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.