All that I have is yours and all you have is mine. (John 17:10)
My child, my delight, the joy of my heart, I wish you knew yourself the way I know you. I wish you saw yourself the way that I see you. And I wish that, deep down in your heart, you knew the truth that all I have is yours and all you have is mine. Knowing this one truth, at your very core, would change everything about you. For then you would know that all of my love is yours, all of my affection is yours, and all of my delight is yours. You have completely captured my heart. And not only that, but you also have all of my righteousness, all of my holiness, and all of my purity. Everything I have belongs to you.
And all that you have is mine. Your joys are mine and your wounds are mine, your strengths are mine and your weaknesses are mine, your gifts are mine and your inadequacies are mine; so are your insecurities, your anxieties, your fears, your struggles, your burdens, yes, and even your sin--all mine. Come to me, my child, with all that you are, and let me give you all that I am in return. Be mine.
Friday, May 9, 2014
Thursday, May 1, 2014
get busy living or get busy dying
Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out.” The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.” (John 11:38-44)
The cave is dark and cold, filled with death and decay. After all, it's been four days since the dead man was placed inside. There's no more hope; that's it! Death has had the final word. If only Jesus would've shown up sooner...but now what could he possibly do?
Ever feel that way? Ever feel like all hope is lost; like life and health and change are not possible because of the gravitational pull of the deadness inside? Martha would have us believe that it is just too late. "Don't open up that tomb, it's going to stink. It is far too messy to be redeemed." I'm so glad that Jesus didn't (and still doesn't) share her sentiments. In fact, Jesus specializes in messy. That's because Jesus knows that for something (or someone) to be resurrected it has to truly die first. Why do you think he waited four days before he arrived at the tomb? Why do you think he said to Martha, "Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" You see, Jesus is bigger than death--be it the death of someone we love, the death of a relationship we hold near and dear, the death of a dream, or the death that lives within us on a regular basis. That death would have you believe that this is it. That's all there is. There's no way out of this pain and darkness and depression. You are stuck. You are trapped. Life can never be the same again. But Jesus knows better. Maybe that's why he weeps. Maybe he is heartbroken that somewhere, deep inside, we don't truly believe that he can redeem this, whatever this may be. Maybe he is weeping over the fact that we do not really believe that he can, or will, bring life out of our unimaginable pain and brokenness. Maybe his tears come from the fact that our circumstances have made us doubt the goodness of his heart. And maybe his sadness is, somehow, related to our stuckness. Who knows?
Luckily the story doesn't end there. In fact, Jesus then calls out, "Take away the stone." And some unknown, unseen (to us) group of people spring into action. People that are filled with the hope that this is not, indeed, the end. People that are filled with the faith to know that even though things look unredeemable, Jesus is able to breathe life into even the most dismal and hopeless and painful of circumstances. People that care so deeply for the one inside the tomb that they are standing by, willing and ready to do whatever it takes to help make that redemption possible. "He can't get out himself," they think, "so why don't we help roll the stone away and just see what Jesus will do." Truth be told, there can never be enough stone-rollers in the world. In fact, what if that's what our churches were full of? Oh what a different world it would be! Stone-rollers don't care about the stink. They don't care about the mess. They don't care about what anyone thinks. They are beyond all of that, because at some point in time someone had the courage and the grace to roll their stone away, so that they might walk out of the grave into the light of new life. And because of that, if there's ever a time when someone needs a stone rolled away (rather than to be avoided or judged or given up on) they want to be the first in line. I've had the privilege of seeing some stone-rollers do their thing in the last couple of days, and let me tell you, it is remarkable. Being a stone-roller is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
After the stone is rolled away, Jesus turns his eyes, and his heart, to his Father...the giver of all life. He knows the Father's heart like no one else. He knows the goodness. He knows the faithfulness. He knows the love. And he knows that those standing around, particularly the family of this dead man, are doubting all of that at the moment. Maybe, somehow, they think that it was God's hand that caused all of this pain. But Jesus knows better. He knows the heart of the Father that groans for and with his creation (Romans 8:26) in their most broken hours--and so he prays. He prays that they may believe; believe that he is the God of life even in the face of death, believe that they can trust his heart even when they can't see his hand, believe that he was sent from the Father's side to redeem the unredeemable.
So Jesus calls out the dead man's name and tells him to come out. Notice he doesn't just say Come alive, or Be healed, but Come out. Because a significant part of the new life that Jesus calls us to is leaving the tomb behind. He raises us from the dead, breathes new life into our soul, and then calls each of us to Come out. In fact, coming to life again yet choosing to remain in the tomb is not an option, yet so many people live like it is. So many people, claiming to belong to Jesus, claiming to have been raised from the dead, are still sitting in the darkness of the tomb of shame or guilt or anger or bitterness or unforgiveness or self pity. They are still living a life that is anything but alive. We must take that step out of the tomb. Then, and only then, can the body of Christ (maybe even the same ones who rolled away the stone) come along side us and help us take off the grave clothes so we can be totally alive and totally free.
So really, after he calls our name and brings us back to life again, it is up to us (with the help of His Spirit of course) to obey his voice and take that step (however small it might be at first) out of the tomb and into the warmth of his light and love. In the words of Andy Dufresne, "I guess it comes down to a simple choice, get busy living, or get busy dying." (The Shawshank Redemption)
The cave is dark and cold, filled with death and decay. After all, it's been four days since the dead man was placed inside. There's no more hope; that's it! Death has had the final word. If only Jesus would've shown up sooner...but now what could he possibly do?
Ever feel that way? Ever feel like all hope is lost; like life and health and change are not possible because of the gravitational pull of the deadness inside? Martha would have us believe that it is just too late. "Don't open up that tomb, it's going to stink. It is far too messy to be redeemed." I'm so glad that Jesus didn't (and still doesn't) share her sentiments. In fact, Jesus specializes in messy. That's because Jesus knows that for something (or someone) to be resurrected it has to truly die first. Why do you think he waited four days before he arrived at the tomb? Why do you think he said to Martha, "Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" You see, Jesus is bigger than death--be it the death of someone we love, the death of a relationship we hold near and dear, the death of a dream, or the death that lives within us on a regular basis. That death would have you believe that this is it. That's all there is. There's no way out of this pain and darkness and depression. You are stuck. You are trapped. Life can never be the same again. But Jesus knows better. Maybe that's why he weeps. Maybe he is heartbroken that somewhere, deep inside, we don't truly believe that he can redeem this, whatever this may be. Maybe he is weeping over the fact that we do not really believe that he can, or will, bring life out of our unimaginable pain and brokenness. Maybe his tears come from the fact that our circumstances have made us doubt the goodness of his heart. And maybe his sadness is, somehow, related to our stuckness. Who knows?
Luckily the story doesn't end there. In fact, Jesus then calls out, "Take away the stone." And some unknown, unseen (to us) group of people spring into action. People that are filled with the hope that this is not, indeed, the end. People that are filled with the faith to know that even though things look unredeemable, Jesus is able to breathe life into even the most dismal and hopeless and painful of circumstances. People that care so deeply for the one inside the tomb that they are standing by, willing and ready to do whatever it takes to help make that redemption possible. "He can't get out himself," they think, "so why don't we help roll the stone away and just see what Jesus will do." Truth be told, there can never be enough stone-rollers in the world. In fact, what if that's what our churches were full of? Oh what a different world it would be! Stone-rollers don't care about the stink. They don't care about the mess. They don't care about what anyone thinks. They are beyond all of that, because at some point in time someone had the courage and the grace to roll their stone away, so that they might walk out of the grave into the light of new life. And because of that, if there's ever a time when someone needs a stone rolled away (rather than to be avoided or judged or given up on) they want to be the first in line. I've had the privilege of seeing some stone-rollers do their thing in the last couple of days, and let me tell you, it is remarkable. Being a stone-roller is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
After the stone is rolled away, Jesus turns his eyes, and his heart, to his Father...the giver of all life. He knows the Father's heart like no one else. He knows the goodness. He knows the faithfulness. He knows the love. And he knows that those standing around, particularly the family of this dead man, are doubting all of that at the moment. Maybe, somehow, they think that it was God's hand that caused all of this pain. But Jesus knows better. He knows the heart of the Father that groans for and with his creation (Romans 8:26) in their most broken hours--and so he prays. He prays that they may believe; believe that he is the God of life even in the face of death, believe that they can trust his heart even when they can't see his hand, believe that he was sent from the Father's side to redeem the unredeemable.
So Jesus calls out the dead man's name and tells him to come out. Notice he doesn't just say Come alive, or Be healed, but Come out. Because a significant part of the new life that Jesus calls us to is leaving the tomb behind. He raises us from the dead, breathes new life into our soul, and then calls each of us to Come out. In fact, coming to life again yet choosing to remain in the tomb is not an option, yet so many people live like it is. So many people, claiming to belong to Jesus, claiming to have been raised from the dead, are still sitting in the darkness of the tomb of shame or guilt or anger or bitterness or unforgiveness or self pity. They are still living a life that is anything but alive. We must take that step out of the tomb. Then, and only then, can the body of Christ (maybe even the same ones who rolled away the stone) come along side us and help us take off the grave clothes so we can be totally alive and totally free.
So really, after he calls our name and brings us back to life again, it is up to us (with the help of His Spirit of course) to obey his voice and take that step (however small it might be at first) out of the tomb and into the warmth of his light and love. In the words of Andy Dufresne, "I guess it comes down to a simple choice, get busy living, or get busy dying." (The Shawshank Redemption)
Sunday, April 27, 2014
earthquake
And behold, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. (Matthew 28:2)
sometimes it takes an earthquake to roll the stone away
God sends his angel to disrupt or disturb
to shake or quake our lives and our world
just enough so that the stone that held us captive
a prisoner trapped in the dark gloom of death and despair
is rolled away from the tomb
and we are given the power and freedom and possibility
of leaving the stench and decay of death behind
and stepping out into the warmth and light of new life
alive. risen. resurrected.
O God, let us take that step
sometimes it takes an earthquake to roll the stone away
God sends his angel to disrupt or disturb
to shake or quake our lives and our world
just enough so that the stone that held us captive
a prisoner trapped in the dark gloom of death and despair
is rolled away from the tomb
and we are given the power and freedom and possibility
of leaving the stench and decay of death behind
and stepping out into the warmth and light of new life
alive. risen. resurrected.
O God, let us take that step
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Saturday, April 19, 2014
blood
Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double minded, Grieve, mourn, and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up. (James 4:8-10)
Lamb of God,
I smell the blood
on the skin of the world.
Blood.
Dripping from your wrists,
landing on my cheek.
Here before me I see
the fresh sacrifice
of my slaughtered God
splattered with hot,
crimson
blood.
Blood.
On my conscience.
On my hands.
I keep trying to wash it off
but it refuses to go away.
I was the one who willingly drove the nails
into your outstretched hands.
Forgive me.
(A Heart Exposed by Steven James)
Lamb of God,
I smell the blood
on the skin of the world.
Blood.
Dripping from your wrists,
landing on my cheek.
Here before me I see
the fresh sacrifice
of my slaughtered God
splattered with hot,
crimson
blood.
Blood.
On my conscience.
On my hands.
I keep trying to wash it off
but it refuses to go away.
I was the one who willingly drove the nails
into your outstretched hands.
Forgive me.
(A Heart Exposed by Steven James)
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
a letter from God
You, my Beloved, have captured my heart.
I am filled to overflowing with affection for you.
O give me now your heart, lest mine burst within me.
One more second I cannot stand
Without the company of your presence,
Without the warmth of your embrace.
I think about you all the hours of the day,
Yearning for your glance, your smile, your touch.
I am totally captivated by you!
O how I long for you to be
Convinced of your beauty,
Convinced of your strength,
Convinced of your infinite value.
I long for you to know the depths of my affection
And the wild intensity of my passionate love.
I love you, O my Beloved. You are mine.
I am filled to overflowing with affection for you.
O give me now your heart, lest mine burst within me.
One more second I cannot stand
Without the company of your presence,
Without the warmth of your embrace.
I think about you all the hours of the day,
Yearning for your glance, your smile, your touch.
I am totally captivated by you!
O how I long for you to be
Convinced of your beauty,
Convinced of your strength,
Convinced of your infinite value.
I long for you to know the depths of my affection
And the wild intensity of my passionate love.
I love you, O my Beloved. You are mine.
Friday, April 4, 2014
a posture of receptivity
When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into deep water, and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.” (Luke 5:4-5)
I get the sense that there is a particular posture God is calling me to these days, and it has everything in the world to do with these verses in Luke 5. It seems that there are currently quite a few places in my life where the words worked all night (or toiled in the ESV) and haven't caught anything seem to be appropriate. They are areas where I am trying my best to make something happen--something good even--and having (at least visibly anyway) little to no success. But the other day, as I was reading this passage, it hit me. Maybe I am trying like crazy to achieve something that can only be received. That seems to be one of the many treasures that these particular verses hold. Sometimes we work and sweat and toil away, trying to produce an outcome that really can't be produced, but can only be received. And a certain posture is required for each. The posture of productivity is work, work, and more work. The problem is that, in the spiritual life, productivity isn't the point, fruitfulness is. And fruitfulness is never something I can produce or control, but something I can only make space for, and care for, and tend. The end result is ultimately up to God.
Therefore, the mistake I most often make is to take the posture of productivity for something that can only come about as a result of fruitfulness. And when I do that, it will ultimately end in frustration. Fruitfulness takes a different posture altogether. It requires a posture of openness, surrender, vulnerability, receptivity, and trust. That is what I have been seeing in these verses lately. The disciples had worked hard all night and had absolutely nothing to show for it. Then Jesus comes along an tells them to: "Go back out there, except this time go to the deep water and simply let down your nets. Don't worry about the catch, I will take care of that. I'm more concerned with your posture right now. I'm more concerned with teaching you the difference between productivity and fruitfulness, because the Kingdom is all about fruitfulness. One day you are going to be fishing for men instead, and when that day comes you need to learn the value of this posture of trust and openness and obedience and receptivity. So go out into the deep water, even if that is a place where the fish are harder to find (that's part of the point), and let down your nets. That's it! Don't work and toil and sweat. Just let down your nets and wait on me, I will fill them...in my own time and in my own way. In fact, I am the only one that can truly fill them. And until you learn that you aren't going to be of much use to anyone."
I get the sense that there is a particular posture God is calling me to these days, and it has everything in the world to do with these verses in Luke 5. It seems that there are currently quite a few places in my life where the words worked all night (or toiled in the ESV) and haven't caught anything seem to be appropriate. They are areas where I am trying my best to make something happen--something good even--and having (at least visibly anyway) little to no success. But the other day, as I was reading this passage, it hit me. Maybe I am trying like crazy to achieve something that can only be received. That seems to be one of the many treasures that these particular verses hold. Sometimes we work and sweat and toil away, trying to produce an outcome that really can't be produced, but can only be received. And a certain posture is required for each. The posture of productivity is work, work, and more work. The problem is that, in the spiritual life, productivity isn't the point, fruitfulness is. And fruitfulness is never something I can produce or control, but something I can only make space for, and care for, and tend. The end result is ultimately up to God.
Therefore, the mistake I most often make is to take the posture of productivity for something that can only come about as a result of fruitfulness. And when I do that, it will ultimately end in frustration. Fruitfulness takes a different posture altogether. It requires a posture of openness, surrender, vulnerability, receptivity, and trust. That is what I have been seeing in these verses lately. The disciples had worked hard all night and had absolutely nothing to show for it. Then Jesus comes along an tells them to: "Go back out there, except this time go to the deep water and simply let down your nets. Don't worry about the catch, I will take care of that. I'm more concerned with your posture right now. I'm more concerned with teaching you the difference between productivity and fruitfulness, because the Kingdom is all about fruitfulness. One day you are going to be fishing for men instead, and when that day comes you need to learn the value of this posture of trust and openness and obedience and receptivity. So go out into the deep water, even if that is a place where the fish are harder to find (that's part of the point), and let down your nets. That's it! Don't work and toil and sweat. Just let down your nets and wait on me, I will fill them...in my own time and in my own way. In fact, I am the only one that can truly fill them. And until you learn that you aren't going to be of much use to anyone."
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