If Only ...

Dreaming is a good thing. Our hearts and minds were made by a Creator who has embedded curiosity and creativity in us.  We were born to forge ahead, to take risks, to explore ... but if that's all we ever do on this Crooked Path, then we will find ourselves hollow, jaded, and left at the mercy of "if only ..." thinking.

There are no wasted days in our lives.  Everything, no matter how grand, bland, ridiculous, or despicable is accounted for by One who knows and loves us.  For a wonderful example, we need turn no further than the story of Joseph (unpacked in this MP3 by Donald Miller in quite a fresh way) to see that God will work all things toward an ultimate good purpose.  He will redeem it all, and he will do it because he loves us.

So let me repeat myself; there are no wasted days in our lives.  And when we try to do just that by focusing on the "if only" we ignore the opportunity set before us.  We trade it (or try to) for some imaginary "greater and better" future that focuses on what I can do or become and ignores what God is doing in and around me right now. We squander one of God's greatest resources - ourselves - in a feeble effort to do our own thing our own way.  And again, our dreams and creativity are important to God - but they are not above him.

God invites me and you to walk with him.  He invites us into his work right now, wherever we may be along the Crooked Path, so that his glory can be revealed.  He gives us the opportunity to create what he wants and reflect him.  But to do so, we've got to give up our "if only" and false sense of self-identity.  I'm thinking Lent is the perfect time to do just that.

Father Brother Partner Friend

It dawned on me this week that God presents himself to me in different ways during different stages along my Crooked Path journey.  He does this to all of us and the Word he gave us points it out over and over again.  I could write for days on all the ways we experience God, but my thoughts for this post have settled on four: God as Father, Brother, Partner and Friend.  Here goes nothing ...

God as Father is the easy one.  Most of us have been taught this concept from the time we could be handed crayons and sit at a Sunday School table.  The Father is the one up ahead on the path.  He is the one who is our leader and guide.  He calls to us, beckoning from somewhere down the way and urges us to follow where he goes.  He may be far enough ahead that we don't see him, but we know he is there and we want to believe he is true to his word.

God as my Brother is, essentially, an offshoot of him being my Father.  If I believe in the Trinity, I call Jesus the Son of God.  My Bible tells me that I am also a son of God so, by direct relationship, I have a Divine Older Brother who quite literally loved me and the Father enough to die for me.  My Brother has walked the same Path as I walk and comes to me directly offering encouragement.  He has a unique connection to our Father and shares his heart with me as we journey.

Matthew also recorded Jesus saying he would be our Partner.  This comes with the exhortation to "take my yoke" which is a partnership if ever I've seen one.  Draft horses who will work as a team are often raised together from foals so they can develop an innate sense of each other and be more effective partners.  Sharing the load with Jesus as my Partner is an awesome way to travel the Path and it reminds me that I am never alone.

On the night before he died, Jesus told his closest men that he wasn't going to call them servants anymore.  Instead, he was renaming them as his Friends.  Now, having the Father, Brother, and Partner are great ... but having God call me his Friend?  WOW!!  That is an incredible opportunity.  Friends know each other better than anyone else.  Friends laugh and run and play together.  Friends are comfortable just hanging out because they know in their hearts that the relationship they have is worth more than anything else.

This Lenten season, my story reminds me that God is my Father, Brother, Partner and Friend.  If that isn't a great way to dive into The Story, I don't know what is.

Because of Them ...

The one on the left is 13 now.  The one on the right is staring down the barrel of 16 in just a few more months.  It's an understatement to say that time has flown by ...

But they are really at the heart of why I'm feeling this longing to renew my connection with my part in God's Story.  You see, I have a duty to pass on the best view of that Story to them so they can make the best choices for their own stories.  It reflects the relational heart of God for all of us.

I know I make mistakes - far too often to even count.  But I am beginning to realize that my mistakes grieve God not because I broke "some code" but because I have chosen to walk away from the greatest gift I've ever been offered.  I make my choice to tell God, "Hey!  What you offer is great and all, but I think I'll try it my way for a while.  You'll still be there when I'm done, right?"  And God is still there, but he's sadder because I chose to turn away, even if for a little while.  And that brings me back to my girls.

As my pastor said today, I am part of the I AM.  That needs to sink in and have an effect on how I view my world.  When I choose to write my own definitions for everything, I choose a weaker, darker story.  And, by extension, I pass that along to those who matter the most to me - my wife and daughters.  I make it harder for them and others I encounter to choose a better part in God's Better Story.

So, as a part of this Lenten reawakening, I want to offer the best choices to my wife and especially to my girls.  I want to claim the best part of God's Story consistently.  I know I will miss it (and do so often), but I want to continue coming back to God's Story, erasing what I've written without his guidance, and joining with him to continue creating the best part possible for me and my girls.  I owe it to them as their father and as one who wants them to love God with all their hearts.  I have a unique opportunity and a duty ... because of them.

Re-Entering The Story

I haven’t written regularly for some time.  I put myself on a pretty rigid schedule for a little over 2 years and managed to post near weekly blogs and even have them in a position to end up as books (that’s a different project).  All this time, even while I have written a few posts on special themes, God has been encouraging me about how my own story fits within His bigger story.  I’ve read books, seen little bits of writing, heard people talk - and all of it seems to point back to a singular theme.  So, as I begin this next leg of travel on the Crooked Path, I want it to be more about how God invites me - and all of us - to enter His story, claim it for our own, and explore the wonderful opportunity to create as He inspires us.  If I’ve learned one thing in the past few years, I’ve learned that God quite literally died to have a relationship with me.  He did so to have a relationship with you.  He stands, open armed, without condemning us and asks us to join and follow Him as He leads.

This is my Lenten offering for 2013.  Not so much what I give up, though I am giving up my own tendency to despair and pull back.  My Lent is more about what I am taking on.  I want more than ever to explore in a fresh way my part in God’s story.

Just this week, the e-mail I get from John Eldridge’s organization offered me this thought:

“God gave us a remarkable choice. He did not make Adam and Eve obey him. He took a risk. A staggering risk, with staggering consequences. He let others into his story, and he lets their choices shape it profoundly.”

I want to choose the best story possible and see where God takes me.  I want to reflect that story and those choices to my wife, my daughters, my friends, and everybody I meet.  I want my journey on this Crooked Path to be one of ultimate joy and freedom - not because of who I am, but because of the One who gives me the choice to shape my part in The Story.

The Rhythms of Grace

Abruptly Jesus broke into prayer: "Thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth. You've concealed your ways from sophisticates and know-it-alls, but spelled them out clearly to ordinary people. Yes, Father, that's the way you like to work." Jesus resumed talking to the people, but now tenderly. "The Father has given me all these things to do and say. This is a unique Father-Son operation, coming out of Father and Son intimacies and knowledge. No one knows the Son the way the Father does, nor the Father the way the Son does. But I'm not keeping it to myself; I'm ready to go over it line by line with anyone willing to listen. "Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me — watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (Matthew 11:25-30, The Message)

Sometime back, I was listening to a CD while I was driving. It happened to be a compilation of old Don Francisco tunes, and one in particular caught my attention. The song “Give Your Heart a Home” speaks of our struggle to do things for ourselves and the empty failure that brings. It uses the passage quoted above as Jesus’ voice beckoning us to lay down our own burdens, yoke with Him, and let Him give us true rest and a home. I had been thinking about that song and how Scripture (especially the passage in Matthew) called out to us in our deepest need and want, but I hadn’t been able to bring it all together to the point where I felt like I could write about it … until my pastor, Sam, spoke on it in his sermon.

The call of Jesus in Matthew 11 is not a simple “greeting card” wish for us to come away and find a quick respite in the midst of some momentary difficulty. In fact, the call here is a direct extension of what Jesus taught in the Beatitudes about who heaven was meant for … the lowest of the low among creation. God beckons us to leave behind life spent living without Him and trying to bear a burden we cannot possibly bear. As Francisco’s song said, we spend what we don’t have to buy an emptiness that cannot fulfill. We are lost souls faced with continual disappointment and disillusionment. Our empty hearts cry out for something … anything … that will stave off the pain we feel in the very depths of our being. And in the midst of this, God calls.

Jesus invites us to join with Him and promises a rest from our struggle that we so desperately need. He doesn’t want our religious efforts, hollow as they are. He wants our hearts. He has already paid the price and offers the promise that His burden is light and His yoke is easy. His path is intentionally crooked, as I’ve discussed before, but He offers us something we cannot get elsewhere.

And, taking Him up on his offer, we travel the crooked path not without a companion or a plan. Rather, we travel it yoked to a Divine Brother who leads us and guides us and bears far more of our burden than we can possibly imagine. And as we walk forward, linked with our Master and Savior, we move to the unforced rhythms of Grace.

Our Friend Jesus offers a kind of rest that truly brings new life, a recovered life. We lay our head against His shoulder, and lean on Him, accepting His strength as the substitute for what we cannot do ourselves. And resting on the Rabbi’s shoulder, we hear in the rhythm of grace, His heartbeat keeping time. It isn’t a simple vacation or refreshing getaway, it is the rest of a lifetime. No longer lost souls, our heart has found a permanent home, and our travel along the crooked path lifts and lightens in His presence.

The True Seekers

"When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy." (Matthew 2:10, ESV)

The Christmas story only starts at the manger.  And I'm not talking about the next 30-some years either.  I'm talking about the core story - the one we celebrate in manger scenes and Advent candles and familiar carols.  If you start with the announcement to Mary and carry through to the visit from the Magi, you cover about 2 years, give or take.  And all through that time, you find men and women who diligently seek out the Messiah either because of something they were told or something they learned from their own search.  It's an amazing tribute to the "true seekers" who longed for that baby so long ago, even if he didn't quite look like they expected when they found him.

For example, right after the birth - within the first two weeks - we get the account of Mary and Joseph presenting their newborn at the Temple in Jerusalem.  Given what we know of them, they certainly didn't stand out in a crowd and there were doubtless many other young couples with babies in line with them that day.  But at least two people, two "true seekers" took notice.

Simeon had been told by God that he would see Messiah.  On seeing the couple and Jesus standing in line, his heart must have skipped a beat or two. The old man hobbled over to them, took the baby in his arms, and began to sing a rather strange song.  His words must have sounded odd as they spoke of his readiness to die now that he had held this baby.  Then again, if you've seen and held the salvation you've longed for, what else would you say?

Anna was also there that day.  She took notice of the baby, came to him, and created an anthem to Messiah.  Her song surely echoed the other as now two people - two of the true seekers - had given testimony to the birth of the promised Savior.

Then there were the Magi.  At the same time all the above was happening in Bethlehem and Jerusalem, these scholars sitting among their readings over 1,000 miles away saw something in the night sky that sent them on an epic journey.  Whether it was a planet, star, or some other "ordinary" celestial object, we have record that two years later in Jerusalem, after they talked to Herod, they saw the start again and it filled their hearts with joy.  They were truly seekers and they would find the King they sought.

Today we also find not what we expected, but rather what we so desperately need.  We find this most humble  unassuming King who has become a peasant so he can bring rescue and redemption just like he always intended.  And we can say, despite the turmoil around us ...

ALL IS WELL!

(click the above for the Michael W. Smith song)

Bethlehem Thoughts for Advent

They were an odd bunch, that much we can gather.  

The weary  couple had come over 300 miles on foot at the whim of some far off official so they could be counted (and taxed).  The tiny town that was their destination wasn't of much account either.  Perhaps that's why there was a shortage of available lodging that night.  In a last-ditch effort, they agreed to stay in the cave stable behind the small inn.  You would think a pregnant girl would have received a little more sympathy ... but you'd be wrong on that account.  So, in the smell of that stable she went into labor and, with no doctor to attend, her husband delivered the Child.

Meanwhile, in the hills around that little village, a rag-tag group of shepherds were dozing and chatting while their flocks, settled in for the night, either slept or ate in the field around them.  Shepherds weren't known for their rank in society.  They associated with mostly other shepherds as it was pretty much a full-time job (and by that I mean 24x7) to guard and care for your livelihood.  I can only begin to imagine the terror  that struck them as the nigh sky lit up like a thousand blazing campfires.  Frankly, I'm shocked any of them could recover to the degree they would leave their sheep and run over the hill into Bethlehem as the angle suggested they do.

So, in the dead of night, in the dark, dank confines of a stable, the weary couple and the shepherds witnessed God entering the world.  The account in Luke's Gospel says it was a pretty awesome sight to behold.  The shepherds, unable to contain the pure joy ran off waking the town and everyone they could see.  Mary, overwhelmed to have been chosen, just kept silent and thought about all that had transpired over the past nine months.  Joseph finally had at least some of the answers he sought, even if he still didn't completely understand.

But our tradition also adds three more players to the Nativity pageant.  History will note that they weren't actually there that night, but I'm going to err on the side of tradition and include them.  These "magi" were very studious men.  The 300-mile trek of Mary and Joseph paled in comparison with their journey.  They saw signs in heaven, probably even before that first Bethlehem night, and gathered up their entourage to seek out the King.  Their faith and diligence is honored in the story right along with the shepherds.  They somehow knew (above all the rest of their knowledge) that history had changed.

This year, as my Advent candles burn and my simple, traditional tree sits in my house, I want more than ever to connect with that Child in a fresh way.  God chose his entry into humanity as a humble, lower-class baby arriving to an exhausted couple in a dirty little cave.  His first companions were animals and his first visitors the most common of commoners - shepherds.  Yes, wise mean sought him out and risked much to see him - but the common thread among all who made a choice that first Christmas was the helpless baby in that manger.  Wrapped in cloth, still fresh from childbirth, the Messiah began a life that would, in the end, bring Life to all of us.

Like the shepherds and the wise men, I want that Life now more than ever.