You're Looking A Little Tired Over There...

Rest.
Stop.
Be still.
The sons of Korah, speaking through the inspiration of the Spirit, write in Psalm 46:10,
"Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted. I will be exalted in Israel."
How well do we know God?
And the God that we claim to know, do we know that He is God?
What does this mean? Are you moved in your soul by your thoughts of who and what God is? Do you find yourself shrinking as the shadow He casts engulfs you more each moment, as you come to know just how massive and AWE-ful He is? It is no small deed that He at the very least CREATED YOU, is it?!
In another translation of the verse, the word "Stop" is used in place of "Be still." Literally God is telling His creation to "STOP!" "HALT!" "DON'T TAKE ANOTHER STEP UNTIL YOU CAN UNDERSTAND WHO I AM!" This is so counter to our American "Go-Fast" lives. Do we even know how to stop? Half the time we can't even obey the stop signs (have you ever pulled off the infamous "rolling stop?") while driving. Stopping is simply a waste of time.
Jesus modeled this verse many times to his onlookers. He would steal away for time alone with his Father. He would ditch the crowds and his disciples and hang out in the desert or in a grove of trees and simply be...
with his Maker.
The God who made His dwelling among us, modeled time spent with Himself to show us how important it is to "get away" from the pressures and cares and live a life knowing... well... Him. This can only happen when we pull away for a time. When we are still. When we stop. Jesus was showing us that it was not a waste of time, if the time is spent focusing on the One who made all of this for us.

And honestly, in my opinion, you could use the break.

You're looking a little tired over there.

I know I'm tired.

You must be exhausted!

Why not take a little time and just be still.

It truly can happen anywhere. I'm finding a few moments of rest while I stand next to a conveyor belt and box bottles of salad dressing. Good thing ear plugs were invented! I have begun to use moments while working to think hard about Papa, God. To get lost in thoughts of who and what He is. As it has happened, my world is drastically changed.
Throughout the Word, God wants to be known. He is making Himself known in many different ways and at different stages along the way, so as to allow no man excuse not to know Him. He was very personal with Adam and Eve -- walking and talking with them in the Garden. He made Himself very clearly known to Abraham and Sarah. He showed His power over and over to the Israelites, even going before them as a pillar of fire. He walked before Moses, allowing Him to see only His backside. He put literal words into the mouths of His prophets, so as to make His people know Him more and believe in Him.

Then...

Something happened which had not happened perhaps since the beginning of time...

He walked the earth as a man.

He wanted man to see who He was and what He was about. They had gotten so distracted and lost in the world He made for them that they forget to know Him. They forgot to revere Him. So He came. And walked. And talked. And ate. And drank. And peed. And breathed. And slept. And grew weary. He even felt pain. Intense pain. Searing pain. Pain so great that He asked His Father to take away the cup meant only for Him (meaning the business of being hung on two wooden logs, in place of our failings). He did all this that we might look to His Father, to Himself, and know that He is God alone. To rest in Him. To be still and know that He is God alone. To exalt His name above all other jumbles of words. To know. And to know in stopping. To know in being still with Him.
I am about to kill two birds with one stone, as the cliche says. I am going to send out a challenge. This challenge will be for you. And this challenge will be for me as well. I challenge us to stop. To slow down. To be still today! To step outside your current life for a moment, with all the hustle and bustle, and seek Him in the quiet. Close your eyes maybe. Keep them open if you're worried about falling asleep. Stare at the wall. Read your Bible. Look over creation all around you. But whatever you do, whatever I do, let us think on Him. For no better time spent than to spend it on the one who created time. See what happens. Do this over the course of many days, weeks, months. It will take time to reteach yourself how to stop. To not think about work. To not think about the kids or your spouse. To not think about the bills piling up on the kitchen table. Stop those thoughts for a little while. And dwell... solely... on... HIM! I'll say it once more -- see what happens.
Be still.
Stop.
Rest.

Revelation Song

Worthy is the,
Lamb who was slain
Holy, Holy, is He
Sing a new song, to Him who sits on
Heaven's Mercy Seat

Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lord God Almighty
Who was, and is, and is to come
With all creation I sing:
Praise to the King of Kings!
You are my everything,
And I will adore You…!
Yeah!

Clothed in rainbows, of living color
Flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder
Blessing and honor, strength and
Glory and power be
To You the Only Wise King,
Yeah

Filled with wonder,
Awestruck wonder
At the mention of Your Name
Jesus, Your Name is Power
Breath, and Living Water
Such a marvelous mystery
Yeah...

Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lord God Almighty
Who was, and is, and is to come,
With all creation I sing:
Praise to the King of Kings!
You are my everything,
And – I - will - adore YOU…

Come up lift up His Name
To the King of Kings…
We will adore YOU Lord…
King of heaven and earth
King Jesus, King Jesus
Aleluya, aleluya, aleluya!
Majesty, awestruck Honor
And Power and Strength and Dominion
To You Lord,
To the King, to King
To the King of Glory

(Revelation Song by Phillips, Craig, and Dean)
My favorite song right now -- much of it taken literally straight from the book of Revelations, as the many gathered at Christ's throne can do nothing but worship Him!

Would You Read This If The Title Intrigued You?

September 20.
11:00am.
Pleasant Valley Reformed Church.
The date, time, and place. A big moment for me. I have felt many convictions regarding Christ's Church for many years.

It was right here. In this very spot. On the couch in my basement apartment at my parent's home. I was probably on HSA, checking out people's profiles or responding to a message. My dad walked down the stairs (his footfalls against the carpeted steps acting like the peek hole through a door, into which announces the presence of the person approaching) and asked to come into my room. His words would change my thoughts for the evening -- and my thoughts for the looming days ahead. He began: "People are getting excited." I was confused. What people? And why are they excited? Did gas prices come down again today? That would be exciting, indeed! He continued, "I sort of mentioned to a couple people your thoughts about youth group and church and they are getting really excited. They want to hear your thoughts directly. They have asked to have you come speak with them about this idea." Ummmm... errrrr... *cheesy grin.* I couldn't help but smile. I tried not to. This was all happening so very fast. Maybe too fast, but that has yet to be determined.

What my father was referring to, was a conversation he, my mother, and I had had the night before. They had asked if I would be willing to help with the youth group at his church. I hesitated with that. I had my face kicked in at the last church I served at in youth ministry. Undoubtedly, I have grown timid of the idea of returning to such position. And there remained something else... something I couldn't quite squeeze from between my lips. I wanted to say what I was thinking but felt scared. An emotion I have come to know all too well as of late. See, my time at Trinity Reformed Church last year was a time of trials mixed with triumphs. I have never been so pushed in all my life. Many questions developed over the 15-months in my white brick, book-filled office. What is this all about? Are we being effective? Page upon page worth of questions.

When my father confronted me with the question of helping with the youth group, many memories came rushing back into my head. All the questions returned. All the evening walks around Holland -- wandering alone, walking hand-in-hand with my thoughts -- flashed like lighting somewhere deep in my mind. Oh Lord, would I have it in me again? Do I have the passion for just one age group of church goers? That nagging "something" that I spoke of earlier began to rise to the surface. "I... uh... don't know that I can do that anymore. I don't know what to say to them anymore." This was the best that I could mutter. I knew there was more. After a moment of silence, I proceeded to wring from my soul what I was feeling. "I don't know that I agree with separating youth from the rest of the church. I think there is more we can do." There, I said it. And I meant it. I felt a bit embarrassed doing so. My dad has been so elated about a youth ministry at the small, country church. I was worried I would look up from the ground and see him holding a hand over his chest, and see a grimaced look on his bearded face from the gun shot wound I had just inflicted. But alas, no gun shot rang out. Instead, there was an intrigued look on both my parent's faces. So I continued. "I believe that ministry -- life in Christ is what I really mean by that word -- could better happen across the ages. Grandparents, parents, twentysomethings, teens, and children all engaged in a time of God-centered, heartfelt worship. Worship in the form of relating, of struggling, of honesty. Grandparents sharing their wisdom from years of trials and joys. Parents sitting down with their children and relating personally the realness of God in their lives. Children engaged in listening to the God-stories, soaking up the realness of God and active members in the life in Christ. No separation. No sunday school teachers or youth pastors relaying the message which should come from their parents and families." (That is a paraphrase of all I spoke.) There is yet more to my thoughts, but that best describes the main point of the discussion.

Next always in this discussion, comes the questions. People have questions for this idea. We have operated as a church for so many generations with one way of thinking: The church is responsible for the spiritual health of my family and will speak the utterances of God directly to each in the safety of their peer group. We'll call it sunday school because we're educating our kids in the way of God. We will search high and low for the most hip, current teaching curriculum and let that be our guide for our kids understanding of God. We'll prod them to attend youth group each week because they will come back on fire for God (that youth pastor dude seems so in touch with those kids and only he can truly teach them about who God is in their life). But I believe this has been a sad mistake on the part of the church. People are so incredibly disconnected from a life lived with other believers in Christ! We have shot ourselves in the chest. Despite all my "shooting" talk, I really am not a violent person. Families are falling apart. And God is no longer glorified. The latter must be the bigger sadness. We are not living in a right understanding of who God is. We do not seem interested in drawing each breath from Him. For many, their "walk with Christ" is limited to a Sunday morning service from either a bare-wood pew or a padded chair.

And so... the lingering question illuminating from my soul the past few years has been this: What if there could be more? More to the God we serve? More to our life in His Spirit? More to our life with other believers?

What if?

For right now, I will leave you with that question.

And the importance of September 20? It will be my first opportunity to share these thoughts with a group of people. Please pray I am able to speak clearly and passionately.

Only A Chunk -- What The Junk?!

Here is a funny statement.
We all use it.
"I have too much to do to find time for God."
I have made that excuse. Last year, while working at Trinity Reformed Church, I had a scheduled time each work day for my devotions saved to my Microsoft Outlook. 8:45 each day a little reminder would pop up on my screen telling me I had fifteen minutes until I should start my time with God. Guess what. I almost never did them.
As if God is something for which to make time. I need to make time for God like I need to make time to practice soccer? I really don't think it works that way. God is God. It isn't about "making time for Him" -- penciling Him into our faulting little schedules. He demands our obedience. He desires our worship. Listen to Jesus stark words to His disciples:
"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? For the Son of Man is going to come in his Father's glory with his angels, and then he will reward each person according to what he has done. I tell you the truth, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom." -- Matthew 16:24-28.
Hey you, God desires all of you. Hey me, God desires all of me.
Or nothing.
Not one chunk of your life.
We do a great job of saying things like: "Oh, I will spend one-hour today reading my Bible; 30 minutes in prayer; and spend 2 hours this week volunteering at a local shelter." We break our lives up into two time categories.
Our time.
God time.
It doesn't work that way. It never did. Jesus never said give me an hour a day. Give me a piece of your heart. Give me a part of your focus. Give me half an effort. Jesus said instead: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." This happens every day. Or at least that is what He demands. He wants all of you every day. Not all of you for one day each week... and then the rest are yours. Not an hour here and an hour there. He wants all or nothing. And it is a matter of life and death what we choose.
He demands our obedience. He is Lord. We don't talk about that reality anymore. The reality that He is Lord. This does actually mean something for our lives. It involves more than going to church once on Sunday morning. Or Saturday night. Or Wednesday night. Or to your elders meeting. Or showing up to take the offering and then heading out. In fact, it has very little to do with what we have created to be "church" today. Jesus' way of life involves everything. Literally. Everything.
It even extends beyond: "I have accepted Jesus into my heart." We are talking about the God of the universe. The Creator of all things. Man. Animals. Earth. Sky. Stars. Doesn't He deserve more than just acceptance into our life? I know He demands more than just acceptance. He made that very clear. Over and over. He doesn't just want you to think well of Him. He wants you to give up your life for Him. You cannot have it both ways.
When talking about man's tendency towards seeking after the things of this life: i.e. money -- Jesus said that you cannot serve both God and money. You cannot have it both ways. He wants your dependence. Your will. Your focus. Your drive. Your time. Your heart. Your desires. Your life. And the end result is simple. Either you obey Him and seek after Him and trust Him and allow Him to continue working on your heart. Or He sends you home. Sad because you thought you already had it all.

Words only go so far. I wanted to present to you the truth. And now it is in your playing field.
And in mine.

Grace Like Shampoo.

Saturday night. Jenna and I were to my home in Iowa, visiting my family. My sister Victoria and I were up watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie. It was around midnight.
Chara, my families dog, was barking to be let in. She is a black with white belly Britney Spaniel and Lab mix. Almost 11-years old. If she was a high school guy, she would fit right in with her shaggy fur and slightly curled up tail. Weighs around 60 pounds. Head comes to your waist, maybe a little above. She has been a huge part of our family since we got her as a pup. Very devoted dog. The sort that you can let off a leash and are assured she won't run away screaming. Victoria got up to let her in.
Oh the night we were about to find ourselves in the midst of.

Toria, as we call her, came into the living room where I was sitting, waiting for the commercials to stop their jabber, and said with a slightly distressed, slightly confused look on her face: "Chara is drooling from both sides of her mouth."
"What?" I asked.
"Chara has lots of drool running from both sides of her mouth."
"Ok. Well, let her in and we'll see why."
Just so you know right now, we never figured out why she had such drool coming from her mouth. But she was right because it was as if the fountain of youth had found its way through her insides and out her mouth.
But the story continues...
The moment that hound entered the house, I felt some terrorist group proclaiming war against my nose. Chara came in stinking. She smelled awful. The odor filled the house immediately.
Since it was my parent's house, I did the only thing I knew to do which was wake them. This began the long part of the night, as the three of us -- Toria, my mother, and I -- went to work trying to remove the stench. My mom tried a damp cloth and dog shampoo. Dry. Not going to work. We need more ammo. We need water.
Shower time.
So I stripped of everything but my boxers (yes, I just said my boxers... don't get your undies all in a tizzy) and beckoned Chara come into the shower with me. It was in that shower that I first began to realize the bigger picture of what this event was showering me... I mean showing me. There in the half-bath shower of my parent's main floor bathroom. With a solid fiberglass door and shower head on a hose. At 12:30am. Trying to hold my breath from the smell which was now locked up in the small space that Chara and I now occupied together. I scrubbed. Soaked. Rinsed. And scrubbed a little more. All trying to overcome the stink that Chara got herself into.
In that shower, wet and covered in clumpy black hair from Chara's coat, thoughts of God filled my mind. Thoughts that would not permit me loose until I had fought and thought and fought some more. God was taking another occasion to teach me truth. His truth. The only truth that is truth.
There are so many times we get ourselves into a stink of a situation. We wreak! We're dirty. And we don't even realize it. God has to take us by the hand and lead us into the shower with Him. We have to humble ourselves to letting Him wash our stench away. He strips down into His God-sized boxers (I don't know very well whether or not He has need of wearing boxers) and very gently and lovingly begins the cleaning process. The water runs down over us. We are a little scared and ashamed. We don't understand how we ended up in this place again. We keep our head lowered and breath very slowly, as did Chara in that shower. We figured last time would be the last time. But He just keeps washing away the odor that had so worked it's way into our heart. Grace is lathered across our souls. He works it in deep. To penetrate to the root of our thick fur, where the smell resides. The water continues to fall on us. He continues to work on our mess. A mess -- a smell -- we cannot remove ourselves. We try. Chara tried too. She came in from the outside and started rolling all over the carpet. She wanted the smell off her. So she did what she knew best to do. Roll around. But all it does is spreads. She is so very kind enough to share with everyone else. But all her rolling and rubbing doesn't do a thing. Neither does any of our own fixes. Alcohol. Drugs. Sex. The latest and greatest toy from Best Buy. A heavy paycheck. A new relationship or lover. A juicy romantic novel. A plate of french fries. Day time TV. Even our own pursuit of good health. It's us. Trying to fix and rid ourselves of our own stench. On our own. Without Him. And the carpet still stinks.
But still He remains. With such gentleness, He moves His hand across us with water pouring down to wash away the grit and grim of our sins and makes sure to rinse out well everything. Leaving no trace behind. He works in His own perfect timing. And finally, we exit the shower once again clean and smelling like some beautiful scent that the Creator of the universe could only dream up.
The stench and stink is gone. Wash away. GONE! Did you hear me? It no longer exists. What once was is now no more. No more. No more war against the nose. No more smelling like burning rubber mixed with skunk. We are free from the smell. He has made us clean.
This is grace. This is forgiveness. This is the God I am wanting to live for. Willingly jumping into the shower with us and our horrible smell of a mess we made and doing what we were powerless to do.

Grace Like Shampoo.

Walking Against the 7-Grain Bread.

Grain.
I carved a boat today.
Took me five hours.
First 3-dimensional object I've carved.
It was relaxing. Encouraged me to get outside. Breathe some fresh air. Use my hands.
Cut my finger really badly though.
That hurt.
I was sitting down by Lake Superior, on a rock jutting out into the water when my hand slipped and the blade sliced through my flesh like butter.
One of those learning curves. Whatever that means.

Have you ever carved wood before? Or chopped wood? Have you ever seen the lines running through a piece of wood? Grain. It is where we get our cliche: "Going against the grain." You would not understand that cliche unless you've ever worked with wood before. Don't try it. Do not go against the grain. Bad things happen. Like cutting off your finger. Or worse... wood fray!

I was thinking about grain today. This was after I ate my 7-grain bread this morning. But my thoughts had nothing to do with my breakfast. I was thinking about how Jesus went against the grain of the culture He had been born into. Everyone was walking in this one direction. They were all running after godliness by their own power. Man, if I do good and pretend to follow this law then I'm set for heaven. Bring on the pearlys! Everyone was trying to make it on their own, thinking they were honoring God. Then Jesus comes and starts walking the other direction. I'm sure at very first people did not take much notice. The dude probably just dropped his wallet back there and wants to find it. Quick, whoever finds this dudes wallet before He does gets a free goat! But it did not take long for this "other direction" to get people's attention. This was completely different. You mean, this guy, Jesus, is actually walking... the other way?! WHOA! "Hey hey, Jesus, you know man, you're walking in the wrong direction buddy! It is this way to God, man!" But Jesus was God-man so He paid no attention. Jesus wanted to show people the perfect way to the Father.
All throughout the history before Jesus' time, God kept showing people who He was. He kept wanting them to see how totally awesome and beyond understanding He was. He wanted to talk to them. But they were too busy building towers reaching to the sky, walls wider than Shaq's feet, and seemed obsessed with swords. But God had meant for them to live IN Him. To draw everything they were from Him. And so to get the message across, once and for all, He inacts the plan He had been making since before the world even came into being ("being" is a big fancy word meaning: God spoke and then there was...). Jesus. His Son. Man's son. "The Word became flesh and moved into the neighborhood." God intrudes. And has a little something-something to say. "All these things you're doing will not save you. I do not care about them. I just want you to know me. To know that it was I who created you. I breathed into your very lungs and gave you My breath. It was I who chose Abraham to father all of you -- and in a way you don't even understand. It was I who spoke with Moses and gave all these laws. Because I wanted you to see that you could not do it without Me. And so I AM here." So Jesus came both in fullness God and fullness man (do not just simply read over the word "fullness," think about what that is saying), to point people in the direction they were supposed to be walking in before. They just didn't know that. And apparently they liked the direction they were walking in (if only they understood that if they turned around, the other side of their face would get a little Son too!).
It's hard carving against the grain. And apparently hard walking against the grain too. But Jesus calls us to follow Him. In the direction He's walking. And that means we must walk against the grain of those around us. It will be hard. Maybe it already has been for you. You constantly have to be watching where you're walking -- where He's walking. Bumping into people is unavoidable. Just a word to that though: Jesus loves it that way! Because you have their attention at that moment and you can tell them why you just bumped into them. And it means that with each step you and those you were walking with before are getting further and further apart. And that may be the hardest part for some people. Having to walk away from those closest -- to follow Jesus, to have fullness of life (there is that word again). There is a cost. For some people, that may just mean losing your finger. But Jesus commands that you follow Him against the grain of the world. He wants to have you as His companion along the journey. He'd even die for that possibility.
Sometimes in wood-carving, it is enivitable that you must work against the grain. And you must. Through the cutting off of fingers and wood fraying. When it is finished, something beautiful appears. God had a similar result. ONLY A GAZILLION TIMES MORE BEAUTIFUL: YOU!
Isn't it fitting that Jesus was most likely a carpenter? I wonder if He had trouble carving against the grain?

Jesus Built Relationships. Not Buildings.

What comes to mind when you think of the word: "Church?"
What emotions does it stir?
Joy? Happiness? Frustration? Sadness? Nothing?
What ideals do you associate with the word?
Friendship? Social gathering place? Safety? Singing songs with Larry? Long-winded messages? Hypocrisy? Judgment? Money-hungry leaders? A "better-than-you" pastor?
What does scripture say about it?

We need to know what we mean when we announce to somebody that we "go to church." Because the world is watching. All eyes are on us. If this were not true, "Christianity" wouldn't be a favorite subject of late-night satire. And politicians wouldn't attempt to make us think they were one of "us."
The church is used, abused, manipulated, and dying. It doesn't know who it is. And has unknowingly forgotten on whom she was founded. In many cases, it is a dying organism. Suffocated by traditions, organization, plans, multi-million dollar buildings, entertainment, comedic personalities, guilt trips, statistics, and complacent populations.

The church as a reality of life has been lost. But not forgotten. We have the Word of God. And contained within those pages are snippets of what it can be and was meant to be: a life together lived in relationship to Christ.

I am being pushed. I have been so focused the last 5 years on frustrations with the church and trying to understand what it is, that I made an idol of the church. Without even trying. I only saw two angles. A right way and a wrong way. And I feel I missed out on The Way. I had good intentions. But not God intentions. He wants a relationship with me. With you. First and foremost. That is what He is about. Jesus came to show us the way to the Father. To show us how to be in relationship with Him. He was so about relationships. Jesus would not have affixed Himself to one group of people meeting in a brick building. Jesus built relationships. Not buildings. Jesus didn't establish regular meeting times. He wandered. He met. He talked. He listened. He loved. He healed. He prayed. He slept. He ate. He pooped. Jesus didn't wake up Sunday mornings, dreading sitting through another service. He didn't raise His hands in worship because everyone around Him was doing so. Jesus didn't set aside exactly 10% of His earnings from His carpentry business for a local congregation. He talked about life. Real life. Full life. Jesus was honest. Really honest. He had this unabashed love-affair with His Father. And all He wanted was to honor Him and glorify Him. His very life flowed from His Father like water from a faucet. Jesus came to show us the way. He was The Way. And church is about living His way right next to Him.

If you're reading this. If you "go to church." If you grew up "in church." Please take some time to really understand what the church was... and is. By calling yourself a Christian, you are fully throwing your lot in with His. Make sure you know what that means. I am trying to do the same.

In Christ,
Nat

[Return]ing To Poetry and something about some book...

New book I'm reading:
So You Don't Want To Go To Church Anymore
By Wayne Jacobsen and Dave Coleman.
Pick it up if you're able. It's a good read. It's the fictional story of Jake Colsen and his incredible story that develops before your eyes.
It follows thirteen conversations he has with a man named only John. John comes and goes and sets out to challenge everything Jake has ever known. John has this incredible love-relationship with Father (as he calls Him). John wants to help Jake see faith, truth, joy, forgiveness, sorrow, pain, love, and community through a different set of eyes. To realign Jake's heart with what it's been missing for years.
It is compelling.
I wanted to underline almost every word that John utters throughout the dialogue.

God is moving. His Spirit can be seen. The Bride has stopped her adulterous ways long enough to begin asking questions of the life she made for herself. People are starting to ask major questions of the church. I believe the bigger point being that God is calling His people into realness. Genuineness.

Arise O Bride
Return to your rightful place
At His side.
Do you hear Him calling you home?
The most beautiful voice is His alone.
So arise
Put on your loveliest gown
Pin up your hair
Throw away that frown
Because your Groom has arrived
He has already broken the chains
Which once held you down.
What a glorious day!
He does not care what you have done
Where you have been
Or why you had left.
He only cares that you come back
Never mind what you lack
Just come fall in His lap.
Arise O Bride
And finally! return to your rightful place
At His side.

Return.

Perhaps One Day They'll Call This: Volleism!

(A message written to a friend in response to a question asked)

Dear Friend,

I hope to not add more confusion into the boiling pot of thoughts and opinions you're working through. I hope to simply offer what I have learned and read from the truth of the Scriptures. And I pray that the Holy Spirit might be taking over these fingers.

What a wonderful thing to wrestle with! I am really encouraged to see others struggle through this topic -- predestination and free-will. I find it intriguing when people talk about the idea of predestination and use the term: Calvinism. I have read what Calvin wrote about "the elect." He would have lovingly sat down with someone nowadays who calls themselves a Calvinist and directed them to the point. See, readers of Calvinism -- or Neo-Calvinists -- are really the leaders of this "Calvinism" group who so strongly talk about predestination. It makes me laugh and also sad. Calvin himself did not know. He simply was asking questions. One cannot deny the existence of terms like: "the elect" and "predestination" or "those who the Father gave me" in the Bible. They are there and so we must not shove them aside so quickly. So Calvin set out to begin the discussion.

My first question is this: Is God Omni-potent enough? That is a silly question. What many people within the Predestination vs. Free-will debate don't realize is that the real question is this: who is God and is He strong enough, smart enough, or good enough to be: whatever I am arguing for. I believe that God is all-powerful, all-present, and the Lord of all. There is nothing less that I can attribute to the creator of the universe. I believe that God has the power to affect the realm of free-will: just read the first 10 chapters of Exodus to see how God "hardened Pharaoh's heart." Over and over again God affects. And He is Lord of all things: Colossians 1:15-20. If God wants something to happen, He will make it happen. And because He is good (and hasn't read our dictionary to find out our definition of what it means to be good), His plan is always perfect. Who am I to say that God simply sits back and lets things happen? God is not a God of chaos (I believe there is a verse regarding this). And I'm sure you've heard many times the verse in Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." I know you've heard this passage before (sometimes we hear it too often, but without the proper context), but go back and read the entire context of what God is saying and to whom and why. All throughout the scriptures I believe God is trying to get something across -- from Genesis to Revelation -- God has a plan and purpose. And I think Revelation is a great book to speak to the point of God having a plan, as the entire book is about God sharing His plan with His people. To give hope. His power in plans and purposes gives a source to the hope that we have. Jesus was a plan. Salvation was a plan. In the words of Joker in Dark Knight: "It's all part of the plan."

I do not quite agree with what this pastor-friend said. At least from what I understood you say -- "God may or may not have a sovereign plan for our lives, but we should live as if he doesn't." If we were to live as if God didn't have a plan or purpose, then we are denying the pure existence of God -- for that is part of His essence. Man has always struggled understanding God. The Israelites over and over forget that God had a plan and purpose for their little excursion through the desert. I have often questioned God's plan. When my dad was diagnosed with possible terminal cancer, I questioned God's plan. We have to wrestle with these things. We have to ask questions -- and that is why I am so thrilled that you're struggling with this. When we question, even God, answers begin to come in many different ways, and over the course of our lives.

As far as Acts 16 is concerned, it is this beautiful story of this struggle. Man -- Paul and his companions -- wanted and felt "called" to Asia, to preach the Good News there. A noble charge indeed. God should be thrilled that they want so badly to preach His message there. But God had other plans. He had a place for them where the gospel was to be preached and heard. I believe this history story is in a perfect place in the book of Acts, because the writer is reminding the readers that this movement of the gospel did not come by human power or will, but by God's power and will. God has a plan. Again, Jesus was a plan. The Cross a plan. Even Jesus, God in human flesh, carried out a plan. Saying over and over again that He was doing what the Father told Him to do. A few times when He heals someone, He tells them not to say anything to anyone. Why? Because He knew that the Jews wanted to make Him their earthly, conquering king and that wasn't part of the plan. So He would tell these people who had seen His power to not say anything. His time had not come yet. Jesus shows us how to live in relationship to God. And Jesus life was one of obedience to the Father. And this I believe, is how God intends for all of us to live -- to live obedient to the Father. To pray and seek His will. To die to ourselves and our "plan" and to fill up in ourselves God's plan. Because, over and over again God affects. And God is good.

I hope this was of some help. Keep praying and asking God to give you wisdom on the matter. And keep searching the scriptures.

In Christ,
Nat

Holy Fervor: Men.

Men.
Created first.
First to walk with God.
First to be given responsibility.
First to be silent.
I just watched a video by Pastor Mark Driscoll. It deals with the responsibility God expects from His men. Mark looks at two typical kinds of men. Two kinds of men God never intended.
God alone gives definition. And today -- right now -- men need to revisit God's definition for man. Pastor Mark explores this topic with fervor (a really smart sounding word meaning passion). He tells it like it is. And offers a glimpse into what God expects and how God reacts when men are idiots.
And we are.
I am.
This message caught hold of me. God's Spirit caught hold of me through this message.
Please -- whether you are a man, woman, married, engaged, dating, or single -- sit down at your computer and watch the entirety of this video.
You will not leave the same.
I promise.
Or I'll owe you a cup of coffee.

Here is the link:
http://www.marshillchurch.org/media/trial/marriage-and-men

I pray that God uses this in big ways. Thanks Scott for showing it to me.
Please, let me know if you have any thoughts.
Welcome. To the conversation.

Sailing the Passion Waters

Passion.

I grew up in a very loving, Christian home.
My dad was ordained in the Reformed Church of America when I was 11. What an awesome blessing it was to become a pastor's kid at that stage in my life. I had gone through a rough period in my walk shortly before my father's graduation. It was discovered that he had a very rare form of cancer and may not survive through surgery. My dad had left a well-paying job with Ford to follow a calling to ministry and I began to question why God would allow this to happen during his last year of seminary (after all that he had left to follow God's leading).
I became bitter.
God walked us through that period, revealing His grace and love in so many ways.
My heart began to shift.
Back now to being a pastor's kid. My dad served at a small church in the Detroit, MI, area for the next 9 years. It was here that my journey with God was really about to begin.
Thrust into the position of PK was interesting.
People now expected me to be a certain way.
To act a certain way.
To dress a certain way.
To talk a certain way.
I wasn't too thrilled about this. Senior year of high school God really started to reveal Himself to me. I saw finally just how complacent I had become with church and God and my life. I was going through all the "right" motions.
I started to desire His Word. I couldn't put His book down. I had been very lazy and made some poor choices the first three years of high school, but now God was starting to become REAL to me. And everything I was reading about in His Word was contradictory to what I was seeing Sunday mornings, not to mention these strange human "expectations" that were placed on me.
I started to see that God looked at man very differently then our outward appearance -- how we dressed in "His House." I started to see the yoke (the word translated from the greek to mean burden) that "church people" had placed on its people.
This began for me a wonderful time of really seeking His heart for the church. And at the same time, a growing disliking for the church. I wanted out. I felt suffocated. I knew I was experiencing God on a real level outside of the building -- and dreaded going to Sunday morning worship because something was missing. I didn't feel God's presence there. My buddies and I began a guy's Bible study together each week. Again, I was experiencing a realness in that room with those guys that I had never experienced before in church.
Genuineness.
We would pray for each other and talk together.
It wasn't just everyone in a room facing the same direction listening to one person talk.
There was this God-dialogue.
I loved it.
I came to a place in my walk where I had to make a decision: either walk away from the church as we knew it (which I really wanted to do), or figure out if perhaps God had something to share with His church and be a tool to see restoration (a big word for me right now) come to His Bride. I decided to stick it out. And seek it out. I was growing in the faith. And in my passion for seeing the church be restored. Restored to what it was meant to be when Jesus left and built the church on the foundation of Peter and then gave freely the Holy Spirit. I started to see two very different realities: the reality of what man had made of church; and the reality of what I saw God desiring the church to be. And ever since then... I am still seeking, learning, listening, and wanting to see the church restored.
So my heart is for the church.
But more than that my heart is for Yahweh.
To know what it means to be a follower of Him and to do it within a community of other sinners like myself (for this is what the church is about).
Sinners experiencing God's grace together in life and wanting more than anything to share this life with others -- to invite them onto the trampoline (as Rob Bell would say).
I have no other aspiration in life than to love people, love God, and be a blessing. Last summer, while visiting a friend in Idaho, we were sitting around in her living room (my friend, her sister and brother, her mom and myself) talking about life. The sister went around and asked each of us: "If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?" My reply was simply this: "To love people and affect some change." I don't have any great plans for my life. I have lived a life thus far of putting my sail into the wind and letting God take it. That is how I ended up in Duluth.

My Passion.

Interwoven Mysteries.Proclamations.Ramblings.Surrender.

A time is coming, and has now come.
When the people of the church must, as one, stand up from their pews and chairs.
Walk out of their meeting places and start being the people of God.
Not running or hiding from the Holy Spirit.
But welcoming Him and doing His work.
A time is coming, and has now come.
When the people of the church must return to God their Savior.
Knees bent in adoration.
Voices singing the praises of God with heartful-realness.
A time is coming, and has now come.
When the people of the church must begin praying and asking God for power and strength.
To understand what it means to surrender.

It's afternoon now. I read 12 chapters in Acts this morning. Incredible movement. Interwoven persecution, peace, praise. Resistance. Surrender. Holy Spirit. Worthy of disgrace.

I took my first shower in the bus today.
I began by putting 12 gallons of water into the tank just to make sure there would be enough. Shower took all of 3 minutes. Used quarter of the tank. Afterward, I resolved to finally attempt fixing the refrigerator. Used Pastor Mike's drill. Placing hinge in a block of wood, I drill the two holes. It works. So far it is holding. Success. Working with hands. See a problem and resolve and fix. Feels good. Yesterday, I learned how to use drywall anchors. You begin by drilling small hole to check for stud. If no stud exists, proceed by drilling larger hole, just smaller than the shaft of the anchor. Hammer in shaft and screw in screw. Felt good. Learning by experience. Making mistakes.

Learning what Jesus meant by "take up your cross daily and follow me." Each and every morning is a fresh start -- a new chance to honor or hurt Yahweh-Savior.
Every morning, afternoon, evening is a decision to change the course of your life.
Cannot make the right decision without God's help.
Romans 7.
Need to surrender every day to Christ's power and work. Failure to do this results in guilt. Pain. Doubts. Pride. Selfishness. Boastfulness. God-dishonoring behavior. Every moment we either pull the trigger to our old-self or succumb to its puppy-dog eyes. But this puppy has a nasty, deadly bite.
Bad dog.

Life is returning to this lifeless body. "Though I was once dead in my sin, I am now made alive in Christ through His sacrifice once for all on the cross." Reading through Acts this morning, I was struck by how whenever an apostle would give testimony to the gospel of Christ -- everything He was and did -- they all began with stories from the old testament. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, David, etc. Drawing the bigger picture of everything God did and was doing in their own time. The story of faith did not begin when Jesus walked the earth, but began "in the beginning." "For from the beginning all things were created by Him and for Him."
Colossians 1:15-23.
Leaving now. Needing to step outside and feel the sun.

This is an entry from my journal today. Thought I would share what was written. Thanks for reading.

Awakening.

Father, speak to me.

Where am I?

I know why you sacrificed.

But have forgotten that you

Sacrificed.

I have been raised to celebrate.

Forgotten to remember.

Raised to appreciate.

Forgotten to say "Thank you."

Will I ever learn?

I am a long history of doubt.

Fly-by-night faith.

Fleeting glances of You.

Wandering in Nowheresville.

Do I simply accept this fact?

Do I stick my head in the sand?

Or do I finally break free?

Finally accept the truth:

You are nothing like

Nothing I have ever known.

You are more.

More than knowing.

More than worthy of celebrating.

More than needing of appreciation.

Yes, Lord.

Here am I.

Ready to listen.

This is your day.

Your moment of glory.

Our moment of life-birth.

This is Easter.

May I never forget.

(a poem I wrote a few years ago after realizing that Easter had come and gone and I had paid no thought to it's meaning.)

iDENTITY

I am Fearfully and Wonderfully made. I am created in the image of my savior. I am a worker in my Father's harvest field. I am His breath. I am loved. I am forgiven. I am made clean in his blood. I am more precious than even a sparrow. I am a son. I am a daughter. I am a servant. I am a friend. I am his reason. I am a follower. I am sought after. I am healed.
I am restored. I am strong in His strength. I am needed. I am new life. I am trusted.
I am redeemed.

 

All through one sacrifice…

A (Touchy-Feely) Love Story

I am about to open a page of my journal for you to read. I have never shared anything from my journal before. This is a huge step for me.
Journal entry: 1/12/09
"Dear Papa,
Well, I am back home, to Big Rapids. The move went smoothly. The last day was a little stressful, but everything got finished that needed to be finished. It has been nice being home. Done some fun things with family -- drove to Detroit over the weekend, played some intense Wii! The girls and I have reconnected very well -- lots of joking. I've had some good talks with my parents, mostly during the drive to Detroit or to the Auto Parts Store. Mom and Dad bought a little 4x4 a couple weeks ago, which we took to Detroit during a blizzard they were having. On the drive home, we almost got lost taking some backroads, but ended up making an adventure out of it. We stumbled across some unused, snow-covered roads where the little 4x4 could be unleashed! It was incredible. Knuckles white, gripping the steering wheel with everything in me, I pushed those 4-powered tires to the max, as the road winded and dipped all about. It was so exciting -- the sorta thing this lifeless shell needed to feel.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the senses. Thinking about how much a new-born baby has to learn through their senses. Before they can talk, walk, or put together logical thoughts, they experience. They need to see, feel, hear, taste, and smell! I love watching a baby play with its tiny feet. The most simple form of experiential adventure any person ever may have. If we could ask a baby what love is -- again before they have developed logical thought and reason -- I think after perhaps staring at us for a moment, he would go back to playing with his little toes. They experience love. Tell a baby how much you "love them" and it means nothing yet to them. Hold her small body close to your own, allowing your warmth to transfer to hers, and she has been loved. Get down on the floor with her, playing with her, and she has been loved.
The greatest act of love ever recorded in all of our history books was one simple act too. And very much it was experienced. Jesus' body felt intense physical pain; the onlookers felt emotional pain (at least those close to Him); they saw the blood, the nails pounded, the Savior hanging; the smell of lingering death, blood, sweat, and salt from anguished tears; the taste of those tears rolling over the lips, then licked by the tongue; the sound of yelling Roman Soldiers, screaming and sobbing loved ones, the nails, the words coming from the very mouth of a deserted God, the thunder rolling in from the west off the nearby sea. The whole thing one big, senses-filled act of love!"
And now additional thoughts.
Jesus prayed in John 17:23, shortly before His greatest act of love: "May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me." And in vs. 26, "I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them." 1 John 3:18 says this: "Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth." Love needs to be experienced.
There is so much brokenness in our world. So much hurt. Fathers leaving their wives and kids to fend for themselves. He is overwhelmed with the responsibilities and running from his problems. Mothers running off to new lovers. She feels the man she married 20-years ago has stopped looking at her the same as when they spent that passionate honeymoon together.
Our churches are just as broken and hurting. An entire generation turning its collect back on being the Body of Christ. They are running after their own gods -- the gods of their minds and feelings. Those holding out inside the building have forgotten the reason they went in the first place. They are running after their gods too -- the gods of money, structure, human leadership and ability.
Jesus had this to say to the Church of Ephesus, as recorded by John in Revelation 2:1-4, "These are the words of him who holds the seven stars in his right hand and walks among the seven golden lampstands: I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance. I know that you cannot tolerate wicked men, that you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them false. You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown weary. Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love." How can that be? How can they have so many things right -- good deeds, testing of falsehoods, enduring hardships -- but be told you have forgotten the reason for it all? That you have forsaken and forgotten your first LOVE? Is that even possible?
And here is my question: How do we fall in love, once again, with our "first love?" We have gone off, trying ourselves with other "lovers," and He just waits. But not forever. When will we stop whoring ourselves out to other "lovers?" When will we finally come home? When will we learn to love with our senses? When will we get down on the floor with God and just experience Him -- with our eyes, ears, tongue, nose, and skin? When will we see how much He wants us and how much we need Him? When will His act of love finally break through my crusty exterior and really sink in? When will I stop typing on this keyboard and go love on some people?
Just some random thoughts...

UnconditionalHurricaneLove

1836 confirmed deaths.
705 bodies never found.
175 mph winds.
$89 billion in ytd damages.
At least 3 countries greatly affected.
Category 5 label.
Katrina.
The costliest hurricane ever recorded. The sixth strongest winds. Top 5 deadliest ever. Katrina changed the face of an entire population. Millions of people lost their homes overnight. Some of them still have not returned. To say that Katrina had power to change things is an understatement. Lives. Geographical land. Mindsets. All of it changed in a rush of water. Powerful stuff -- those hurricanes.
I was chatting today with a student over Nantucket Strawberry-Watermelon juice from JP's Coffee. We were talking about love. Real love. Not just the between-a-man-and-woman kinda real love. But just simply real, unconditional love. What is unconditional love? This question made my mind go to a passage in Romans. I could remember the exact wording and what book it was in, but it took me a long time to find exactly where it was. I found it. Romans 5:8. "But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." I began to think about Christ's entire gospel. His purpose. What He did. What He said while He was here. I thought about the question: "Was the cross the only act of 'unconditional love' that He expressed?" Did He, by chance, live unconditional love every moment? Could this be why so many people were attracted to Him? Isaiah says that He had nothing that we would physically want. There must have been something else. Did He have a catchy personality? Was He flamboyant? Did He have this great radio voice that everyone wanted to listen to? Or did He just simply love people? To the point that everyone following Him around could just feel it coming from Him? Like the warmth you might feel from a room heater? Was His expression of life-love as influencing and powerful as a hurricane?
Hurricanes bring... Devastation. Loss. Pain. Uncertainty.
Love brings... Renewal. Restoration. Healing. Affirmation. Safety.
To compare the two is just absurd. But not if you think solely about impact. Many people would tell you that Jesus changed a lot of things. They would use words like "revolutionary." They would say He was the most important person to ever walk the earth. But why? I think maybe it was because he, in full confidence of who He was, swept in over land like Katrina. Even though we knew Katrina was coming, there was no stopping her power. Jesus we knew would come too. And not even Katrina's power could have matched the power of Jesus' unconditional love in the lives of those He walked with -- of those He is still walking with. Unconditional love might just be the only thing that can really change anything at all. Think about it. What if we all loved each other unconditionally (I know this is an idealistic idea but I am just posing the question)? What if it did not matter what she looked like? Or how he smelt? Or how she talks? What if it did not matter what he did to me? What she did to me? Would there be changing power in that? What would happen?
Every time I realize I am giving someone conditional love, eventually my mind heads back to that Romans passage. Nothing anyone has ever done to me could possibly come close to the things I have done to Him on a daily basis. And yet... and yet... He still died for me. And has given His Spirit to continue walking with me.
We make so much of love nowadays. You see the word all the time. Everywhere. We use it to describe intensely something that we like. We use it to describe two people having sex. We use it along with food-chain slogans. And exclaiming to someone: "I do not love you anymore," might just be the worst thing that person ever remembers hearing. We hear people say things like: "Why can't we all just love each other?" People go to church and leave with a "Love Wins" sticker on their bumper. I think Satan loves how much we use the word. The more meanings we attribute to it, the less we understand the real meaning. Perhaps 1 Corinthians 13 can help clear a few things up.
Love is patient.
Love is kind.
Love does not envy.
Love does not boast.
Love is not proud.
Love is not rude.
Love is not self-seeking.
Love is not easily angered.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil.
Love rejoices with truth.
Love always protects.
Love always trusts.
Love always hopes.
Love always perseveres.
Love never fails.
If we broke down unconditional love into all of its parts, this is what we would get. This is Jesus -- in 16 acts. Replace the word "love" with Jesus and it always works perfectly. Replace the word "love" with Nat and things get bumpy really fast.
Here is another passage that comes to mind. 1 John 3:16. "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers." If this laying our lives down is to really be love, there are no conditions for who "our brothers" really are. I know for me whenever I read this passage and get to those last two words, my mind immediately goes to all the people I know who I would willingly die for (and not just literally dying for, but putting aside my own wants and desires). My mind automatically categorizes out all those people who I would rather not love like this. I can think of a few right now.
Lets travel back to that original passage in Romans. Here is what the verse ahead of verse 8 says: "Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die." As much as verse 8 is a reflection of Christ, so verse 7 is a reflection of me. For a person I deem good, I might lay myself aside. But Christ, in this insane unconditional-love stuff, died for man while they were doing every kind of evil thing against Him. And we call Him a "revolutionary." I say He changed a lot of things. Hmmmm....
Imagine if we sought His definition of love? Just think about the implications. We will never totally get it right. But just think if we started asking God for strength to live out those 16 definitions? What if I started asking God for this strength?
There is no doubt that the quality of love with which Jesus showed was unlike anything anyone had ever seen walking the streets of a human city. As John 1:14 reads in The Message, "The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son." Do not quickly move from those words. Read them again with your eyes. Close your eyes and picture the scene with your heart. He did not make sense. That is why it was so hard for so many people during Jesus' time to believe He was who He said He was. That is why it is still just as hard. If those who could see Him with their own eyes had trouble believing. How much more today? But... He was... simply put... the man-flesh expression of God's UnconditionalHurricaneLove.

Oh, to have UnconditionalHurricaneLove.

The Man from Ick

"Once there was a town called Ick.

The people of Ick had a problem – they were icky.

For some unexplained reason, everyone who was born in Ick ended up icky. Scientists, doctors, and experts from all over the world had tried to analyze the people of Ick, and although they all agreed that the people of Ick were icky, no one could agree on a cure. In fact, there was no cure.

The scientists, doctors and experts agreed that the only thing they could do would be to give people suggestions on how to cope with their ickyness.

But experts or no experts, everyone learned to cope in their own way. Some pretended they weren't icky. Some tried to keep busy and forget their ickyness. Others decided that being icky was better than not being icky… and they got ickier. Some just didn't care. But if you were able to get a person from Ick to be honest, they really didn't like being icky.

Well, you can imagine how many people arrived in Ick with a cure for ickyness. And you can imagine how many people were always willing to try each new cure that came along. And strangely enough, some of the cures seemed to work… for a while. But eventually, the cure would stop working and everyone would be icky again.

One day something happened that radically changed the people of Ick.

A long-time resident of Ick began to suggest publicly that he had a cure for ickyness. It was very difficult for the people of Ick to believe that a person who lived in Ick himself could have a real cure for ickyness.

But then something strange happened. One of the ickiest people in all of Ick believed in this cure and was changed. He simply wasn't icky anymore. Everyone thought it was just temporary and waited. But it didn't go away, and before long lots and lots of people started believing the man from Ick… and everyone who believed was cured.

It was incredible! And one would think that the people of Ick were overjoyed. But the people weren't overjoyed, and soon a town meeting was called.

The fact of the matter was, the business community of Ick had been built around the basic fact of people's ickyness. And with more and more people losing their ickyness, the economic future of Ick was threatened. After an extremely heated discussion, it was generally agreed that what appeared to be a cure for ickyness was probably like all the other so-called cures and would soon turn out to be a hoax. And since so many people were being misled, and since it was possible that many more people could be misled, and since a person who would perpetuate such a hoax on a community like Ick could affect the stability of Ick, the savior of Ick was asked to leave. He refused. He continued to cure people, and each day those responsible for the stability of Ick became more and more concerned.

One day, however, the savior of Ick disappeared. It caused quite a commotion, and no one to this day knows what happened. Some said he was done away with. Others said they actually saw him the day after he disappeared. But what was strange was that even though the savior of Ick was gone, people who believed in him and his cure suddenly would find their ickyness gone. And even though the majority of the townspeople were in agreement that this savior was a hoax, all those who believed in him were still cured.

The people who had lost their ickyness thought everyone would jump at the chance to be cured. They were sadly disappointed. Very few were even interested. So the ex-icky people did what they could to convince the icky people that their cure was not a hoax, and every once in a while someone would believe.

Apparently – this is only hearsay – a small group of ex-icky people began to worry that if they or their children associated too much with icky people, they might be contaminated or become icky again.

It wasn't long before these people banded together and moved to the top of Ick Hill, an isolated spot on the edge of town. They worked, shopped, and went to school in downtown Ick, and then returned to Ick Hill for their evenings and weekends. But it wasn't long before the people of Ick Hill became so fearful of contamination that they built their own school, market, gas station, and shopping center.

One morning, several months later, the people of Ick woke up to see Ick Hill covered by a large glass bubble. Ick Hill was now a completely self-contained community with everything completely under control.

One particularly cold morning, an icky person in the city of Ick noticed that there was no visible activity going on inside the glass bubble of Ick Hill. A rescue party was sent to see if everything was all right.

After breaking through the glass bubble, they were shocked to find the entire population of Ick Hill dead. Autopsies were ordered, and the cause of death was the same for all.

Suffocation."

That was a parable I found in the book: Get 'Em Talking. Written by Mike Yaconelli and Scott Koenigsaecker. Very intriguing.

Jesus Sitting In The Third Pew

Have you ever had a difficult time starting something? Maybe a sentence while talking to a friend or a paper you needed to write for that psychology class last semester? I know what I want to talk about but I am having "starters block."

What do you think about in the shower? Ok… I admit that is an awkward question to ask. This morning in the shower I was thinking about Jesus. I am reading Donald Miller's book Searching for God Knows What. I had just finished a long chapter titled: Jesus. In it, Mr. Miller sets out to describe who Jesus is. Although Miller is the anti-list, anti-formula writer, he gave a list of eight personality traits or facts he saw in Jesus after reading through all four gospels 10-times each. He wanted/needed to know who Jesus was for himself. The things Miller found were beautiful. Here they are: He believed all people were equal, He was ugly, He liked to be with people, He had no fear of intimacy, He was patient, He was kind, He was God, He is I AM. I know there are many more things to Jesus than just these eight items. Having spent the morning reading Miller's chapter on Jesus, I jumped into the shower with many thoughts rumbling around in my head.

I had this scene flash before my eyes: I enter the building where my church meets and walked toward the entrance to the Sanctuary. I scan the seats as I round the corner. A man is sitting in the third row from the front on the right side about 4 or 5 chairs in from the center aisle. He has dark hair. I see the man's head turning slowly from left to right, scanning the room in front of him. Every so often I see him put his head down and look at the ground. Something seems heavy on this person. I go to take a step toward the man when a bone in my body loudly creaks. I pause. The man hears the noise and turns his head to me, staring. I catch a glimpse of his eyes. I cannot describe them beyond the sadness that I saw. I knew almost immediately who it was I was looking at. It was Jesus. Jesus was sitting in the third pew from the front on the right side. I did not notice any color to his eyes (although I admit that my mind wanted so badly to give him blue eyes… I know Jesus did not have blue eyes). What I did see though was the sadness. He seemed to be speaking to me through his eyes. Saying to me that he was hurting here in this room. I said nothing to him. I partly knew why he looked so sad.

Why did Jesus come to die? Was it so we would have the freedom to spend half a million dollars a year on "running" the church? Was it so that we could have a stage with sound equipment and lighting and a candle burning and a pulpit and a table with plastic bread and a dusty wine goblet? Was it so we could have pews and chairs all lined up perfectly? Was it so that we could have budget meetings and be "good stewards of what God has given?" Was it so that we could join others who doctrinally and politically believed the same things we did? Was it so that we could come together for an hour once-a-week to hear some preacher dude bring down the house with his incredibly Spirit-inspired words that he wrote three days before? Maybe this is why Jesus came to die. Seems like such a small thing to come and die for.

When I looked into Jesus eyes and saw that sadness, I knew that he was saying to me: "Kevin, this is not what my message of life was supposed to be about. I love my Bride. But it seems that while my Bride was trying to find me and glorify me, she found something easier and more entertaining to care about. I just wanted to give her new life. A life filled with love and the realest relationships she could ever imagine. I wanted to give her myself." Jesus and I continued to look at each other in silence. Then the image faded from my mind.

It has me asking a lot of questions. I guess the first is: "Who is Jesus? Really?" I want to read the gospels with this question firmly in thought. The next few questions I have are these: "What would Jesus have to say about what His Bride seems all about?" "If Jesus came to heal the sick, why are we all trying to pretend like we aren't sick?" "What happened to the realness of the gospel and the power of the Spirit?" "What do all of our traditions really mean?" "What happened to genuineness?" "Why does the Bride look more like a business or golf club than a Kingdom under its righteous King's reign?"

I admit, these are just questions. I know intrinsically there is more to this life with Christ than we have right now… than I have right now. I know… and I have known for many years that something wasn't right. There is this self-focus to everything we seem to be about in church. God doesn't seem to exist beyond the many words we serve up each Sunday morning. Behind each of these questions lies my heart's true intent: "God, I want more of You! I need you to be REAL! I do not need the happy-thought of you. I need You!" I feel like I have lost sight of Him, because I have been more concerned with what others think. Men. Not God. Jesus seemed to be about healing and love and sacrifice. He looked at people in the eyes. He was patient, as Miller already stated. He cared about people. People were people in His eyes. His own creation… that He desired to bring back to His own perfect intent originally designed for them. People were not objects on a chess board to be moved about in a step-by-step preplanned-out process of winning a game, as I think the church seems to think we are. I AM NOT A CHESS PIECE! I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE GAME!

I have talked before about the hole I feel in my heart. I am realizing all the things I have tried to put in my heart to fill it. Girls… or more accurately a single relationship with a girl… have been my number one filler. Each time left me still empty and hurting. The number two thing I try to fit inside my heart is other people and everything that comes with having them acknowledge my existence. The number three thing is all the material possessions that seem to bridge a "happy-gap" from moment to moment in my life. The number four thing I have learned is I try to fill my hole with the church. I have looked for the church to answer the question: "What is the purpose for life?" I keep asking church to answer this question or that question and when it can't I get frustrated with it and call it mean names and storm off in the other direction. When all along I am just misusing it. All I really want is to feel validated. To be a part of something.

I am still figuring out why the Son of God came and sat in the third row of my church this morning in the shower. I guess I needed to see Him in there. And I suppose I needed to see the sad look on His face to know that there is more than I have been feeling. That church cannot fill my hole… only Christ can do that. But also to know that something is making Jesus sad about where His Bride is focused. Honestly, the umbrella leadership of the church looks not-so-different to that of the Pharisees. Jesus came up hard against the Pharisees. They made Him very sad and a little frustrated. He died for them too, you know. But they just wanted their law – a safety-net of right and wrongs. What they really were doing was waving their hand back and forth at God trying to draw His attention to themselves and say: "Hey, look what I can DO… look what I can DO!" They pushed God out of their everyday breathing. And we have not fallen so far from the apple tree.

Jesus. Let me see you again. I felt close to you this morning. I am sorry for the mess we've made of your Bride. I am sorry for my own involvement in that mess. I really just want to see You. Let's meet up again.

Play-Doh: Modeling Compound

Something is off. I don't know what it is. For the past few days, something has not been right. I have not been right. This is partly why I have not written lately. So do not think that my mind has been quiet. It never quiets. Not anymore.
The next time you are at the store, walk over to the kid's toys section and find where the play-doh is sold. Grab a container. Read the front label. Play-Doh: Modeling Compound.
This past weekend was incredible. JUMP Retreat 08 at Camp Geneva with my Middle Schoolers (Fuse students). The speaker brought the truth of the gospel home to the student's ears. And in our small group time, amazing things took place. I had used the example of play-doh throughout the weekend to describe how Christ made us to be. Moldable. Moveable. Shapable. Soft. Able to look like the hands handling us. I even found some play-doh from a couple years ago that began to crystallize over. This was the example of living outside of God's intent for us. When we do not allow ourselves to be molded by the Creator, we just get hard and gross. And it is not an easy thing to become soft and moldable again. God designed us to be shapable. So that we could be continually transformed into His image. Oh what a beautiful image. The God who was, and is, and is to come created a being in His image.
Play-doh was designed to be shaped.
Somewhere along the way, we all gave up our play-dohishness.
In search of our own image, we have all become like dried out play-doh.
You and I were worthy of being thrown out.
Christ came to restore the dried out play-doh.
He came to restore His image into us.
And yet, we still run in search of our own image. We find other things to categorize us. All we want. All we desire. Is to find something bigger-than-ourselves to categorize us. We need to be found in something. And since God is no golden calf, we put ourselves in the hands of everything else but God-Creator. Problems arise. Unsatisfaction takes hold. Where JOY in God-Creator once existed. Now BITTERNESS remains. Where PEACE once stood. Now ANGER resides. Where LOVE was given. Now SELFISHNESS is all that is left. What once was created GOOD. Cannot escape being BAD. And HARD. And GROSS.
Two examples of things existing outside of their purpose: hard play-doh and sinful man.
Here is hope.
"It cost God plenty to get you out of that dead-end, empty-headed life you grew up in. He paid with Christ's sacred blood, you know. He died like an unblemished, sacrificial lamb. And this was no afterthought. Even though it has only lately--at the end of the ages--become public knowledge, God always knew he was going to do this for you. It's because of this sacrificed Messiah, whom God then raised from the dead and glorified, that you trust God, that you know you have a future in God. Now that you've cleaned up your lives by following the truth, love one another as if your lives depended on it. Your new life is not like your old life. Your old birth came from mortal sperm; your new birth comes from God's living Word. Just think: a life conceived by God himself!"
"They called him every name in the book and he said nothing back. He suffered in silence, content to let God set things right. He used his servant body to carry our sins to the Cross so we could be rid of sin, free to live the right way. His wounds became your healing. You were lost sheep with no idea who you were or where you were going. Now you're named and kept for good by the Shepherd of your souls."
What kind of play-doh are you?
What kind do you want to be?
If I am honest with myself. Lately I have been the hard, gross kind.
The words set free are stuck like bad plumbing in my mind right now. These words strum a cord on the guitar that is my heart. This dry chunk of play-doh just wants to be soft again. Oh to be soft again.
Play-Doh: Modeling Compound.

Hole.

Hole.

I see you there.

What do I care.

I have tried.

Too many times.

Too many shapes.

Too many sizes.

To fill you up.

To close you in.

But nothing ever seems to fit.

Yet still I grab.

For more and more.

For things that never ever.

Could endure.

They come and go.

They push and pull.

All trying to fill my hole.

Boys.

Girls.

Dolls.

Cars.

Fantasies.

Friends.

Food.

Theology.

Relativism.

Lusts.

Money.

Music.

Clothes.

Plastic.

Self.

All have left me empty.

With nothing but a scar.

Still they try.

Again and again.

To come back.

And help a "friend."

But I am done.

I want no more.

I am finished.

Walking out the door.

Here He comes.

He is almost near.

Barely I can hear.

The sound of One whispering.

In my ear.

"I have come.

Simply.

To be.

The puzzle piece.

That you seek.

Stop trying other things.

And you will quickly see.

That I.

Yes, it is Me.

Only I fit perfectly."