished.
As the following days turned into weeks, I would hear Steven Curtis Chapman’s song in my head over and over again. God is God and I am not…and I soon realized that I had a choice to make. As the numbness and the nearness of the loss wore off, as my new reality caved in on me, I had to make a choice. I could sense two options for me to choose from, I could choose to stand with my fist raised asking “why?” and “how could you?” and shouting “this isn’t fair” or I could lay my broken and battered heart at the foot of the cross, crawl into the lap of Jesus, and ask him to carry me through the storm. I chose the route of the broken and battered heart because I didn’t have the strength to wrestle with God or be angry with Him…and I didn’t see any reason to do so. For me the story of Job had already been written. I didn’t need to ask those questions again. I want to make sure you understand that even if I had raised my fist and demanded answers that would likely have never come, that wouldn’t have been the “wrong path.” There are few wrong ways to grieve and for many people part of grief is anger at God. And guess what, He’s big enough to handle that anger…it was just not the path that made sense for me. I found I only had strength enough to ask God to carry me through and to put my hope in the resurrection of His Son, Jesus Christ. That choice didn’t take the pain away. That choice didn’t alleviate my grief. It doesn’t ease the anxiety when a semi is coming up on me at a stop light, or when I have to drive west on I-94, or every time is snows. It doesn't take away the hurt when I see everyone posting pictures on Facebook of their smiling families, their happy children, and the celebrations of life events I will never get to experience with Sara and Miranda. That choice didn’t put a smile on my face, because life’s not fair, life just is. But...it did change my perspective, and it did open me up to His love, His grace, and His mercy in ways I have never felt before. As I look back on the events of the past 2 years, I can see God’s movement and blessing in my life.
Over the course of the past couple of months, as I have slowly prepared for today, I have been able to see that in the course of my life God has surrounded me with the people who helped me the most during my darkest hour. I have a loving family and together we have clung to the promises of faith. When tragedies like this hit, many families fall apart; but because we were able to turn to God, focusing on His goodness in our time of need, we drew closer. We have cried together, laughed together, and celebrated together the time that we had with our loved ones.
In addition to my immediate family, I have an unusual “extended family.” God has blessed me with six friends from college. These men are not just friends, they are brothers; they are as close as family. My friends did not try to console me with empty words. When we would meet later on, we talked about the weather, life events, and if I wanted to talk about Sara and Miranda, they listened…I now realize they had all been down this road already, and whether they knew it or not their words meant less than their actions. You see, each of my closest friends had experienced either the loss of a parent or a child. They had all already tasted the bitter tears of grief. As I look back today, I can see God’s hand in their actions as they helped me adapt to my new normal. In response to this loss, they did not offer me platitudes of faith, they did not try to console me with their own grief, and they did not abandon me; instead, they offered me their lives and their time. They helped me clean my house. They invited me over for dinner. They put together 12 months of activities as a purposeful attempt to bring our whole group closer together and show their love and support. My friends, without realizing, took the lessons of Job chapter 2 to heart:
“When Job’s three friends, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite, heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.”
Job 2:11-13 (NIV84)
No one said a word to him…that’s some good advice on how to deal with the bereaved, especially in a tragic loss. It’s advice my friends followed instinctively and it’s advice we would all do well to consider. Over the past two years I have learned that in our rush to console the bereaved, Christians sometimes say the dumbest and most hurtful things to each other and to non-believers. We feel like we HAVE to speak at a time when our mere presence and a hug would be sufficient; this compulsion to open our mouths comes out of a desire to avoid an awkward silence and we end up doing more damage than good. I find this is especially true in the tragic situations of life where both the bereaved and those looking on are left wondering why? When we are all left asking why bad things happen to good people? If we take the time to be silent, to eat a quiet meal with those who suffer, to just sit with them and let them cry when they need to cry and allow them to talk when they want to talk it can change our whole perspective on life and suffering. In one of his sermons dealing with the suffering of creation, John Wesley expressed a belief that suffering exists “by the wise permission of God, determining to draw eternal good out of this temporary evil.” Athol Dickson said essentially the same thing in his book The Gospel According to Moses: What My Jewish Friends Taught Me about Jesus, “I believe sometimes bad things happen to good people so we can watch God turn the greatest tragedies into the purest love.” Life’s not fair…life just is. Through my experiences of the past two years God has opened my eyes and ears and taught me that if we’re busy trying to make ourselves feel better about someone else’s loss, we’re going to miss out on a great opportunity to experience the love of God. Being surrounded by Godly people has gone a long way towards bringing me through “the valley of the shadow of death.” Yet, God has done other things in my life, too.
Being plunged into the depths of despair has a tendency to strip away all the things you think you believe about God and leave you with the truth of what you actually believe about him. In the course of my life, I have memories of being taught the tenets of the Christian faith by people like Oletha Johnston, Donelda Clevenger, Joann Cleveland, Lorain Whiteman, Dave Johnson, Janice Chilcote, Oreon Trickey, Mark Bain, Larry Angus, Carl Spring, Ron Kopico and many, many others. I heard the preaching of three pastors filling this pulpit in my lifetime…not many churches can claim to have only had 3 pastors in a span of 4 decades…yet, for all those people, and the godly messages they brought, I feel like I took the wrong message away…and that’s my fault. I had ears to hear and eyes to see, but my relationship with God was all about me. I spent a significant portion of my life telling God why I wasn’t qualified to serve Him. I couldn’t be the man he needed me to be.
I don’t know about you, but I live in a performance based society. I got good grades as a child to make my parents happy. I got good grades when I was older to earn scholarships. I worked hard at my job so that I could get a raise or a good evaluation. In my relationships with other people I have often “performed” for love and acceptance…and I don’t know about you, but I carried that into my relationship with God.
For most of my life, my relationship with God has been about me trying to please Him. I have spent most of my life traveling a path of good intentions. “God, I want to serve you, but I need to get my life in order first. I need to start reading my Bible every day. I need to start praying every day. I need to stop swearing when I stub my toe or hit my thumb with a hammer. I need to get out and exercise more to take care of your temple. I need to do this and I need to stop doing that because there’s no possible way you could love me or want to use me until I can clean this up and cross that chasm that exists between us.” I’ve been focused on looking at the mess that is my life, the life I see, not necessarily the life the public sees, and in that focus Christ is somewhere over there. I have lived my life thinking that my job, my duty, was to get rid of all the bad things in my life…I had a lot of work to do if I wanted to appear spotless when I reached my judgment. I was stuck in the last 10 verses of Romans 7. The problem with that way of thinking is that I fail, a lot. I can’t be perfect, not matter how hard I try. But it was what I kept thinking I had to be, and it kept me from having a growing relationship with God.
Last June, I finally went through some counseling. I had reached a point of realizing that even though I was working through my grief in mostly good and healthy ways I had other issues that needed to be dealt with. I scheduled myself for a 4 day, one-on-one counseling retreat with a Godly couple, Jerry and Denise, who run a faith based counseling ministry out of their home in Georgia. I flew down thinking I needed to work on some anger and other relationship issues. By the end of my first day with them, those issues had been put on the back burner. Jerry and Denise had quickly cut through the mustard and made me realize that my bigger issue was putting my trust in God, trusting in His grace. I didn’t understand it, it wasn’t part of my life, and it wasn’t part of my relationship with Him. I understood the concept that grace meant receiving something I didn’t deserve and that mercy meant I didn’t get what I had coming to me, but I had never really figured out how that worked in my life.
It turns out I’m a little bit of a control freak. I don’t like not feeling 100% in control. Jerry and Denise spent the next three days guiding me toward the Father. Helping me strip away my presuppositions about who He is, based on my life experiences, setting aside who I thought He was, based on my perceptions of the people in my life, and teaching me that if I’m willing to walk the path of trusting God, the path of God’s grace, the other issues I had been struggling with would be things He would start to take care of. For almost a year and a half I had been grieving with the hope of the resurrection, but I hadn’t REALLY learned how to make that hope part of my own life. I still struggle with this, and will for the rest of my life. Giving up control is not natural, it’s not what my humanness desires, but I have finally learned that giving Him control, living in His grace, allowing Him to wrap his arms around me and stand beside me is the only way I’ll make it through life. He is here, standing beside me, looking at the mess of my life with me, and promising that He will carry me through the minefield.
The last thing I want to share with you today is how hope, and my journey of grief, have impacted the way I live. The biggest thing I have learned about the hope of the resurrection is that salvation is for today. It’s not just fire insurance. The hope of the resurrection changes how I interact with the world around me. It puts a whole new spin on “thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.” The hope of the resurrection is for right here, right now, it is for every single little moment I live in. Grief has opened my eyes to how much pain exists in the world around me…the hope of the resurrection gives me the power to do something about it. The hope of the resurrection causes me to pick up hitchhikers and drive them an hour out of my way just to make sure they’re safe and to have an opportunity to pray with them. That might not be the wisest thing for some of you, but I tend to feel pretty safe around the rest of you puny humans. The hope of the resurrection directs me to invite the guy at the corner of Boardman and Airport Roads to get in my car and let me take him grocery shopping and then drive him back to his apartment, instead of making him walk, so the two kids he’s trying to feed can have some food. The hope of the resurrection shows me that it is the small day to day opportunities that most of us let pass by that really would be doing His will here on earth.
In January, God worked through Pastor Mark and brought us a great series about generosity. As the end of the month came around, a little more than two weeks before the second anniversary of the birth of my daughter and the accident that took her and her mother from me, I was struggling to come up with ways to remember Miranda. I wanted to find something special to do for her birthday. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that as I was driving to church on January 27, on a day when Pastor Mark was preaching about the Liturgy of Abundance, I got the idea that the best way to remember my daughter would be to do something special for other people…and The Miranda Gift was born.
I created an event and invited my family and friends to it. The next thing I knew they were inviting their friends to it. By February 5, over 1,700 people had been invited and nearly 500 said they were going to participate. On a day when grief could have beat me up, sent me back to bed, and left me waiting for February 6, God provided a way for the hope of the resurrection to triumph over the grave. I spent my day running errands and looking for the perfect opportunities to hand out my own Miranda gifts. Instead of tears, God had given me purpose. Instead of pain, He was giving me joy. The hope of the resurrection was offering beauty for ashes. When I got home that afternoon, I logged onto Facebook and the reality of God’s greatness came flooding in as I saw examples of people reaching out and offering something to complete strangers all over the country.
The world inside Facebook saw a woman in Jackson who had gone to East Side Meijer to cash in her spare change in order to help make ends meet. With her last few pennies she was treating her 3-year-old daughter to a ride on the horse at the front of the store when she received a Miranda Gift. She took her daughter to the toy department and let her pick out a tricycle. The rest of the money helped them with their other needs.
There was the cashier at a store in the mall who was given a Miranda Gift to hand out to the next person who came up to the counter to buy something. One of you was that person; you shared the story of Sara and Miranda with that clerk and asked her to give it to someone else. You posted about the encounter without even knowing what the Miranda Gift was. Later the clerk you had given the gift back to posted on Facebook, telling her part in the story, and the joy she had found in handing the gift to a young mother pushing a stroller through the mall. That young mother posted on Facebook when she got home, her sons birthday was the next day and she was overwhelmed with the generosity and blessings of others.
There was a father who received a card while pumping gas; the woman whose daughter brought a card with a gift certificate home from school; the mother whose son had found a card in his school locker; the woman at Target who found a card had mysteriously appeared in her shopping cart; the parents of the babies born at Allegiance Hospital on February 5th; the person who saw a friend post on Facebook about receiving a Miranda gift, and then started sharing the event with their friends; the young mom at Airport Road Meijer who was handed a gift as she was checking out and then proceeded to head back out once she got home and figured out what was going on so she could give a Miranda Gift to someone, too…hope, handed from one hand to another; hope given freely and without expectation. And you know what I learned…there is VICTORY in the hope of the resurrection.
I want you want to take you back to my professor from college. “Life’s not fair, life just is” wasn’t the end of the story. He had another catch phrase, I’ll never forget, and somehow I never made the connection between “ life’s not fair, life just is” and his question of greeting, “You got the victory?” When he asked, I would always answer in the affirmative, no different than if he’d asked if I was having a good day. I now see the question behind the question, “Do you have the hope of the resurrection?” Folks, there’s victory in hope. “You got the Victory?” isn’t about my day…it’s about my soul. I get that now and I better understand the way he ended many of his conversations, “Keep the Victory.” Life’s not fair, life just is. BUT there is VICTORY in the hope of the resurrection.
And that VICTORY can be overwhelming. The hope of the resurrection is what pulls me back and allows me to get out of my pew most Sundays after I listen to Pastor Mark bring us God’s words. Have you ever seen Schindler’s List? I was a big deal about 20 years ago. It was a movie about the Holocaust and one man’s role in saving some of the Jews from Hitler’s genocide. At the end of the movie, the main character, Oskar Schindler, is preparing to flee in fear of his life. He is standing outside the factory where he saved 1,100 Jews from certain death by employing them. These people of little means, present him with a gold ring, made from the fillings and crowns in their own teeth. In a time when Oskar Schindler should be raising his arms in celebration of the 1,100 lives he has saved, he breaks down. He is overwhelmed at the thought of all those who he did not save. His last scenes in the movie are of him sobbing uncontrollably realizing he could have used his wealth and power to save even one more person. Folks, I have that moment sitting right here in this sanctuary almost every Sunday. I am so overwhelmed by the grace of God and the hope of the resurrection that I can’t help but feel like I wasted a significant portion of my life. I wasn’t living in sin, I just wasn’t living in the grace of God with the hope of the resurrection.
The hope of the resurrection calls me to serve my fellow man, to be Jesus in human skin. Here I am, at the age of 41, climbing out of the miry clay, out of the pitch black dark of grief and I’m finally starting to understand the full extent of the power of God’s grace and the hope of the resurrection. Life’s not fair, life just is. But there is Victory in the hope found in Jesus Christ.
My testimony is that I live with the hope of the resurrection, a hope born of the Grace of God. I live with the promise that my daughter and wife are rejoicing in Heaven, worshipping the Living God with the angels and all those who have gone before. I live with the promise that they are made whole, recreated, resurrected with perfected physical bodies, as God fully intended them to be. I live knowing that I, and all those who believe, will join them in that resurrection when our time here is through. I live knowing that my only responsibility is to lay my brokenness at the feet of Jesus every day and say here I am Lord, use me in whatever way you see fit. That is my testimony.
Life’s not fair, life just is…but do YOU have the Victory?
And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.
1 Peter 5:10-11 (NIV)
Well, I'm not gonna lie, school is kicking my butt. I find I'm struggling (but still getting A's) with two areas:
Time management - this is something I have never really mastered in my life. I tend to be a bit of a procrastinator anyway but I also tend to get overwhelmed if I spend too much time staring at the big picture, which causes me to lose focus and get sidetracked on minor issues.
Internet brain - back in February, I posted about how the internet is changing the way our brains work in regards to learning...at least for those of us who use the internet regularly. School means a big transition back to reading books...lots of books...and I'm finding that the neural pathways which help turn academic reading into academic learning have suffered a bit of atrophy over the past 15 years. This makes it difficult to sit down and focus on learning for any length of time (more than about 10 minutes) without the learned impulse to check email, Facebook, text messages, etc., etc. kicking in. I typically find myself spending 6 hours in the library trying to accomplish 3 to 4 hours of work. I am carefully evaluating the means necessary to overcome this and think a Facebook blackout might be on the near horizon. I'm not too bad with email and I don't have enough people texting me to make that a real issue...my biggest problem is Facebook. It both consumes a lot of time and the way it is designed contributes to the atrophy of the pathways needed for book learning'. Ultimately, this issue has the biggest impact on item #1.
I know I will make it through the semester and probably have my best academic showing ever...it's just mentally exhausting. I'm starting to think I need to put a nice 3 to 5 day excursion on my calendar for May to get away once exam week is done.
In other news, and the main reason for this post, I have been invited to share my testimony during both services at the Spring Arbor Free Methodist Church on Sunday, April 21. Many of you have been praying for me, encouraging me, and lifting me up over the past two years and I sincerely appreciate that. If you're in the area, feel free to come to either the 9:00AM or 11:15AM service and listen in person. If you live out of town and would live to watch or listen, set your alarm and head over to the church website where both services are streamed live and can be listened to later in the archive at the Spring Arbor Free Methodist Church online.
I'm anxious and nervous and ask that those of you who pray ask God to speak His love through me and through my life on April 21.
It's spring break, which means I have a least as much homework to do as I would if it wasn't spring break...d'oh. Two chapters to read for one class , 140+ pages for another, two chapters for an online class that starts on Monday, discussion board postings, a 6 to 8 page mid-term exam to write...it's already Wednesday, I guess should get working on this stuff.
In one of my classes the discussion board assignment for the week is to read the prophetic text of Micah 6:8. We are supposed to use our imagination to write a short essay on what our church/community or institution might be like if this text were its motto.
Here is Micah 6:8 in parallel:
He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? (NRSV)
He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. (NIV)
No, O people, the Lord has told you what is good, and this is what he requires of you: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. (NLT)
But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, and don’t take yourself too seriously—take God seriously. (MSG)
My thoughts on Justice, Mercy, and Humility
What would my church look like if Micah 6:8 was its motto?
A church where people do justice, act justly, do what is right, and do what is fair and just would be a church where those who are poor, oppressed, and/or wronged not only feel welcome, but feel like they have a purpose. A church where the needs of others come before our own needs. A church where those who have wronged and/or oppressed are welcomed, too (see mercy, kindness, and compassion)--a community of forgiveness and healing.
A church where people love kindness, love mercy, and are compassionate and loyal would be a church where a person's wrongs are not held against them. Instead they would feel compelled, by love and forgiveness, to right whatever wrongs they can. It would be a church where those who feel lost feel found. It would be a church where those who feel unloved would feel true love, God's love, through God's people. It would be a place where unkind words have no place. A church where correction is offered with gentleness and respect, saving judgement for God.
A church where people walk humbly with their God and take God seriously would be a church where people are encouraged to live a life of trusting God instead of trying to please God. It would be a church that understands that we approach the grace of the cross with nothing to offer but our brokenness; there is nothing we can do or say to make God love us more than He already does. It would be a church where people understand their brokenness--mental, physical, and spiritual--and know that God's greatest desire is that we offer that brokenness to Him so that He can make us whole and His glory will shine through His people.
What would my church look like if Micah 6:8 was its motto? Not just as a motto but the philosophy of lifestyle behind every thought and action of the members of the church? I think it would be a place that people would flock to in droves.
Humility is also about acknowledging that these are MY thoughts on the passage. That doesn't mean they are your thoughts.
The more I learn about the Bible, faith, and my God the less complex I want my faith to be (and the less I seem to know.) Instead of coming up with lists of do's and don'ts, I'm trying to learn to ask myself a more simple question: Does this bring glory to God? If the answer is no, don't do it. If the answer is yes, do it with justice, mercy, and humility.
It's 10:45PM, I stumble into my domicile half asleep but excited. Tonight was one of those nights that education comes alive. I had class, REL304 Genesis: Creation and Fall, from 6:30PM to 9:30PM. Most weeks the professor is lucky if he can hold the attention of the whole class through 9:00PM; tonight we stayed right up until 9:30PM...it was wonderful (says the annoying "non-trad").
Religion 304 focuses on Genesis, chapters 1 through 3. Tonight was the first night that it felt like we were truly getting into a moment of wrestling with God as a group. We've had a few good classroom discussions prior to this, but nothing this in-depth or thought provoking. Have you read through the first three chapters of the Bible lately? In one sitting? I've done it about a dozen times this year...and each time it gets more confusing and produces even more questions.
What got me excited tonight was when one of the young men in my class--I can use the phrase young man because he's probably 20+ years younger than I am--asked, amidst the quiet chaos of our discussion, the kind of question that I've been waiting to hear. He wanted to know if it was possible that God would limit His own ability to see into the future in order to make sense of giving humankind free will? The question arose from reading the pericope and considering the idea that God created Adam and Eve KNOWING that they would choose to disobey. It's kind of like putting a big red button in front of a small child and telling them not to push it...you do so knowing they will most likely push it, you have set them up to fail. The questions finally came back around to asking if God created mankind to fail on purpose? And if He did, doesn't that seem kind of mean? Lighting bolts did not rain down, but the wrestling match was on.
I might have had a problem with this 20 years ago; and, I don't think it would be inaccurate to say that there might have been apprehension on the part of some people in the room. After all, no one is taking this class as a general education elective. Most of us are in the process of earning some sort of ministry or theology major. Are we allowed to ask questions like this?
My response is an enthusiastic "YES!" tempered with the belief that we can only do so with the realization that we bring a question like this to God, and each other, with empty hands. We have nothing to offer to Him in return for understanding and insight. I'd like to say that we came up with a definitive answer to the question as a result of our discussion but we did not...and I think that's fine.
"What if God placed these paradoxes within the Scriptures to cause me to struggle for the truth? What if it is the struggle he desires as much as the truth itself? Could it be that the truth lies not in one of the seemingly opposed answers to the paradox, but in between them, within the paradox itself? Could it be that uncompromising stances on the paradoxical teachings of the Scriptures are foolishness, no matter how important the doctrine or belief in question, because such dogmatic posturing misses the point entirely? Could it be that the answer to these either/or questions of paradox is neither this nor that, but simply, "Yes"and "Yes"?" (Athol Dickson. Gospel according to Moses, The: What My Jewish Friends Taught Me about Jesus (p. 70). Kindle Edition.)
It felt great to get to a point in the conversation where we could look around the room and realize that maybe we don't have all the answers and, as long as we're here on this earth, we might not ever have them...and that is OK!
I'll admit it, I'm hoping for a few more classes like this. :)
"The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit. You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God." Psalm 51:17
It's not often that a song brings tears to my face these days...no more than a dozen times a week, I suspect....OK, it may not be that often, but it does happen, and it's been happening every time I hear Tenth Avenue North sing Worn.
Worn
I'm tired I'm worn My heart is heavy From the work it takes to keep on breathing I've made mistakes I've let my hope fail My soul feels crushed By the weight of this world And I know that you can give me rest So I cry out with all that I have left Let me see redemption win Let me know the struggle ends That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn I want to know a song can rise From the ashes of a broken life And all that's dead inside can be reborn Cause I'm worn I know I need To lift my eyes up But I'm too week Life just won't let up And I know that You can give me rest So I cry out with all that I have left Let me see redemption win Let me know the struggle ends That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn I want to know a song can rise From the ashes of a broken life And all that's dead inside can be reborn Cause I'm worn And my prayers are wearing thin I'm worn even before the day begins I'm worn I've lost my will to fight I'm worn so heaven so come and flood my eyes Let me see redemption win Let me know the struggle ends That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn I want to know a song can rise From the ashes of a broken life And all that's dead inside can be reborn Yes all that's dead inside will be reborn Though I'm worn Yeah I'm worn
by Tenth Avenue North
Songwriters: Jason Ingram, Mike Donehey, and Jeff Owen
...and I'm already crying...I can't even listen to the song and write this without feeling it deep down in my broken soul.
I'm taking a stand...to be weak...to be broken...because I can't do this life on my own.
I'm worn...I don't have the strength. I don't have the strength to get up in the morning. I don't have the strength to go to class or write my papers or do my reading. I don't have the strength to look at Facebook every day and see all my peers posting pictures of their happy families. I don't have the strength to look at Facebook every day and see all my peers complaining about their families and wishing I could do that, too. I don't have the strength to crawl out of bed on Sunday morning and go sit in church and listen to Pastor Mark tell me about the God who loves me. I don't have the strength to clean my house or wash my laundry. I don't have the strength to cry another tear.
I don't have the strength to take my next breath.
Instead, I have Him. I have the God who gives me strength. I have the God who picks me up and carries me through all of these things. I have the God in whom redemption wins. I have the God in whom the struggle ends. I have the God who can mend a heart that's frail and worn. I have the God who will not reject a broken and repentant heart.
What do you have? Who do you have?
Is it time to look our brothers and sisters in Christ in the eye and just admit we can't do this? Is it time to stop putting on fake smiles and pretending to be strong when we see each other at church and on the street? Is it time to fall into each others arms, cry our broken tears, and carry each other to the only one who can give us strength? Is it time to admit that fighting the good fight is simply waving the white flag?
Some of you may have already figured this out. Some of you may have learned this a long time ago.
Some of you might be like me and have to be reminded...every single day...that I just can't do this, but I know who can.
Abba, I lay my brokenness, the ashes of my broken life, before you. I lie at your feet and need to feel your cloak of comfort cover me. Father, thank you for reminding me that you are my strength.
I originally posted this on Facebook...then I started thinking about how I haven't posted anything here in a long time, even though I've got a major one brewing in the recesses of my brain, and decided a little cut and paste never hurt anyone...
Truth be told, I have never fully involved myself in Lent. I've never felt called to give something up and I probably won't this year, especially since I haven't taken any time to put some serious thought and prayer into it. However, the influx of "self-sacrifice" posts I've seen on facebook this week has prodded me to study Lent a little more closely. For those who are giving something up for Lent, I hope that you also try to incorporate the whole season into your life, instead of just a temporary fast from the "luxurious." Not that abstinence alone is a bad thing, it just seems rather empty when taken out of the context of the "big picture."
As I have dug into the season, I have learned that the traditional purpose of Lent is to prepare us, as believers in Christ, through prayer, penance, repentance, almsgiving, and self-denial, for Holy Week, our celebration of the death and resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. As much as we focus on the giving up, I hope and pray that, as the Bride of Christ, we would spend as much energy or more on prayer, penance, repentance, and almsgiving. I would also encourage you to make sure that you're not just going to replace your sacrifice with something else to help ease the pain of the fast, if that's the case then what's the point?
My study has brought me some valuable knowledge and, in the immortal words of GI Joe, "knowing is half the battle." I look forward to watching this Lenten season unfold through more knowledgeable eyes even while I find myself considering how I can begin preparing now, for the season which begins 365 days from today. Maybe I can start by giving up being preachy on facebook...and, yes, I worked GI Joe into a post about Lent. I'm a little proud of that.
Have a meaningful Lenten season. Relish the sacrifice that was made just for you. I will.
But blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their hope and confidence. They are like trees planted along a riverbank, with roots that reach deep into the water. Such trees are not bothered by the heat or worried by long months of drought. Their leaves stay green, and they never stop producing fruit.
Jeremiah 17:7-8
Trust.
I'm having a hard time finding any spiritual trouble/sin/issue/difficulty/etc, in my life, that doesn't point back to trust.
He created the heavens and the earth. He created the sun, the moon, and the stars. He separated the earth from the waters and the heavens from the earth. He cares for the sparrow and the flowers of the field. He created me...and yet I struggle to trust Him with my life.
Why this fear?
I think, in some ways, it is because I think about God in human terms.
We are human. We hurt each other. We fail each other. We are perfectly imperfect and our flaws are often the source of our tears, hurt, frustration, and pain. Our relationships are most often performance based. We tend to love those who love us back. We love those who treat us well and do nice things for and with us. My human experience causes me to want to please God, with my thoughts, words, and actions, so that He will like me and accept me.
He is God. He exists outside of time, space, and matter while at the same time existing inside time, space, and matter...a mind bending paradox...but I still envision Him in human terms, which ends up being very limiting. He is omnipresent, yet he can "enter" a place...entering a place carries an implication that He was not there. He is omniscient, yet he asks me to talk to Him, to open my heart to Him, to lay the burdens He already knows I carry at His feet.
Trust.
All He really wants me to do is trust Him...it sounds so simple.
Abba, I bring you my brokenness. Father, please work in my heart so that I might trust you more.
"Your eyes are too pure to look on evil; you cannot tolerate wrongdoing. Why then do you tolerate the treacherous? Why are you silent while the wicked swallow up those more righteous than themselves?"
Habukkuk 1:13 (NIV)
In other words...why do bad things happen to good people?
My daily Bible reading yesterday helped me understand evil, as we have seen it in the past month, has been around for a long, long time. I read the words of Proverbs and became aware, again, that the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary School do not represent the first time innocence has been defiled by wickedness.
When sinners tempt you, my son, don't give in. Suppose they say, “Come on; let's find someone to kill! Let's attack some innocent people for the fun of it! They may be alive and well when we find them, but they'll be dead when we're through with them!" (Proverbs 1:10-12 GNB)
Unfortunately, this means we will see it again, and again, and again. It leaves us begging the question...why do bad things happen to good (or innocent) people? It leaves us feeling a bit hopeless, helpless, and unprotected...doesn't it?
I love it when God brings together the different aspects of my life, especially to show/give me hope. After reading my Bible, I picked up Athol Dickson's The Gospel According to Moses: What My Jewish Friends Taught Me About Jesus, and stumbled across this: "...God is all-powerful and all-knowing...God is pure and unchanging; therefore he is the standard for all truth and morality, and a solid foundation I can build upon when the evil of the world seems overwhelming." These statements may seem a little "fluffy" when taken out of the context of the book; however, they are the culmination of a very logical thought process laid out by the author. It is that process that reaffirms my belief that these things are true and that even in the darkest hour, I can still cling to the truth that GOD IS GOOD...and because God is good, we are allowed to ask "Why?!"
I feel privileged to live in a day and time when people like Dickson, like my pastor, and many others (others who know a lot more about God and the Bible than I do) can help me both ask that question and then find difficult answers. I am blessed to have "ears to hear" so that God can impart his wisdom, through these people, to me.
I realize I can't pray the evil in the world away; however, I can pray that when it shows its face, I, and other believers, can find better ways to respond with the love of Christ...to be light, when all seems dark. As Dickson writes, "I believe sometimes bad things happen to good people so we can watch God turn the greatest tragedies into the purest love."
"God loves an honest question."
Athol Dickson. Gospel according to Moses, The: What My Jewish Friends Taught Me about Jesus (p. 17). Kindle Edition.
I picked up The Gospel According to Moses: What My Jewish Friends Taught Me about Jesus today. I first started reading it about 6 months ago and got wrapped up in some other books. I love that this is bringing me back to a concept I first discovered this summer, wrestling with God. I have no plans to wrestle like Jacob did, but I really want to learn how to ask God the questions He WANTS me to ask Him.
Dickson doesn't take long to get to the heart of the matter as he discusses a time in his life when he had abandoned his faith "because it seemed I had no right to question the difficulties, much less expect answers. I had been taught to accept readymade dogma rather than to personally take my doubts to God." I'm not sure about you, but I can identify with this. I was raised in an evangelical Christian home and approaching God with my questions, ready to admit that I don't have the answers and that He does, is a whole lot different faith choice than my previous mindset. I'm not going to blame my upbringing, or those who tried to impart spiritual wisdom to me over the course of my life, for not explaining this to me sooner. They probably did, or at least tried to, and my own shortcomings kept me from seeing the truth that has been in front of me for so long.
"Wrestling with God" feels foreign and I'll admit that I'm approaching this with some fear and trembling, for even though I'm learning that it's OK, even spiritually healthy, it still feels like I need to be on the look out for stray lightening bolts. It's comforting to know that I'm not alone in feeling that way and Dickson addresses this in explaining how he learned "I too must never fear to ask, but like Abraham, I must also remember that every time I approach the Lord I come with empty hands. God owes no answers and does not respond to ultimatums. Indeed, one sure way to receive the haunting answer of silence is to frame my questions as demands."
I'm excited to have started reading this book again, and will work a little harder to make sure I keep reading it this time. I'm heading back to school in a few weeks. As I've made me way through the past couple years, the one "thought about my future" that kept coming back to me was a desire to learn more about my faith and the foundations of it. In a couple of weeks I hope to be sitting in a classroom at Spring Arbor University starting down the path toward a second major, this one in Biblical Studies.
As I head back into the classroom, I'm excited to begin a journey to better find "the Creator of the universe on hands and knees, a proud Daddy talking baby talk to all humanity, a God who has become man so that I can better understand his answers."
While driving around tonight, I heard the Mills Brothers sing Daddy's Little Girl on the radio. Apparently, because it has the word Christmas in it, it's considered a Christmas song. I'm trying to figure out how that resonates with the Easter Bunny reference; ultimately, I guess that's neither here nor there.
You're the end of the rainbow, the pot of gold, You're daddy's little girl to have and to hold. A precious gem is what you are, You're mommy's bright and shining star. You're the spirit of Christmas, our star on the tree, You're the Easter Bunny to mommy and me; You're sugar, you're spice, you're everything nice, And you're daddy's little girl.
I know it's supposed to be a happy song, but it makes my heart ache...and not just because I only got three days with my little girl. I spent a significant portion of the day crying. Heaven welcomed too many angels today. Nearly two dozen families in Connecticut face futures that look black and empty tonight. Mothers and fathers have lost children who, when they first awoke this morning, they expected to tuck in and kiss goodnight tonight. Husbands and/or wives will go to bed alone. I know this darkness...and it breaks my heart that other people do, too, especially since this was no accident.
The following days, weeks, and months will be filled with arguments and rhetoric from the left and the right...none of which will bring these angels back. And, unfortunately, it probably won't prevent it from happening in the future. Policy and rhetoric are often of little use when pitted against evil.
As as nation, as a world, we're left with the question of why? The situation will be analyzed from thousands of angles; however, we may never truly know the heart and mind, and the darkness therein, of the young man who committed this atrocity. Our questions may never be answered.
Tonight I'm left wondering how can we, as people of faith, reach out to our communities to address the heart issues that are at the root of this type of evil?
Abba, I offer you my brokenness tonight. So much pain. So many tears. So many dreams and hopes brought to a violent end. It's too much for me to think about and handle on my own, on our own. I offer this to you, knowing you stand beside us. You weep with the broken hearted.
It's been a little over a year since Steve Jobs passed away. He was young, by the standards we set in this society, but he had always felt that he would not live a "long" life.
I've been plodding through Walter Isaacson's biography of Jobs for several months. I say plodding due to the fact that it's taking me a long time to read it, not because it's boring...not by a long shot. It seems as though I will spend two or three days reading voraciously and then set the book aside for a week or two. Indeed, Steve Jobs was a very intense person...maybe setting the book aside helps keep me from getting caught up in his well documented "reality distortion field." It's an interesting read, at least for me; I'm a little bit into technology and a lot into Apple's products.
The man was a genius. The man was a visionary. The man was really weird...but...weird sort of fits. Think about people like Albert Einstein, Nikola Tesla, and Howard Hughes just to name a few. They were all brilliant and at least a little weird. In fact, some of the greatest geniuses of history went "crazy," if they lived long enough.
By no means was Steve Jobs an exemplar of the finest qualities of leadership. He was often a brutal leader, unable to relate to his employees in a humane manner...but the people who worked with/for him typically speak of the experience as one they don't regret. As cruel and abrupt as he could be, he also brought out the best in people. He was able to get people to do the things they had previously thought impossible simply by getting them to believe they could do it. He was able to convince people to accomplish in hours or days what they had tried to convince him would take weeks or months.
As I read about this charismatic genius, a master of spin, a man who was able to turn sand and circuits into a multi-billion dollar empire, I can't help but wonder what the world would be like if all that energy had been focused on changing it in a different way? What if Steve Jobs had cared about people's hearts as much as he did about providing them with great technology experiences? It's a wonder I'll just have to let wander in my mind.
I'm no Steve Jobs...not by a long shot...but I wonder if I can't learn from him in a way that will impact my faith in a positive way. Steve was all about putting something in people's hands that would leave them wanting more. It needed to be easy, simple to use, something they should feel good about, something that they recognized as being good to have in their lives. Shouldn't that be how my faith looks to the world? Shouldn't people want to pick it up and look at? Find out what it's all about? Take it home with them and incorporate it into their life? Should it be easy and intuitive or should it come with 1,000 pages of complex instructions?
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you
rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and
humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is
easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30
Abba, I come to you in my brokenness. I ask that you make me a light in a dark world. Make me humble. Make me gentle. That they world would see your Son in me and You in Him.
It's been so long since I've written anything. I have an email inbox full of songs that I intended to write about over the past few months...but never did. Call it a time management problem. The time to write is there...I just haven't managed to actually do it. More than blog neglect, it's been a spiritual neglect as well. No loss of faith, no rejection of the things I believe, more like a long sit on a bench in the park. A long sit may not represent progress forward on a path, but it does give one time to think, and think, and think. The time for thinking is done, I need to start walking again.
I moved back into my house this past week. After a few days of unpacking, slowly, and banging my head on door frames I don't remember banging my head on before, I found my cupboards to be bare and decided to go grocery shopping this afternoon. There is nothing spectacular about grocery shopping. It is a chore most of us do on a fairly regular basis.
I'm not sure how other people who have lost a spouse and/or child experience grocery shopping, but for me it's almost always a bittersweet activity. I see mothers, and sometimes fathers, struggling through the store, with their children in tow, and the frustration is often evident on their face. My heart can't help but long for that struggle. As I stood in line tonight, the woman in front of my was "bellyaching" to the cashier that her young daughter was quite a handful....all I could think was, "count your blessings, lady, count your blessings."
After checking out, I was pushing my cart into the parking lot and the refrain of Count Your Blessings popped into my head...and the tears popped out of my eyes. I was feeling very appreciative that the sun had gone down and the bright lights of the store were behind me, shadowing my face.
The song was a poignant reminder that I, too, need to count my blessings.
When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed, When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost, Count your many blessings, name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done. Refrain Count your blessings, name them one by one, Count your blessings, see what God hath done! Count your blessings, name them one by one, And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done. Are you ever burdened with a load of care? Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear? Count your many blessings, every doubt will fly, And you will keep singing as the days go by. When you look at others with their lands and gold, Think that Christ has promised you His wealth untold; Count your many blessings. Wealth can never buy Your reward in heaven, nor your home on high. So, amid the conflict whether great or small, Do not be disheartened, God is over all; Count your many blessings, angels will attend, Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.
As I count my blessings, I try to remind myself that the vast majority of people, including
myself, live life, make choices, and choose our words based on the portfolio of our experiences. I also try to remind myself that I would have probably
been making the same "bellyaches" had things been different. Abba, please accept this broken offering. Thank you for reminding me that I am blessed. Help me to see You and be You in the world today.
Today, October 15, is International Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness day...it's also The Wave of Light. As each timezone around the world marked the arrival of 7:00PM, people have been lighting candles and letting them burn for at least an hour...creating a wave of light around the globe for 24 hours.
For Miranda Evangelene Cole, February 5, 2011, to February 8, 2011
Aside from the glow of my laptop, Miranda's candle is the only light on in my house right now. The music I use to get me through times like this is playing softly through the stereo. These songs have been my lifeline in dark times. These songs speak to me in ways books and the consoling words of a loving community just can't. The music often carries the emotion that mere words struggle to convey.
It's a playlist that too me a long time to assemble. Adding one song at a time as its impact unfolded in my life. I want to share this list of songs with you. You may not like any of them, and that's ok, but they have helped me to just deal with life, too many times to count, and I would hope and pray that they might help someone else, too.
God is God, Steven Curtis Chapman
Blessings, Laura Story
I Can Only Imagine, MercyMe
By Your Side, Tenth Avenue North
Healing Begins, Tenth Avenue North
Homesick, MercyMe
The Hurt & The Healer, MercyMe
Finally Home, MercyMe
In Christ Alone, Owl City
Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus), Chris Rice
I'll Fly Away, Jars of Clay
This is by no means a comprehensive list of songs which speak of grief, loss, the questions that come them, and the hope we have in Christ. I know there are hundreds of songs, if not thousands, that could be included. These are just the ones that have helped me the most over the past year and a half. They speak to the grief and pain of today...but, more importantly, they speak to the joy of that which is yet to come, the Hope of The Resurrection.
Tonight, my candle burns bright for my lil' Shrimp, Miranda Evangelene, and for all those who have lost an infant. We are not alone...their memories will burn in our hearts forever.
It's a hard life, it's a hard life It's a very hard life It's a hard life wherever you go If we poison our children with hatred Then, the hard life is all that they'll know
I'll be honest...I hate this season. No, not the weather.
Election season.
The rhetoric, the poison, the lying, the fact checking, the deception, delusion, and intimidation. If there's truth to be found in any of it...it's hard to find.
I was listening to a playlist of my favorite Christian songs and Jackson Finch's cover of It's a Hard Life Wherever You Go came on. I realize the song deals primarily with racism, religious intolerance, and other forms of hate...but all I could think about was politics. It just feels like we've become a culture that runs our elections with hate. The Republicans despise the Democrats. The Democrats hate the Republicans. The name calling, hyperbole, and sharing of distorted truths are miserable to watch...and it's not just the politicians participating. It feels like we have descended to a state where the "winner takes all" attitude is the pervasive mindset...which really means we all lose because the winner gets to ignore the 49% of the people who didn't vote for them...and we're passing this mindset along to the children who watch the adults as they go through this process. What hope do we have if we just teach them to pick a side and hold fast with blind devotion?
The process seems grey, bleak, and desolate to me...it's missing something I've really been spending a lot of time thinking about and looking for in the recent past...LOVE. There is no love in politics. There is no turning the other cheek. The concept that I can choose to put others before myself has no place in politics. It's depressing...disgusting. I can't wait for November 7...because maybe there just isn't room for love when it comes to electing the people who "represent" us.
After all, love isn't easy. Love takes work. Love isn't what comes naturally. Love is hard...and I'm preaching to the choir here. I'm really struggling with love...struggling in the spirit of Romans 7:15-24. I have people in my life that I'm finding it really difficult to love. I think about them...then I think about what I'm supposed to think about them...then I look up at the sky and I shout, "ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS?! I CAN NOT BE EXPECTED TO LOVE THESE PEOPLE!"
Ugh.
If I struggle with this in my own life, it's probably too much to ask my politicians to approach their job with it.
The upside of being sick...I finally finished Velvet Elvis (Bell, Rob (2009-02-26). Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith (Kindle Locations 2401-2406). Zondervan. Kindle Edition.) I started it a few months ago. I'd pick it up and read a chapter, then set it down for a few weeks, and then pick it up and read another chapter. I'm relatively new to the world of Rob Bell, I hadn't read anything by him prior to this past June. Now that I've read a few of his books, I'm finding plenty of resonance with a lot of what Rob has to say...but, I also find a few things he's proposing to be a little tough to swallow.
I really think Rob is promoting some good ideas in saying Christians could probably be doing more for the Kingdom by being "pro-Christ" and less "anti-(fill in the blank with your favorite hot button lifestyle issue)." The Church has spent a lot of time in the past few decades being anti-gay, anti-abortion, anti-drugs, etc...often in ways that drive the wounded farther from Christ. If I've been understanding what Rob has to say in his writings, it's that being pro-loving your neighbor, pro-being a peacemaker, pro-social justice, pro-taking care of the poor, pro-taking care of each other, and pro-Christ will do a lot more to attract people to Christ than being anti-anything ever will.
I do think Rob may be swimming in some muddy waters when he starts talking about Heaven and Hell. If I understand what he's trying to say, it seems like Rob is pretty confident that Heaven will be right here, when the earth is restored to the way it was when God saw that "it was good." I think Rob is trying to convince his readers that this physical planet will be the location of Heaven. I'm not sure I buy into that. His main points are the scriptures that talk about God making all things new. I think there's plenty of scriptural support for Heaven "being" someplace else and Rob doesn't really take the time to address those as he typically only uses scripture that supports his stance. Does it ultimately matter where Heaven is...I guess not. One of the points Rob brings up time and again is that Believers should be more focused on "thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven," the concept that we are to bring Heaven to earth in our daily lives, rather than focusing on Heaven being a place you do after you die. That's something I think we could all practice a little more.
It's Hell where Rob finds himself in trouble with many Christians. He doesn't come right out and say it, but it seems Rob either believes there is no Hell or that Hell is a temporary place and ALL people will eventually make it to Heaven. Smarter people than I have read his books and addressed this issue. I find resonance with one, in particular, a review of Love Wins, by Athol Dickson. All I can say is read that review and it's pretty much what I think, too.
One area where I've enjoyed taking in what Rob has to say is in regards to suffering, "Suffering is a place where clichés don’t work and words often fail…when we join each other in the pain and confusion, God is there…it is in our suffering together that we find out we are not alone. We find out who really loves us. We find out that with these people around us, we can make it through anything. And that gives us something to celebrate." In my own recent trials, it became clear to me very early on that Christians aren't practiced in supporting each other in our suffering. We often offer pithy Christianisms when silence would be the best option. Hugs, shared tears, and just being there quietly can mean a whole lot more to those who are in pain than any quote or saying you can come up with about God's plans.
I have a least one more of Rob's books left in my "to read" list, and I may go back and re-read a couple of the ones I've finished. There's plenty of good to cull from them, even if you might have to set aside a few things that could be questionable.
