On My Heart

I want to explain some things to you. Maybe you've thought some of these things. Maybe some of them are the reason you reject Jesus today. But, I hope this clears some things up for you.

I went to a Christian school. I went to summer camp at a Christian retreat center. I was raised in a large church and had many opportunities to do Christian youth-type things: retreats, rallies, lock-ins, and so forth. Time and time again I heard the wonderful testimonies of people who had not only been saved from hell but, at one point, had lived like it. Former drug addicts and rock stars. My boring, Christian-home existence seemed so unaffected by the Gospel. We always did the right thing. We always went to church. We always prayed at meals. What could the Gospel do for me that I wasn't already doing?

So, I continued to memorize the words of the Bible. I continued to log my attendance and close my eyes during prayer. Until I didn't. You see, as I got older and became more independent, the trappings of religion became far less appealing. Instead of being surrounded by people who encouraged that sort of thing, I was now asked if I'd like to pick up an extra shift on Sunday morning, or I'd like to go out on Saturday night. No one cared if I could recite entire books of the Bible and no one cared if I prayed at all, much less peeked or passed notes during the doxology. Religion was empty and ineffective, and lasted only as long as I was willing to keep it up.

By the time I fully surrendered, my life had, at times, resembled the lives of those who I'd met so many years before, but none of it was as glamorous as I'd thought it sounded when I'd been sitting in the cheap seats. There was pain and regret; there were lasting consequences; there were irreversible decisions; there was disappointment and embarrassment. Religion and arrogance had led me to a place I'd always thought I wanted to be; mercy and grace led me to a place I thought I never wanted to be.

The longer I'd sailed through life foundationless and misdirected, the more I needed the Gospel; but not just the words I had dutifully put to memory, not the outward expressions of obedience or the pretense of godliness. I needed the transformation experienced by those whose testimonies I had so admired. I needed to lay down the "Gospel According to Me" and give everything over to The Way, the Truth and the Life -- Jesus. And what I came to know was that I'd always needed that. In the raucous joy of summer camp or the quiet of all school chapels; in the regularity of saying grace or the tedium of fifth-grade concordance studies, I needed transformation. I didn't have to live some wild life of debauchery to need Jesus, and I couldn't find restoration and sanctification in religious behavior. I needed Him all along and could only find Him in what He had done.

So, if you're struggling with religion, if you're thinking God can't use your quiet little Christian life, I urge you to give it all over to Him. He will take your arrogance and your ennui, and do something absolutely amazing. Without the religion. Without the regret.

A Question of Preparation

I sit here, rocking this tiny person, giving him comfort. From what, I have no idea. Something has startled him, something has caused him to fear or to hurt. And here I am. I remember my mother rocking me in our worn out recliner. It seemed as though hours would pass before I would be calm. I was, as I remember, a tormented child. I remember crying, I remember frustration over things I couldn't even explain. Just these inexplicable feelings. As I got older, I wondered if I was mentally ill. Writing became, and remains today, an outlet, a catharsis, a way to logically sort through events and emotions in order to -- today -- pray effectively about them.

This morning, my devotions centered around "dangerous" prayers, specifically ones that beg, "Send me." I have prayed those prayers before, and God has always led me more deeply into the fray, more deeply into reliance on Him, and more deeply into relationship with Him. Today's devotional concluded with these two questions:

What did God do for you? How do you think it sets you up for what He wants you to do for Him?

Seconds after I prepared to answer the first question in my journal, in came this distraught little child, begging to be assuaged from who knows what. And as I rocked, I understood: God gave me a mother who taught me compassion. She cradled me for hours on end. She served others she saw as less fortunate. She was kind to animals. She rooted for the underdog -- always. (She taught me to cheer for Army every December 😊 ) She provided hugs and treats even though I could provide no explanation for my distress. God gave her to me. But not just for my benefit...

Question #2. I can't always understand what Mom is thinking or experiencing. I don't always have minutes, let alone hours, penciled into my daily schedule to soothe every hurt or stroke every ego in our crowded little home. I don't always want to soothe every hurt or stroke every ego. This life doesn't look like anything I had planned or even would plan. Sometimes things appear completely irrational and unnecessary -- to me. But so many years ago, God had a plan. He gave me this gentle woman who taught me compassion. Compassion that, by God's grace, I am able to return to her and pass on to others as I implore daily, "Send me."

So, what has God done for you?
How has His goodness on your behalf prepared you for what might happen when you pray, "Send me"?

Stand If You're Able

She says it every week. "Please stand if your able, while we worship the Lord." I stand without thinking, something I've done since I was a child. It's time to sing; it's time to pray. Stand if you're able.

This week, however, I looked to the side. The bent form of the woman across the aisle began to move as she stood to worship. If anyone could be considered "unable to stand," it would be her. This week, she had withstood the rain and cold to be here; she struggled up the winding staircase of our church to worship in the sanctuary; and now, she was using everything within her to rise and stand before her Lord in worship.

I think how I felt when I woke up today. Sunday is the only day each week I can even consider staying in my pajamas, lingering around the breakfast table with my family. The only student I'll have in Sunday school is the one who could be sitting across from me at the breakfast table. The dismal, grey skies perfectly captured my mood, and my aching back could use a rest. It would have required minimum effort to keep me cozy and warm at home this morning. But -- hooray for me -- I pasted on a smile, threw on something mildly better than sweats, snatched up some items for a Sunday school lesson, and dragged myself out to church. Now, here I was, watching this woman use all her strength to stand. I felt like a schmo. But, was it her strength anyway?

The Bible is rife with accounts of average -- even less than average -- people who were the catalysts for God's amazing work. The man who built an enormous boat with his bear hands, all the while enduring ridicule and, I'm sure, moments of frustration and discouragement, to survive something called "rain." A prostitute who boldly risked her life for God's people and was woven into the genealogy of the King of kings. The boy who courageously stood up to a giant, who in later years fought a greater battle, repenting of adultery and murder, to become a "man after God's own heart." The men who, though their chains were broken and prison gates thrown open, refused to leave lest the Roman jailer be executed for perceived negligence. Was it their skill, or tenacity, or boldness, or contrition, or mercy?

The Bible tells us every good gift and every perfect gift comes from God. The goodness that is found within us, talents, courage, a sense of justice, humility, compassion -- they were placed in us or developed in us by God, whether you believe it or not. (Just because you deny your Creator, doesn't mean He didn't create you.) Weakened legs supporting a bent and broken body is God at work. A heart turned from self to others is God at work. A family sustained by food and finances that seem to come from nowhere is God at work. The lengths to which we allow Him to do all He can do, though, that is our choice.

His strength is made manifest, is brought to fruition where we lack. When we are in love with God, leaning completely on Him, and allowing Him to take charge of all we are and all we desire, when we want nothing but His will for us and others, when we listen for His voice and obey it, great things can come to pass. Not out of our courage, or skill, or strength, or humility, or kindness, or physical ability -- but out of that which God, our Creator and King, is placing and developing within us.

Let us stand, and praise His holy name!

Do This and Live

How serious are you about all of this? I "heard" the question one morning as I was on my way to work. I'd been praying about a situation in which others are ruled by foolishness and pride; adults who have been helped and counseled, who are free to make their own choices, but have made some really terrible ones -- and will vigorously tell you they are victims. Folks, some might say, are simply "getting what they asked for." And I will be honest, there is a part of me that wants to think just that; but then, there's that question. How serious are you about all of this? How serious are you about all this praying for change, for eyes to be opened? How serious are you about wanting to see God glorified in all of this?

Before I had a chance to defend myself, the "voice" continued. Feed My lambs. That's not exactly what the voice said, but that was definitely the gist. Make something happen. Get out and do something about it. Create the opportunity for My glory to be revealed through your actions. Now, I know, had I been given the chance to answer the first question, I would have said how earnest I am. I would have said just how much I love the Lord; I want others to see Him through me. I want Him to use my life for His glory alone. But the Holy Spirit wasn't going to allow me the luxury of passive justification. I was being called to action, and trust me when I tell you, this action was not rational; this action was going to make things messy; this action was going to cause me problems. Feed my sheep.

Days later, as I sat in our weekly Bible study, the Holy Spirit stirred in me again. In Luke 10:25, a lawyer, wanting to test Jesus asks, "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus responds by asking not only what the law says, but how this man understands it. The lawyer speaks of a complete love for God -- heart, soul, strength and mind -- and loving others as we love ourselves. "And Jesus said to him, 'You have answered rightly; do this and you will live.'" (v.28, emphasis mine) Our understanding of Scripture is personal. As we read, the Holy Spirit opens our minds and hearts to the truth, but as we understand, we are called to further action. Do this and you will live.

When the Holy Spirit spoke to me that morning, He called me beyond understanding, to action -- an action, I thought was pretty extreme. Put your money where your mouth is, so to speak.

-- In every situation, point to Jesus: A godly response to circumstances or dialogue. When others reveal their victories or defeats, respond by pointing them to Jesus.

-- Actively seek situations in which to reveal Christ to others: Put yourself in a place to share Jesus with others. Serve meals at a shelter; reveal your story to others, in light of the Gospel.

-- Create opportunities to let Light shine: Host an event or Bible study, allowing the Holy Spirit to plan your guest list; adopt a child; reconcile with an enemy.

As our relationship with Jesus unfolds, He reveals, we understand. But as that understanding matures, we are tasked with giving it human form. Do this and live.