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.)
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Sunday, April 28, 2013
My Testimony (The Great Wall of Text)
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:
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)
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
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)
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Justice, Mercy, and Humility
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.
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.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
It's a Hard Life (Wherever You Go)
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.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Time after Time
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting
Time after time
Time After Time
by Cyndi Lauper
I changed the station on the radio in my car the other day. What can I say, it happens from time to time. Hearing the same songs over and over can sometimes get a little repetitive and it's nice to treat my ears to something new. As I was cruising around town, listening to The Coffee House, I heard Everything But The Girl cover Time After Time. It was a nice rendition, but I'm still a little partial to Willie Nelson's version of the song (the original is pretty good, too.)
As I listened, I was struck by how the chorus so acutely portrays the situation so many of us find ourselves in at some point or another in our relationship with the Father. How softly does He whisper to us, "if you're lost, you can look and you will find me, time after time. If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting, time after time." He's always there, no matter how distracted or unfocused we get. It's no excuse to get lost, but it's good to know He's there, time after time.
Abba, I come to you with my brokenness. I thank you for being there, time after time, for catching me when I fall.
Time after time
If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting
Time after time
Time After Time
by Cyndi Lauper
I changed the station on the radio in my car the other day. What can I say, it happens from time to time. Hearing the same songs over and over can sometimes get a little repetitive and it's nice to treat my ears to something new. As I was cruising around town, listening to The Coffee House, I heard Everything But The Girl cover Time After Time. It was a nice rendition, but I'm still a little partial to Willie Nelson's version of the song (the original is pretty good, too.)
As I listened, I was struck by how the chorus so acutely portrays the situation so many of us find ourselves in at some point or another in our relationship with the Father. How softly does He whisper to us, "if you're lost, you can look and you will find me, time after time. If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting, time after time." He's always there, no matter how distracted or unfocused we get. It's no excuse to get lost, but it's good to know He's there, time after time.
Abba, I come to you with my brokenness. I thank you for being there, time after time, for catching me when I fall.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Prophet, Priest, and King
But my closet's a shrine to and old friend of mine
Here i talk all the time with a prophet priest....
I pull out boxes and brooms
And i gush like a groom
For it's here i commune with
A prophet, priest and king
Prophet, Priest And King - Smalltown Poets
The message at church this morning was just what I needed to hear. The pastor has been off on sabbatical for a few months and I'm looking forward hearing his heart as he shares over the next next few months.
As he spoke to us today, the song Prophet, Priest, and King kept popping into my mind. It's highly likely you've never heard it. I don't remember if it was ever on the radio or not. It was on Smalltown Poets "debut" album back in 1997. I put "debut" in quotes because some of the members of the band had released an album, under a different name, prior to this "debut."
Their song ties into the sermon...loosely. As part of the message, pastor explained the 3 offices of the old testament leaders:
- Prophets - they represented God to the people
- Priests - they represented the people to God
- King - was supposed to work for the common good of all the people
It's these three offices that we're all called to participate in as members of the body of Christ. It's this message that has been working it's way into my heart over the past few months. I'm called to represent God to my fellow man. I'm called to represent, and life, my fellow man to God. I'm called to work for the common good of my fellow man. We, as believers are called to be prophet, priest, and king...that's quite a challenge.
It's enough of a challenge that, as I process the message, I have to remind myself to take things slowly. I can be my own worst critic. I'm impatient. I cringe when I fail. It's sometimes hard for me to just ask, "God, where do you need me today?" because I'm looking at where I think He should expect me to be. The problem is, that's not where He's looking.
When the Israelites asked God for a King, he met them where they were at. Even though it was NOT what He wanted for them, He still worked with them, redemptively, in the place they were at, not where He wanted them to be. He understands our brokenness...and will work with us where we're at. I just have to keep reminding myself of that truth.
Abba, I offer you my brokenness today. I offer you where I'm at and ask that you work in me to help me as I strive to be you to my fellow man, to life my fellow man to you, and to work for the common good of all mankind. Father, mold me into the prophet, priest, and king you want me to be.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Breathe Deep (The Breath of God)
Politicians, morticians, Philistines, homophobes
Skinheads, Dead heads, tax evaders, street kids
Alcoholics, workaholics, wise guys, dim wits
Blue collars, white collars, war mongers, peace nicks
Breathe deep
Breathe deep the Breath of God
Breathe deep
Breathe deep the Breath of God
Suicidals, rock idols, shut-ins, drop outs
Friendless, homeless, penniless and depressed
Presidents, residents, foreigners and aliens
Dissidents, feminists, xenophobes and chauvinists
Evolutionists, creationists, perverts, slum lords
Dead-beats, athletes, Protestants and Catholics
Housewives, neophytes, pro-choice, pro-life
Misogynists, monogamists, philanthropists, blacks and whites
Police, obese, lawyers, and government
Sex offenders, tax collectors, war vets, rejects
Atheists, Scientists, racists, sadists
Photographers, biographers, artists, pornographers
Gays and lesbians, demagogues and thespians
The disabled, preachers, doctors and teachers
Meat eaters, wife beaters, judges and juries
Long hair, no hair, everybody everywhere!
Who did Christ come to save? Ultimately, as I read, listen, learn, consider, and wrestle with my faith, I can think of only two correct and appropriate answers to that question...all mankind and me.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him." Matthew 3:16-17
Who did Christ come to save? There are a lot of different people listed in Breath Deep, by the Lost Dogs, many of whom would not be welcome in most churches. I'm still in the middle of that big road trip I was talking about in my last post. Still not reading much, or listening to much music, but this song has been on my mind all day, so I listened when I finally got to my hotel for the night.
This song has been one of my favorites for a long time, but I think I'm hearing it with different ears now. Ears that hear more truth and not just a catchy hook and a reminder to breath the essence of God deep into my being. Over the past few months, I've been sensing that I need a change of heart, a change of position, a change of mind. I'm really sensing the need to start worrying more about what I should be doing right, in terms of my faith, than about what other people might be doing wrong. Trying to live of life of what I'm for instead of what I'm against. A life of reaching out to the wounded instead of condemning them. Tall task, big change. I hope these things are on my mind for a long time to come. Lord knows I've got enough miles of road laid out in front of me to allow it for the next 8 to 10 days.
Abba, I bring my brokenness to you and lay it at your feet. Help me pause and breathe deep Your breath. I pray that You will continue to open my eyes and heart to doing what I can to bring Your Kingdom here until I can get there.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Hit the road Jack...
I'm on day 11 of a long road trip. One downside to travel like this is that I just don't end up reading much or listening to music. I left my iPad at home, in favor of my MacBook Air, and reading a book on the computer just doesn't work for me. However, I do find plenty of time, mostly at night, to catch up on Facebook, email, phone calls, texts, etc.
A few days ago, my youngest brother posted a link to an article that caught my attention. It's an editorial piece, by Shane Claiborne, that's almost 3 years old now. The title alone, What If Jesus Meant All That Stuff, was enough to get me to read it. I'm glad I did. I found resonance with Shane's message, especially in light of the questions I've had on my mind lately. I have recently begun to wake up to the idea that my faith should not be about punching my ticket to Heaven...assuring a joyful, blissful, splendiferous afterlife...or, more succinctly, avoiding Hell...it should be about trying to bring Heaven here...today.
"...too often all the church has done is promise the world that there is life after death and use it as a ticket to ignore the hells around us. I am convinced that the Christian Gospel has as much to do with this life as the next, and that the message of that Gospel is not just about going up when we die but about bringing God's Kingdom down. It was Jesus who taught us to pray that God's will be done "on earth as it is in heaven." On earth."
I feel blessed that people like Shane are around to help people like me figure out that maybe our motives for taking on the yoke of Christ need to be more thoroughly examined, and possibly even tossed out. I re-read the article today, mostly because of something that happened near me this morning. I opened the door to my hotel room to take my bags out to my motorcycle, getting ready for another long day of riding, and walked out into the middle of a "domestic disturbance." A woman was chasing a man across the parking lot, yelling at him, and clearly getting ready to do her best Roger Clemons impersonation with the cell phone in her left hand. The hotel manager just happened to be shuffling along, caught between the two of them, and ducked just in time to avoid being beaned by a large smart phone hurtling across the parking lot. This was a situation where the love of Christ was noticeably absent...and my reaction was to play ostrich. I walked over to my motorcycle, as if I was deaf and blind, strapped my bags onto the back seat and then walked back to my room to get the rest of my things. The fella hightailed it out of the parking lot while the manager confronted the woman and did a reasonable job of getting her to calm down before I pulled out and left the scene in my rearview mirror. I've been thinking about it all day, trying to assess if there was something I could have done to help or not. These people were obviously experiencing a bit of Hell here on earth...and all I can wonder is how could I have brought Heaven to them? I haven't come up with a good solution or answer yet.
As I read through the scripture, take in the writings of others who have wrestled with these ideas and questions, and try to figure things out...I have to remind myself that it's a process that might take the rest of my life. I have to remind myself that Paul (the one who wrote significant chunks of the New Testament) didn't go from being blinded to being super-missionary in a day...it took time. Patience is a virtue I struggle with.
Abba, I bring you my brokenness today and lay it at your feet. As you continue to open my eyes to those around me who are in Hell, I ask that you grant me wisdom to be able to bring Heaven to them.
A few days ago, my youngest brother posted a link to an article that caught my attention. It's an editorial piece, by Shane Claiborne, that's almost 3 years old now. The title alone, What If Jesus Meant All That Stuff, was enough to get me to read it. I'm glad I did. I found resonance with Shane's message, especially in light of the questions I've had on my mind lately. I have recently begun to wake up to the idea that my faith should not be about punching my ticket to Heaven...assuring a joyful, blissful, splendiferous afterlife...or, more succinctly, avoiding Hell...it should be about trying to bring Heaven here...today.
"...too often all the church has done is promise the world that there is life after death and use it as a ticket to ignore the hells around us. I am convinced that the Christian Gospel has as much to do with this life as the next, and that the message of that Gospel is not just about going up when we die but about bringing God's Kingdom down. It was Jesus who taught us to pray that God's will be done "on earth as it is in heaven." On earth."
I feel blessed that people like Shane are around to help people like me figure out that maybe our motives for taking on the yoke of Christ need to be more thoroughly examined, and possibly even tossed out. I re-read the article today, mostly because of something that happened near me this morning. I opened the door to my hotel room to take my bags out to my motorcycle, getting ready for another long day of riding, and walked out into the middle of a "domestic disturbance." A woman was chasing a man across the parking lot, yelling at him, and clearly getting ready to do her best Roger Clemons impersonation with the cell phone in her left hand. The hotel manager just happened to be shuffling along, caught between the two of them, and ducked just in time to avoid being beaned by a large smart phone hurtling across the parking lot. This was a situation where the love of Christ was noticeably absent...and my reaction was to play ostrich. I walked over to my motorcycle, as if I was deaf and blind, strapped my bags onto the back seat and then walked back to my room to get the rest of my things. The fella hightailed it out of the parking lot while the manager confronted the woman and did a reasonable job of getting her to calm down before I pulled out and left the scene in my rearview mirror. I've been thinking about it all day, trying to assess if there was something I could have done to help or not. These people were obviously experiencing a bit of Hell here on earth...and all I can wonder is how could I have brought Heaven to them? I haven't come up with a good solution or answer yet.
As I read through the scripture, take in the writings of others who have wrestled with these ideas and questions, and try to figure things out...I have to remind myself that it's a process that might take the rest of my life. I have to remind myself that Paul (the one who wrote significant chunks of the New Testament) didn't go from being blinded to being super-missionary in a day...it took time. Patience is a virtue I struggle with.
Abba, I bring you my brokenness today and lay it at your feet. As you continue to open my eyes to those around me who are in Hell, I ask that you grant me wisdom to be able to bring Heaven to them.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Work Harder
"WORK HARDER...millions are depending on you!"
That's the bumper sticker on the back of the car in front of me while I'm sitting at the corner of Airport Road and Boardman Road. I've seen it before...several times just today and I'm pretty sure there are several cars bearing it, or something similar to it, in the parking lot at church each Sunday. I've also seen it posted as a "postcard" on Facebook by many friends, both Christian and not.
I'm looking back and forth between the bumper sticker and the guy standing at the side of the road with a sign that reads, "Help...2 kids to feed. $20 or $30 would really mean a lot." He's not looking at the cars...just standing there, staring at the ground, shuffling his feet, and occasionally glancing to his left, at the highway.
The King will reply, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." - Matthew 25:40
This is what the Lord Almighty said: "Administer true justice; show mercy and compassion to one another. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the foreigner or the poor. Do not plot evil against each other." - Zechariah 7:9-10
If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. 1 John 3:17-18
All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had. - Acts 4:32
The list goes on and on and on. Balance...it's all about balance...which it doesn't feel like we have these days...and for which I don't have the solution. This feels like a very unbalanced situation to me.
In no way am I endorsing our current welfare systems, the Patient Protection and Affordable Healthcare Act, communism, socialism, etc., etc. I believe our current government systems, especially those with a focus on social welfare, are far too "corrupt" to be sustainable. We need lots of reform...across the board in the private, public, and government sectors. However, my experience today ignited a fire under the questions that have been brewing in my heart and head about these issues for a long time.
When did "The Church" abdicate social welfare to the government? Why does it feel like those of us screaming the loudest about how unfair things are are the ones who should be bending over backwards to help our fellow man? Can people of faith (all faiths) reclaim this responsibility, prying it out of the government's hands? If we do, will we do it better than the government? Is the job too big for "The Church"? Too big for God?
Meijer was right around the corner...I rolled down my window and told the guy with the sign to hop in. He didn't try to buy booze, he didn't buy cigarettes. We got milk, cereal, bread, fruit, veggies...staples. He just moved to Jackson a month ago. He got a job at McDonalds but won't get his first paycheck for another week, not that I expect his first paycheck to do much in terms of being able to buy groceries. The kids are 2 months and 18 months old...Miranda would have been 18 months old yesterday.
Abba, I bring my brokenness to you and lay it at your feet. Soften my heart, open my eyes, give me wisdom.
That's the bumper sticker on the back of the car in front of me while I'm sitting at the corner of Airport Road and Boardman Road. I've seen it before...several times just today and I'm pretty sure there are several cars bearing it, or something similar to it, in the parking lot at church each Sunday. I've also seen it posted as a "postcard" on Facebook by many friends, both Christian and not.
I'm looking back and forth between the bumper sticker and the guy standing at the side of the road with a sign that reads, "Help...2 kids to feed. $20 or $30 would really mean a lot." He's not looking at the cars...just standing there, staring at the ground, shuffling his feet, and occasionally glancing to his left, at the highway.
The King will reply, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." - Matthew 25:40
This is what the Lord Almighty said: "Administer true justice; show mercy and compassion to one another. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the foreigner or the poor. Do not plot evil against each other." - Zechariah 7:9-10
If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. 1 John 3:17-18
All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had. - Acts 4:32
The list goes on and on and on. Balance...it's all about balance...which it doesn't feel like we have these days...and for which I don't have the solution. This feels like a very unbalanced situation to me.
In no way am I endorsing our current welfare systems, the Patient Protection and Affordable Healthcare Act, communism, socialism, etc., etc. I believe our current government systems, especially those with a focus on social welfare, are far too "corrupt" to be sustainable. We need lots of reform...across the board in the private, public, and government sectors. However, my experience today ignited a fire under the questions that have been brewing in my heart and head about these issues for a long time.
When did "The Church" abdicate social welfare to the government? Why does it feel like those of us screaming the loudest about how unfair things are are the ones who should be bending over backwards to help our fellow man? Can people of faith (all faiths) reclaim this responsibility, prying it out of the government's hands? If we do, will we do it better than the government? Is the job too big for "The Church"? Too big for God?
Meijer was right around the corner...I rolled down my window and told the guy with the sign to hop in. He didn't try to buy booze, he didn't buy cigarettes. We got milk, cereal, bread, fruit, veggies...staples. He just moved to Jackson a month ago. He got a job at McDonalds but won't get his first paycheck for another week, not that I expect his first paycheck to do much in terms of being able to buy groceries. The kids are 2 months and 18 months old...Miranda would have been 18 months old yesterday.
Abba, I bring my brokenness to you and lay it at your feet. Soften my heart, open my eyes, give me wisdom.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Simple complexity
"The issue then isn’t my beating myself up over all of the things I am not doing or the things I am doing poorly; the issue is my learning who this person is who God keeps insisting I already am...There is nothing we can do, and there is nothing we ever could have done, to earn God’s favor. We already have it...We cannot earn what we have always had. What we can do is trust that what God keeps insisting is true about us is actually true." Miscellaneous quotes from Velvet Elvis: Repainting The Christian Faith, by Rob Bell
"Only let us live up to what we have already attained." - Philippians 3:16
It already mine...it's already yours...
I have to be honest, I'm struggling with the concept/process of trusting God as opposed to pleasing God. Maybe struggling isn't the right word...maybe it's just about internalizing it, chewing it up, swallowing it down, digesting it, and letting it infuse into my being. It's not that I don't believe it...it just feels so much the opposite of what I feel like I've been taught my whole life (whether that is indeed what I was taught or not.)
My inner voice keeps wanting to pipe up and say, "it's all about not doing bad things, punching that ticket to Heaven, avoiding Hell." Somewhere, in the back, there's a new voice...one that is quietly encouraging me to stop worrying so much about what I do and don't do, what I did and didn't do, and start LIVING up to what I have already attained. I have ALREADY attained Heaven. Am I listening to myself? I have ALREADY attained Heaven.
It's almost too complex to put into words...because it's so simple...which, I guess, makes sense...since it's complex to integrate into my core, too. I mean, after all, if I live up to what I've already attained, the inner voice will be satisfied, right? The difference will be...motivation?...inspiration?...reason?
I've lived a lot of my "avoiding" God, not running away...just avoiding, because I didn't think I could live up to His expectations...now I'm realizing the expectations I wasn't living up to were mine. I've avoided grace because I thought I couldn't be good enough to earn it...now, I'm finally realizing it can never be earned.
Abba, I bring you my brokenness. I ask that you help me internalize the reality that I already have what you've given me. That the joy over receiving this gift should drive the way I live, not worrying about earning something I can't earn.
"Only let us live up to what we have already attained." - Philippians 3:16
It already mine...it's already yours...
I have to be honest, I'm struggling with the concept/process of trusting God as opposed to pleasing God. Maybe struggling isn't the right word...maybe it's just about internalizing it, chewing it up, swallowing it down, digesting it, and letting it infuse into my being. It's not that I don't believe it...it just feels so much the opposite of what I feel like I've been taught my whole life (whether that is indeed what I was taught or not.)
My inner voice keeps wanting to pipe up and say, "it's all about not doing bad things, punching that ticket to Heaven, avoiding Hell." Somewhere, in the back, there's a new voice...one that is quietly encouraging me to stop worrying so much about what I do and don't do, what I did and didn't do, and start LIVING up to what I have already attained. I have ALREADY attained Heaven. Am I listening to myself? I have ALREADY attained Heaven.
It's almost too complex to put into words...because it's so simple...which, I guess, makes sense...since it's complex to integrate into my core, too. I mean, after all, if I live up to what I've already attained, the inner voice will be satisfied, right? The difference will be...motivation?...inspiration?...reason?
I've lived a lot of my "avoiding" God, not running away...just avoiding, because I didn't think I could live up to His expectations...now I'm realizing the expectations I wasn't living up to were mine. I've avoided grace because I thought I couldn't be good enough to earn it...now, I'm finally realizing it can never be earned.
Abba, I bring you my brokenness. I ask that you help me internalize the reality that I already have what you've given me. That the joy over receiving this gift should drive the way I live, not worrying about earning something I can't earn.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Idols
I'm trying to read through the Bible in a year. To help me accomplish this task, I bought the One Year Bible. What seemed like a daunting task, is actually turning out to be rather easy. Of course, I'm not sure why we make it seem like reading through the Bible in one year is such a huge undertaking to begin with. Yes, it's a long book, but most of us have read other long books in a much shorter time period than a year. The Lord of The Rings trilogy is a long book, but I can read it from cover to cover in a matter of a few weeks. The Harry Potter series, if you read all 7 books in a row, is a loooooong book, but I can read it from the cover of the first book to the back cover of the last in less than a few months. Yet, the Bible seems almost impossible to consider reading in a year. I'm starting to wonder if this Christian "accomplishment" is much ado about nothing. Do we make it seems harder than it is just because it's not something we look forward to? If so, why don't we look forward to it? After all, it's the Word of God. The Word we are supposed to hide in our hearts, which I think might require reading it more than once....hmmmmm...I shall think on these thoughts and try to internalize them for myself.
"Even while these people were worshiping the Lord, they were serving their idols. To this day their children and grandchildren continue to do as their ancestors did." 2 Kings 17:41
I read this passage today. Unfortunately, my eyes kept wandering back to it as I was trying to move on, which made it hard to concentrate on the rest of the readings. At first, my thoughts were predominantly about how sad this verse is. It pretty much sums up what most of the books of 1 Kings and 2 Kings is about. The people of God wanted a king, so God gave them a king, then the kings turn their backs on Him, the people follow suit, and the results are always disastrous. Every once in a while, a king comes along who tries to turn the people back to God, but either he turns away before he dies or the people do when the next king takes the throne. It's a horrible and sad cycle. It's a dark time in the history of Israel and Judah. The people of God are scattered to the wind time and time again. Yet, they don't seem to learn their lesson.
The more I pondered this, the more I started to wonder if we are any different, or, more importantly, am I any different than these wayward children of the most High and Holy God? I constantly find myself "serving" the idols in my life, whether it be TV, travel, food, etc. Given the choice of serving God or serving myself, I tend to lean more towards serving myself.
Which brings me back to reading the One Year Bible. Maybe the desire to do this came from Him. I thought I was the one who wanted to read the scriptures in a year...but, maybe He wanted me read them. I thought I was doing this to please Him...but, maybe He wants me to read them so that I'll trust Him.
As sad as the words of 2 Kings 17:41 are, in the end there always seems to be redemption, and the redemption of Israel, the redemption of God's people, is ultimately what the scriptures are about, not the failings. The failings are recorded and put on display to prove a point...God is always here. He is always waiting to redeem His children. We just need to change our hearts to allow Him to do it.
Abba, I come to you today in brokenness. I offer you my failings and trade them for a redemption that only comes through Christ. Father, help me keep my focus on you when the idols of my life loom large.
"Even while these people were worshiping the Lord, they were serving their idols. To this day their children and grandchildren continue to do as their ancestors did." 2 Kings 17:41
I read this passage today. Unfortunately, my eyes kept wandering back to it as I was trying to move on, which made it hard to concentrate on the rest of the readings. At first, my thoughts were predominantly about how sad this verse is. It pretty much sums up what most of the books of 1 Kings and 2 Kings is about. The people of God wanted a king, so God gave them a king, then the kings turn their backs on Him, the people follow suit, and the results are always disastrous. Every once in a while, a king comes along who tries to turn the people back to God, but either he turns away before he dies or the people do when the next king takes the throne. It's a horrible and sad cycle. It's a dark time in the history of Israel and Judah. The people of God are scattered to the wind time and time again. Yet, they don't seem to learn their lesson.
The more I pondered this, the more I started to wonder if we are any different, or, more importantly, am I any different than these wayward children of the most High and Holy God? I constantly find myself "serving" the idols in my life, whether it be TV, travel, food, etc. Given the choice of serving God or serving myself, I tend to lean more towards serving myself.
Which brings me back to reading the One Year Bible. Maybe the desire to do this came from Him. I thought I was the one who wanted to read the scriptures in a year...but, maybe He wanted me read them. I thought I was doing this to please Him...but, maybe He wants me to read them so that I'll trust Him.
As sad as the words of 2 Kings 17:41 are, in the end there always seems to be redemption, and the redemption of Israel, the redemption of God's people, is ultimately what the scriptures are about, not the failings. The failings are recorded and put on display to prove a point...God is always here. He is always waiting to redeem His children. We just need to change our hearts to allow Him to do it.
Abba, I come to you today in brokenness. I offer you my failings and trade them for a redemption that only comes through Christ. Father, help me keep my focus on you when the idols of my life loom large.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
I Am A Servant
I've recently been wondering what to do with the rest of my life. There are plenty of folks offering me suggestions, which I do appreciate, but I also know when the answer comes it's going to come from within.
When I lost Sara and Miranda, I was fortunate to work for an employer who allowed me to use the Family Medical Leave Act to take a few months off work to begin the healing process. It was a very beneficial time for me. Not having to worry about work allowed me to let grief do it's dirty work without having to worry about maintaining my composure for significant part of the day. It let me give in to grief's vicious nature, allowing myself to be chewed up, spit out, and chewed up again, and again, and again. I could cry when I needed to cry, yell when I needed to yell, curl up in a ball when I need to curl up, and hurt when I needed to hurt. A lot of people who live through a loss of that magnitude don't have that opportunity (or worse, aren't informed that they may legally be entitled to it) and, for some, they wouldn't want it; there are those who might find more comfort in immersing themselves back in their work (although I would tend to agree with most grief specialists that that is actually a grief avoidance choice...but that's neither here nor there.)
I went back to work about 5 months after the accident. It was good to be back, doing what I was good at doing, enjoying the company of some great co-workers, and getting back into "the groove" of things. However, it only took a couple of months for me to realize my heart just wasn't in it...the things that had previously "turned my crank" held no motivation or satisfaction for me. Leaving my job wasn't easy, but it was something that I knew in my heart was the best thing for me and for the organization. I could have stayed and just gone through the motions. Many of the people I provided support to may have never known...but, I would have...and I just don't think I could have endured that.
That was nine months ago. While there have been a few people, very few, who have been overly critical of me taking this time off, most of my family and close friends have been very understanding about how important it has been to me to be a relatively free spirit during since that time. I've been involved in some pretty high stress work environments over the past 15 years. That alone can seriously harm a persons emotional and psychological well being if it's not managed well and, to be honest, I had not been managing that stress well in the years prior to the accident. When that is added to the loss of a spouse and child, the impact can be overwhelming...I was overwhelmed.
I went out for my not-so-daily walk this evening and, in the course of normal events, popped my headphones in and started listening to the iTunes genius playlist I built a couple of weeks ago based on the song Why Should The Father Bother, by Petra. Of all the genius playlists I've built, this one seems to have more songs that I love than any of the others. It's a keeper. As I was getting into my last mile, I Am A Servant, by Larry Norman, came on. It got me thinking about this whole work thing and trying to figure out how I want to address it. Do I need to attack it aggressively? Do I need to just sit back and wait for something to come along that sparks my passion? What to do? What to do?
I am a servant, I am listening for my name,
I sit here waiting, I've been looking at the game
That I've been playing, and I've been staying much the same
When you are lonely, you're the only one to blame.
I am a servant, I am waiting for the call,
I've been unfaithful, so I sit here in the hall.
How can you use me when I've never given all,
How can you choose me when you know I'd quickly fall.
So you feed my soul and you make me grow,
And you let me know you love me.
And I'm worthless now, but I've made a vow,
I will humbly bow before thee.
O please use me, I am lonely.
I am a servant getting ready for my part,
There's been a change, a rearrangement in my heart.
At last I'm learning, there's no returning once I start.
To live's a privilege, to love is such an art
But I need your help to start,
O please purify my heart, I am your servant
I went through some counseling last month, it was something I should have done a while ago...better late than never. During one of my sessions, I mentioned that I'd been feeling a little pressure, both internal and external, to jump back into the "rat race." My only problem is I haven't come across that spark, that passion, the thing that is going to be good for me, good for those around me, and good for those for whom I am working. After hearing me out, the Godly couple I was working with provided me with the reassurance that when I was ready, God would provide what I was looking for, what I need, what He needs me to do. Beyond that, I should just seek His heart. Tonight, this song was a great confirmation for me that waiting is OK, patience IS a virtue. and it's OK to want it, long for it, even if I don't know what "it" is.
Over the past few weeks, as I've contemplated my next path, I have realized that I may need to open myself up to ideas and things that I may not have considered before. Maybe I won't just get a new job. Maybe I'll end up finding a whole new career. Maybe I'm right where God needs/wants me. Maybe all he wants me to do is write my blog. Can I learn to be content with that? Is there someone, somewhere, someday, who will read these things I've written and find their own spark, or be drawn closer to Him...just because I waited? I am a servant...waiting for the call.
Abba, I come to you in brokenness. I offer myself to you to be used in whatever way you need. Help me to sit, and listen for your call, to listen for the Master's voice. Purify my heart, I am your servant.
When I lost Sara and Miranda, I was fortunate to work for an employer who allowed me to use the Family Medical Leave Act to take a few months off work to begin the healing process. It was a very beneficial time for me. Not having to worry about work allowed me to let grief do it's dirty work without having to worry about maintaining my composure for significant part of the day. It let me give in to grief's vicious nature, allowing myself to be chewed up, spit out, and chewed up again, and again, and again. I could cry when I needed to cry, yell when I needed to yell, curl up in a ball when I need to curl up, and hurt when I needed to hurt. A lot of people who live through a loss of that magnitude don't have that opportunity (or worse, aren't informed that they may legally be entitled to it) and, for some, they wouldn't want it; there are those who might find more comfort in immersing themselves back in their work (although I would tend to agree with most grief specialists that that is actually a grief avoidance choice...but that's neither here nor there.)
I went back to work about 5 months after the accident. It was good to be back, doing what I was good at doing, enjoying the company of some great co-workers, and getting back into "the groove" of things. However, it only took a couple of months for me to realize my heart just wasn't in it...the things that had previously "turned my crank" held no motivation or satisfaction for me. Leaving my job wasn't easy, but it was something that I knew in my heart was the best thing for me and for the organization. I could have stayed and just gone through the motions. Many of the people I provided support to may have never known...but, I would have...and I just don't think I could have endured that.
That was nine months ago. While there have been a few people, very few, who have been overly critical of me taking this time off, most of my family and close friends have been very understanding about how important it has been to me to be a relatively free spirit during since that time. I've been involved in some pretty high stress work environments over the past 15 years. That alone can seriously harm a persons emotional and psychological well being if it's not managed well and, to be honest, I had not been managing that stress well in the years prior to the accident. When that is added to the loss of a spouse and child, the impact can be overwhelming...I was overwhelmed.
I went out for my not-so-daily walk this evening and, in the course of normal events, popped my headphones in and started listening to the iTunes genius playlist I built a couple of weeks ago based on the song Why Should The Father Bother, by Petra. Of all the genius playlists I've built, this one seems to have more songs that I love than any of the others. It's a keeper. As I was getting into my last mile, I Am A Servant, by Larry Norman, came on. It got me thinking about this whole work thing and trying to figure out how I want to address it. Do I need to attack it aggressively? Do I need to just sit back and wait for something to come along that sparks my passion? What to do? What to do?
I am a servant, I am listening for my name,
I sit here waiting, I've been looking at the game
That I've been playing, and I've been staying much the same
When you are lonely, you're the only one to blame.
I am a servant, I am waiting for the call,
I've been unfaithful, so I sit here in the hall.
How can you use me when I've never given all,
How can you choose me when you know I'd quickly fall.
So you feed my soul and you make me grow,
And you let me know you love me.
And I'm worthless now, but I've made a vow,
I will humbly bow before thee.
O please use me, I am lonely.
I am a servant getting ready for my part,
There's been a change, a rearrangement in my heart.
At last I'm learning, there's no returning once I start.
To live's a privilege, to love is such an art
But I need your help to start,
O please purify my heart, I am your servant
I went through some counseling last month, it was something I should have done a while ago...better late than never. During one of my sessions, I mentioned that I'd been feeling a little pressure, both internal and external, to jump back into the "rat race." My only problem is I haven't come across that spark, that passion, the thing that is going to be good for me, good for those around me, and good for those for whom I am working. After hearing me out, the Godly couple I was working with provided me with the reassurance that when I was ready, God would provide what I was looking for, what I need, what He needs me to do. Beyond that, I should just seek His heart. Tonight, this song was a great confirmation for me that waiting is OK, patience IS a virtue. and it's OK to want it, long for it, even if I don't know what "it" is.
Over the past few weeks, as I've contemplated my next path, I have realized that I may need to open myself up to ideas and things that I may not have considered before. Maybe I won't just get a new job. Maybe I'll end up finding a whole new career. Maybe I'm right where God needs/wants me. Maybe all he wants me to do is write my blog. Can I learn to be content with that? Is there someone, somewhere, someday, who will read these things I've written and find their own spark, or be drawn closer to Him...just because I waited? I am a servant...waiting for the call.
Abba, I come to you in brokenness. I offer myself to you to be used in whatever way you need. Help me to sit, and listen for your call, to listen for the Master's voice. Purify my heart, I am your servant.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Where There Is Faith
It's 10:25PM...
My head is pounding...
There's a crack in the pad of my left foot down by my pinky toe...
My right pinky toe feels like it has a blister...
I weighed 3/4 of a pound more this morning than I did yesterday...
Why can't I just pray the fat away...gaining weight certainly didn't seem hard...why is losing it...
It was 100 degrees today...
It's still 83 and the humidity is up in the "miserable" range...
I know I need to get out there and go for a walk...but I DON'T WANNA!
It's 10:30PM...
Socks on...shoes on...shorts on...playlist Genius 04 shuffle...ready...set...go...
It's 10:40PM...
Ugh...none of this music is really inspiring me tonight...keep walking...
It's 10:50PM....
I hate this weather....
It's 11:00PM...
He's My Son, by Mark Shultz, plays...hmmm...that's a touching song...the plaintive cry of a man wondering if God is listening to his heartfelt prayer...I've been there...I understand...
...but I'm still really not in the mood for all this...
It's 11:10PM...
Where there is faith
There is a voice calling, keep walking
You’re not alone in this world
Where there is faith
There is a peace like a child sleeping
Hope everlasting in he who is able to
Bear every burden, to heal every hurt in my heart
It is a wonderful, powerful place
Where there is faith
...OK...I get it...faith...maybe my real problem today is...me...maybe I've spent the past couple days focused more on what I want than trusting in Him...Where There Is Faith...
It's 11:24PM...
Only a little bit more....
I'll never know why
Why you did what you did
You didn't have to die
But you did
You hung on the cross
So that I wouldn't be lost
You took my place
Now You're pleading my case
You didn't have to do it
Oh, but I'm glad you did
You didn't have to do it
But I'm glad you did
You didn't have to suffer
You didn't have to give your life
You could have come down from the cross
But you chose to die
You said "Father forgive them
For they know not what they do"
An when they pierced Your side
You just hung bled and died
You didn't have to come down
From the Father's side
But because of Your love for me
You made the sacrifice
You knew no sin
But became sin for me
An all who believe
Can live eternally
You didn't have to do it
But I'm glad you did
You could have come down from the cross
Then my soul would be lost
But You chose to stay
And Your love made a way
...sigh...truth...You Didn't Have To Do It...but I'm glad you did...
It's 11:30PM...
Attitude adjusted...
Abba, I come to you, a broken offering. My problems are not bigger than You. My wants, my desires, pale in comparison to what You want for me. Help my heart seek Your truth.
My head is pounding...
There's a crack in the pad of my left foot down by my pinky toe...
My right pinky toe feels like it has a blister...
I weighed 3/4 of a pound more this morning than I did yesterday...
Why can't I just pray the fat away...gaining weight certainly didn't seem hard...why is losing it...
It was 100 degrees today...
It's still 83 and the humidity is up in the "miserable" range...
I know I need to get out there and go for a walk...but I DON'T WANNA!
It's 10:30PM...
Socks on...shoes on...shorts on...playlist Genius 04 shuffle...ready...set...go...
It's 10:40PM...
Ugh...none of this music is really inspiring me tonight...keep walking...
It's 10:50PM....
I hate this weather....
It's 11:00PM...
He's My Son, by Mark Shultz, plays...hmmm...that's a touching song...the plaintive cry of a man wondering if God is listening to his heartfelt prayer...I've been there...I understand...
...but I'm still really not in the mood for all this...
It's 11:10PM...
Where there is faith
There is a voice calling, keep walking
You’re not alone in this world
Where there is faith
There is a peace like a child sleeping
Hope everlasting in he who is able to
Bear every burden, to heal every hurt in my heart
It is a wonderful, powerful place
Where there is faith
...OK...I get it...faith...maybe my real problem today is...me...maybe I've spent the past couple days focused more on what I want than trusting in Him...Where There Is Faith...
It's 11:24PM...
Only a little bit more....
I'll never know why
Why you did what you did
You didn't have to die
But you did
You hung on the cross
So that I wouldn't be lost
You took my place
Now You're pleading my case
You didn't have to do it
Oh, but I'm glad you did
You didn't have to do it
But I'm glad you did
You didn't have to suffer
You didn't have to give your life
You could have come down from the cross
But you chose to die
You said "Father forgive them
For they know not what they do"
An when they pierced Your side
You just hung bled and died
You didn't have to come down
From the Father's side
But because of Your love for me
You made the sacrifice
You knew no sin
But became sin for me
An all who believe
Can live eternally
You didn't have to do it
But I'm glad you did
You could have come down from the cross
Then my soul would be lost
But You chose to stay
And Your love made a way
...sigh...truth...You Didn't Have To Do It...but I'm glad you did...
It's 11:30PM...
Attitude adjusted...
Abba, I come to you, a broken offering. My problems are not bigger than You. My wants, my desires, pale in comparison to what You want for me. Help my heart seek Your truth.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Trust In Jesus/Who Am I?
I had the privilege of having lunch with a friend today. I love having lunch with friends. It's a great way to enjoy good conversation...mostly because it gives my mouth something to do when I'm trying to listen, thus I don't spend the who conversation interrupting my lunch mate. :) Just like most of my lunches with friends, today was a good day of catching up and finding out what God had been doing in each others lives. There's something refreshing about spending time with a fellow believer who is also experiencing new things in their faith that stretch them and help them grow.
I find that after something like this, I'm in an excellent frame of mind to have a song, or two, cause positive reflection and thought processes in my heart. Somewhere in between lunch and getting back to my apartment, God saw fit to provide me with the experience that I long for. I was tooling along in my car, listening to The Message, without really listening...when Trust In Jesus, by Third Day, came on. It's a song I've heard many times before, but not one that ever really caught my attention or made me think about my faith in a new way.
Do you believe we'll all stand in a final judgement? I do. I'm not 100% sure of what that scene will look like, but I know how I envisioned it for me. I can see me, standing before the throne, fumbling for words to explain why I've said the things I've said, why I've done the things I've done, and finding none. It's a depressing vision...however, based on some of the things I've been reading, the conversations I've been having, and some wise counsel I recently received, I heard this song in a whole new light. My vision has changed. Instead of standing there fumbling for words and explanations that will never come...I'm just standing there...and the judge is SMILING at me...SMILING with a loving, warm, tender smile. What I had previously envisioned as a place of condemnation and judgement is now a place of love and warm reception. And you know what...that's what it was supposed to look like from the beginning, I just never really understood it. The reason the judge is smiling is because all He sees...ALL...is Christ. He doesn't see my sin, my failings, my short comings, he just sees the one who died so that I might live!
While my brain and heart were digesting all of this, Who Am I, by Casting Crowns, started playing. Again, another song I've heard more times than I can count, but one that I hadn't yet listened to the real message.
I find that after something like this, I'm in an excellent frame of mind to have a song, or two, cause positive reflection and thought processes in my heart. Somewhere in between lunch and getting back to my apartment, God saw fit to provide me with the experience that I long for. I was tooling along in my car, listening to The Message, without really listening...when Trust In Jesus, by Third Day, came on. It's a song I've heard many times before, but not one that ever really caught my attention or made me think about my faith in a new way.
One of these days we all will stand in judgment for
Every single word that we have spoken
One of these days we all will stand before the Lord
Give a reason for everything we’ve done
And what I’ve done is
Trust in Jesus
My great Deliverer
My strong Defender
The Son of God
I trust in Jesus
Blessed Redeemer
My Lord forever
The Holy One, the Holy One
What are you going to do when your time has come
And your life is done and there’s nothing you can stand on
What will you have to say at the judgment throne
I already know the only thing that I can say I
There’s nothing I can do on my own to find forgiveness
It’s by His grace alone I trust in Jesus
Trust in Jesus
Do you believe we'll all stand in a final judgement? I do. I'm not 100% sure of what that scene will look like, but I know how I envisioned it for me. I can see me, standing before the throne, fumbling for words to explain why I've said the things I've said, why I've done the things I've done, and finding none. It's a depressing vision...however, based on some of the things I've been reading, the conversations I've been having, and some wise counsel I recently received, I heard this song in a whole new light. My vision has changed. Instead of standing there fumbling for words and explanations that will never come...I'm just standing there...and the judge is SMILING at me...SMILING with a loving, warm, tender smile. What I had previously envisioned as a place of condemnation and judgement is now a place of love and warm reception. And you know what...that's what it was supposed to look like from the beginning, I just never really understood it. The reason the judge is smiling is because all He sees...ALL...is Christ. He doesn't see my sin, my failings, my short comings, he just sees the one who died so that I might live!
While my brain and heart were digesting all of this, Who Am I, by Casting Crowns, started playing. Again, another song I've heard more times than I can count, but one that I hadn't yet listened to the real message.
Who am I, that the Lord of all the earth
Would care to know my name
Would care to feel my hurt
Who am I, that the Bright and Morning Star
Would choose to light the way
For my ever wandering heart
Not because of who I am
But because of what You've done
Not because of what I've done
But because of who You are
I am a flower quickly fading
Here today and gone tomorrow
A wave tossed in the ocean
Vapor in the wind
Still You hear me when I'm calling
Lord, You catch me when I'm falling
And You've told me who I am
I am Yours, I am Yours
Again, the effect of my recent readings, counsel, and conversations helped the message of this beautiful promise play out in a new way in my heart. How often do I downplay my significance to God? After all, there are nearly 7 billion people on the planet today. Those, plus all who have come before, add up to quite large number of people. How can I be special when I look at myself among those numbers? The truth is...God plays favorites...He's big enough, great enough, and strong enough to get away with it. Each and every one of us is His favorite! His heir! He loves me as if I was the only one! Isn't that what we all want? To feel that special? To feel loved in that way? I know I do.
Abba, I offer you my brokenness. I am humbled to know that you stand in my place, to know that you love me as if I was your only child.
Abba, I offer you my brokenness. I am humbled to know that you stand in my place, to know that you love me as if I was your only child.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Finally Home
Genius surprised me tonight. I had it build me a playlist based on the Newsboys version of Mighty to Save. I put the playlist on shuffle as I headed out the door for my walk...and ended up not recognizing most of the songs I heard. Some were slightly familiar, a couple were very familiar, but I don't recall hearing most of them before (that's not to say I hadn't, I just don't remember it.)
However, I try to keep an open mind and I told myself to listen to the music, listen to the words, and listen to the message:
"Everybody falls sometimes. Gotta find the strength to rise from the ashes and make a new beginning…life is so much more than what your eyes are seeing. You will find your way, if you keep believing."
What Faith Can Do - Cutlass
"Remember, Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day to save us all from Satan's power, when we were gone astray."
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - Mercy Me
"You are more than the choices that you've made. You are more than the sum of your past mistakes. You are more than the problems you create. You've been remade."
You Are More - Tenth Avenue North
"You do not faint. You won't grow weary. You're the defender of the weak. You comfort those in need. You lift us up on wings like eagles. Our God, You reign forever. Our hope, our strong deliverer. You are the everlasting God."
Everlasting God - Jeremy Camp
"You speak with thunder and lightning, your voice shakes the mountains, the foundations of the earth. All I can offer is this fragile breath; with each one I'll praise You, with each one I'll praise You more."
This Fragile Breath - Todd Agnew
Those are just a few of the lyrics that jumped out at me, reminding me of the gift, the love, the grace, and the strength that are offered to me every minute of every day all because God became man and took on the sin of the world. These songs often help me peel back 2,000 years of human interpretation, doctrine, and get down to the core of what Jesus was really about.
As much as I was enjoying some "new" music, He saved the best for last, the song I needed to hear the most:
"There's so much I want to say. There's so much I want you to know. When I finally make it home when I finally make it home.
Then I'll gaze upon the throne of the King. Frozen in my steps and all the questions that I swore I would ask…words just won't come yet. So amazed at what I've seen; so much more than this old mind can hold…When I finally make it home when I finally make it home.
And the sweetest sound these ears have yet to hear, the voices of the angels. When I finally make it home when I finally make it home."
Finally Home - MercyMe
Bart Millard wrote the song song about his dad, but the message rings true for many of us. Tonight, it reminded me that it's OK...acceptable...to look forward to that day. I don't have to feel bad about wanting to be there. About wanting to see my wife and daughter again. Even if God blesses me with someone new between now and then...I don't have to give up that dream, that hope. It also reminded me that as great as that reunion will be, I can't begin to comprehend what it will be like to stand before the throne, to be in the presence of the one true God. I can't pretend to know what it will be like to hear the angels sing. I can guess...but that's all it is...a guess.
Father, I offer my brokenness to you today. As you reveal yourself to me in new and fresh ways, help me keep my eyes on the throne, help me live in such a way that Heaven is here today, not just something to look forward to.
However, I try to keep an open mind and I told myself to listen to the music, listen to the words, and listen to the message:
"Everybody falls sometimes. Gotta find the strength to rise from the ashes and make a new beginning…life is so much more than what your eyes are seeing. You will find your way, if you keep believing."
What Faith Can Do - Cutlass
"Remember, Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day to save us all from Satan's power, when we were gone astray."
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - Mercy Me
"You are more than the choices that you've made. You are more than the sum of your past mistakes. You are more than the problems you create. You've been remade."
You Are More - Tenth Avenue North
"You do not faint. You won't grow weary. You're the defender of the weak. You comfort those in need. You lift us up on wings like eagles. Our God, You reign forever. Our hope, our strong deliverer. You are the everlasting God."
Everlasting God - Jeremy Camp
"You speak with thunder and lightning, your voice shakes the mountains, the foundations of the earth. All I can offer is this fragile breath; with each one I'll praise You, with each one I'll praise You more."
This Fragile Breath - Todd Agnew
Those are just a few of the lyrics that jumped out at me, reminding me of the gift, the love, the grace, and the strength that are offered to me every minute of every day all because God became man and took on the sin of the world. These songs often help me peel back 2,000 years of human interpretation, doctrine, and get down to the core of what Jesus was really about.
As much as I was enjoying some "new" music, He saved the best for last, the song I needed to hear the most:
"There's so much I want to say. There's so much I want you to know. When I finally make it home when I finally make it home.
Then I'll gaze upon the throne of the King. Frozen in my steps and all the questions that I swore I would ask…words just won't come yet. So amazed at what I've seen; so much more than this old mind can hold…When I finally make it home when I finally make it home.
And the sweetest sound these ears have yet to hear, the voices of the angels. When I finally make it home when I finally make it home."
Finally Home - MercyMe
Bart Millard wrote the song song about his dad, but the message rings true for many of us. Tonight, it reminded me that it's OK...acceptable...to look forward to that day. I don't have to feel bad about wanting to be there. About wanting to see my wife and daughter again. Even if God blesses me with someone new between now and then...I don't have to give up that dream, that hope. It also reminded me that as great as that reunion will be, I can't begin to comprehend what it will be like to stand before the throne, to be in the presence of the one true God. I can't pretend to know what it will be like to hear the angels sing. I can guess...but that's all it is...a guess.
Father, I offer my brokenness to you today. As you reveal yourself to me in new and fresh ways, help me keep my eyes on the throne, help me live in such a way that Heaven is here today, not just something to look forward to.
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