One of the most raw things one can do as a created being is to be completely real, absurdly honest. To just expose the truth with no superficial layers, eliminating the sugarcoating that we have become so immune to applying. Something happens when you are honest, and I mean honest to the deepest part of who you are. There is a danger there in that place that can sting like the raw flesh of an open wound. The vulnerability that one feels can be so real that it makes you want to go and sew some fig leaves together to cover it all up. But there's also a deep beauty in this place, a fountain of freedom that flows from the innermost part. There is a big chunk of this picturesque place that we seem to miss all of the time. The truth is that we may try and hide from ourselves, but we can never hide from God Almighty. He knew that Adam and Eve were naked before they even hid. But it wasn't so much a matter of their physical being as much as it was their heart. When you blatantly sin against God the Father, you run and hide. But our sin and absolute disobedience does not prevent Him from walking in the cool of the day seeking fellowship with the very ones whom He created in His own image. Is hide and seek really possible with the One who knows all? So it is here in these next few moments that I will dare to enter into that place that makes me squirm with conviction and ushers me to my knees in repentance before a holy God...
Grey. It's just an choice in the Crayola box, perhaps an option in your wardrobe. It's the color of the sky on a rainy day, perhaps an artistic shade of emotion after a unseemingly joyful day. I have a question that has been burning within me the last few weeks, and I can't seem to shake it. What happens when grey enters our lives as followers of Jesus Christ, when grey becomes a normalacy within the walls of the church? I know one thing to be true; grey will never usher in revival. Grey will never accompany true intimacy with a holy God. Grey will never expedite the setting apart of Christians as we are commanded in Scripture to be. Grey will never loose the chains of the drug addict or release the chains of those in bondage. Grey is like a cancer of the church, slowly deteriorating one member at a time until it leads to an absolute death of epidemic proportions.
Any child would be able to tell you that grey can be made when combining black and white. Black represents the very things of the world and the sin that so easily entangles it, the very things that we are to hate. Please notice I said things and not people. White represents the truth, the pure things of the Lord, the things that we are told to think upon. We welcome grey into our theological circles of religious snobs when we combine the two, when we take the secular things of the world and try to christianize them. For instance, some might say that it is not wrong to drink, but we should never get drunk. Is that true? What in alcolhol represents Jesus Christ? Does it usher us into the presence of the holy One? This is just one minor example, and there are countless others.
With regards to living life as a follower of Jesus, it is either black or white. There is no grey, grey is not an option for the one who is radically commited to Jesus. God even says that He would rather people be either hot or cold, for lukewarm ones will be spit out of His mouth. It's interesting how He gives cold as an option and not lukewarm. It's interesting how black is an option, not grey. Is it me or have we created our own little universe with our precious little rules and adaptations? Are we not just the dust of the earth? Have we entertained some sort of role reversal in our fantasy land with God? For me, the truth is yes. I have allowed the grey to seep beyond the Crayola box and into my heart.
I have not met the cross and the pure and spotless Jesus on that cross face to face. I have no idea what grace truly is, I will never understand the absolute ugly beauty of the cross. Jesus Christ was slaughtered like a lamb on my behalf. He was beaten beyond recognition for my sins. He endured the worst possible punishment even though He had never commited one wrong, not one. He was obedient to death and death upon a cross to save my soul from an eternal habitation in hell. Oh whether or not I ever really get this does not change the magnitude of that sacrifice. Jesus would have still followed through even if everyone rejected Him forever.
But rather than eternally embracing the cross and allowing it's splinters to pierce my hardened heart, I have chosen to momentarily embrace this thing called grace and foolishly put it in the garage sale pile. Oh you know what that pile is like: It was once something used and of value and maybe even of great treasure, but it's been used up and tossed out and maybe someone else can use it and pay for it. Grace can never be cheapened, but we can live in such a way that makes this a very frightening reality. Our complacency propels us into a downward spiral of spiritual degrading. Our making room for mediocrity causes the mouth of God to want to vomit. Our spiritualizing the things of the world welcomes grey like a long lost friend.
I long for the day when I can look back at who I used to be and be sick to my stomach. I cry out for the day when the church will rise up and be who it was created to be. I dream of the day in which the church of Acts is not just something to read about, but is a reality lived out. I yearn for the day in which complacency and mediocrity make me sick. I wonder what the world would look like if Christians truly were set apart in every way. I wonder how it must shatter the heart of the Father when we treat our life with Him as something to do rather than someone to be. I wonder if God really knew what He was saying when He commanded us to be holy. Better yet, I wonder if we really knew who was speaking and were really listening when He said, "Be holy because I am holy."
I think Adam and Eve were a bit caught off guard that day in the garden. Maybe there were some akward moments of what to do and what to say. I'm finding myself in that place too. I don't think there is much one can say other than: "You were right and I was wrong." But to admit that would mean a removal of the grey, that thing that we worked so hard to create and justify. Jesus may I not waste one more drop of your precious blood on my little snippets of grey. Oh that I would see the cross and the sacrifice for what it really was. I want to see my sin as what it is, the very spikes that were driven into your wrists. Forgive me oh holy God, for dragging my grey with me to the cross that was covered in red for all of my black that you command to be white...in Jesus name, Amen.
Wednesday, November 25
Saturday, November 21
Thirsty...
As always seems to be the case, I have been chewing on something recently; John 4. I’m sure you know the story. Jesus and the disciples have been traveling and they come to the city of Sychar. Jesus, tired from the journey, slumps down against the well for a rest while the disciples go into town to gather some food. A Samaritan woman, busy I’m sure at the noon hour of the day, comes to draw water, a seemingly everyday task for her. As she comes near, Jesus asks her for a drink. Caught off guard the woman reminds Jesus that He is a Jew and she is a Samaritan, so she questions His asking for a drink. Jesus then goes on to tell her that if she knew who He really was she would ask for the living water. She looks, doesn’t see any well-drawing equipment that He has with, and asks how it is He is going to get this living water since the well is deep and He has nothing with which to draw. Jesus then continues in His poetic picture and speaks boldly that those who drink of well water will thirst again but those who drink of the living water will never thirst and will in fact have a living spring that erupts into salvation. Intrigued and convinced, the woman asks for this living water so she won’t have to keep coming and drawing this well water. A bold confrontation is then made as Jesus tells her to bring her husband and come back. She admits she does not have a husband. And then Jesus follows up with her relational status of having had 5 husbands but the man she was with at the moment was not her husband. She perceives He is a prophet, but then begins to speak of the Messiah Jesus Christ who is coming and will explain all things. And then Jesus says one statement that changes everything: “I who speak to you am he.”
I’m finding myself in the shoes of the woman, perhaps I should say sandals. I’m finding myself in the middle of mundane life events, most of which I like but some which I loathe. And I find myself being asked things with which I cannot comply, either based out of lack of faith, disobedience, or just personal comfort zones. I begin to squirm uncomfortably in my chair as I face this resistance between a higher calling and a lower level of reality as I live. I ask what a holy God would want with a wretched sinner such as I. And then He speaks, the One. He persists with a fiery passion that I’ve never known before. I am looking for one thing, He offers another. I then cave in desperation thinking that I just might be aligned with this One and His offer. Again, I missed the point. It’s not a matter of water, it’s a matter of life. I sheepishly grin as I step back and am reminded of how little I actually know. He stares into the depths of my being with His eyes that burn like fire, and begins to outline the details of my life, the dark and ugly ones that nobody is supposed to know. And then in that little soft part of my heart that has not been hardened by the muck and mire of the world, I begin to think that He is someone. Oh yes, I know of the Messiah that is coming and knows all. And then I am stopped. He says one thing that radically shifts something within my broken being: “I who speak to you am He.”
Of course we know the rest of the story. The woman goes back to town sharing the divine encounter she has had at the well and the people of the town come back to the well with her to see who this One is. They find the One who sits against the well is the Messiah, the One who knows all and supersedes all. They urge Him to stay with them and so He stays 2 days and many come to salvation in that city. The living water had indeed been poured out over many souls that day, and it all started with a request for a cup of water.
There is something about a life completely surrendered to the Messiah that brings about great change. There’s something so freeing about letting go of what you so tightly grip in exchange for what the Messiah wants to give you. There is something so humbling about staring into the very face of the One who knows the deepest and darkest things about you. There is something so crazy about the call of grace that beckons more loudly over the voice of the enemy who thinks he has defeated you. There is something so refreshing about this living water that washes over every broken soul and cleanses it, even though I am undeserving. There is something so marvelous about waiting for the One you have longed for, only to realize He is the One with which you speak.
Oh that I would yield and surrender myself to this One. The simplicity of just receiving all that He is and all the He offers. Who am I to think that what I have is better? This is Jesus the Messiah, the One who meets us where we are. The only One who can offer salvation and the living water, the only One whose blood covers all and overcomes all. Jesus forgive me for arguing with you at my well. I am so foolish and stubborn that your persistent beckoning and radical grace I will never comprehend. Holy Spirit help me to just yield. I long for all of you, let me see you right in front of me. This is reality. I don’t want to keep coming here trying to draw this water. You truly are all that I need and desire. Thank you for meeting me right where I am, but loving me enough to leave me in this place…
I’m finding myself in the shoes of the woman, perhaps I should say sandals. I’m finding myself in the middle of mundane life events, most of which I like but some which I loathe. And I find myself being asked things with which I cannot comply, either based out of lack of faith, disobedience, or just personal comfort zones. I begin to squirm uncomfortably in my chair as I face this resistance between a higher calling and a lower level of reality as I live. I ask what a holy God would want with a wretched sinner such as I. And then He speaks, the One. He persists with a fiery passion that I’ve never known before. I am looking for one thing, He offers another. I then cave in desperation thinking that I just might be aligned with this One and His offer. Again, I missed the point. It’s not a matter of water, it’s a matter of life. I sheepishly grin as I step back and am reminded of how little I actually know. He stares into the depths of my being with His eyes that burn like fire, and begins to outline the details of my life, the dark and ugly ones that nobody is supposed to know. And then in that little soft part of my heart that has not been hardened by the muck and mire of the world, I begin to think that He is someone. Oh yes, I know of the Messiah that is coming and knows all. And then I am stopped. He says one thing that radically shifts something within my broken being: “I who speak to you am He.”
Of course we know the rest of the story. The woman goes back to town sharing the divine encounter she has had at the well and the people of the town come back to the well with her to see who this One is. They find the One who sits against the well is the Messiah, the One who knows all and supersedes all. They urge Him to stay with them and so He stays 2 days and many come to salvation in that city. The living water had indeed been poured out over many souls that day, and it all started with a request for a cup of water.
There is something about a life completely surrendered to the Messiah that brings about great change. There’s something so freeing about letting go of what you so tightly grip in exchange for what the Messiah wants to give you. There is something so humbling about staring into the very face of the One who knows the deepest and darkest things about you. There is something so crazy about the call of grace that beckons more loudly over the voice of the enemy who thinks he has defeated you. There is something so refreshing about this living water that washes over every broken soul and cleanses it, even though I am undeserving. There is something so marvelous about waiting for the One you have longed for, only to realize He is the One with which you speak.
Oh that I would yield and surrender myself to this One. The simplicity of just receiving all that He is and all the He offers. Who am I to think that what I have is better? This is Jesus the Messiah, the One who meets us where we are. The only One who can offer salvation and the living water, the only One whose blood covers all and overcomes all. Jesus forgive me for arguing with you at my well. I am so foolish and stubborn that your persistent beckoning and radical grace I will never comprehend. Holy Spirit help me to just yield. I long for all of you, let me see you right in front of me. This is reality. I don’t want to keep coming here trying to draw this water. You truly are all that I need and desire. Thank you for meeting me right where I am, but loving me enough to leave me in this place…
Tuesday, November 3
Confessional Cupcakes
I sat here and watched as my friend ate a moist cupcake with a mound of red frosting on top, I found myself salivating and having this intense craving for one. I kept working on the task at hand and tried to ignore him, but I just couldn't. He finally asked me what I was doing, and I was like "Your cupcake looks amazing!" To which he then said a simple sentence in reply that shifted something for me. He said, "The cupcake probably wouldn't look so amazing if you were able to eat it."
I began to think of brothers and sisters in other countries that I have had the honor of meeting along the way. In many parts of the world it is illegal to even own a Bible or to pray in public, and you can forget about a true worship service with the glory of God occurring! It is dangerous and illegal to totally love Jesus and live for Him, and yet there are thousands of martyrs out there. These brothers and sisters of ours have some of the most genunie faith and intense passion for Jesus that I have ever known, yet they can't really have Him like we can here in America. Of course Jesus transcends all and there is nothing and nobody that can stop Him, but doing so puts their lives at risk. Now stick with me here, this is where the cupcake begins to crumble.
I began to think of my own life and how I am with the Lord. I have freedom as an American to worship Jesus and pray in public and carry a Bible and all of these other things; most of which people in other countries cannot do. Sometimes I find myself dragging my feet to enter the presence of the Lord and it seems to be a chore to just get in the Word. I guess it seems all too often that the things with which we cannot have seem to carry more value in some way. But then when we do have those things, they somehow become monotonous, routine, and even normal.
My heart began to feel troubled within me as I reflected on this. The truth is this: Nothing and nobody can alter the character of Jesus Christ. He is of infinite value and worthy of all praise, honor, and glory. After all, Jesus is the same today as He was yesterday and that He will be tomorrow. Perhaps it would do me some good if I had an attitude shift, a change of heart. I wonder how I would live if I were in a closed country opposed to Christianity?
I read passages in the Bible like in Revelations 1:14-16 that say: "The hairs of his head were white, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength." This same Jesus desires to be with me, to commune with me, to delight in the praises of my lips and the worship of my heart. And I step back and reflect and realize that something is so wrong.
The cupcake confessional: I am a jerk to Jesus. The sweet truth: Jesus paid the ultimate price for my sin, all of my sin. Oh that this sleeping giant within me would arise and awaken! Oh that I would see Jesus for who He really is, awesome! What was initially said of the cupcake may be true when it comes to finite things like cupcakes. But when it comes to infinite Jesus in all of His brilliant splendor and radiant glory, while my life may reflect that as being true, it simply is not. Forgive me Jesus for treating you like a cupcake when instead I should have loved and worshipped you as King Jesus. I truly am amazed by you and love you...
I began to think of brothers and sisters in other countries that I have had the honor of meeting along the way. In many parts of the world it is illegal to even own a Bible or to pray in public, and you can forget about a true worship service with the glory of God occurring! It is dangerous and illegal to totally love Jesus and live for Him, and yet there are thousands of martyrs out there. These brothers and sisters of ours have some of the most genunie faith and intense passion for Jesus that I have ever known, yet they can't really have Him like we can here in America. Of course Jesus transcends all and there is nothing and nobody that can stop Him, but doing so puts their lives at risk. Now stick with me here, this is where the cupcake begins to crumble.
I began to think of my own life and how I am with the Lord. I have freedom as an American to worship Jesus and pray in public and carry a Bible and all of these other things; most of which people in other countries cannot do. Sometimes I find myself dragging my feet to enter the presence of the Lord and it seems to be a chore to just get in the Word. I guess it seems all too often that the things with which we cannot have seem to carry more value in some way. But then when we do have those things, they somehow become monotonous, routine, and even normal.
My heart began to feel troubled within me as I reflected on this. The truth is this: Nothing and nobody can alter the character of Jesus Christ. He is of infinite value and worthy of all praise, honor, and glory. After all, Jesus is the same today as He was yesterday and that He will be tomorrow. Perhaps it would do me some good if I had an attitude shift, a change of heart. I wonder how I would live if I were in a closed country opposed to Christianity?
I read passages in the Bible like in Revelations 1:14-16 that say: "The hairs of his head were white, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire, his feet were burnished bronze, refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the roar of many waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, from his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength." This same Jesus desires to be with me, to commune with me, to delight in the praises of my lips and the worship of my heart. And I step back and reflect and realize that something is so wrong.
The cupcake confessional: I am a jerk to Jesus. The sweet truth: Jesus paid the ultimate price for my sin, all of my sin. Oh that this sleeping giant within me would arise and awaken! Oh that I would see Jesus for who He really is, awesome! What was initially said of the cupcake may be true when it comes to finite things like cupcakes. But when it comes to infinite Jesus in all of His brilliant splendor and radiant glory, while my life may reflect that as being true, it simply is not. Forgive me Jesus for treating you like a cupcake when instead I should have loved and worshipped you as King Jesus. I truly am amazed by you and love you...
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