The cross is a stake through the heart, a painful transaction of justice and mercy. I scream out for deliverance, and my Father woos me to rest in the finished remedy. I reach for temporary medication to relieve this pain, and I wake up searching for an answer to the ever-illusive paradox. “Abba!” I scream, “Why have you abandoned me?”and he shushes me in a whisper, evidence of His immanence.The cross is a blade through the soul, a constant reminder that my old epistemological paradigms are no longer relevant. The old sacrificial system has been replaced by grace. Therefore, my scars of self-destruction have been healed by his scars of self-sacrifice. I am not who I was. I am not who I was. I am not who I was.
4.12.2012
Helplessness and the Cross
The cross is a stake through the heart, a painful transaction of justice and mercy. I scream out for deliverance, and my Father woos me to rest in the finished remedy. I reach for temporary medication to relieve this pain, and I wake up searching for an answer to the ever-illusive paradox. “Abba!” I scream, “Why have you abandoned me?”and he shushes me in a whisper, evidence of His immanence.The cross is a blade through the soul, a constant reminder that my old epistemological paradigms are no longer relevant. The old sacrificial system has been replaced by grace. Therefore, my scars of self-destruction have been healed by his scars of self-sacrifice. I am not who I was. I am not who I was. I am not who I was.
3.21.2012
An Open Letter To My Younger Self
The truth is, I have harbored hatred in my heart toward you. On many occasions I wanted to cut you to pieces, and shatter the mirror that reminded me of your depravity! I have had dreams of killing you, and pushing you off a towering ledge ~ and I imagined what your funeral would be like. I have torn apart your pictures, and mocked your crooked teethe and poor posture.
I know you! I know the way you habitually pick at your fingers when you're lost in thought. I know your secrets and your shame. I know you've said too much. Yes, I know about that closet addiction and the bible verse you quote to tell yourself that it will be okay. I know you blame everyone else for the ecclesiastical trauma you limped away from. But the truth is, you were never more true than the moment you plead guilty.
And in your confession, things have begun to change internally.
Now therefore, there is no condemnation.
If I could have your complete attention, I would put you in a choke hold until you are ready to surrender to my counsel... There are a few things I want to tell you:
1. Guard Your Heart
Be careful. In your desire to love and be loved, you will be tempted to trust the wrong people with the most sacred of your possessions. Your heart is a vessel that pumps royally-transfused blood into veins that run fervently toward mercy. You stay awake at night dreaming of changing the world and making a difference and zeal for the Father's House will consume you.
Don't trust the applause of men. They will hail you in one breath, and crucify you in the next. Don't trust the shallow nature of momentum and the ever-illusive amens. Don't trust the pinches on the cheek or the words of affirmation from fair-weather friends. Don't give your heart away to the lethal drug of the stage. The addiction is a virus that will eat your soul, and rape your innocence.
After you've had your heart torn asunder, you will find yourself more likely to random overreactions of sudden panic and noisy retreat. You'll see the worst in people. You'll avoid conflict because you will be afraid of being abandoned. You will prefer to hide under the covers and pray that the clouds roll away.
And it will take years to heal from the destructive lies that you've believed; Years to uproot the weeds from the garden you've planted... the garden of regret.
2. Love Your Wife
After the smoke clears and the haters leave anonymous comments, she will be the anchor of hope that wakes up beside you every morning. Her quiet strength roars in a decibel one octave too high for cognitive evaluation, but her faith in action will restore your confidence that all will be well.
She is the shy freshmen in a canoe that left you speechless. She wore the fire out of those birkenstocks, and met you everyday at the clock tower on campus. She will bring you three adorable daughters, and you will find in her a resilience that silences the enemy. She can rock a hoola-hoop like a Puerto-Rican diva, and her maternal instincts know no boundaries.
At the end of your life, she will be there until the last breath is taken. Every decision you make will be an investment in your covenant, and the outpouring of grace will be the remedy to the moody blues. Waking up next to her is evidence that the Lord's mercies are new every morning...
3. Have Faith in Grace
All of those elementary Sunday School lessons are true.
"Jesus loves you, this you know... For the Bible tells you so. Little ones to him belong, we are weak but He is strong." From your infancy, you have been raised to believe in the promises of Scripture; God is good and Jesus died on the cross for your sins and his blood covers your guilty plea.
Don't ever stop believing in the beautiful Story of Amazing Grace! Place your confidence in the promise that God's grace is enough to sustain you. One day, you will be tempted to dismiss it all as unknowable and uncertain... In that moment, remember the time you were baptized in a river in Montana, beside the waterfall. Remember the feeling of resurrection when you came up from out of the water. Remember breathing in the abundance of scandalous grace, and never forget the freedom you embraced.
Grace is a dance that you will learn to embrace. Your first attempts will be awkward and out of sync with the rest of the world. You will be tempted to retreat to the corner and sulk in your loneliness. But the magnetism of the Dance will woo you back to the movement of yes and wait and surrender. And your natural inclination will collide with the spiritual insistence that the song is familiar.
Grace will squeeze the hate from your mirror,
and wipe the tears from your eyes.
She will seduce you with her relentless invitation.
Her violence is an incoming Tide, washing away your castles of sand.
You will learn to inhale the surrender, and drown in her mystery.
3.09.2012
All That Matters
There are bombs exploded in the background, sedition in the community of faith where he serves as the ragamuffin pastor. In the midst of his mother's "home going", venomous attacks have been launched at his character. Some of the people for whom he has served, and loved, and trusted have stabbed him in the back and invited others into the shrapnel.
But my dad hasn't responded. All he does is love. Yes, in his unorthodox, socially awkward limp ~ he knows one thing: the love of family. Which, at the end of the day, is all that matters. And he is teaching me about priorities...
My daughter Ashlyn fell asleep on my chest tonight. She is scheduled for brain surgery with a Neurosurgeon from Duke University Hospital, to decompress the abnormality known as Chiari Malformation. In a few weeks they will reconstruct the base of her brain. I don't even know how process this journey of recent weeks... only to say
Family is all that matters. In comparison, I don't care about Exodus Church. I don't care about Lakeshore either. I don't care about all the accolades in this temporary existence. I don't care about ministry or reputation or google or theological positions or physical beauty or winning or writing a book like you keep asking me to. I don't care about building a big church or preaching a sermon next week or vision casting or problem solving or being a good orator or bombs going off behind my back or who wins the election or who loses the debate or who might be reading this because they heard scandalous things and set out to investigate my blog. I don't care about any of those things.
The only thing I care about right now is loving Jamie with the intensity of a hurricane, and being the best daddy that three little girls could ever dream of.
3.08.2012
2.26.2012
Blessed are the Persecuted
"The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church." - Tertullion
Thousands of Jewish Peasants, waiting in the fangs of the Roman Empire for liberation by the Messiah, lean in closely to hear the good news of the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven. Surely, this is our moment of revolt! Here is our King... let's go charge the enemy and overthrow the world's first global super-power as God's chosen nation!
And the climax of Jesus' upside-down announcement
would have been a huge disappointment:
"Blessed are the Persecuted."
The actual Greek word that is translated here [dioko], "hunted down, assaulted, and killed." Blessed are you when you are executed for the sake of righteousness. "Rejoice and be glad that you were counted worthy to suffer!" Then Jesus flows into a conversation about being salt and light for a world reeling in decadence and darkness.
The paradox of salt and light poignantly reveals the need for integration and separation. Salt, if it is to be effective, must be integrated into the very fabric of the culture. In the 1st Century, salt was used as a preservative agent against the decay of death! It would have been rendered useless unless it were intentionally threaded into the dough of society, like yeast ~ inseparable. And to be the "Light of the world" would naturally assume a separation from the world, in order to provide illumination.
Integration and separation = transformation and illumination.
Welcome to the invitation to transform our world.
And what does persecution look like in our world today? Statistics are so widely varied for obvious reasons, not the least of which is the frequent disappearance of missing Christians in parts of the developing world. It has been estimated that 175,000 Christians are martyred every year. 287 every day. 12 per hour. 1 every 5 minutes...
And what is different about your life? How is the American church living as salt and light? A recent body of work was published, describing an investigative journalist perspective on Evangelical Lifestyles in modern times. Allen Wolf's bottom line is summarized with a shrug, as if to say, "There's really nothing to be worried about... these Christians pose no threat to our way of living. There's nothing terribly different about them!" The following excerpt is his damning critique:
modern American landscape. They live in the suburbs, send their children to
four-year liberal arts colleges, work in the professional capacities,
enjoy contemporary music, shop in malls, raise confused and uncertain children,
and relate primarily to people with whom they share common interests…”
Nothing. Different. About. Us.
Perhaps the reason why we are not experiencing persecution in our age is because our light is so dim that our world is not even aware of our existence.
2.23.2012
Blessed are the Shalom Makers
"Blessed are the Peace Makers, for they are the sons of God."
And to the first hearers of these words, this statement would have had a much deeper significance. Our American understanding of peace usually invokes images of Woodstock and picnics. Or, at the very least, an absence of conflict.
But to Jesus and his contemporaries within 1st Century Judaism, peace had a ferocious multiplicity of meanings. The Hebrew word is "Shalom"; which essentially means "everything restored to it's rightful place." Further derivatives of this root word could include "Shulam" ("it was paid for") or "Meshulam"("paid in advance"). The general idea is the Peace had to come at a price...
And how did Jesus usher in this Kingdom of Shalom?
He climbed on a donkey and marched through the parade right into the fangs of the Empire, knowing full well that his barbaric execution would forever change the course of human history.
Although the ancient prophets announced that when the Messiah would come, He would be "The Prince of Shalom", nobody was looking for slaughtered lamb. Yet, this is exactly what He would call His disciples to become. He would send them out in His Name "as lambs in the midst of wolves", with the assignment to proclaim: Shalom on this house... Shalom on this city... Shalom on this heart.
To understand our role in this revolution of Shalom, is to ask very difficult questions of our own commitment to this Rabbi. What does it mean to ask Jesus into your heart and then pledge allegiance to a Big Government that has an annual budget of 548 Billion Dollars to maintain our Department of Defense? What does it mean to call ourselves a "Christian Nation", donning Constantinian Swords on our Shields as the Nation that God has chosen? What if these two Kingdoms were to collide? Where is your allegiance?
And if the dominant evidence of our identity as followers of Jesus are the Fruits of the Spirit: "Love, Joy, Shalom, Gentleness, Meekness, Kindness," then why are we most quickly stereotyped as "Anti-gay, Anti-choice, Intolerant, Empire Builders, Warmongers"?
What happened to the literal application of Jesus' command to love our enemies? Seriously, what if He actually meant that stuff? That would wreck all of our ideologies, and dismantle our political platforms! We can't have that!
Jesus, I love you. I am so sorry for not representing you with more conviction, and grace. Please woo us back to the Way, the Truth, and the Life of your Love. We are a mess without you.
I pledge allegiance to the Slaughtered Lamb.
2.13.2012
Blessed are the Pure in Heart
And Jesus settled his eyes on a few children playing in the distance... "the Kingdom belongs to these children."
There is something innocent about the way children run and play. They laugh obnoxiously loud, and squeal with delight at the slightest revelation! Without concern of grass-stains on skinned knees, they climb and explore and wrestle and imitate without reservation.
Have you ever seen a child doing yoga? Just trying to "find my center". No! They don't worry about the growing pile of bills on the counter, or what they are going to do about the raising gas prices. There is an assumed confidence in the Sovereignty and Omnipotence of their Daddy...
Lately, I have been observing with greater intensity, my own three daughters. Mariah (8), Ambria (5), and Ashlyn (1.5) are taking their awkward first steps, skinning their knees, and experiencing new emotions every day. They are probably creating emotions that have yet to be named!
I want so desperately to protect their hearts. I want to scoop them up onto my lap, and to advise them: "Guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life!" And to further warn, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick!"
Because something dangerous happens whenever we give our hearts away to the wrong people or things. We become jaded, skeptical, and intentionally withdrawn. Given enough time and painful experiences, the heart can only experience so much trauma before it needs antidepressant medication to function.
Jesus says, "Blessed are the Pure in Heart".
Blessed are the children. They will see the face of their Heavenly Father.
As a Father, there is nothing I would not do for my girls. I would give them the clothes off my back, the food off my plate... I would lay down my life for them!
[Ashlyn Hope]
For the past several months we have been noticing that our baby Ashlyn has not been developing as she should be. She isn't walking or talking. She couldn't roll over, and her motor skills seemed to be lacking. So after many tests with pediatricians, she has been assigned to a Physical Therapist who has been working with her to develop muscle strength and coordination. And although she has shown signs of improvement, she still lags behind with "Global Developmental Delays".
Last monday we scheduled an MRI to get some answers for the reason behind the delays. The next afternoon, the hospital called to report that Xray results discovered that Ashlyn has a Chiari Malformation; an abnormality in her brain. She has been referred to a Neurosurgeon for possible brain surgery.
We have been relentlessly researching and as we anxiously await our next steps, our hearts break for the unknown future! We have been told that she might not ever "run and play", and that the brain is pushing down into her spinal cord, affecting her coordination and balance...
As she has been undergoing medical evaluations, my heart breaks every time they have to draw her blood. Last week she looked at me for help, as tears streamed down her little face. And there was nothing I could do but to turn away from the scene.
And I began to more deeply understand the love of the Heavenly Father as he was torn from the scene: "Abba! My God ~ Why have your forsaken me?"
2.08.2012
Blessed are the Merciful
He died a few years ago, and we were never reconciled.
Because I have a photographic memory, and I know how to keep score. I have an emotional ledger on my lap, calculating relational profits/losses with the razor blade of "discernment". After years of theological education, I have hidden behind the shelter of unforgiveness beneath the cloak of being a wise steward of my heart.
Reading Jesus' invitation to live in the freedom of forgiveness has wrecked everything for me! What if He really meant that stuff? That would throw a proverbial wrench in my plans of starving the hostages in my prison of bitterness.
"Blessed are the Merciful, for they will be shown Mercy..." - defined beautifully as 'Active compassion by Divine grace'; Mercy is intricately woven into the fabric of forgiveness, as illustrated by the Parable of the Unmerciful Servant.
Jesus paints a portrait of His Father's posture by describing the Kingdom:
"The Kingdom of Heaven is like a King who wanted to settle all accounts..."
What does this tell us about the heart of God?
Central to the redemption Story is the gospel insistence of debt cancellation and the implications thereof.
Because we all have an account, and we all will stand before the King who desires reconciliation.
__________
Last year I went to a conference in Orlando, Florida. I had greatly anticipated the Grand Finale - an inspiring message from a theological hero of mine. On the morning of the big event, I overslept in my hotel room (long story... no wake up call from the front desk/my lawyers are handling it...). The alarm clock revealed my inner panic, and I squealed out of the parking lot in my rented Toyota Prius. Despite the stale green light, I blew threw the immanent red-lighted intersection and cruised my way to catch the end of the conference.
Two months later, I received an "Infraction" in the mail. There was a phone number to call, if I had any questions, otherwise the necessary payment should be included in this return envelope... I dialed the phone number at the bottom of the ticket and began to argue with the Police Officer in Florida. He invited me to check out a particular website which had documented and preserved my blown red light.
Yep, that's me... driving a rented Toyota through an intersection that could not contain my hurry.
How shall I plea? What is my defense?
But Jesus insists that the Kingdom of Heaven is like a King who desires reconciliation. He cancels the debt of "10,000 Talents" which, according to Josephus was the exact amount demanded by the Roman Emperor Pompey upon the Jews in 64 BC; This astronomical figure was another example of Jesus' hyperbole exaggerations of the extreme. The numerical figure of 10,0000 was the highest number used in reckoning, and the "Talent" was the highest amount of printed currency in the culture of the Ancient Near East.
Jesus was communicating the weight of our sin, and the price of our forgiveness.
But then, in classic rabbinic fashion, Jesus flips the script and twists the narrative to include the lack of forgiveness offered by the slave to his peers. He leaves the presence of the Throne and immediately hunts down an outstanding debtor for repayment. Capturing his attention in a choke hold, the Unmerciful Servant refuses to offer forgiveness to the smaller debt that was owed to him.
This is me.
I am an artist at harboring unforgiveness... I have approximately 5 people in Muskegon, MI whom I am continuing to keep in my own prison. The cold shoulder is a choke hold, and I am wrestling with the demand of the King, to forgive those who have hurt me.
I have been known to run a few red lights. I have burned a bridge or two... I have left behind carnage in my wake. I have been found guilty.
And I have been forgiven. How now shall I live?
1.22.2012
Blessed are those who Hunger and Thirst
1.16.2012
Blessed are Meek
Ironically, "meekness" was always taught as "weakness". And by 8th grade, I was over it.
So then I jumped ship to the fighting fundamentalist Jesus; He liked to protest things and blog about the end of the world! He was much more angry and it made for some exciting sermons...
But recently I stumbled into the real Jesus. The beautiful, intoxicating revolutionary who introduced the Kingdom Manifesto as a direct assault on the Roman Empire. This advancing Kingdom of God spreading like a wildfire by the least likely of characters.
"Blessed are the Meek", says Jesus, "For they shall inherit the earth".
The actual Greek translation of meekness [praus] speaks of strength under control. It is not a feminine hippy with no backbone [or, Kip Dynamite for example], nor is Meekness described by violence or brutal force. It's neither Mr. Rogers nor Malcolm X.
Meekness is strength, under control.
The Greek philosopher Aristotle described meekness as the beautiful character quality that found a voice for the appropriate rage within. Because, as it has been said, if you're not outraged, you're not paying attention.
Honest hermeneutical exegesis will reveal the real fire behind Jesus, the homeless Rabbi from Nazareth. History records that from His infancy, Jesus was born into a collision of Kingdoms. Biblical writers paint a portrait of Jesus on the warpath, planting subversive seeds of sedition right beneath the nose of King Herod!
Several of Jesus' parables were contemporary commentaries on social justice, mocking the plastic impostor who claimed to rule over the Jews. Jesus and Herod were on a collision course, and Christ's followers were invited to help spread the wildfire of the good news: The Kingdom of God is at hand!
One time when Jesus was in the middle of a diatribe on the splendor of the Real Kingdom, some Pharisees came to him with a warning, "Run! King Herod has issued a subpoena for your arrest... He wants to kill you!" Jesus fired back with a holy outrage: "Go tell that fox, I will cast out demons, I will heal people, and on the third day, I will finish my course!"
What????
Strength under control does not wield an AK-47 and call for block battle. Strength under control recognized that at any moment, "I could call on my Father who would immediately dispatch 12 legion of angels on my behalf"... but chooses instead, a cross.
Jesus saw the face of evil, and did not ignore it. He climbed on a donkey and rode right into the mouth of the monster, only to eventually be ushered before the wicked King Herod. (Picture Jesus in handcuffs, with a swollen eye and bloody nose, being questioned by Herod). "And Jesus gave him no answer."
He didn't even honor his questions with an answer! He completely disrespected him, and ignored the hailstorm of bullets. Because He had seen the throne... and Herod was not on it!
Meekness is standing in the face of adversity, with the conviction of assumed authority as a child of the Real King. And to confront systemic evil with beautiful anger, because holy outrage leads to the healing and reconciliation of this broken world.
1.10.2012
Blessed Are Those Who Mourn
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted..."
This progression of hope for the children of God, pledging allegiance to His reign, separates the various dimensions of grieving as both spiritual and physical. They have always been, and remain, interchangeable. Sin gives birth to death, and the heart of God breaks over both conditions.
Hope is that crucial ingredient that carries Christian mourners through seasons of deepest loss. Hope is the chain that peddles the bike that keeps you going. Hope is the seed that sprouts the roots and springs a tree.
And in what is our hope? In whom is our faith?
The resurrection of the crucified King! The manifestation of a literal rising from the ashes of decadence, have been for two thousand years, the motivation to mourn with conviction.
In John 11, the New Testament tells the story of Jesus receiving an oral telegram: "Come quick, your best friend, Lazerus, is sick unto death!"The text reads with cryptic subversion, "Now Jesus loved Lazerus, so he did not come."
He loved Lazerus, [therefore] he didn't answer his prayer.
And in this waiting room of suffering and ashes, the family mourns the loss of their brother. The anguish initiates a series of questions, revealing the frustration we have all felt at times. "Where were you, God?" Jesus absorbs their tears like a sponge, and receives their doubt with delicate authority. His posture bends in the dirt to feel the weight of this loss.... ["Jesus wept."]
On that day God cried, salty tears of internal rage. He looked into the eyes of his closest friends, after announcing that this will not be the last chapter; the Resurrection and the Life was enveloped in cynical despair. And Jesus felt their lack of faith in Him, bending to His knees in anguish.
----- The Resurrection and the Life ---- cried.
Where is your faith? Awake O sleeper, death will not have the last word. The cross couldn't finish His sentence, and the grave couldn't hold His power! Where our sins have been atoned for, the scars are not fatal and the grave is not final. When we mourn over those things that break the heart of God, comfort crashes into the casket!
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
1.07.2012
Blessed are the Spiritually Bankrupt
Shortly after we moved here, I had this brilliant idea to take a road trip to the Carolina coast; I had always wanted to surf the Charleston beaches, so I tucked my surfboard into the car and made it a solo adventure. I surfed with the dolphins and chatted with tourists. I lingered in the surf shops and eventually began the six hour trek home.
*There are parts of South Carolina that you just might want to avoid. Long highway stretches separate the progressive boom town of Charleston, from the backwoods mystery of lesser known places... and it was here, in the middle of the unknown, that my engine blew a head-gasket. Smoke poured from the hood of my Jetta, and there was no hope of a quick fix. I hitched a ride to the nearest gas station, that had promptly closed at five pm. It was beginning to get dark, and I could hear banjo music... No cell phone reception, no credit card, and the music was getting louder!
I finally waived down a motorist, and he gave me a lift to a phone booth up the road. I was able to call Jamie collect and I explained the situation. She scurried to put the girls in the mini-van and attempted to rescue me, but somewhere outside of town, the transmission blew on her van as well. So my wife and kids were simultaneously stranded six hours away!
[That awkward moment when you keep seeing reruns of Deliverance in your mind, as the darkness is setting in...]
Jamie finally got a hold of a friend-of-a-friend who immediately set out to retrieve me. This guy drove an F-350 with a flatbed trailer behind it, and five hours later, he found me on the side of the road (hiding behind some trees!). He loaded my car up and I climbed into the passenger seat. I was so ecstatic to have been found, rescued, and returned...
As we neared Columbia, we pulled off to get something from the drive-through at McDonald's. He ordered a bunch of food for both of us, and I insisted on calculating the totals, "Here, let me pay!", but he ignored my request. I kept a close eye on his gasoline, mileage, and time granted; I was going to make this all up, I had promised.
After my persistent requests to let me pay for this favor, he just looked at me and said, "You don't understand grace, do you?"
___________
Jesus inaugurated an inverted power system as he announced the Kingdom of Heaven and the New World Disorder. "Blessed are the Spiritually Bankrupt" [ptochos]; a word picture of absolutely nothing left in the bank... running on fumes and now the fumes have evaporated. Guilty. Surrender. Ptochos.
The good news of the gospel is that God has heard the cry of his children, and He has set forth on a rescue mission to retrieve the prodigals... And when you find yourself standing on the side of a barren highway, with no money and no hope and a blown head gasket and burned bridges and the scandalous resume as a liar/fraud/cheat, your only posture is to make a collect phone call to Heaven, and beg for Mercy.
Blessed are the Spiritually Bankrupt, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
12.29.2011
11.28.2011
11.07.2011
Restoring the Lost Years
A few weeks ago we were sitting together as a family, watching old home videos. In the video frame we were all playing together at Chuck E Cheese... the girls were laughing and dancing, and I was there... but not really.
Hope for Ashlyn
10.28.2011
remembering to forget
Where life and death collide
9.29.2011
Reflections from the California Coast
8.30.2011
8.25.2011
To the Mercy King
The rear-view mirror still taunts me. The images may appear closer than they actually are, yet the scars have stories of being put to open shame; death by exposure was a salacious headline, and the red badge of courage could never be applied to me.
8.22.2011
Fully Present in the Presence of the Amen
It was almost midnight when she noticed it. The lightning was painting the southern sky, with flashes of cinder and smoke. She called me to the window, and then to the door… we walked outside barefoot, breathless by the intoxication of the moment.
For what seemed like hours, Jamie and I sat in the grass looking out far, far away. The lightning was so distant that we could not even hear the assumed crashes of thunder. She wondered how far away the storm was, or if the cold front was going to collide with our warm air in the mountains.
We began to reflect on our journey, home. This season is serving its purpose: to bring healing to the wounds of our last exit. We talked about the southern drift, and the distance from our roots in West Michigan. We wondered about the toll such a transition would take on our daughters, who still cling to the memories of sand-castles and sleepovers, neighborhood friends, and a church family that disappeared overnight.
However violent the repressed memories are, we hold on to the joy that remains. We have proved them all wrong. We are stronger than their whispers. We are unfinished.
And tomorrow, is a mystery. That door is locked and bolted shut for now. All we can do is celebrate the moment of our resurrection, and watch the heavens declare the glory of God.
8.12.2011
Still, Unsettled.
7.31.2011
7.18.2011
7.12.2011
Grace Comes To Us With Blistered Feet
6.24.2011
like a garden, unkept
like a garden that was once
6.12.2011
Hope
6.02.2011
Responding to Max Lucado
God is a good God. We must begin here. Though we don’t understand his actions, we can trust his heart.
God does only what is good. But how can death be good? Some mourners don’t ask this question. When the quantity of years has outstripped the quality of years, we don’t ask how death can be good.
But the father of the dead teenager does. The widow of the young soldier does. The parents of a seven-year-old do. How could death be good?
Part of the answer may be found in Isaiah 57:1–2: “Good people are taken away, but no one understands. Those who do right are being taken away from evil and are given peace. Those who live as God wants find rest in death” (NCV).
Death is God’s way of taking people away from evil. From what kind of evil? An extended disease? An addiction? A dark season of rebellion? We don’t know. But we know that no person lives one day more or less than God intends. “All the days planned for me were written in your book before I was one day old” (Ps. 139:16 NCV).