Just Above The Nail Scar

      To every soul who has struggled to believe God loves them.  To those who fear his love is mediocre. To each heart who feels unworthy of any love he gives--mediocre or grandiose. To the heart too scared to believe how important they are, too scarred to understand how he sees their potential in spite of their mess. To each of you who think his love will give out halfway through the pursuit of your tempestuous heart. Please know this...

     When you were just a seed in your mother's womb, God loved you.  As he pumped your heart's first beat, he smiled.  As he counted out fingers and toes, put that dimple in your cheek, and painted your eyes, he made big plans for all that you and he could accomplish together.  And although he looked down through time and knew you wouldn't always choose him, he loved you still.

     As the blessed event of your birth took place, God's heart swelled with love and pride in the person you had potential to become.  His hope and faith in your ability to overcome your circumstances, inadequacies, and inabilities never faltered.  No matter how many times you failed or dropped the ball, his love remained steady and strong.

     Then, one day, your world crashed down around you.  Peer pressure was too strong.  The pull of the crowd too overwhelming.  You walked away from the path he had chosen for you.  In no time you found yourself a prisoner in a lifestyle you hated.  You felt alone.  You knew he'd left.

     In your desolation, you turned to your vices.  The drinking only helped for a few hours.  The drugs helped only for the height of the high.  The cutting helped only until the pain wore off. The parties, the sex, the wildness distracted you only temporarily.  The weight of your sin weighed heavily on your shoulders.  In desperation, you thought to gain freedom by ending your life.  All was lost.  You knew you were hopeless, helpless, useless.

     You were wrong. If you could see him, through your bleary eyed high, he'd still be right beside you. His love burns with an intensity that never dies.  It chases you down the dark canyons of your life, patiently waits in the shadows of every bad decision, hoping against hope you'll let Jesus love you instead of trying everything else.

     See, regardless what you've heard, Calvary was not the culmination of God's love.  As his love flowed down at Calvary, it burned a path to each of our souls.  It chases us through time.  Follows us to the dark alleys of our lives.  Searches out our hiding places.  Touches our shoulder in the moment of indecision.  His love is steady, certain, consistent.  His love didn't end at Calvary, it blossomed there. In love, his blood wrote your name on the palm of God.

     What does that mean?  What does it mean to have your name tattooed on God's hand? It means that you are eternally loved.  You can't get high enough, drunk enough, promiscuous enough, broken enough to be unloved by God.  It means that he will hunt you down to love you.  It means you are never forgotten, never abandoned, never alone.  You are too important for that.  It means this--when you are busy chasing your next high, dealing your next deal, fingering your next blade, if you take time to glance behind you, you'll see Jesus, his hand outstretched.  And if, in spite of your intense pain, your grubby hands reach out, clasp his hand, and look closely, your bleary, burning, tear filled eyes will see your name inked into his palm.

     How do I know?  Can I prove it?  Sure can. The Bible says so in Isaiah 49:14-16. The people of Israel, not unlike us, had given up on themselves, thought they had been forgotten by God, that he'd forsaken them. They likely deserved both.  So do we. But, thankfully, God doesn't always give us what we deserve. In verse 15 he says that although your mother, that one so close to you, may forget you, God will not. He'll never forget you. (v.15)  He can't, because your name is engraved in his palm. (v.16)

     Your name is indelibly inked on the palm of the only one who can make peace out of the chaos of your life.  The only one who cares enough to still be around when everyone else has gone.  The answer to your prayers, the fulfillment of your dreams, the hope you thought elusive, can all be found in the one whose palm bears your name...engraved just above the nail scar.

     THAT'S how much he loves you.

To The Churches Of America Write...

Dear American churches,

Over the past several years I have spent countless hours watching your obvious spiritual decline.  It has been both painful and horrifying to watch you blindly hurtle down the path of least resistance. Indeed, your demise appears to be hastening as if following a schedule of self destruction you are duty bound to keep. Although not all of your members fall into this category, the number of inductees into the Indifference Hall of Fame increases daily.  And even if numbers are up and churches are larger, true religion is conspicuously lacking.

Recently, while contemplating your plight,  I thought to wonder what John, the writer of Revelation, would have written to you, the churches of America. Admittedly, my mind went down more than one rabbit hole.  The offenses are many and not small. Where would I start on today's church? What could possibly be said to turn you in the right direction? In a moment of clarity, I ask God what HE would say to you.  His answer was simple, immediate, and echoed the words he spoke so long ago to Simon Peter, "Lovest thou me?" (John 21:15-17)

I am horrifically appalled that God has to ask. I am embarrassed that He doesn't recognize you.  I am deeply pained that your love has dwindled to the point it is no longer obvious. You are recognizable as many things, but lovers of Christ is not one of them.  True love for Christ means adherence to his laws, respect for his Word, and love for the lost.  It means that God is the center of your life, not simply a part of it. It is true devotion. But it is not something that is obvious in your halls today.

Somewhere along the way you have drifted. You seem to have forgotten the snap of the whip, the prick of the thorns, the weight of the cross, the pain of the nails.  You have become indifferent to the extravagant price Jesus paid that you might gain Heaven.  You have become blase in your devotion. Like the ancient churches in Revelation 2 and 3, you have given yourself over to formalism, half-heartedness, and misplaced self-righteousness.  False doctrines have knocked, shown a good face, and you were drawn aside.  Many of you claim to be alive but are dead because, like the church of Ephesus, you have left your first love. (Revelation 2:4)

In short, your lack of love for God has left you in the same dire straights as the church of Laodicea.  John had some very strong words for them.  He called them half-hearted, backslidden, indifferent, and self-righteous.  He said they were unpalatable because they were neither hot nor cold.  (Revelation 3:15-17)  He could pen those same words to you. You are lukewarm.  You are undesirable. You are tasteless.  You are unattractive--both to God and the unchurched. So we are back to the question, "Do you love God?"  At all?

Sadly, too many of you cannot positively answer that question.  Anymore, the search for those who truly love Him is reminiscent of Abraham's search for righteous souls in Sodom--not even 10 can be found. (Genesis 18:32)  There are hundreds of sanctuaries across America that will fill to overflowing on Sunday morning to perform a social ritual and, although the music may work your emotions and the preacher say something touching, true love toward God will be dismally absent.  It is in these services, if one but looks, you will see Christ walking the aisles, tears in his sad eyes, nail-scarred hands outstretched, gently yet urgently imploring, "Do you love me?"

How about it, church?  Do you love him?

It is not enough to gather on Sunday, sing some songs, sit through some preaching then run off to the mall, the ball game, the pool.  It is not enough to go on a mission trip or write a check to charity. Loving God means keeping his commandments when no one else is doing it.  It means calling sin, sin, when everyone else is willing to rewrite the Bible.  It means loving others indiscriminately, remembering that we are all sinners condemned to death if not for grace. Loving God means resting in the promises of his Word, sharing his love, mercy, and grace, and living in the knowledge that Heaven awaits the faithful. (Revelation 2:10)

So close your eyes.  Picture your church sanctuary.  It is Sunday morning.  The pews are full.  When the time comes to start the service, there is no music, no cheerful greeting from the pulpit, no responsive reading. You look to the front wondering why they are running late. You have things to do after service and need to check this box.  Then you see him, standing in the middle of the stage.  You've never seen someone look so sad.  Whispers go through the audience.  No one knows who he is or what he's doing.  As the crowd quiets, he holds out his hands, palms up.  Because you are in your holy seat, right next to the stage, you see terrible scars across his hands.  In the back of your mind recognition is struggling to be born.  Then, across the suffocating silence you hear his whisper, "Do you love me?"

Do you love him?  Is it evident, or does he have to ask?

Whispering Hope

     My grandfather was a wonderful man.  He loved God and he loved us.  We all knew it.  We didn't have to ask. He left me wonderful memories when he went to Heaven.  One of my favorites is how he would ask me to play the old song, "Whispering Hope," for him. I remember him crowding onto the piano bench beside me and singing along in his lovely, raspy voice.  He probably never realized he taught me that song.  Or that he taught me some other things as well.

     The greatest lesson Grandpa didn't know he was teaching me was in those three words I so often heard him whisper, "Jesus, help us." It didn't seem to matter where he was or what was happening.  In the dining room as he sat down to look at the mail, the living room as he lowered himself into his easy chair, in a thoughtful moment when nothing else was being said...always, "Jesus, help us."  As a child I thought it was odd.  It made me just a bit uncomfortable.  I couldn't figure it out.  What was he so concerned about?  Why did he keep whispering those words?  Belatedly, I understood.  Grandpa was whispering hope.

     Hope that his children would keep the faith--Jesus, help us.

     Hope that his grandchildren would hunger and thirst after righteousness--Jesus, help us.

     Hope that the country he fought to preserve would somehow find its way back to God--Jesus, help us.
   
     Hope, no matter the circumstances, in the only person who would never let him down--Jesus, help us.

     Admittedly, I find myself whispering those same words throughout the day.  "Jesus, help us."  Raising kids is no picnic.  Keeping things balanced is no cake walk.  Doing as much as I can for as many as I can is pretty much impossible.  And I haven't even started to think about the things that trouble me concerning society, the current social brand of Christianity, or the other pressing issues of our day.  Sometimes, in the midst of it all, I can only whisper, "Jesus, help us."

      I whisper these words because I lack strength. (Psalm 31:24) Because He's been there in the darkest hours of my soul. (Psalm 42:5)  Because I've proven Him true over and over again. (Psalms 71:5, 7b) Because he is looking out for me. (Psalm 33:18) And because, in all the turmoil of life, true happiness lies in help from his hand and hope in his promises. (Psalm 146:5)

     So today I'm whispering hope.  Hope to you for your circumstances, your cares, your concerns.  Hope in the God who refuses to write you off (Isaiah 42:16), who loves you more than himself (John 3:16), and who will rush to your aid the moment you whisper those words of hope, "Jesus, help us". (Jeremiah 33:3)

     I will never forget my Grandfather for the life he lived, the love he gave and the lesson he taught through a favored song and a whispered prayer.  And I will never forget my Heavenly Father for the life he lived, the love he bestows every day and the lessons he teaches every time my burgeoning hope dares whisper, "Jesus, help us."

     Be Blessed.

       

The Beauty of Burden Bearing

     A few months ago a dear friend invited me to attend a Bible study at her church.  Had it been a knitting club, I would have declined.  However, a Bible study I could do.  It was a wonderful study on the book of Colossians that ended before we had scratched the surface.  We learned so many things.  God holds all things together.  The wonderful mystery that is Christ in us, the hope of glory.  The beauty of being kind, showing love, and raising families that represent Christ.  Oddly, the greatest thing I learned was not in the passages that make up Colossians.

     On the last day of the study, in the midst of a spectacular spiritual battle, I sat there and listened as the other ladies spoke about what the study had meant to them.  We all had found something personal therein.  I couldn't decide what to share.  All I could think about was the heat of the battle I was in and how to endure.  When my turn came, I did something I have never, not once in my life, done.  I looked at those ladies of God, dissolved in tears and admitted to being so deep in a spiritual battle that I felt like giving up, throwing in the towel, walking away.  Alas, all was not lost.  I found in their midst encouragement to go on, prayers added to my own, and Bible passages I had forgotten existed.  More importantly, I learned the beauty of Galatians 6:2, "Bear ye one another's burdens..."

     I find it interesting that the Apostle Paul simply said to bear one another's burdens.  He offered no limitations, no caveats, no exclusions.  There's no mention of ignoring those who don't attend your church, don't dress the same way, or who don't share your views on every possible doctrine.  No, just a simple instruction to come alongside, encourage, pray for, lift up our fellow Christians no matter who, where, or what they are. 

     The ladies in that Bible study were a lovely example of this passage.  In the midst of my own confusion and trouble, they shared with me their strength and I was encouraged to continue.  Thus, I began to contemplate why we don't come to one another in honest need as much as we should--if at all.  Why don't we just walk in to Sunday School, church, Bible study, or small group and express our burdens so we can all encourage one another, pray for one another, and bear one another's burdens?  Why not?  At a time when there are support groups for every imaginable life issue, what's stopping us?

     Some would say that we are too proud, too cowardly, too much in denial to admit we are struggling.  And they might be right.  Personally, I think the problem is deeper.  I think experience, either our own or another's, has shown us that we will rarely receive the outpouring of grace I received.  So we hold back in abject terror.  Hold back because we are terrified to be judged.  Condemned.  Ridiculed.  Outcast. Gossip fodder.  Our fragile broken hearts couldn't bear another blow, so we hide.  Hide our hearts, our wounds, our scars.  We hide behind a smiling face, a breezy answer, a carefree laugh. We hide from the very people who should be our safe places, our confidants, our prayer warriors, our encouragers, our friends. 

     And why aren't we those things to one another?  Why, when we are on the mountain top dancing in the sun, singing lustily, why don't we look back down the mountain, remember from whence we came, and reach out a helping hand to the one who is struggling?  Why do we think we can overlook a basic command like, "Bear ye one another's burdens.." and still keep doing our own very selfish victory dance, ignoring the soul that is wavering?  Shame on us!  There is no excuse.

     But there is time to change.  For all parties involved--both the encouragers and those who need encouraged.  It's time to drop all the pretense and be totally honest.  Admit that, even if you are soaring among the spiritual eagles right now, you've travelled through a valley where the shadow of death loomed around every boulder, in every darkened orifice.  Admit that, although you have experienced the mountain top, the valley is extremely real to you right now, the path dark, your reserves failing.  Admit that it's okay to be in either place--although we certainly prefer one to the other.  These admission bring with them the freedom to be our true selves no matter what.  They urge us to pray one for another no matter which place we currently stand.  They call us to unite in faith, pray for one another, confess our faults to one another, encourage one another, and be healed.  They encourage us to band together in Christian love and banish the voice of the Enemy, one strengthening tie at a time. 

     So I'm hoping you'll join me in trying something new.  I'd like to make this an interactive blog post.  If you have something encouraging to say that's helped you along the journey, post it in the comments below.  If you are struggling with something and need prayer, post that too.  You don't have to leave details, you'll be prayed for no matter what.  Feel free to share your burdens, your praise, your prayers, your faith.  Most of all, know this from someone who understands the feeling that the valleys are more prolific than the mountain tops--I have slogged through countless deep, murky valleys, trudged across some horrifically drab and lonely plains, white knuckled up some astonishingly steep inclines, danced in some glorious meadows, and bellowed from some phenomenal mountaintops, but I have never, ever been in one of those places alone.  The Lord has been with me through every one.  Wherever you are right now, he is there too.  (Psalm 139; Psalm 23; Joshua 1:5,9; Isaiah 43:1-3)
    

    

Lest We Forget

A few months ago I received an e-mail about a boat adrift on our community lake.  Attached was a photo of a sad looking, yet still floating, vessel desperately in need of love and care. Not being the owner, I paid little heed.  A second notice came informing us that some kind soul had corralled and fastened the boat to one of the docks, but the boat was still waiting to be claimed--would the owners please step forward.  Finally, a third decree arrived issuing a date by which retrieval of the vessel must occur. If left unclaimed, it would be added to the fleet of boats held for use by association members.  Apparently it ended up there. I've thought little about it for several months.  Then I read the book of Hebrews.

Honestly, I read the book of Hebrews for the second time in a row. In a different translation. Because God told me to.  And now I'm thinking about that boat again.  Why?  Because I read Hebrews 2:1 in the New King James Version.  "Therefore we must give the more earnest heed to the things we have heard, lest we drift away."  Lest we forget to whom we belong.  Lest we forget for what we stand.  Lest we forget to live like it. 

Forgetting is so easy.  We settle in to our relationship with God. We get comfortable, complacent.  And we quickly forget the mire from whence we came.  We forget who we used to be.  We block out the ugly, the mean, the sin. We start to view ourselves as good people, deserving of Heaven, better than we really are. We forget that we are who we are because we have been bought back.  We forget that we are children of God, bought with a price--a staggeringly high price at that. (I Corinthians 7:23)  Remember Calvary?  Remember the pain, the suffering, the thorns? Remember the abandonment of the Father? (Matthew 27:46) Remember that he has realms of angels at his command but he chose to stay?  (Matthew 26:53) Remember it was for you, so you don't have to live in that dark hole of your sin anymore? (Romans 5:8) It's easy to forget, but we are so much better off if we remember.

Remembering helps us not forget for what we stand. It's not easy. Society wants us to forget our standards, our morals, our faith. Society wants us to be like it. Shamelessly drifting, tarnished by willfulness, untethered from our original moorings. Everyone seems to be forging their own path, picking and choosing their favorite bits of Scripture, tossing out those they dislike.  But we must not forget what we stand for and that we take that stance because the one who loves us more than his own Son paid a huge price so we have something truly fulfilling in which to anchor our souls. (Hebrews 6:19)

Remembering helps us live like we know whose child we are. God's children exude different things than those who aren't.  Confidence that we are loved beyond measure radiates from our being. Knowledge that the same measure of love is available for every person makes us treat one another with grace, respect, love. Compassion like Jesus showed the people who so desperately needed him fills our being as we look at the lost society around us. (Matthew 9:36) Our hearts yearn to save them all and we go out of our way to show them that Jesus paid the price for them.  Remembering makes us better neighbors, friends, co-workers.  Remembering makes us whole. (Ephesians 4:20-32)

So look around you.  Do you remember where you are on the big lake we call life?  Are you securely fastened to your original moorings or have the storms of peer pressure, the chanting voices of disillusionment, the flippancy that permeates our culture wreaked havoc on your soul?  Have you drifted?  Have you forgotten that you were bought with a price? (I Corinthians 7:23) Have you managed to mimic Peter--in word or deed? (Luke 22:54-62) Are you still recognizable as God's child? Do you still recognize yourself?

I find great joy that I can type this next sentence--greater joy that it is true.  Even if you don't recognize yourself, God does.  Remember the prodigal son?  (Luke 15:11-32) He had to be a charming bucket of nastiness walking down that road to his father.  Pig swill.  Pig sweat.  Pig stench.  No bath.  It didn't stop the reunion. We are no different.  We drift.  We fail.  We reek of our own willfulness.  But God recognizes us. He claims us, draws us close, cleans us up, and secures the mooring we left behind.  Amazing love. Unfathomable grace. Horrifically undeserving humanity. The scale seems uneven. Yet through the selfless sacrifice of Jesus we receive reconciliation with God and the right to cry "Abba Father." Why would we ever want to drift from that?



 

What's For Dinner?

Do you really believe God cares about the little things in your life?  Do you?  We all say we do.  When something horrific or monumental is happening, we claim faith in the passages that say your hairs are numbered (Luke 12:7), the sparrows are seen when they fall (Matthew 10:30), and the lilies are gloriously clothed by His hand (Luke 12:27-28). We staunchly submit faith that if God cares about those small things, then surely he is in control of what is happening in our lives.  We may even claim them when we lose our car keys, misplace our watch, or some other smaller thing.  And, to our credit, we give thanks appropriately, but what about those things that seem too insignificant to even mention?  You know those things you just assume God doesn't have time to hear about? Your haircut? Your fashion sense? Your cleaning routine?  Your menu? Really. What if we truly believed God cares what's for dinner?

This thought came to me on a cold, icy morning as I was struggling with my stressors, mentally listing all the things I have to do, musing about how the household runs only through my genius.(Maybe we'll address vanity one day!)  I felt crazy overwhelmed.  And a voice just seemed to whisper this thought to me, "Do you think God doesn't care what's for dinner?"  Well, that set me back a step.  Does he?  Does he care about these little things that I just assume he doesn't? Let's see. He took the time to whisper that question in my ear.  He took the time to adjust the number of hairs on my head after a handful came out with my brush this morning. And he gave me the wherewithal to fill the bird feeder outside before the cold snap so the little birdies (sparrows and more) would have a few grains of something that wasn't frozen.  Yes, I absolutely believe he cares what's for dinner.

I believe God cares what we put in our physical bodies. (No, this is not a diet post, I promise!)  I spend hours poring over recipes and cookbooks trying to come up with good, healthy, enticing meals for my family.  Often, we are on the run so much that it slips.  I need to work on that.  If our bodies are the temple of God, we need to do a better job caring for them.  Would YOU want to live in a rundown house?  More importantly, is it good stewardship of the body God gave you to treat it unhealthily?  Not likely. 

What about dinner for your soul?  Are you scrimping on the meat and looking only for the milk?  That's a problem. (Hebrews 5: 13-14) Milk is great, but it doesn't carry all the nutrients you need to thrive. And that's the goal, isn't it?  We should thrive spiritually.  The good news is, all you need to thrive is a Bible and your prayers.  Bible reading and prayer will feed your soul and make it strong.  But you need to spend more than just two minutes at it if you want to grow strong. And I challenge you to read the whole Bible--not just the easy, pleasing bits.  Slog through the "hard books".  I remember reading the book of Joel one time and actually saying to God, "I'm trying, but I need something here."  Guess what?  I got it.  Curious?  Go read the book of Joel and see what's there.  Go find meat for your soul because God absolutely cares what's for dinner!

I know this is an unusual post.  I rarely, if ever, write on the fly...which is exactly what's happened here.  But I wanted to share this here for my own good and hopefully yours too.  May we remember that whatever decision we have to make--from our hair color, your necktie choice, the dinner menu, or that fourth cup of coffee--God is supremely interested in every aspect of our lives. (I Peter 5:7, Psalm 55:22)  Let's go out and live like it!

And, by the way, what's for dinner??

Buying Love

           I have recently become deeply intrigued by the Old Testament story of Hosea and Gomer.  The reason eludes me. Perhaps it’s because I embody the phrase “hopeless romantic”, always rooting for the “happily-ever-after”, severely disappointed when it fails to occur.  Maybe it’s because I’m just as appalled as you are that God told Hosea to marry a prostitute. (Yep, it’s right there in Hosea chapter 1.) Most likely it’s because I am completely overwhelmed, totally astonished, and unendingly humbled by the epic tale of God’s intense love toward horrifically unworthy humanity.  

            Seriously, Hosea must have been just as appalled as us when God said, “Go marry a woman of whoredom.” (Hosea 1:2, paraphrase mine)  I wonder if Hosea did a double take.  Sort of a, “What!?!” Yet no matter how odd the command seemed, he does it.  He marries Gomer.  They have children together--and I’m starting my happily-ever-after dance--only to have Gomer throw it all away and return to her former lifestyle. What?!? What could she possibly be missing?  Insecurity? Uncertainty? I am deeply disappointed by her lack of staying power. I had hoped for more.

            As angry as I am that Gomer bolted, my pique is calmed and soothed by the beautiful response of Hosea. In spite of his anger, hurt, dismay, he does something worthy of residence in the great annals of romance. Working with divine inspiration on his side, he pulls out the most stunning response imaginable. Hosea goes out and buys her back.  You read that right.  He BOUGHT her back.  Amazing. Inspiring. The epitome of grand romance. But it’s the imagery that really catches my attention. 

            It takes a minute for it to fall in place, but I see it.  Israel is Gomer. They had strayed so far from God, continually playing fast and loose with grace.  They have no staying power.  They keep walking away. He could dump them, allow them to be eradicated, or annihilate them himself and create new people who would do exactly as they should.  But he doesn’t. He’s not even interested in doing that.  His love for those particular people is too intense, too overwhelming.  His longing for them is too deep.  His desire for them is too powerful for him to abandon them.  So he doesn’t. He keeps holding out an olive branch, hoping they’ll grab hold.  (Hosea 6:1, 14:1-7)

            The story echoes with familiarity. Deeply saddened, I realize that I too, am Gomer—not the prostitute, but the one who has no staying power. I am guilty of playing fast and loose with God. Filled with self-contempt, I admit that I deserve to reap the whirlwind (Hosea 8:7). I deserve to reap iniquity. (Hosea 10:13) Awestruck, I find that God has bought me back. In spite of what I deserve for past indiscretions, the enormous God of the universe has chosen to extend mercy.  He has chosen to love me freely. (Hosea 14:4) Suddenly, I am the leading lady in the greatest romance I will ever know.   

            Simple words fail to properly express how I feel about this revelation.  I deserve so much less.  I was a hot mess.  Yet God loved me so intensely that he chased me down, followed me into the dark alleys of my life, whispered love words in my ear, and sang a song of forgiveness so sweet it won my heart.  Unrestrained love cascaded over my broken soul, healed my self- inflicted wounds, and made me whole.  Mercy, grace, and the greatest love I’d ever known.  

How about you? Do you see yourself in Gomer? You should. Everyone is guilty of sin, of playing games, of turning aside for something so much less than what God has to offer. (Romans 3:23) You are no different. Like all of us, you are undeserving of his love, his grace, his redemption. Perhaps you have purposely opted out. Yet, in spite of your shenanigans, the great God of the Bible who created the world, turned water to wine, healed the leper, and gave sight to the blind is unfalteringly, unfathomably, unerringly in love with mankind.  No matter where you’ve been, what you’ve done, or how many times you’ve ditched your staying power.  You are the object of his desire, his deepest love, his greatest choice. 

           Need proof? See it at Calvary where your sins—that list of things that should count against you—are nailed to his cross and forever wiped away. (Colossians 2:13-14) Hear it in the words he whispers, “Come unto me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)  Know it as you cast your road ravaged self on his mercy, bathe your bruised heart in his love, and recognize the undeniable truth that you are complete in him. (Colossians 2:10)  In an act of achingly intense love, Jesus chose to buy you back when no one else would have given a dime for your redemption.  Because he is enamored with you, you were worth everything he had.  And he gave it so that you could feel his love.

           Will you love him in return?
         

God’s Greatest Rescue—Are You In?

             Have you ever paused a moment to contemplate the immense courage it took to be Esther of the Old Testament?  I mean really, I doubt the events listed there were her annual plans. I’m certain her resolution list didn’t read, “Go up to be the king’s concubine; try to become queen”?  I have a feeling she had no designs on being queen—or meeting the king, for that matter.  So I wonder what she felt most-- terror, confusion, anxiety? 

During that long year of purification prior to even meeting the king, how many times did she want to go home?  How many times did she wish she was doing laundry for Mordecai instead of prancing around in fancy robes, doused in spices? How many times did she question God concerning his ability to make-- or not make-- mistakes?  Did she know her presence in the palace was part of God’s great rescue plan? Was her relationship with the God of her people so personal that she trusted him even when the path ahead was dark?

I believe Esther trusted the hand and heart of God to work out her life.  As she stepped through the doorway and waited to see the king’s response, as the possibility of imminent death made her knees knock and her heart explode, the absolute assurance that she had been brought to the kingdom for this particular task (Esther 4:14) gave her the strength to step forward, enacting a rescue plan that would save her people from certain death. 

The rest of the story feels like a blur.  Haman signs his own death warrant, Mordecai is honored, and the people of God survive yet another in a long line of annihilation threats.  Among the multiple lessons that come from the story, one stands out most. God’s plan is perfect as long as we follow it.  The Esther account proves it. Each event in the account is another stepping stone to the path of rescue.  Think about it.

  If Vashti hadn’t had the courage to quit being the king’s party entertainment, there would have been no reason for Esther to go to the palace.  If Esther had never gone to the palace, Mordecai might not have had a way to get a message inside and save the king’s life.  If the king had been assassinated, the new king might not have loved Esther, making it less likely that the scepter would be extended if she went to see him uncalled.  If Esther had not been able to see the king, she would not have been able to help save her people. Although Esther might have been confused concerning why she was in the palace, God wasn’t. He was planning those events long before they began. God was preparing the path for a rescue.

You already know how desperately our world needs a rescue.   Read the news. Talk to a stranger.   People everywhere are searching for a rescue—from addiction, from fear, from sin, from themselves.  The good news is that God has already planned their rescue and has strategically placed his people to aid that effort.  He’s been planning it all along.  Were you wondering why you ended up in Podunkville when you’d rather be in the big, fast city?  Have you been there a while and still haven’t figured out why God put you there?  Do you feel confused about what’s going on in your life?  Is the path ahead dark? I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it's okay.  You have been brought to the kingdom, to that town, that church, that place, at this time to be part of God’s rescue.

You see, we tend to look around us and get downhearted.  We gather ourselves together and shake our heads, muttering how it surely has to be the last days.  And it might be.  I don’t know.  Neither do you.  No one does.  What I know is this—Jesus died for ALL those people we are busy shaking our heads over.  Every. Single. One.  He wants ALL of them to be rescued by his grace. (II Peter 3:9) And he wants ALL of us to do our part to make that happen. Reach out to the people next door, witness when the opportunity presents itself, exit your comfort zone and do something new.  Meet people.  Take advantage of every opportunity to show Jesus to others.  Do your part to exhibit and share the love, grace, and redemption you have received. You have been called to rescue the perishing.

 

           So are you in? I hope so. I hope you are reaching out to those around you regardless of their age, race, religious background, sexual preference, or personal creed.  I hope you are actively seeking to do your part to rescue the perishing.  I firmly believe you have been placed in your town, your community, your church to be light at such a time as this.  You have the amazing opportunity to be a participant in God’s greatest rescue operation.  How could you possibly refuse? 

Homebound By Starlight

It's the season for wishes.  Everyone makes them.  Wishes for new cars, new toys, new lives. Seems everyone wishes for something different, something new, or someone with whom to share that new thing.  I'm not much different.  I too wish for something I don't have, will never have.  I wish the Luke 2 account had more details. 

Who were those shepherds?  Did they own the sheep or just guard them?  Were they young?  Old?  Male?  Female?  Did they wish they were somewhere, anywhere besides that hillside that night?  Were they longing for the coming Messiah?  Or had they given up the wait, lost the longing, forgotten the forthcoming deliverance?  I wish I knew.

But maybe it's best I don't.  Not knowing allows my mind to conjure so many more scenarios.  Like, what if those shepherds weren't all boys and men?  We always seem to assume they were, but what if the untold story went like this?

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It was tax season in Bethlehem and our sweet little town was a bustling madhouse. People filled every nook and corner.  Or so I'd heard.  It's not like I was allowed to go see for myself.  No, that would make it possible for me to meet people--hopefully men--and that would never do as far as my parents were concerned.  But my brothers could go.  They could travel in from the outskirts of town and see the crowds, meet people, have a life.  The girls, though, they must be sheltered, hidden, and wed to complete strangers their father's deemed appropriate.  It was completely unfair!  I may be female but was in no need of such irritating coddling. 

 

I could go on and on (and often did) about the absurdity of the situation, but mental activity was wasted on that endeavor.  So, even as I bemoaned my female status, my mind was conjuring up a way to make a visit somewhere, anywhere and meet people--preferably men. 

And then I had it.  Literally.  As I did laundry, I realized I had my youngest brother's cloak in my hands.  Perfect.  We were about the same size.  Yep.  The plan became clearer. 

 

I bundled the cloak away with my things all the while plotting out the rest of the day's activities and going about them much more lightheartedly than usual.  I wonder if anyone noticed.  Oh, well.  Tonight I would actually get to meet people, even if those people were just other shepherds.  This would be fantastic!

 

It was horrible.  The cloak was longer, heavier, and more cumbersome than I realized. Probably because he needed to use it to carry lambs from time to time. Why didn't I think of that?  By the time I was able to sneak out of the house, it was darker than I anticipated and I could only hope I would stumble across the other shepherds before becoming a midnight snack for some ferocious beast. Wonder why that never crossed my mind?  And it was colder than I ever thought it would be.  I should have worn more clothing underneath the cloak. Hindsight may be clearer than foresight, but it is absolutely not warmer!

Of even greater concern was the fact that if I got in too much light from the fire or spoke without thinking to lower my vocal register, the other shepherds would immediately know I was an interloper.  As far as plans go, it was stellar.  Execution of the plan?  Only the outcome could tell if it was worth it.  I could only hope.

 

Eventually, I arrived at the small fire where the shepherds and sheep were gathered. It was a miracle I found them.  Even I didn't realize how much of a miracle it was.  The ones who were awake seemed surprised to see me but didn't question me too closely.  Thank goodness. I wished I could get closer to the fire.  Alas, the risk was too great since one of those sleeping shepherds was my oldest brother.  Discovery by him would be a fiasco!  I chose instead to sit against a nearby tree, study my surroundings, and silently revel in my cunning plan. 

 

Then brother number one woke up.  Oh, this was going to be bad.  The brothers never came out with the sheep together.  Of course, one helpful friend decided to immediately inform him that his younger brother had joined them.  How did he immediately know it was me?  And what kept the top of his head from just exploding right off as he realized the foolish risk--his words, not mine--I had taken in coming out to the field in the middle of the night? We'll never know the answer to that exploding head question because at that moment a rescuing angel appeared.

 

Literally.  I was rescued from a lecture by an angel that appeared in the night sky.  We were too terrified to be mad.  As we huddled together for safety and stared upward in awe, the angel told us not to be afraid.  He also said the Savior had been born in our normally sleepy, currently crazy little town.  Just as my mind was trying to think where a babe would safely be born in the mess that was our town at tax season, the angel told us.  He was in a stable, in the straw of a manger, wrapped only in old rags on a night that was freezing my hair. 

 

At that moment, a million (maybe more or less as my counting isn't so good when I'm struck with awed terror) angels joined him and they all broke into a beautiful rendition of "Glory to God".  And then, just like they came, they were gone.  We stared at each other for just a moment, then by common agreement abandoned the sheep and headed into Bethlehem.  This we had to see. 

 

We came to a halt some time later, panting and gasping for breath. As far as we'd run, we were still stopped more by the sudden realization that we didn't know exactly where to find the babe than by the exertion. There were a zillion stables in Bethlehem and not one owner would want to be wakened in the middle of the night by prowlers in his stable.  I flopped back on the grass in an attempt to replenish the air in my lungs more effectively and that's when I saw it.  A huge, bright star sitting in the sky.  I'd never seen it before and since staring at the stars was something even girls were allowed to do, I'd done a lot of it.  I instantly knew the star was our guide.

 

Once again we took off in the direction of the guiding star.  And things started to look more and more familiar.  Yep, we were headed to our very own stable.  So much for sneaking back in before daylight. But then we got there and that little boy in the manger stole my heart.  He was so little, so perfect and the stable was filled with feelings of peace and homecoming.  Not just a feeling of being home, but of being in the presence of the one with whom you belong.  I didn't understand it all, but I knew in my heart that he truly was the Savior, the Son of God.  I had found the boy for whom I searched, the man that would make my life fulfilled.  I was home. 

 

And that's my story.  I set out on an adventure to meet and choose my man, my way, on my terms.  And I did.  And he brought me home.  Home to my family.  Home to fulfillment.  Home to him.

 

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So this Christmas, I wish you love, peace, and joy.  I wish for you to find your fulfillment, your contentment, your definition in the baby found in the manger that night. I wish for you to allow him to be your home.

Merry Christmas!

 







 



If Only We Believed

          I find myself increasingly concerned with the lack of faith exhibited by many Christians today. Oh, we still believe God can heal, forgive, bring jobs, and send financial help.  Our problem is that we don't seem to have faith that he can bring back the fire of the Holy Spirit in our churches.  More alarming is the fact that we seem to be fine with that.  We look around at all the larger than life issues going on in our world and fail to believe that God can bring back wayward people, change horrific outcomes, and bring back the revivals of which we've only read.  Immobilized with fear over current events, we hunker down in self preservation.  We contemplate our next move like a chess player going for the tournament win.  We forget to pray.  We forget to trust.  We get locked in a spiritual holding pattern.  And we stop believing that faith in God can change it all.
        

         The truth is, we are a bunch of finite humans trying to measure the ability of an infinite God. We are trying to determine what his next move will be instead of asking his next move to be the one thing we need the most.  Revival.  We are desperate for it.  Our souls are dry, barren places that need the promised water poured on them. (Isaiah 44:3) Our world needs us to be revived, because we still have work to do here.  Thus it behooves us to ponder this, what if we reclaimed the faith that brings revival?

            I spend a lot of time thinking about this, and when I do, this is what I see...  Our faith unleashes intense, burning revivals that completely change lives.  Our churches burst at the seams every Sunday.  Our pews are empty because the power and glory of God are so real among us that we can’t keep off our feet.  I can almost hear the shouting, the praising.  It's Heaven on earth.  No one watches the clock. No one sneaks out early.  No one leaves without a blessing.

            Because we live every week in joyous anticipation of the following Sunday, our communities see Christian change—then experience it.  We take back our city, our state, our country for Jesus. The headlines of the news are no longer a list of alleged injustices, but the amazing revivals that are sweeping the land.  Faith in God is no longer the exception, but the rule.  Our hearts are inexhaustible wells of faith, peace, and love.

            If you’ve read this far and find yourself snorting in derision because revivals like this aren't going to happen in our day, stop reading.  Put your Bible on the shelf—or donate it to someone who will use it—and tell God you don’t believe his promises, his power, or his purpose.  For me, I know and fully believe these things: Jesus Christ is always the same, (Hebrews 13:8) the God who spread Pentecostal fire on the people in Acts (Acts 2) is still able to do it for us,  and the circumstances of our world have not shortened his hand nor rendered him incapable.  If your God isn’t big enough to send worldwide revival, then you are serving the wrong God. 

            In Mark 9:17-27, we find the account of a distraught father whose son is on the brink of destruction.  Desperate to see his child delivered from the evil spirit that inhabited him, he brings his son to the  disciples only to find them unable to help him.  In an effort born of helpless distress and intense desire, he came to Jesus, begging for a miracle.   Jesus looks at him and says, "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." (v.23,KJV)  The father can hardly believe his ears.  Simply believe?  What if it doesn't work?  What if his faith is misplaced?  But he's out of options and soon will be out of time.  So he musters what faith he can find in his soul, casts it on Jesus, and gets a miracle.

          Are we so different from that father?  Are we any less desperate for a miracle?  Are we willing to settle for a faithless form of Godliness that tricks ourselves but no one else? Or is our faith, our belief in the power of God, enough to pull us back from the brink?  You already know the answer; our saving grace comes only through unwavering faith in our omnipotent God.  The God who promised that nothing was impossible if we only believe.

       So tell me, do you believe?

 

 

Fire Burn...Cauldron Bubble

     Have you ever come to the last page of a fascinating, intriguing, hang-on-every-word book only to feel cheated that it didn't continue?  Did you spend a few minutes reflecting on the story, the plot, the characters and considering what you read?  Did you leave your easy-chair with a smile on your face, knowing that you couldn't pick up another book just then because nothing could possibly compare to what you had just read?  I know that feeling!  I recently finished reading the book of Acts.

     As I read Acts 28 and realized the book was finished, I was overwhelmed by disappointment. I had been ripped off.  The story wasn't over.  It couldn't be.  I wanted to read more healings, more divine intervention, more prayer, more faith, more fire, more Pentecost.  It was not to be.  I felt lost.  I didn't know where to turn next.  With 65 other books from which to choose, not one called out to me.  I couldn't let it go.  My mind kept going back to why it ended that way.  I had spent 28 lovely days wrapped up in the events of Acts.  I hungered to have that same fire of God and see it in my world. I contemplated the enormity of having enough faith in God--enough of God himself in me--to bring healing to others through his name.  But my hunger and contemplation did not mask the fact that I was frustrated and a little irritated that the book had ended before I was ready to quit reading. 

     Finally, the light pierced through the fog of frustration clouding my brain. I had an epiphany.  The book of Acts was never intended to end.  All the praying and waiting, the faith and believing, the patience and persevering that culminated in the reward of Pentecost (Acts 1-2) was never supposed to be just an historical account, a one time thing.  All the praying, preaching, and church building were never supposed to end.  Acts was only intended to be the beginning; we are supposed to be its continuation. 

     It was a shocking revelation for, in that moment, I realized that we have completely, horrifically, inexcusably dropped the ball.  We have failed to keep the fire of Acts burning in our hearts, our churches, our world.  You see, it is not enough to read the Bible every day, pray a prayer, attend church.  To simply habitually do those things is cheating ourselves and everyone around us.  It is to tell God that we aren't interested in having all of him.  We aren't interested in his fire, his presence, his power.  It is simply to settle for a form of Godliness instead of seeking desperately for the real thing. It is, tragically, to decline Pentecost. 

     And who can afford to do that?  Not I.  I am not okay without Pentecost.  The dry tinder of my soul continually cries out for the fire of the Holy Spirit that burns away the chaff and leaves only that which exudes Christ.  I am hungry, my spirit clamors for Pentecost.  I am desperate for what it accomplishes in me--the faith, the confidence, the fire. I am ineffective without it--a lamp without a flame.  I am helpless with the wanting. I want God's fire to burn so fiercely in me that the cauldron of my soul bubbles up and flows over into the world--a light in a dark place.  I want Pentecost in my heart that I may share it with those around me.  I am nothing without it.

     Are you okay without Pentecost?  Are the accounts in Acts just stories to you?  Is your God still big enough to light a raging, unquenchable fire in your soul? 

     If your desire for God doesn't consume you, if your need for Pentecost has gone cold, if you can't fathom the burning fire of the Holy Spirit visiting your church this Sunday, then you need to go read the book of Acts.  Really read it. Immerse yourself in it. Allow yourself to imagine what it would have been like to experience it then.  Imagine what it would be like to experience it now.  And understand that you can.  The same God who sent the fire of Pentecost to burn in the hearts of the early church is alive and working today. He hasn't changed and he wants to give us Pentecost.  He wants to set our hearts on fire.  He wants our souls to bubble up, overflow, and change the world. 

     So may we not be lax.  May we realize that Pentecost was not intended to be a one-time thing.  May we truly believe the acts of Acts were never supposed to end.  May we, in taking up the torch, bow before God and sincerely beg, "Fire burn and cauldron bubble." And may we experience Pentecost. 




**I don't know if God will ever lead me to write on this topic again, but that doesn't mean he isn't leading someone else to do so.  If you are hungry to continue finding God's fire, swing over to https://encontrandofuego.blogspot.com and read the musings of a man deeply consumed with finding, kindling, and feeding the fire of God.  Blessings!

The Busyness of Being Still

     When was the last time you were intentionally still? How about the last time your mind blocked out the rat race and sat calmly?  What about your spirit?  Has there been a time recently when your spirit has purposely cast it's cares at the foot of the cross and rested in stillness?  Why not? If you read Psalms 46:10 you will find the command that is quite possibly the most difficult to obey.  It simply says, "Be still and know that I am God..."

     For humanity, this is easier said than done.  We are caught up in a precariously balanced schedule of work, school, errands, ballet, soccer, et cetera, et cetera.  Each activity is carefully planned to fall at a precise time so the schedule works flawlessly.  Sadly, all our meticulous planning leaves no time to simply be silent, be still.  We race around planning and doing, solving and stewing in an attempt to prevent this or orchestrate that.  If we stop and check, we realize that we have double booked--right over God's appointment.  And why?  Does all the doing bring us peace?  Does all the stewing and strategizing make us feel less stressed?  Do any of these things fill the "God space" in our souls?  Do we realize the answer to these questions , if answered honestly, is, "No"?

     Apparently not.  Perhaps it's because we haven't tried being still.  Perhaps we haven't really gotten to know God enough to comprehend what he's saying here.  We haven't skipped the gym to spend time with God.  We haven't cancelled the football party to have a prayer meeting.  We haven't said "no" to the new committee at work in order to have time to simply sit still, unclutter our mind, settle our spirit, and know that God is God.

     I have recent personal experience with learning to be still. You see, I had become burdened with a pile of concerns I simply didn't need to worry about.  Some of them weren't even my issues. They would pop up the minute I started to pray and derail my thoughts.  They followed me through the day, hounding each step and wreaking emotional havoc.  They kept my spirit troubled, my heart distressed. In the midst of it all, I repeatedly heard the words, "Be still", echoing in my head.  So I took some time one morning, read the Bible, prayed, blocked out everything else, stilled my spirit, and allowed God to be God.  The pile of "stuff" dissipated.  My spirit healed.  My heart mended.  My faith grew.  My God and I were one again.  And now I consistently hear the whispering in my heart urging me, "Be still..."  When things are out of my control, "Be still."  When I'm frustrated, anxious, terrified, "Be still."  When all I can do is trust, "Be still."

     The truth is, our human efforts are simple and often ineffective.  Our worrying accomplishes nothing.  Our strategizing may or may not pan out.  But our God is a sure thing.  He is our refuge and strength in trouble. (Psalms 46:1)  He knows the path before us. (Job 23:10)  He has the answers we have no hope of conjuring on our own. (Isaiah 55:8-9)  He has promised to be a helper who never leaves or forsakes.  (Hebrews 13:5-6)  And he is readily available when you simply be still and let God be God.

     In I Kings 19:11-13, Elijah looks for God in the wind, an earthquake, and a fire, but finds him only in the still, small voice that followed.  If he had been raging, he would have never heard it.  Neither will you.  So halt the craziness of your schedule.  Carve out an appointed time with God.  Stop talking.  Stop worrying.  Stop plotting.  Just stop.  And immerse yourself in the busyness of being still.

     Be still and know that God is God.

Selfish Saints

          About two weeks ago, I read an intriguing diatribe on American missionaries and missionaries to America. The author raised the question of why Americans feel the need to travel overseas to risky, unhealthy places to do missionary work when horrible conditions and unimaginable atrocities greet us each day on our own doorstep. Personally, I understand and fully support those God has called to foreign missions.  The call of God is, or should be, impossible to ignore.  However, not unlike the author, I fail to comprehend why American Christians who do not feel called to foreign missions fail to hear the call to be missionaries at home. 

          I wonder why.  Why are there no missionaries to America?  Are all the Christians blind to the starvation, disease, disregard for human life, and desperate need for Jesus around them?  Do they assume that because there is a church on every corner every citizen knows Jesus?  And do they truly believe that the only ones called to seek the lost are those called to third world countries?  Of course not.

          With news channels running in every imaginable place, magazines and newspapers lining waiting rooms and checkout stands, and the wonderful invention of the Internet we are more aware of what is going on around us than ever before.  The law of averages assures us that not every citizen knows Jesus--or even about him.  And if we were to be really honest with ourselves, we would have to admit the issue isn't that we don't feel called, but that we don't want to go out and actively seek the lost because we have other things we would rather be doing.

          And that's the answer.  We are selfish saints.  People who don their self righteous robes and assume that because they sing in the choir and serve on the church board they have done their part for the Kingdom.  If a lost soul wanders in to church service on Sunday, that's wonderful, but there is no inclination to go out and labor to truly influence people for Jesus Christ.  We are more fascinated with the temporal than the eternal, happy to keep the precious story of life changing redemption to ourselves rather than share it.  Yes, our churches are full of selfish saints. 

          Perhaps today's special variety of Christian hasn't read the passage that says, "...He that winneth souls is wise." (Proverbs 11:30 KJV)  Maybe the newer Bible translations don't read that way.  Or perhaps the blanket command, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel..." (Mark 16:15 KJV) doesn't truly apply.  Perhaps, when it's all said and done, we really are simply selfish saints who don't want to dirty our hands on the unwashed masses.  Perhaps we are too scared of being seen socializing with those whose reputation is less sterling than ours.  Maybe, just maybe, we selfishly love ourselves, our lifestyles, our things more than we love those who need Jesus. 

          It's enough.  We are getting nothing done.  The cycle must be broken.  The selfishness must end.  We must stop living as if nothing but ourselves, our families, and our social circles exist.  We must start living for eternity.  We must heed the call. We must be missionaries.

          But what does 21st century soul winning look like?  How do we do that in a society that has changed so much since the days of knocking on doors with the Good News and passing out tracts?  How do we show someone they need Jesus in a world of political correctness?  How do we show them what knowing Jesus looks like? Try this. Put down the  electronics and get off the couch.  Get out of your house, out of your social circle, out of your comfort zone.  Go out and do what Jesus did. 

          Feed people--remember the loaves and fishes that fed 5,000? (John 6)  Visit the sick--imagine being the blind man healed when Jesus took time to stop and visit. (Luke 18)  Have dinner with outcasts--think Zaccheus. (Luke 19)  Offer words of spiritual life to those who ask even though they may not immediately heed them--consider the rich young ruler. (Mark 10)  Weep over your country, your state, your city, your world. (Luke 19:41)  Give of yourself.

          Sadly, selfish saints can't do any of this.  You can't win souls by being self-absorbed.  You can't selfishly hoard your time, resources, or energy.  You can't.  You don't dare, because you have been called. So get out there.  Socialize.  Evangelize.  Be faithful.  Be consistent.  (II Timothy 4:2)  Be selfless.  Be a saint of the true variety.  Knowing this, "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." (Psalms 126:6 KJV)

          Heaven will be filled with the fruit of selfless service.  How full will it be from your labors?

Jesus Is Praying For You

     Recently, while enduring yet another spectacular spiritual battle, I came across the passage in Luke 22 where Jesus discusses with Simon Peter his vulnerability to Satan's attacks and reveals that Peter would eventually deny even knowing Jesus.  The story of Peter's denial is quite familiar, but the preceding verses are the ones that really caught my attention.  In Luke 22:31-32, Jesus says to Peter, "...Satan hath desired to have you...but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not:..." (KJV)  I needed those words that day.  I need them every day.
 
     I am often in a spot similar to Peter.  Satan tirelessly attempts to convince me that God has abandoned me.  He beats up one side of my soul and then the other.  The battle seems endless.  The outcome means everything to both of us.  There are no tied scores, only wins and losses.  My strength wanes.  My faith grows threadlike. My courage dwindles to barely an ember.  On my own I don't have the energy to pull out a win. In a final push to emerge victorious, I throw a glance over my shoulder, searching for aid.  With enormous elation and nearly palpable relief I realize that reinforcements have been there all along.  Jesus was already there.  Before the battle started, Jesus was praying for me.  He was interceding on my behalf that in this moment my faith, though stretched to the minutest thread, would continue to hold.  And it did.  I am fiercely relieved to say with the Apostle Paul, "...I have kept the faith." (II Timothy 4:7 KJV)  But I can only say that because Jesus, who could be doing so many other things, took the time to pray for me.

     He doesn't have to, you know.  There are a lot of things in this world that seem so much more important, so much more in need of God's attention. Praying for me seems like such an insignificant thing to do in the face of rampaging epidemics, bloody wars, horrifying crime, or disreputable politics.  It's humbling.  I mean so much to him that he makes sure to go before me and cover my future in prayer.

     It's not just me.  For 12 years I've been sending my son to a different state to visit his father for weeks at a time.  My mind flashes with the horrible things that can happen to children, the ways teenagers can be pulled in the wrong direction, the lack of a strong Christian influence.  Immobilizing terror begins to set in and then I remember that Jesus is already there ahead of him, loving him more than I do, praying for him, and helping him fight his battles.  Does it eliminate the concern?  No.  But the terror is replaced with peaceful trust that the God who loves me too much to let Satan have me, loves my child just as much.  Jesus is praying for him too.

     And you are just as important as me and my children.  You are the bird specially fed by God's hand, the field lily clothed more beautifully than kings, (Luke 12:24, 27) the apple of God's eye avenged by his hand (Zechariah 2:8-9).  You are imperative to the Kingdom.  You are special.  You are precious.  You are not alone.  Jesus is praying for you. 

     However, like Peter and I, you are also immensely vulnerable to Satan's attacks.  His desire to have you is an all consuming fire that endlessly drives him to fight for you.  He will do anything to get you.  In the middle of your normalcy something will spring up to distract you, pull you away, or tempt you to change direction  You are powerless on your own.  You have no strength.  You are incapable of deflecting Satan's advances by yourself.  Yet you are immeasurably blessed because Jesus sees the battle before it happens and has already prayed a preemptive prayer on your behalf. The strength you need to defeat Satan is already there, you just have to tap into it.  Victory comes through the knowledge that, in spite of all the other things he could be preoccupied with, Jesus is praying for you.  That is how important you are to him. That's how much he loves you.  (Romans 8:34-35, 37-39)

     So the next time you are surrounded by Satan's traps and think you'll never make it out alive, remember this--Jesus is praying for you, your family, your needs, your future.  He never stops.  Know it.  Believe it.  Rest in it.  (Romans 8:34)  His prayers mean you can find infinite strength in your moment of weakness, amazing comfort when you are beset by life's trials, and blessed peace in the midst of your storms.  What phenomenal love toward such undeserving individuals.  Comfort.  Strength.  Hope.  Peace.  All because the God of the past and present has already been to the future and covered your path with prayer. 

No Looking Back

You may find it amazing to know that I consistently have to tell my teenaged child to watch where he is walking.  Seriously.  Why does he try to look behind him while walking forward?  It always ends badly.  People get trampled, his feet get tangled up and he falls, he randomly walks into things.  You would think that after a couple of these episodes he would have figured it out.  I am still patiently (or not so much) awaiting this event.  Hopefully he will soon realize that looking backward throws up roadblocks and halts his forward momentum.

Sound familiar?  Not the part about my son.  The part where we forget that looking back isn’t such a great idea.  What good can come from looking at the past, reconsidering our shortcomings, or just casting a longing glance over our shoulder at the way things used to be?  What exactly do we miss about the past or do we still long to hold onto? Where there are always great memories to cherish and intense gratefulness for where Jesus has brought us from, constant looking back indicates a state of longing for what used to be.  It’s hazardous to your health, not just physically and emotionally, but spiritually as well.

Because of that, it behooves us to remember the little passage in Luke 17:32 that simply says, “Remember Lot’s wife.”  You know the story. (Genesis 18-19) Angels go into Sodom and Gomorrah hours before their demise to rescue Abraham’s nephew, Lot, and his family.  The angels of God miraculously hold back the evil residents of Sodom, allowing the family to escape the coming judgment.  As Lot, his wife, and his daughters are escorted from the city by their Heavenly rescuers, the angels tell them to run for their lives and issue the specific mandate, “Don’t look back.”  It seems so simple.  Just keep looking forward, keep walking, don’t look back.  Yet Lot’s wife couldn’t keep from glancing back.  And at what?  Sodom and Gomorrah were so horrible, so depraved that God could not find even ten righteous people in them. (Genesis 18:32) What was so glamorous about those towns that she was willing to throw her life away for one last glance? 

It’s easy to judge Lot’s wife because we know what happened to her in the end, she looked back and became a pillar of salt. (Genesis 19:26) It’s not so easy to look at ourselves and see the same thing, the same backward glance, the same desire to hold on to something from our past. And it’s just as deadly for our souls as it was for her life.  Jesus tells us that “No man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God”. (Luke 9:62 KJV) If you are looking back you aren't ready to go forward. Your heart’s not completely interested in what’s ahead of you. That means something you hold more dear is behind you.  It means you are willing to give up the promise of the future with God for an un-promised re-run of moments past. It means something else is more important than Jesus. It begs the question, “What’s behind you that’s more important than getting to Heaven?”

What’s holding you back?  What's stopping you from starting? An old habit? Ungodly friends? A questionable lifestyle?  Maybe it’s a situation you failed to forgive.  Maybe there’s some bitterness, anger, pain you don’t want to let go.  What’s got your attention?  What’s tempting you to throw your faith overboard, toss Heaven out the window?  Is it worth it?  Is it worth eternal punishment? Is it more exciting than an eternal reward? Is it more important to you than seeing Jesus face to face? 

When I was a child, there was a common statement, “I don’t want to miss Heaven for the world.”  I have no idea who coined the phrase, or where it might have originated.  I don't recall ever knowing, but I know this—I don’t want to miss Heaven for the world!  There’s nothing here that is more alluring, more exciting, or more important than getting to Heaven and seeing Jesus.  I hope you feel the same way.  I hope your eyes are fixed steadfastly forward.  I hope that with the Apostle Paul and me you can honestly say, “…Forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13-14 KJV) No looking back.  No turning back.  Just “straight on ‘til morning”.

  

Closets of the Heart

           What’s in your heart?  I mean, what’s really in your heart?  You know, back behind all the pretty, appropriate stuff you want people to see.  Way in the back, where you’ve got the door with three locks firmly closed and bolted.  What’s in there? Why is it closed up?  What are you hiding? Do you even remember? When was the last time you looked in there?  Most importantly, have you ever let Jesus look in there?

            As Elihu, one of Job’s supposed friends, is waxing eloquent in an attempt to prove that Job has erred against God, he makes a statement that is imperative for every unopened closet of the heart. Elihu says, “…it is meet to be said unto God…that which I see not teach thou me: if I have done iniquity, I will do it no more.” (Job 34:31-32 KJV) The concept brought me up short.  Do we truly not know our own hearts?  Turns out the answer is “no.”  We hide things from ourselves, fail to call ourselves on our own sins, and excuse uncontrolled anger and hate under the guise that if we direct it at something God hates then it’s okay.  We whip out a measuring stick and use it on everyone except ourselves, consistently pretending to be a never-ending fount of virtue even if our words and actions don't live up to it. Well, I say enough with the hiding and skulking around. You can’t sneak your way into Heaven. It’s time to let God show us what he sees in our hearts.  And time to let him clean it out. 

            The fact is, heart closets collect things. Past hurts. Injustices, both real and imagined. Frustrations, embarrassments, disagreements, upsets. We stash them all in the closet and they become a mosh pit of nastiness.  They stew and fester becoming enormous vats of anger, hurt, bitterness, jealousy and hate.  We hang on to them so long that it becomes easier to just close and bolt the door and hope no one notices rather than haul them out and deal with them. Or perhaps we think we have dealt with them because they seem to be under control. But while they may stay dormant for a period of time, they will eventually erupt into our words, actions, and attitudes.  For some reason, even then, we tend to push them back in and add another lock to the door.  I don’t know why.  Really, who wants to hang on to that mess?  And who truly believes they can hide it from God?

            You can’t. He sees everything. (Proverbs 15:3) You can’t hide it from those around you either.  It seeps out. In Matthew 12:34, Jesus says that our mouths spew out what our hearts are hiding.  If we speak hate, then hate inhabits our hearts.  If we speak love, then love dwells within.  And it’s not just in what we say either.  It’s in how we act.  Are you showing hate or love to others?  Are you shunning or welcoming the lost?  Do remember the words of Matthew 7:20-21 that say your actions will tell whether or not you are truly of God and that not everyone who says “Lord, Lord” will make it to Heaven? If Jesus doesn’t saturate your life, your words, and your actions then perhaps you need to check into where he’s really living.

 See, Jesus wants your whole heart.  He won’t accept less. And since Galatians 5:22-23 tells us that the fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, meekness, goodness, faith and temperance, it’s pretty easy to determine what should be found in our hearts and evident in our lives. Satan wants your whole heart too, but he’s willing to take any corner he can get because he just needs a space to get things brewing. And that’s how all those other things, like envy, strife, wrath, and hatred get started. (Galatians 5:19-21) Be aware, the two sides can’t coexist. They won’t.  Either you love or you hate. You must choose...God or Satan. (Matthew 6:24)  You can’t have one residing in the living room and one hiding out in the closet.  It just won’t work.

 So, I ask you again, what’s in your heart?  Are you willing to check it out?  Can you take Jesus in every crevice, corner, and closet? Does the light and love of Jesus fill your heart? Or are you busy installing lock number three? If you are, don't waste your time. Ecclesiastes 12:14 says God will reveal and judge every secret thing, so you might as well open that closet and let God clean it out today.  You’ll be nothing but better for the cleansing.