For The Love Of Music

The next time you have the chance to watch a live musical performance – whether it be a symphony, a musical, or a rock concert – be sure to watch the musicians . . . in the audience.

It’s fascinating to watch a musician listen to music. As I write this, I’m watching the Kennedy Center Honors. This year, among the honorees is Leon Fleisher, a classical pianist that I’d never heard of before tonight. He sat in the audience as an ensemble performed Beethoven’s “Choral Fantasy,” and every so often, the camera would cut to Mr. Fleisher’s face as he watched. You could almost see that he was mentally playing the piece along with the musicians on stage. Later, as Hootie & The Blowfish performed “California Girls” in honor of Brian Wilson, the camera again cut to Mr. Wilson & Mr. Fleisher. They were both out of their chairs, clapping along and getting as close to dancing as men their age can.

I’m reminded of going to a Billy Joel concert several years ago. The song “Piano Man” is a staple at his shows (I’m not sure he’d get out of the stadium alive without playing it). Of course, everyone in the crowd knows the song by heart. When he gets to one of the last choruses, he and the band will stop playing and singing, letting the audience take over. The simultaneous pride and humility is written on his face as he sits and listens to hundreds upon thousands of people sing the song he penned so many decades ago.

I often wonder if it’s the same with God. After all, we are His masterpiece (see Ephesians 2:10). And, like a musician listening to a favorite piece, He knows exactly where our lives should be going (see Proverbs 16:19). Sadly, though, I sometimes feel that God is not so much beaming at a great performance than He is wincing at the flubbed notes. But this is not the God I serve.

I remember, as a kid, taking part in way too many piano recitals. Mom and Dad were always there, dutifully enduring all the younger kids, until it was my turn at the piano. And when I was done, they were always so proud, regardless of how many mistakes I had made (and there were many, I assure you). It was almost as if the goofs had passed right through their consciousness, and all they heard was the heart of the musician, rather than the notes of the piece.

This is how God sees me now that I’ve given my heart over to Christ. I Samuel 16:7 says, “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart." All the goofs, all the mistakes, all the missed notes, none of that matters to Him. All He sees is my heart, which is inhabited by Christ. And so, as He looks at me, with all my flaws, He can still look upon my heart and say, “This is my dearly loved Son, who brings me great joy.” (Matthew 3:17) And that’s music to my ears.

Q & A

Like most people, I spend a great deal of time seeking out God’s will for my life. This usually involves questions like: What am I supposed to do with my life? Who am I supposed to marry? What color socks should I wear today? (Just kidding.) I’ve been pondering such questions for years. Finding no concrete answers, I had almost come to the conclusion that somehow, somewhere along the way, I had missed an off-ramp, and was therefore destined to forfeit the plans God has for me (see Jeremiah 29:11).

Turns out (big surprise here) I was wrong. It’s not that I wasn’t finding any answers. I was just asking the wrong questions.

Moses asked the right questions. In Exodus 33:13, Moses asked of God, “If it is true that you look favorably on me, let me know your ways so I may understand you more fully and continue to enjoy your favor.” Notice that he didn’t ask, “Lord, what would you have me do? What career path should I follow?” It wasn’t about that. Moses understood what I’m only now starting to grasp. God’s will has nothing to do with any particular action I may take. It has everything to do with knowing God, knowing God’s character. That’s what Moses meant when he asked to know God’s ways. Knowing the character of God means becoming more intimate with him, becoming closer to him, becoming more like him. In this way, our decisions will more closely mirror God’s, so that we don’t have to run to him with every little thing. God’s character becomes our character, so that our minds come closer to being as one.

Moses also knew that if God isn’t in it, then it ain’t right. “If you don’t personally go with us, don’t make us leave this place. How will anyone know that you look favorably on me – on me and your people – if you don’t go with us?” (vs. 15-16a) Moses knew that to go anywhere without God meant disaster. In my life, this equates to going to God with my own plans, asking for his permission and/or blessing, rather than seeking his plan from the beginning.

So, putting these two concepts together, knowing the character of God is the best way to unveil his plans for us, because knowing his character means knowing which plans he will inhabit. And knowing God that intimately means spending time with him. It means going to him for more than just the occasional prayer request, but actually spending time in conversation with him, just like you would a close friend. That’s how you truly know someone.

My prayer, then, is this. “Show me the right path, o Lord; point out the road for me to follow. Lead me by your truth and teach me, for you are the god who saves me. All day long I put my hope in you.” (Psalm 25:4) Note that the psalmist doesn’t just ask for the solution. He specifically requests to be taught, and to be led by truth. That’s my desire; to be led by the truth of who God really is and to learn more and more about the character of God, so that I may be more like him.

All I Want For Christmas . . .

My parents have requested (well, almost demanded, really) a list of things I would like to receive for Christmas. This is a difficult question for me, because a) I hate asking for things (that’s another blog for another time), and b) I can never think of anything I really need. There are lots of things that I want, but I feel silly asking for those because, well, it’s all just stuff. Mostly stuff for which I don’t have space. So, much to the dismay of my parents, my wish list is pretty short and painfully practical.

This discussion brought about a new train of thought for me this year. What, in all the world, do I want this Christmas? Many things came to mind. A house of my own. A new car (preferably a Jeep Wrangler, if anyone wants an extravagant gift idea . . .). A date for New Year’s . . . but I digress. As I pondered each of these things, nothing resonated in my soul as a true desire, a deep and stirring passion. As I continued to ponder over the next several days, it finally hit me. The one thing that I really want, above all else. I want a broken heart.

I know. Weird, right?

I don’t mean the kind of broken heart where a woman reaches into my rib cage, removes my heart, throws it on the floor and performs a Riverdance upon it (not that I’ve ever had that happen). No, I mean the kind of heart the breaks for those who have yet to find the peace and freedom I’ve found in following Christ. The heart that Christ himself had for those who refused to know and follow him.

Luke relays a story about Jesus that was only brought to my attention recently. Jesus is nearing Jerusalem, heading towards his betrayal, trail, and death on a cross. “But as he came closer to Jerusalem and saw the city ahead, he began to weep. “How I wish today that you of all people would understand the way to peace. But now it is too late, and peace is hidden from your eyes. Before long your enemies will build ramparts against your walls and encircle you and close in on you from every side. They will crush you into the ground, and your children with you. Your enemies will not leave a single stone in place, because you did not accept your opportunity for salvation.” Jesus was heading straight for the cross, and he was weeping for the ones who were going to put him there. More than that, he was weeping . . . for us.

That’s the heart I want. The heart that cries over the people who don’t yet know Christ. The heart that grieves for those who refuse to see the truth of who God truly is. I don’t have that heart yet. I feel sadness for them, and I want to see those who are lost find the love I’ve found. But my heart doesn’t break for them. And I wonder why.

As I look back on my spiritual growth, I feel a little like the Hebrews to whom Paul wrote. “You have been believers so long now that you ought to be teaching others. Instead, you need someone to teach you again the basic things about God’s word. You are like babies who need milk and cannot eat solid food.” (Hebrews 5:12) I feel like I’m so wrapped up in my own growth process that I forget about the primary call on the lives of all Christ followers: “Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:19-20) I forget this far too often.

So, there you have it. My personal “Ultimate Christmas Gift.” A full on broken heart for those who need Christ and just don’t realize it yet. And the ability to pursue my own spiritual growth without losing sight of the reason I’m trying to be more like Christ; so that I can point more and more people to Him.

Get to know me!

I love recognition.

I don’t mean receiving accolades for doing something good. In this case, I refer to simply being unexpectedly recognized in public. Every so often, in my job, I’ll come across someone whose face I recall seeing around church, but can’t quite put a name to. Of course, with my luck, they know my name, so I’m left trying to remember theirs while using nicknames like “brother,” “sport,” “champ,” and other such nonsense that just makes me sound like a dork.

Regardless, it makes me feel good to be recognized in such a capacity. In a way, it gives validation to my existence. On those invisible days, when it seems like no one notices I’m around, a simple, unexpected hello can be all it takes to lift my spirits and feel visible again.

But there’s a problem.

I think I’m starting to settle for being recognized instead of being known.

Yes, there’s a difference. I’m realizing that I tend to keep people at arm’s length. I try not to get too close, or to let others get too close to me. It’s safer that way. Sort of a “stay back and no one gets hurt” mentality.

My desires in this area are changing, though. I’m finding that I want to be known. I mean really known. More than just the superficial things like my favorite movie or favorite ice cream flavor (Mr. Holland’s Opus and rocky road, respectively). I want to be known so deeply and intimately that words aren’t necessary. There are few who know me that well. Maybe one or two people in Oklahoma, and perhaps my parents. That’s about it.

The thing is, having never made myself that accessible to people, I don’t really know where to start. I’ve made a few strides here and there with some folks at church, but I still feel like there are greater depths to be explored here. I just haven’t figured out how to reach them yet. It has helped to discover that Someone knows me better than I even know myself.

Psalm 139 starts out, “O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me.” (vs. 1) Not intimidating at all is it? God has looked at my heart. He knows my innermost thoughts and feelings. How? He “made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb.” (vs. 13) You’d think, having made something, pretty much from scratch, the Creator would know what makes it tick.

Now here’s the mind-blowing part. Even after examining my heart and knowing every little thought that flits through my flawed human brain, He still loves me. “How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered. I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up, you are still with me!” (vs. 17-18) Even knowing all the foolish, impure, and downright bad thoughts that enter and exit my mind on a daily basis, after seeing the sin and foolishness that I’m capable of, He sticks with me and loves me madly, passionately. My new favorite verse, Zephaniah 3:17, says “For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.” God sings over me! And He sings over you! God, with His infinite, intimate knowledge of me, good and bad, sings about me.

I suppose this means that, if God can know me this well and still like me, then it’ll be all right to risk letting my fellow human beings, my brothers and sisters in Christ, know me a little better, and they’ll still like me, or at the very least accept me as I am.

So, my goal over the next few weeks (months, years, etc.) is to simply be me. Not a self-styled, idealized version of me, but just me. Flaws and all. No sense in denying the flaws are there. That’s obvious. Better to embrace the work that God can do in and around those flaws and realize the potential of growth by letting God deal with them, whether it be within my own heart or through others. It all begins by being real and allowing myself to be known.

Helping God?

When I was a kid, I was a helper. Still am, to some extent. I’m always available to lend a hand wherever I can. I’ve helped countless friends move, I’ve given advice (some of it actually good), and the list goes on. It’s just how I’m wired.

There are times, though, when I go too far. Once in a while, when I think I’ve gotten it all figured out (HA!) and I’m just sure that I know what God has planned out for me, I try to help God. As you can imagine, that always works out well.

See, trying to jump the gun on God’s plans is a lot like trying to read the last chapter of a mystery novel. Yeah, you know whodunit, but you lose the joy of discovery, the process of learning the why, the how, the process of deduction that leads the hero to the solution. Where’s the joy in that?

It’s much like that in the life of a Christ-follower. Sure, we can try and figure out the end result of what God has in mind for us, try to skip ahead, find a shortcut, but we miss the process. We miss the opportunity to overcome obstacles and experience the thrill of victory. We miss the chance to rely on God and learn that He is truly able to be our source of help and strength.

Whenever I’m foolish enough to predict God, He’s usually kind enough to give me a gentle reminder of who needs to be in charge. Since I’m a little dense, and subtlety is often lost on me, God gets . . . well, sarcastic with me. Don’t believe God can be sarcastic? Read on, my friend.

The book of Job tells the story of a man who had everything taken from him; possessions, position, family, everything. Job’s friends tried to tell him that God was angry about some unconfessed sin or some other nonsense, and these troubles were God’s form of punishment. In the midst of all this, Job cries out: “I cry to you, O God, but you don’t answer. I stand before you, but you don’t even look. You have become cruel toward me. You use your power to persecute me. You throw me into the whirlwind and destroy me in the storm. And I know you are sending me to my death - the destination of all who live.” (Job 30:20-23)

I love God’s response. “Have you explored the springs from which the seas come? Have you explored their depths? Do you know where the gates of death are located? Have you seen the gates of utter gloom? Do you realize the extent of the earth? Tell me about it if you know!” (Job 38:16-18) He goes on to ask, “Do you still want to argue with the Almighty? You are God’s critic, but do you have the answers?” (Job 40:2) This is how God speaks to me when He really wants me to get what He’s trying to teach me.

I can almost hear him now (sounding suspiciously like a cross between Charlton Heston and my father). “How can you guess what I have in store for you? I have every step planned out for you, and all you have to do is take each one as they come. If you think you have a better plan, then go for it; just as soon as you create your own universe and populate it with life, then you can claim the knowledge and wisdom to call the shots. Until then, why don’t you try trusting Me?”

I love helping people. And I will continue to do so as long as God allows me to do so. But I’m going to stop trying to help God. He doesn’t need my help, just my willingness to follow. No more skipping to the end. Just looking for the next right step.

No, no, I've got this . . .

I’m what you call a do-it-yourselfer. I don’t mean that on the weekends I’m out in the yard building a barn or some similar structure. First of all, I have no yard, and second of all, I have absolutely no need for a barn. No, what I mean is that I hate having to ask for help. When I do, it feels like I’m asking to be bailed out of something I should never have gotten into in the first place. So, I go along in silence, muddling through on my own, until I’m in so far over my head that I have no other option BUT to ask for help. Of course, by that point, I feel like a complete idiot.

You see, I’m the kind of person who doesn’t like to burden others with my problems. The way I see it, everyone else has their own issues, so I don’t want to add mine onto them. For years, I was under the impression that this was how good people lived; put up a façade of competency and confidence in front of others, then fall apart when you’re home by yourself. That seems to be the leading modus operandi among humanity today, especially in church.

I’m learning now, however, that we are not meant to live this way, especially in the church. The first church ever had it right. “And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had. They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need. (Acts 2:44-45)” This was a community of about 3,000 people who had one thing in common – they had all experienced the extreme and unreasonable love of God through His son, and they wanted to lavish that love on everyone they could.

So, what happened? How did we get from that to where we are now? What, in the last 2,000 years, took the followers of Christ from sharing “everything they had” to saving face at all costs? I think it’s the desire for perfection. Christ Himself said it: “But you are to be perfect, even as your Father in Heaven is perfect. (Matthew 5:48)” Our idea of perfection, though, has been poisoned. According to popular opinion, in order to be perfect, we can have no flaws, no problems, whether they be physical, mental, emotional or spiritual. It’s an impossible goal, but we all strive for it anyway, giving ourselves ulcers in the process. I’m pretty sure this is not what God had in mind.

Christ told us one way to be perfect. A rich young man had asked Him what good deeds were necessary to obtain eternal life. Christ said that there is only One who is good, but to answer his question – “ . . . keep the commandments.” The young man asked which ones to keep (which always struck me as odd; I mean, Christ said keep the commandments, not some of the commandments). Christ listed a few of the commandments to be kept, but the young man wasn’t satisfied. “I’ve done all that; what else do I have to do?” He was essentially asking how to be perfect. Christ’s response was this; “If you want to be perfect, sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me. (Matthew 19: 16-22)”

This is what I think everyone misses, including me. We are blessed when we help others. And, yes, it’s very easy to go and help the less fortunate when it’s all set up by a non-profit organization, and we can make a tax-deductible donation or spend an hour or so serving food. But we’re called to even more than that. Look back at the passage from Acts. The first believers shared everything that they had. This implies, in my mind, that they had to tell each other their needs so that they could help appropriately. Nowhere in scripture does it say that they all put on brave faces in their trials so that no one else would feel burdened.

All of this is to say that I now realize that I’ve been robbing other people of blessings by not allowing them to help me. None of us was meant to do life alone. It just doesn’t work that way. We have needs throughout this life, and I think there are two reasons: one is so that we can learn to rely on God, to truly lean on Him for all our needs. The other is so that God can bless people by working through them. I know I’ve been blessed by helping others when I could. Why shouldn’t I give others the opportunity when I’m in need?

God is working to diminish my pride so that others can be used in my life. This is how true community is built; by leaning on each other. I’m done standing stoically when I’m falling apart inside. It’s going to be a tough transition, but God is showing me how to live in the community in which He’s placed me. After all, Christ ran around with 12 other guys to help Him out. If the only perfect person ever to walk the earth could accept help from His friends, then I should feel no shame in asking for the occasional hand, especially from my good friends, my brothers and sisters in Christ.

So, to those who have been in my corner, thank you. You are my heroes, and you have been the hands and feet of God in my life. I hope that I can one day return the favor. God bless.

Comedy & Tragedy

Comedy is when you slip on a banana peel and fall on your butt. Tragedy is when I slip on a banana peel and fall on my butt.

Why is it that, when something happens to someone else, it seems like such a minor thing, but when it happens to me, all of a sudden, it’s the end of the world? Seems like I’ve gotten my priorities out of whack somewhere along the line.

I know that I get so wrapped up in my own so-called problems that I can be completely oblivious to someone who is truly hurting. My minor inconvenience somehow takes precedence over another human’s pain. If I were to truly take an objective look at my life, I’d have to conclude that it’s not so bad. I have a roof over my head, food to eat, friends to lean on, and a job to provide finances. That’s more than a lot of people have. So why is it that, when I have a little extra responsibility tossed my way, inwardly I want to whine about it and cry, “It’s not fair! I didn’t sign up for this!” In that context, I seem kind of selfish and spoiled.

When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, He responded, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:37-40) I’ve been thinking about these verses a lot lately. I’ll write more on the first part of it later, but for now, I want to focus on the second part. Love your neighbor as yourself. Easier said than done.

How do I go about loving someone else like I love myself? I mean, don’t we live in a society where we’re all expected to live for ourselves, and to heck with the rest of the world? That’s how it seems most of the time. But Christ would have us take a different route.

Christ himself said that, “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:13) There are darn few people for whom I’d take a bullet, but there are a few that come to mind. But there’s more to this than life and death. Let’s rephrase it this way; for whom would I be willing to inconvenience myself if they were in need? The list grows a little. Not as much as it probably should, but it does lengthen a bit.

So my prayer is this: God, let me see others as you see them. Not as a drag on my time and energy, not as a diversion on my way to my own goals. Rather, let me see people as Your kids. As fellow humans beings who are hurting, probably far more than me. And let me be Your instrument in their lives, though it may seem inconvenient to me, because You sent Your boy to die so that I might live, and I can’t imagine a greater inconvenience than that. Help me put my preferences aside and put other people’s needs above my own.

Check, please . . .

This is not the life I wanted.

I wish there were some kind of waiter that would come by and ask how everything is, so I could send my life back and get a new one, because THIS is not what I ordered. Sadly, that’s not how things operate. There’s no 800 number to call and complain. There’s no customer satisfaction survey to fill out. You’re just expected to take what you’re given and do the best you can. What a way to run a universe.

There are days I want to sue God for breach of contract. Wasn’t there something about granting the desires of my heart? I looked it up, and there it is, in black and white: “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” (Psalm 37:4) Well, I’m looking around, and I don’t see the desires of my heart. I’m not disgustingly wealthy. I’m not married to a Charlize Theron clone. I don’t have my time machine. (OK, even I can admit the last one was a little out there.)

Of course, as I look at it now, I don’t necessarily think I’ve lived up to my part of the deal. There’s a condition on the desires portion of that verse. “Delight yourself in the Lord.” Have I really done that? Let me look back over my day. I was impatient with some customers today. I got bonked on the head by some heavy art at work and thought, if I didn’t actually say, some words unbecoming to a professed follower of Christ. I failed to heed Paul’s advice to Timothy, the one about looking on women with “absolute purity.” (I Timothy 5:1-2) I don’t think that God was too delighted with my actions today, which would show that I wasn’t exactly delighting myself in Him. So how does anyone live up to this hopelessly high standard?

There was something I heard in church tonight that put all this in perspective. It was a simple phrase: align your heart with the heart of God. This, in my mind, involves seeing others the way God sees them. It means having a heart that breaks upon encountering someone who doesn’t know Christ and swells when a lost child of God finds his or her way home. It also means that, rather than complaining about what’s wrong, I seek out what God has for me to learn about myself or Him in my current circumstance. It means praising Him, even when I don’t exactly feel like lifting up a song of jubilation at the time. It means I remember that, contrary to my perception, God had EVERYTHING under control.

As I get these things solidified in my mind, I’m beginning to realize that my desires are changing. They’re starting to look more like the things God wants. My concerns are starting to shift from myself to others. I’m more concerned for the state of their souls than I am about my own idea of what is right and proper.

I forget these things far too often. I’m just glad that God loves me enough to continually forgive me when I do. Otherwise, there’d be no hope whatsoever.

This is not the life I wanted. But it’s the one God has given me, and I’m going to do the best I can with it, try to live it the way God would have me live. And hopefully, living my life in this manner will point others to Christ. That’s what life is all about, really.

I want to be normal . . . I think

As I was coming home the other day, I found myself praying for a normal life. I’ve been reflecting on my life lately, and what I’ve found is most certainly not “normal.” Here I am, 35 years old. Based solely on my own observation, most folks my age seem to have gotten married, had at least one child (if not more), are fairly settled in a career, own a home, and so on and so forth. I, on the other hand, am not married (not even close), have no children, live in an apartment, and I work retail (and I’m not really sure that’s the career I’m looking for).

As I was praying, I could hear God sort of whisper in my ear, “What is normal?” My gut-reaction answer was, “Well, it’s what all those other people have!” Then God introduced an interesting thought into my brain: maybe I’m not supposed to be normal. In a case like this, wanting to be “normal” could even be a sin.

I know, it’s kind of a radical thought, but follow me on this. The normal life that I’ve been wanting is based on what the seeming majority already has. I know, it doesn’t seem so bad, but allow me to quote the original Top Ten List: “You must not covet your neighbor’s house. You must not covet your neighbor’s wife, male or female servant, ox or donkey, or anything else that belongs to your neighbor,” (Exodus 20:17) So, just by praying my initial prayer, I’ve broken a commandment. Great.

Rather than bring down his wrath on me, God gently redirected my thought process to show me what He wants for me. If we all had the same stuff, life would be pretty boring. “There are different kinds of spiritual gifts, but the same Spirit is the source of them all. There are different kinds of service, but we serve the same Lord. God works in different ways, but it is the same God who does the work in all of us.” (I Corinthians 12:4-6) “The sun has one kind of glory, while the moon and the stars each have another kind. And even the stars differ from each other in their glory.” (I Corinthians 15:41)

See, it’s our differences that make us useful to God & His kingdom. It’s our different situations that allow us to compliment one another in the body of Christ. It’s our different experiences that allow us to help others in their time of need. Look at the disciples Jesus chose. Peter was a fisherman. Matthew was a doctor. Matthew was obviously the more educated of the two, but it was Peter who preached the first sermon (see the book of Acts) that led 3000 people to faith in Christ. If Christ chose such a diverse group of men to follow Him initially, then being different can’t be a bad thing.

So, I’m changing my prayer. I don’t want to have a normal life. I want the life God has planned for me. “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord. ‘They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days, when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me.’“ I may not understand or know those plans, but I know that, as God reveals them to me, even if they don’t make sense, it’s in my best interest to follow them. God created the intricacies of the universe. I think I can trust Him with the details of my lifetime.

Training vs. Leadership

I was trained to be a Christian.

I realize that may seem like an odd statement, but stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this, I promise.

I came to this realization not long ago. I’ve been looking at my life, sort of trying to figure out where I’m going by looking at where I’ve been, especially in the spiritual realm. What kind of man do I want to be, what kind of life do I want to live, how do I want to be remembered, that sort of thing. And in the midst of this internal self-examination, I had this epiphany . . .

I was trained to be a Christian.

Let me explain. I have worked in retail for a while now, and I’ve trained a few people on how to do their jobs. The idea of this training is to teach the employee how to do the job, answer whatever questions they may have, and, once they appear to have the procedures nailed down, leave them to do their job as you go off to do yours. Pretty basic and straight forward. Occasionally, they’ll have a question, and you’ll answer it and go on about your business.

I realized that, to some extent, that’s how my spiritual development has been. When I was a kid, we went to church every week, and I dutifully went to Sunday school and learned about Jesus. As I grew older, the pattern changed very little. I took in the information about God, regurgitated it properly to the right people, and assumptions were made that if I knew it, then I’d live it out. Nothing more was needed on the part of my trainers.

Granted there were a few people who went beyond the call of duty. At this moment, I can think of one youth pastor who took more of an interest in the state of my heart than simply imparting information. Most of the rest seemed to be concerned about how I appeared to other eyes. What I learned from all of that was to give the right answers, make others believe that you have it all together, and then you’re a good Christian boy. That was the training I received. Well, guess what . . .

It doesn’t work that way.

All that kind of religious training does is produce unfulfilled human beings who think they have to get it perfect or else their church, and, by extension, God, won’t accept them. I know. That was me.

And the cycle continues to perpetuate itself. And as a result, Christianity as it was meant to be erodes further and further until it is hardly recognizable. Read through Acts, chapter 2, and compare that to the typical church of today. See any resemblance? Maybe a pale reflection, a cheap imitation, but that’s about it.

I know I’m coming off as pretty harsh, but I’m now seeing kids who are hurting, and are simply ill-equipped to deal with it, spiritually speaking. Kids and young adults who are dealing with real loneliness, real heartache, real grown-up problems that they shouldn’t have to deal with yet, if at all.

So, what’s the alternative? Real, honest-to-goodness leadership.

I’m learning now that it’s better to be led than it is to be trained. To be led is an ongoing process that really never ends. It’s a daily decision to follow the direction of one who knows better. It’s the idea that there will always be someone to guide you through the rough spots with love and patience. It’s the knowledge that, no matter what comes up, you’ll never have to go through it alone.

I can’t help but think of Peter. Here was a simple fisherman, impulsive and rough. Jesus came to him and said, simply, “Follow me.” And he did. Not perfectly, by any means, but he kept following. This impulsive, rough fisherman founded the first church (again, see Acts 2). This is the same man who, shortly after cutting off the ear of a man who had come to take Christ away, denied even knowing Him. I relate to Peter in many ways. I have been known to praise God in one moment, then commit egregious sins the next. And God is always there to lead me through the bad stuff so that I can get into the good stuff the He intended for me all along.

So, I’m now in the process of shedding all the training I’ve had so that I can be led by the ultimate leader, the One who already knows where the best path is, and is willing to show me if I’ll only allow myself to be led rather than go my own way and eventually need to be led back to the right way.

And I pray that, in dealing with others, I can lead them to the One who can lead them to everything they never knew they needed. Just like He’s doing with me.

Perfectly Flawed

I’ve said it before, and I’ll reiterate here: contrary to popular belief, I am not perfect. I am a flawed human being. I have my issues just like everyone else in the world. I make bad choices, I laugh at things that aren’t necessarily “appropriate,” and I do battle daily with what I’ll call (for the sake of family-friendly blogging) impure thoughts. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth. I’m a screw-up. I don’t want to make the wrong decisions, but I do.

I empathize with Paul when he wrote, “I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate . . . I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway.” (Romans 7:15, 19) I know the right things to do, and I know what I should avoid, but, somehow, I get it backwards. I do the things I should be avoiding, and I avoid the things I should be embracing. Why? The answer lies a few verses later: “I love God’s law with all my heart. But there is another power within me that is at war with my mind. This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me.” (vs. 22-23)

So, how can I escape this pattern of behavior that plagues me? I Corinthians 10:13 seems to have the answer: “The temptations in your life are no different from what others experience. And God is faithful. He will not allow the temptation to be more than you can stand. When you are tempted, He will show you a way out so that you can endure.” The trick here is a two-parter: 1) recognizing the way out, and 2) choosing to use it. This, my friends, is harder than it seems. Well, at least the second part poses some difficulty in my little world.

If the grace of God is enough to cover a “multitude of sins” (James 5:20), then why do I need to worry about right and wrong? Doesn’t that give me license to do what I want, knowing God will forgive me if I ask? Not necessarily. Paul writes “You say, ‘I am allowed to do anything’ – but not everything is good for you. You say, ‘I am allowed to do anything’ – but not everything is beneficial.” (I Corinthians 10:23) You see, realizing that sin is bad for you in the long run should be an effective deterrent from said sin. But that’s not enough. We can’t choose right under our own power. We’re just not strong enough. We’re all just flawed human beings.

Where does this strength come from? Describing of a “thorn” in his side (what some scholars believe to be a chronic illness of some kind), Paul said “Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time He said, ‘My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.’” (II Corinthians 12:8-9a) In our weakest moments, the times of our greatest temptations, that’s when God power becomes most evident. Most people want God to move in their lives so that they never experience hard times or fall to temptation. But it’s precisely in those times that we need Him most, and it’s in those desperate moments that God’s presence and love are most clearly shown to us.

The next time temptations come, my goal is to seek the way out God provides and actually use it. To depend solely on His grace rather than my own meager resources. To let His strength work in my weakness. And, most of all, to rest in the knowledge that I’m His kid, and that He, more than anyone else, is rooting for me to make the right choices, the ones that are beneficial, not just permissible. And that is my prayer for you, as well, whoever you may be.

Answers vs. Truth

Being a rational, logical sort of guy, I spend a good deal of my time seeking answers. If there’s a problem, chances are I’m trying to find some sort of solution, even if the problem isn’t mine. It’s just how I’m wired (must be all those mysteries I keep reading). As it turns out, there’s an entire industry dedicated to providing answers to the world; publishing.

The next time you chance to have a free hour or so, head to your local bookstore and peruse the self-help section. There you will find pages upon pages of advice, direction and sure-fire plans to make your life what it would have been had you been smart enough to figure it out on your own. It’s so kind of all these people to educate the rest of the world as to where we’ve gone wrong and how to fix it.

There’s one little problem, though. The authors tend to contradict each other. Between the doctors, motivational coaches, and other various self-help authors, no one seems to be abele to agree on what the definitive answer to life, the universe, and everything seems to be (it’s 42, by the way. Thank you, Mr. Adams). All these people are at odds with each other, and for one reason alone: to get money from your wallet into theirs. Knowing that there are so many “answers” available, how is one supposed to know which answers are the right ones?

I’ve finally decided that I no longer want the answers to life’s questions. I just don’t. Having an answer implies that the given situation is fixed, and no longer needs attention. There are very few life issues that can be dealt with in such a manner. You see, “answers” are, at best temporary fixes, sort of a psychological duct tape to hold things together until the next thing goes awry. I’m not after the temporary fix. I want something more lasting. I want truth to govern my life.

See, truth is a permanent thing. Truth is truth, no matter what the transient nature of life may be. It always holds up. Truth may be hard to deal with, and at times unpleasant, but it will never be wrong. This is the stuff of life for which I strive. I believe that if I live my life according to the things I know to be true, then I will have a life worthy of living, one that goes beyond mere existence into significance. One that leaves the world a little better than I entered it.

For example, in Ephesians, Paul writes, “Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.” (3:20, NLT) My finite human mind can’t even fathom what God may have planned for me, but I can rest in the truth that He is powerful enough to achieve far more than I could possibly dream. Whenever I am reminded of this (which happens far more often than should be necessary), I find a peace in the idea that I don’t have to have all then answers, because God has things well in hand, and all I have to do is be His kid. And that’s a truth that will remain true as long as this world spins on it’s axis.

So, for all those self-help junkies out there, those who believe Dr. Phil is an oracle and Oprah a prophet, just remember: their shows will be canceled someday, and their books will eventually go out of print due to obsolescence. The truth will remain forever, and will be proven again and again.

Conversational Shorthand

My two best friends in the world are back in Oklahoma. Jon, Albert & I were virtually inseparable. Where one of us was, chances are the other two weren’t far away. Every Wednesday night, we had our version of poker night, but instead of playing cards, we’d play video games. Goldeneye, to be exact. Nothing brings friends together like running around in a virtual environment trying to shoot each other.

Since we spent so much time together, we inadvertently developed a sort of conversational shorthand. One sentence, sometimes even just a word, could replace paragraphs of conversation. For example, I could call Jon and leave a message saying, “Jon, I’m an idiot. Call me.” He knows that this means I’ve just called a girl in an attempt to ask her out and I’m freaking out about it, so I need him to talk me down. (Boy, it’s been a while since I’ve had to utter those words. But I digress)

When this happens, Jon will inevitably call Albert so that he can give me a hard time about actually having a date for once. So he’ll call me and, with no preamble whatsoever, just say, “So . . .,” in a particular tone of voice that has become so familiar. I know that this one word means, “OK, I know there’s something going on. Fill me in so that I can simultaneously support you and make fun of you.” This exchange between the three of us would probably be a ritual if it happened more than once every five years or so. Again, I digress.

This shorthand we’ve developed comes from the large amounts of time we’ve spent together, from the friendship we’ve developed and the intimate knowledge we have of each others personalities. It’s a comfort to know that, when I can’t explain what I’m thinking or feeling, these guys can take the few words I can give them and decipher the reality behind them.

When I pray, however, I often feel the need to labor over my words, making sure my requests are worded just right, working down a laundry list of desires, praises, fears, and so on. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that, if my relationship with Christ is where it needs to be, if I’m spending my time with God as much as I ought, we’d have developed the same kind of shorthand? I believe that’s what God wants from us, to take the time and develop that level of familiarity with Him.

Romans 5:8 says that, “ . . . the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.” I think, in my limited theological knowledge, that these “groans” equate to the same conversational shorthand I’ve developed with Jon & Albert. See, the more you allow the Spirit to work in you, the closer you’ll become to God. “Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, the Spirit how calls out ‘Abba, Father.’” (Galatians 4:6) Break this verse down, and here’s what I see. Because we’re God’s kids, He gave us the spirit of His Son, so that we could come to Him as our daddy. And with His Spirit, we don’t even need words to talk with Him. He knows our thoughts and our needs before we can utter them anyway. You know those days when you just come home, flop down on the couch and release this heavy sigh that you’re sure can be heard by the neighbors? That sigh, the simple expulsion of air from your lungs, speaks volumes to the God who knows you intimately and wants so much to be your daddy.

That’s the kind of familiarity I want with God, and that comes only with spending time with Him, an area I know in which I’ve been deficient lately. I’ve decided that deficiency will change today. I want to continue to grow in Him and to be able to develop that kind of shorthand where, not only do I know He understands my innermost being, but where I can recognize His voice among all the others clamoring for my attention. There’s a peace in knowing that ease of relationship is not only possible, but desired by Him.

Since this has been one of my lengthier rambles, I’ll stop here. I need to go figure out how I can be an “idiot” again.

When God Sings

There have been many days lately where I’ve felt . . . well, inferior. I feel like, after 35 years of existence, I should have a little more on the ball than I do at the moment. I’ve been discouraged, lonely, tired, etc. I try to find things to give my spirits a boost, or my ego a jolt of self-esteem, but it’s too hard to do on my own.

Tonight, though, I came a cross a verse in the Old Testament that took me by surprise. While looking for something else entirely, I stumbled on the book of Zephaniah. The bulk of this book of prophecy is warning against the consequences of sin. This, I’m already aware of. I’ve screwed up enough to know that there are consequences when I make a bad decision, and I don’t need to be reminded of it, thank you very much. But towards the end of the book, the tone changes dramatically to one of hope.

One verse in particular caught my eye. “The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.” (3:17) Taken as a whole, this verse is a huge encouragement. Then I started to break it down, and discovered whole new levels of hope and confidence.

“The Lord your God is with you, . . .” God is with me right now. The One who’s running this whole universe is with me at this very moment. “He is mighty to save.” He is all powerful and faithful to save me from the crap that’s bogging my down (spiritually speaking, of course). “He will take great delight in you . . .” Great delight? In me? Why? Because I’m His kid, and He loves me for that reason alone. Not because I deserve it, necessarily, but because He chooses to. “He will quiet you with His love . . .” All my fears, all my insecurities, all my foolish, finite human thought processes will be stilled once I start to grasp the fact that He loves me and He’s looking out for me (see Jeremiah 29:11). “He will rejoice over you with singing.” This is the most incredible to me. Even in my most minor of successes, God will rejoice. Not just give me a pat on the back and a hurried “Atta boy,” but with a song! God singing about me. I’ve spent my life in church singing about God, but never once thought about Him singing about me.

I remember when I was a kid, my parents would always tell me that they were my biggest fans. And they were. They showed it every chance they could. Every piano recital, ball game, school play, they were right there, with the biggest smiles on their faces, beaming with pride as their only child was butchering Beethoven or trying to throw the ball to first base and somehow managing to hit the shortstop in the head. The point wasn’t that I was perfect. The point was that I was trying, doing my best, and that was what they were proud of.

I think that’s how God looks at me now. It’s not about how perfectly I can execute the Christian lifestyle. It’s not about getting the notes just right, or always offering the right advice. That’s all surface stuff. God’s concerned about the heart. We’re going to screw up. As long as we’re sincerely trying to improve and draw even closer to Him, then even through the fumbles and failures, God will still be in Heaven, singing our song, proud that, on the heart level, we’re still trying to be like Him.