On FOMO

FOMO.  Fear of Missing Out.  A concept that is all too familiar to people today, especially college students.  It can seem harmless, like a normal part of everyday life, nothing to worry about too much.  But FOMO can be debilitating.  It can be murderous to the Christian walk and a rather sneaky stealer of joy when left unaddressed.

I mean just look at it.  It has the word "fear" in it.  Fear is not from God.

Boom.

I'm preaching to myself here, too.  But even as a wretch I get to write and that's some good grace, my friends.

So, I'll say that I do believe there are many underlying issues to FOMO that when left as seeds in the soil of the soul, can be watered into twisting, turning vines--choking and suffocating the heart.

Lack of confidence.  That's where I'll begin.  FOMO is lack of confidence that where the Lord has you is exactly where He wants you to be.  We are not made to be everywhere; that's why God is the only Being who is omnipresent.  That's why we trust in Him and not ourselves to "be with us always to the end of the age" (Matthew 28:20).  That's why there are promises that say if we are to believe in Him to guide us, "He will make our paths straight" (Proverbs 3:6).  This is basic gospel. This is necessary truth.

A lot of times these verses are seen to apply to large decisions we have to make.  Which is totally true.  I do not know how in the world I would be able to make weighty decisions without the guidance of the Spirit.  However, these verses hold true to our everyday lives as well.  Those mundane decisions that seem so simple can sometimes be just as important.  Keeping in step with the Spirit (Galatians 5:25).

How we choose to spend our time is often times a reflection of the heart.

Christian community.  What a beautiful, beautiful thing.  Solitude.  What a beautiful, beautiful thing.  As an introvert, I love both.  Absolutely love them.  In different ways.  At different times.  For different purposes.  Obviously you don't have to be an introvert to appreciate them both.  But for me, I cannot have one without the other.  I cannot.  It is a hard balance to achieve.  But it is a balance that can changes everything and makes life real and full and rich.

Henri J. Nouwen said, "Solitude was where Jesus listened to God. It is where we listen to God. Solitude is where community begins."  How true.  As faithful followers, we have to know when to retreat from the craziness of the world.  We have to know when we have outdone ourselves socially in order to refuel ourselves spiritually.  We have to step back, listen to the Lord, spend time with the Lord, cherish the Lord.  But we cannot stay there.  Then we can go out into community, refreshed, renewed, filled with the Spirit, overjoyed, ready to love, good news on our lips, beyond ourselves, bliss.

We must have confidence in the One who can do everything to know that we cannot do everything.  We can't be everywhere.  We can't be with everyone.  Beware of that Instagram envy.  Beware of promoting that.  The little things.  Again, preaching to myself.

But really, friends!  Trust in the Lord.  Rest your soul.  Hide away in Jesus (Colossians 3:3).

The help.  That's what's next.  Like a wise friend always tells me, "Awareness is 95% of the battle" (if you follow me on Twitter, you may laugh at this).  But really, once you are aware that you need to step back, what do you do and how do you do it?

The Holy Spirit.  Yes.  This verse, as popular as it is, holds such a sweet, sweet truth for us in a nice little hyphenated word that may get thrown under the radar a bit:

"For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline." 2 Timothy 1:7

Self-discipline.  The Spirit gives us self-discipline.  Praise the Lord.

Some verses say "self-control," "a sound mind," or simply "discipline."  All are applicable here.

When we are filled with the Spirit, impossible things happen.  Hearts are changed and eyes are opened.  We are empowered to make decisions we could never dream of.  Our weary selves are awakened, and the Word of Life becomes a raging fire inside of us.  Revelation.  Clarification.  Resolution.  We experience the glory of God.  We feel it in our bones.  We cannot be apathetic to self-discipline when the Spirit is in us, because He will compel us to rearrange everything in our lives that we can in order to bless the Name of the One who gives us life.

The Spirit helps us fight FOMO because the Spirit helps give us self-discipline.

I would venture to say that many Christians still aren't quite sure what the Holy Spirit actually does.  A lot of times it is drilled into us that He gives us words to speak when we are sharing the gospel or that He helps us overcome temptation. And these things are totally, totally true.  And I praise the Lord for this truth.

But beware that it's not always so linear.  It's not so formulaic.  It's not always trust in the Spirit--> things work out.   There are so many different things that can get thrown into the equation.  Heart issues.  External pressures.  Fear.  It is a battle to truly relent to the Spirit.  It is messy.  It is difficult.  It is grief-filled.  It is dangerous.  It is reputation-crushing.  But it is worth it.

The Holy Spirit is quite frankly the most creative force I have ever experienced.  It blows my mind.  Really weird decisions start popping into your head.  Things get "different" when we say no to that movie with friends because we know our time should be spent somewhere else not quite as glamorous, like with an old, depressed friend who's fallen away from the faith.  Glory sneaks into those situations, unexpectedly beautiful, a simple sweetness.  Or when we know that going to that worship concert will just reaffirm our need to be where everyone else is--it's okay to step back.  Or to take some time to clear up that jealousy you've been pushing back in your heart for so long.  Or to simply spend a Friday night at the feet of Jesus, weeping over the joy of the mercy you've found in Him.  To worship.  That's okay.  No Instagram pictures, tweets, or Facebook statuses will tell you that.  But it is.

There is wisdom in managing time well; it's not always overrated.  It can truly glorify God.  Please see that this is not a legalistic, uptight plea.  I love to do things with people...so I do them.  Don't go lock yourself in your room or feel guilty about spending time with friends.  Do it.  But be aware that there are limits, and know that you can trust the Spirit to guide you through those limits.

There is freedom in this, folks.  Freedom in the confidence of the Lord to guide every single step we take, to lead us exactly where we're supposed to be.  And sometimes that means we are doing what everyone else is doing--we aren't missing out!  And there is joy there, too.  But FOMO, when we let it get too far, can be crippling.  It can ruin you; it can rule you.

"In him and through faith in him we may approach God with freedom and confidence." Ephesians 3:12

May the Lord reign over our hearts.
Living and preaching the gospel in all situations, wherever we are.
And being empowered to do so.

Praise Him.

Reach in. There is more.

It's nice to be here.  Home.  But not for home itself though that is quite delightful.  I realize you all faithful readers have not heard from me in a while.  But I love actually living what I write.  I don't always do it, but once God narrowed the distance from my head to my heart, and even further from my heart to my life, it has been rich.  Rich indeed.

You can read more about that here.  Sure, I wrote that in November.  It's been a long process and will be a process until I die.  But that's okay because I'm not in a hurry.  A lot of times the sweetest change comes from the longest process.  I'd rather have sweet than quick any day.

And that's kind of what I've been realizing.  That's what I think I want to write about.  Being home for this short period of time has allowed me to think.  To reflect.  To meditate.  And God speaks so clearly in the silence of this southern town.  I love God more after looking back over another year as a disciple of Christ in a place I would have never thought to live among people I never knew I would meet.  I think about all the struggles and hard things and internal wars that have waged in my heart, the kind where I think there is no way to overcome the sin that eats away at me, that there is no way a perfect Messiah could ever love an imperfect little girl like me.  I think about how He always overcomes and He always loves and I don't think I can ever get over that.  And I would be scared of the day that I do.

I'm a reflector.  Obviously.  I wouldn't be a writer if I wasn't a reflector.  But more importantly I wouldn't be half the Christian I am if I wasn't a reflector.  And it's in those times where I sit on the floor of my bedroom and ask God, "What does this mean," whether if it's about the Word, a thought I've had, a simple phrase I'm fixated on, a vision He has put before my eyes, whatever it is, it's in those times where I hear Him speak. I feel the clarity and sometimes I feel the mystery.  And when I feel the mystery I love the mystery, and I love the Maker all the more.  I don't need answers, I need God.

I get made fun of a lot by the brothers (all in good nature) for spending that time in my room.  I need people.  I will never ever live my life hidden away from the presence of others, though sometimes I would like to.  This is a lesson I have learned so recently, and it goes against my introverted nature, but if it wasn't counter-intuitive it would probably not be a lesson.  A life of ministry, which I pray mine would be, is messy. It is packed with living life together with people, laughing with them, crying with them, doing hard things with them, all bleeding a little along the way.  And in all this glorifying the Father and using friendship and fellowship the way God intended, allowing for healing and restoration, sharing in struggles, being vulnerable until our rib cages show, praying until our throats are dry, our knees are sore, and our hands are reaching the awkwardly sweaty phase from holding each others' for so long, desperate, together, before our Common Creator, fully believing that where we two or more gather, so He is there.  I love that life and I want it.

But then I have to restore myself.  I have to reflect.  I have to pour the Word into my soul until I feel myself being filled.  Full.  Doing what Jesus did not only ministering to others but crying out to the Father.  Praying for the people I see day in and day out.  Interceding and letting Jesus intercede for me.  Letting Jesus pray for me, heal me, refresh me with His Spirit.  Letting the Word teach me who Jesus is, who this Man is that is on His knees for me in that very moment.  Contemplating His love so I can live it.  So I can model it.  So I can become engulfed by it.  I'm not going to live a life that means running around to people, ministering to people, telling things to people, urging people, serving people, doing whatever it is "for people" if it means I lose God.  I'm not going to do it.  I don't care if it looks right, if it's admirable how many people I disciple or teach or love or preach the gospel to.  I'm not going to live a life for God without living a life with God.

I want to do all those things.  All those things I listed I want to do.  And I will.  With God, not apart from Him.  He is not a far off object, He is with me.  Immanuel, yes He is with me.  And thanks be to God, for I have no power even if I have all the right steps.

So, reflect.

A few months ago I went to a conference, and at one point the current speaker was commenting on another speaker who tends to get very deep in His theology and teaching, and some would even say he is over the receivers' heads at times.  But the speaker said something along the lines of this, and I can't stop thinking about it:

"Why are we putting the glory of God on the bottom shelf anyway?  We should be reaching up to find the glory of God.  That is what this speaker causes us to do."

Why are we reaching for this surfacey God?  We aren't we reaching for the best thing, allowing ourselves to be contented with the good thing, not the best thing--the good Christianity, the good devotion, the good prayer life, the good evangelistic style, the good, easy, understandable way of living that we have always lived as a Christian?  Why?  Why aren't we allowing the riches of the Father to drench us, to build us, to cause us to wonder, to stir awe in us, even more to compel us?  If we approach a God we know everything about, a God that is safe, that is visible and that we have all figured out, why approach Him at all?

It's like that treasure chest.  One of my favorite parables is the smallest one, just one verse, Matthew 13:44:  The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.

What a joy that our God is like a treasure.  After thinking about this, I turned to Ephesians, a book I knew was full of the word "riches."  I reflected on it.  I prayed about it.  God taught me this.

What good is the treasure chest itself if we are not reaching into it?  Even more, what good is that field if we leave the treasure chest there?  Nothing.  A lot of us are "spiritual" people and not Spirit-filled people.  A lot of us are placing that chest on our altars and worshipping.  But few of us are even opening it.  Few of us are reaching into the chest.  It's too risky.  What if I break something?  What if I don't know what to do with all those riches?  What if it's too hard to open, what if I can't figure out how to get it open?  What if it changes something?  Well, if we go from poor to rich it better change something.

We have this treasure chest that we've had our whole lives and we're lugging it around talking about it, sharing it, showing it to people.  It turns into this elephant in the room that we try in good intention to talk to people about instead of it being something that's a part of us.  Someone that's a part of us.  Well, "what's in it?" they ask.  You swallow really hard and shrug your shoulders.  Because you don't know.  You know what's on the surface, but you don't know what makes it so good, so worth sharing, so worth carrying with you everywhere, living with, basing your life around.  What if there's more?  What if there's a part to this beloved chest, one that you have sold everything to achieve, that you have never even touched?

Reach into the treasure chest.

This revelation is revolutionary.  I see this heart of mine ripped open, exposed.  I see myself reaching into that chest frantically, grabbing all of the riches I can hold in my hand, and pressing them up to my heart, letting each individual piece fill and form my heart, crystallizing until the bright, shining diamonds are a part of me.  And throughout life and throughout the interactions with the people, the world, the good and the evil, this heart will be tugged, it will be shaken.  But this treasure chest has no bottom, and the riches of His love will never end.  So I'm going to keep reaching.  And He's going to keep filling.

I like french press coffee.  If you don't drink coffee, don't tune me out.  A french press is different than a regular drip coffee maker.  Look it up.  It doesn't use a paper filter, but rather a metal one, so that the oils of the coffee that would normally be soaked into the paper filter are let through the french press filter, making the coffee much fuller and richer.  You can see where this is going.  Well the process of a french press takes much longer and is much more tedious than just throwing a K-cup in the Keurig and pressing a button.  But it is so much more flavorful, deeper, richer.  Now that I've tasted this kind of coffee, I prefer it.  I'd much rather have this coffee than the quicker, more convenient coffee.  It's still coffee, sure.  It will do the job.  But it's nothing like the other.

Once you taste His richness, everything else will be but a bland attempt to satisfy a craving in you that can only be satiated by the very best thing.

Stop trying to stuff that wooden chest into your fleshly chest.  Reach in.  There is more.

The day before the resurrection

What was the world like the day before the resurrection?

Yesterday, Jesus died.  Tomorrow He is set to rise.  But what about today?

It's just a day but a day can be packed with feelings.  Explosive, untamable feelings.  On days of intense heartache or overwhelming anticipation, which could be either one in this case, a day can feel like a thousand days.

One day could feel like a living hell, one where waking up is questionable and each second passing is another dagger pierces through your weathered heart.  You don't make it off the floor.  Your clothes are stained with tears and your throat is sore from the moans.  How will tomorrow come?  When will tomorrow come?

You can't wait.  You are so excited you can barely stand it and so far you have tried to occupy yourself with so many useless things and when you look at the clock it has only been two minutes.  You have done all the strategies you know of for speeding up time--you have watched at least three documentaries, taken five naps, and went on four different runs to help expel some of the energy.  Your heart is exploding.  You are ready.  The day seems never ending.  How will tomorrow come?  When will tomorrow come?

How did the Father feel on this day?  Was He still mourning, slowly beginning to turn His face around?  Or was He in hopeful preparation of the day that all the prophecies inspired by His own power alluded to?

Which one will you choose?
Grief.  Or hope.

How about the men who killed you?  Did they feel satisfied?  How about the man who pierced your side?  Did He feel good about Himself?  Maybe.  Maybe they felt a rush of power and authority.  But maybe a few of these men felt a little worried yet wouldn't admit it to others:  "What if it does come true and He really is God and He really does rise?"  They think but dare wouldn't say.  Maybe it was fleeting.  Maybe the thoughts lasted but for the moment as the put His body in the ground supposedly for good.  Maybe they just shook it off and justified it and just kept on with their business, assuring themselves that there was no possible way.

Did these men have hearts of stone or were they simply confused?  Did these men really have threads of bitterness weaving together their beings, and icy cold blood rushing through their veins?  Were the deepest parts of them vying for an innocent man to be killed?  Did peer pressure play a part?  Were they sitting now alone, wondering in their minds if it was really worth it?  Wondering why they really did it?  Could you see the demons in their eyes? Could you see the smirks of a job well done?

Why did they do it?  How did they feel now that it was done?

How was Mary?  Was she full of hope or was she lying in bed, grieving over the most cruel and public loss of her only son, given her by God Himself?  "It's not fair!" did she scream? Joseph maybe tried to act strong for her but when he got alone his heart broke for her.  His heart broke for Jesus.  His heart broke for the world.

What about His disciples?  What were they doing?  How many of them truly believed that He would rise?  How did they pass the time?  Did they sleep?  What about Simon Peter?  How did he go on knowing he betrayed his teacher, his Rabbi, his dear friend?

What was the mood?
Somber or expectant?
Both?

What about the people He healed?  What about the blind He made see and the lame He made walk? What about the lepers He made clean?  Of what account could they have to dispute?  They had to believe, right?  They had to believe He would rise.  They had no other choice.  Right?

What about the bystanders, the ones who kicked and stoned and mocked and spit at Jesus?  What were they feeling?  Were they feeling like their useless little actions made them feel a part of something grand?  Did they pride their "importance?"  Did they lift up their chins at their revolutionary behavior, their uprising, their unwavering quest for justice and truth in the world?  Did they wave their flags and clap their hands now that they had won?

Or did they feel ashamed?  When the earth shook did they know?  Did they know then that maybe it was all true?  When the veil was torn did they believe?  Did they believe that maybe He was the King, just like He said?

When they saw a man in sheer and utter agony, dying right in front of their faces, covered with lashes and bruises with their names on them, were they moved at all?  When he hung His head, were theirs still raised?  Was that picture ingrained in their memory?  Did it haunt them?  Was every face they saw His?  Was every dream they had of Him? Was every scream they heard like His?  Did it begin to wear down on them, change them?  Could they never get it out of their heads?

Did they believe?  Did they finally believe?

What's it going to take?

What's it going to take to move this world, this nation, this city, this person right beside you?  Where do they fall on this spectrum?  How do they feel about Jesus?  Are they close to believing, do they hate Him, are they scared to go to him, ashamed?  Are they grieving, still?  Does sin still hold them down as all they can see when they look at the cross is that vivid picture of an innocent body, hanging there, pinned there by their very own sin, with no sign of the resurrection to be seen?  He's still there to them.  They look into His pierced side and they see themselves.  Their sin, it killed Him.  Their sin, it kills them.

Are they waiting?  Are they expectant?  Are they hopeful?  Do they believe He will rise?  Did all the promises He made before He died even matter?

Are they proud?  Are they set on equality and revolutionary morality, an ethical deity?  They believe that they live a life deserving something from their own selves and their own standing. Don't they know that which we deserve by that standard is fire?  Don't they know instead they have righteousness?  Don't they know that that's exactly why Jesus came?  Oh, don't they know that's exactly why Jesus died? But are they proud to hang Him there?  Do they march with the gods of love and not the God that is love?  They feel proud to throw that one stone, hit that one nail as hard as they can and then walk away with tears in their eyes as if the nail found its own way into His hand.  Their sin does not affect them.  Life is easier with Jesus under their control.  His truth is diluted to their liking and some may rear their fists back to hit Him while feeling a little unsettled about it.  An inner conflict, an inner war: "Can I take all?  How much?  How much of this man is true?  Why do I feel like this man is changing me?  I don't know Him.  I only want a little.  He won't affect my whole life!  Just one stone and I'll be done.  Then I will turn from my ways and follow Him.  Just one more nail and I will be finished.  It will be finished."

It is finished.

"He can have my all...but no, that's offensive.  Okay, yes I believe Him and believe that He is Lord and I know it's taken me a while to get here but now I feel good.  I feel good. He makes me feel warm and fuzzy.  It's all pretty.  I mean I saw Him die.  I believe it.  I know He will rise.  I believe it.  But when it gets messy, I'm out.  Some of that stuff He stands for seems contradictory to me.  Why would a loving man not let me feel the way I want to feel?  Why would a loving man not let me do what I want to do, be who I want to be?  Why would a loving man not care about my preferences, what works best for me?

Why would this man who died in my place because of my sin not let this life be about me?

Oh.

Do you get it now?

Jesus did more than just stand for righteousness.

He died for it.

And He's not standing anymore.
He's seated at the right hand of God.

So now, no matter how you feel, no matter where you fall, no matter what you believe about the resurrection of Jesus the Christ, you have a different story.  We all have a different story.

We know how it ends.

The head and the heart

Invest.

That's the word.  Or the concept.  That's the idea.  Or the abstraction.  That's the reality.

How do I do it?

"Invest."  That demands effort.  That demands action.  That demands....surrender. (?)

One of these things is not like the other.

Oh, that the distance between my head and my heart was shorter.  That is what I found myself asking God to do in me yesterday.  I didn't quite know where it came from, but now it has become slightly clearer to me, though God is still slowly revealing it to me in His time.

The fact that I'm writing this might be ironic.  You will see why soon.  Just trust me.

My head knows the stuff.  I mean, it doesn't know all of it or even most of it.  But I know how to recite all the books of the Bible and I know the latest (yet not too mainstream) Christian songs and I know about Jesus and His character and His faithfulness.  I know how He loves me unconditionally and I know how He forgives me.  I know the power of the gospel and the truth that by His death and resurrection, I am set free.  I know how He wants to know me.  I know how He desires justice and the manifestation of His glory to be a reality for all people and through all nations, tribes, and tongues.  I know I have been called to share His good news to all the lost.  I know nothing else can satisfy me like He can.  I know these things.  I know that intimacy is important.  I know community is something God beautifully designed to call us up to Him and to help us (though it is not a substitute for God alone).  I know that I need to dive deep into His word, to call upon His name, to heed to His Holy Spirit and to allow it to take over me.  I know I am to feed the hungry, love the orphans, care for the widows.  I know that I have to die daily.  I know I must be humble.  I know that I am not my own.  I know that I need His presence, His power, His love.  I know these things.  In my head.

But lately, God has wrecked me.  He has said to me, "Child, this is not what your heart looks like."  Because if my heart knew these things, I would be moving.  I would be investing.

Truth be told, I love to read about these things, to write about these things, to meditate and ponder over these things.  I like to worship God through poetry and I am quick to sing a song to God or speak a truth to someone.  I like to analyze things, spiritual things.  I like to talk to God.  I like to talk to people.  I like to proclaim radical things that I believe His love calls us to do, or not to do.  I could talk about Jesus all day, about what it means to follow Him, to give up worldly comfort, to break down structures, to stare deep into His eyes, Oh I love to talk of how this is true!  How His Spirit speaks to us, how He comes to us with fire and a mighty rushing wind, how His power is still alive and active.  How He can heal.  How He can repair us, His sons and daughters.  I love to talk about how prayer works, how the Holy Spirit falls over us like a blanket in the sky, how God reveals Himself to us in magnificent, exciting ways.  I could talk to you about signs and wonders.  How people can come to the faith when His followers are made bold, when they give up everything and go, no matter where or when or for how long.  I would talk to you about how God can change even the hardest heart, can make even the dirtiest sinners righteous, how even depression and darkness flee at His light, how the enemy is crushed and how in even in the most hopeless circumstances, there is hope.

I could talk about that all my days.

I could read about that every morning.

I could sing about that each of my evenings.

I could write about that until my time comes to an end.

And I do.

And I will.

And it is not bad to do those things, oh no!  It is a beautiful gift indeed, sent straight from the Father to glorify Himself.  We talk about Him to make Him more known.  We read about Him to learn of His truths and His love so that we may spread them across the nations.  We sing about them as a way of exalting Him who is the Most High, Him who has the power to save the peoples of the world.  We write about Him so that others may be blessed by reading about what God is doing in our lives, what mysteries He has revealed to us about Himself.  His ability to glorify Himself in whatever passion it is He creates in us is absolutely incredible.  It is talented.  It is unheard of.  It is Jesus.

So, all these things I say I know, which, by the way, when I use the phrase "I know," there is a bit of self-criticism in that I think I know more than I actually do, all these things are in my head.  I meditate on them.  I think about them.  I am even adament, fired up about them at times.

But oh, if the distance from my head to my heart was shorter...

When I prayed that, I asked God, how?  It seems an impossible feat, a challenge to the flesh, but I do believe that is what God is working in me right now.

If the distance from my head to my heart was shorter, I would be moved.  I would act.  These truths that I know in my head would so compel me, so wreck me.  The pondering would become the acting.  I would go when He says go and I would go with every bit energy and focus and determination that I know He has placed within me.  I would hold fast to the promise that He has gone before me, that He will keep me strong and blameless to the end.  All the questions, doubts, and fears would have no place in me because I would be so overwhelmed, so full of His love, bursting at my every seam, having His love seep out of the pores of my skin.  I wouldn't second guess my God.  I would trust Him with a trust that is beyond myself.  I would love harder than I have ever loved, a love that is completely unselfish, a love that requires my time, my resources, my undivided attention and my unremitting passion.  I would speak boldly the word of God in the darkest, scariest places.  I would first go to the darkest, scariest places.  I would stop talking about it and start living it.

That's what I would do.

So, what does that mean for me now?  It means investing.  It means surrendering.

This definition of the word invest...is eerily representative of what the word has been meaning to me:

Devote (one's time, effort, or energy) to a particular undertaking with the expectation of a worthwhile result.

The word invest convicts me with its prefix- in.  You can't invest in something while standing on the outside of it.  You have to be in it, right in the middle of it.  Just as Jesus invested in us and entered into our sin and exploded it into a million pieces never to be seen again, so we must invest with that sort of ultimatum--eternity.

Our sin was crushed for eternity.

His love will save for eternity.

For eternity.

As in, forever.

But also as in, for your eternity. Dwelling with Him for the rest of your days. For your eternity. His love will save for eternity.

Sweet, sweet.

And this word does not imply a flakey, one-and-done deal.  This is an investment.  This is something that will require serious and real commitment with the expectation of a serious and REAL outcome.

God used a silly (though some would beg otherwise) modern-day popularity to teach me this whole new lesson, to reveal to me these things about myself.  He used college basketball.

"You're taking stats," He says.  Taking stats.  That means instead of being on the court, in the middle of all the action, I am on the sidelines.  So close, but I won't go inside the white lines.  I can see the game going on, as a matter of fact I must watch it intently.  I know all about the players, I know their weak spots, their strengths.  I know all about the Coach, I work closely alongside Him.  I know about the other team, I have studied them and learned of their tricky ways of playing.  I am knowledgeable of the game, but I'm not playing it.  I'm taking stats.

Invest.  I want to be in this thing.  Surrender.  That is where this starts.  Surrendering my head to believe even more the things that go against my earthly way of thinking, even the most radical truths.  Surrendering my heart to believe the things my head knows--or even the things my brain cannot comprehend.

In order to invest, I must surrender.

In order to experience healing, I must go into to the lives of the sick.

In order to experience people found, I must go into the lives of the lost.

In order to experience broken hearts repaired, I must go into the lives of the brokenhearted.

In order to experience hope, I must go into the lives of the hopeless.

In order to experience life, I must go into the lives of the dead.

In order to experience love, I must go into the lives of the hated.

In order to experience His glory, He must come into the life of this sinner.

At first I used the word "see" in the above set of phrases.  But then I changed it to "experience."

Because even people on the sideline can see it.

I want to live it.

I want to be covered in it.

I want to be right in the middle of it.

His glory.

May He throw my clipboard out the window.

I'm in the game, now.

LMB

A poem

I wrote this poem a few weeks ago but really take no credit for it whatsoever.  He saved me.

I plan on writing an analysis of it (complete with scripture references) in the near future.

Be blessed.

Glass Box

9/22/12

Trapped in this glass box

I see out, I see down

I mean I see all around

Where the walls meet the ground

And I can even see up

But it’s rough

‘Cause I’m stuck

Left wondering how

I got placed in this rut

And I can’t seem to find

My way out of this maze

It’s all haze

The light fades

I want out but I stay

And I know I’m so close

To the air I need most

To get out of this place

It’s like I’m running this race

Of stagnation, no pace

And each move that I make

It’s like another’s erased

No step, no stroke

And this room fills with smoke

It’s in my lungs and I choke

It consumes every note

Of my screams as I fall

I am dead on the ground

You can hear the loud sound

Yes it echoes around

But no walls have crashed down

Who can save me?

Trapped in this glass box

They see in, they see down

I mean they see all around

They see me lying on the ground

But they have places to be

They’re not free

To help me

I’m just a person they see

Some stretch out their hands

As they pass like wind

But their hands hit the wall

Not one touches my skin

I can’t feel

Is this real?

I am numb but I still

Know this bitter cold metal

Like a January chill

Around my wrists and my feet

Leave me bruised, leave me beat

I am chained to defeat

I am tired, I am weak

I am yoked

I am slave

It’s all hopeless and grave

I can’t be brave

I can’t stand straight

I can’t look up

To see anyone’s face

It’s dark in there

The smoke is now thick

And I’m sick

And I’m scarred

And my skin is all charred

And my bones are all crushed

But no ambulance rushed

I’m just ashes and dust

I’m just crumbs, I’m just rust

Is my heart beating still?

Am I left there to die?

Could I still be alive?

Who can save me?

Trapped in this glass box

He sees up

He sees down

Yes He sees all around

He sees me lying on the ground

He seems far away now

But He’s coming my way

And this Man knows my name

Sees my agony, my pain

All my hurt and my shame

So He goes through the same

Right there on the street

He is mocked, He is beat

‘Cause He’s running for me

But the crowd likes my scene

The world wants me to die

Yes they cloud up the sky

But He wants me to live

And see blue.

Who is this?

Himself to give

My soul to take

Sacrifice to make

Why am I one

That He would chase after

And fight through seas of roaring laughter

Waves of slave masters

That build for disaster

Storms of oppression

Try to write the next chapter

My box floats in this ocean

I am tossed left and right

But He’s still in my sight

Coming swift and with might

Shackled still to the floor

But now my eyes see

What is in front of me

What I need.

The smoke clears up

With every step that He takes

So I wait

And I watch

Still bound and in chains

Yes, I stare now, amazed

He is racing toward me

Is this what I see?

He’s coming

He’s coming

So furiously

No, He can’t be stopped

He wants to get to this box

If it means He must die

So He does.

He waves His sword all around

But this sword is a tree

And with scarred hands

He swings

And my enemies flee

He pushes through every force

Every liquid, solid, gas

No He doesn't just pass

He stares straight through the glass

And He sees His beloved

Lying broken and weak

I seek

Something.

Anything.

And then our eyes meet

Can He save me?

Trapped in this glass box

No I’m trapped in Your love

Because You come

And You enter

And You blow this place up

And now the smoke is dissolved

And the walls they explode

As the glass shatters ‘round

And the Sun is exposed

Yes the ceiling is gone

I can see to the blue

It’s all new

But it’s true

And it’s all full of You

The chains fall off my limbs

As You stretch out Your hand

You bring me to my feet

So that now I can stand

Yes my body is healed

And my spirit’s revived

Just Your touch on my skin

And now I’m alive

I am loved.  I am loved.

I never thought it was true

I’m in love!  I’m in love!

And it has to be You

From hopeless to hope

From smoke to air

With Your breath in my lungs

I no longer despair

Now You’re not just a figure

I can only just see

You came into my mess

And You came into me

Like these walls I explode

Yes now I run free

But as I go ‘round this street

Oh the sight that I see

Ten thousand glass boxes

Set all around me

With lifeless bodies

And smoke-filled rooms

Eyes that can’t see the blue

So then what do I do

I cry out to You

Who can save them?

You say it’s for freedom that I am set free

You say open your eyes

You say now I can see

You say I can speak

You say I can run

You say there’s a fight

That’s already been won

I remember that sword

I remember that tree

I remember those walls

As they crashed around me

I remember that box

Before I met You

I remember that darkness

And that smokey room

But now I know life

All because I know You

Because You raced

And You chased

And You even erased

All my fear and my shame

And my hurt and my pain

And You lifted me up

Right off of that floor

And You told me there’s more

This proclaim to the poor

All the good news you've seen

Of the strife that I bore

That glass that was shattered

That promise I gave

That love that I have

Is the one that will save

You said take this and run

And bind up broken hearts

Repair daughters and sons

Take this light to the dark

So now I must go

I must set captives free

And do for Your people

What You've done for me

You saved me.

Bones, pt. 2

The other day I got woken up by a strange man in my room.  This is not a dream, nor is it just a clever ploy to keep you reading.  This really happened.

In my dorm room, one of our lights was out, so my roommate sent in a maintenance order to get it fixed.  We didn't know when maintenance would come, but we figured we probably wouldn't be there.  Well, I was there.

I was asleep and heard a knock on the door so I jumped out of bed and there he was.  He was there to fix the light.  It was awkward and embarrassing and the kind little man with only the best intentions written all over his face said, "Did I wake you up?!"  And of course I said no.

So he woke me up to fix the light.  And now I can see just a little bit clearer.  It's just a little bit brighter in here.

But he had to wake me up.  Or he couldn't get in.

I hardly ever use little analogies from my own life, but this one is just too good for the concept that God has been teaching me not to use.  And it's been stuck in my head ever since it happened.  This really happened.  God's got jokes.

Now, analogies to describe spiritual things can never do justice, they can never really perfectly convey the mighty works of such an eloquent and creative Writer.  And I am not claiming that this one does.  But just think about it.

Too often, we don't want to wake up.  We just want to stay in our comfortable place.  We want breakfast in bed.  We want to watch the cars pass by from the window in our 3rd story rooms.  But we never want to go down the stairs.  We never want to throw back the covers.

Well, scrambled eggs can't make themselves.

Our lights may be broken.  Our vision may be just a little fuzzy; it may be focused on something else.  We may be missing something that cannot be seen, something waiting for us in the corner of the room where the light doesn't quite reach.  We can't see it because our light is broken.  But we don't want to get up.  So we may never know it's there.

We just wait for the light to be fixed.  It will just "happen" to us, right?  We don't have to make an effort to meet people or to fix something in our hearts because it is just a phase and it will pass, right?  We'll be with the right person one day, right?  We'll be in the right town sometime, right?  Or in the right major, or at the right church.  This will all work itself out.  It will just happen, we think.  So we don't even try.  We just sit in our beds, hoping for that middle lightbulb in the center of our ceiling to get fixed by itself.

We need Jesus.

We desperately need Jesus to wake us up.  And sometimes we even ask Him.  Sometimes we even say, "God just wake me up!  Wake me up for what you want me to see!"  But we really have no intentions whatsoever to wake up.  Because it's going to be awkward and embarrassing if He wakes us up because we just look so rough when we first get up.  What, with our hair everywhere and our eyelids oozing and our faces scrunched up.  Or we don't want to wake up because it's cold outside or it's raining or we just don't feel like it.  So we sit.  Our bodies ache for something more, our muscles long to be exercised or even just stretched.  Our bones are dry and we sit.

Bones.

How does this tie in?  I'm not sure.  I think the concept of bones signifies depth.  Bones represent this organic, natural state of vulnerability, of openness, of the very essence that holds our bodies together.  When we ask Jesus to be in our bones, it's like we are telling Jesus that we want to go further than skin deep.  We want more.

And Jesus doesn't need us to tell Him that.  He does it anyway!  He came into our bones the day they crushed His.  He flooded our bodies the day they broke His.  The day we broke His.

He fills us!  Oh, He fills us!  He only wakes us up because He has so much for our eyes to see.  And by so much I mean Him.  He wants us to see Him, His beautiful face and everything that comes from His hand.  His creations, His goodness, His glory.  He just wants that for us because He loves us.  He doesn't want to talk to a sleeping version of us, one that cannot make replies, one that can't laugh or cry even or do anything more than just show off our skin as we sleep.  Because that's all that we offer Him.  Our skin.  Jesus just wants to know us.  He just wants to look into our eyes.  He just wants to fix the light so we can see a little better.  So we can see eternity with Him.

But we have to let Him in.
We have to let Him in when He knocks.

God is a rebuilder.  He restores things and makes them better, new creations, even.  But how can God be a rebuilder and a restorer if there is nothing to rebuild?  How can God rebuild if He doesn't wreck, first?

Wrecking scares us.

But God is a wrecker.  He wrecks every preconception we ever had about life and love and motivation and purpose and direction.  He wrecks our hearts, our souls.  It hurts, but He has to do it.

Where God's perfect love is, there can be no fear, so He wrecks it.
Where God's spirit is, there can be no oppression, so He wrecks it.
Where God's holiness is, there can be no impurity, so He wrecks it.
Where God's grace is, there can be no guilt, so He wrecks it.
Where God's inheritance is, there can be no identity crisis, so He wrecks it.
Where God's Son is, there can be no sin, so He wrecks it.  And He wrecks it forever.

And He rebuilds.  He begins this construction of this beautiful, beautiful new creation.  Reading Isaiah, a wonderful depiction of wreckage and rebuilding, I found myself on the edge of my seat saying, "Is He going to rebuild Israel!?  Is He going to rebuild the land!?  Surely He isn't going to leave it in ruins!"

"Behold, the Lord has proclaimed to the end of the earth: Say to the daughter of Zion, 'Behold, your salvation comes; behold, his reward is with him, and his recompense before him.' And they shall be called The Holy People, The Redeemed of the Lord;and you shall be called Sought Out, A City Not Forsaken." -Isaiah 64:11-12

Not forsaken.  Not barren.  

Sought out.  Redeemed.

God cannot build onto you a grand palace where there lies a dozen rickety shacks.  The Constructor cannot build without first demolishing.  There has to be space.  There has to be space for Him to build.  So everything that is there to begin with, must be destroyed.

Put off your old self.

And let Him renew your mind.

So, by saying, "I trust Jesus.  I want Jesus."  We cannot just add Him onto all the other junk in our lives. Jesus comes into that junk and He wrecks it.  He comes into our dirty hearts and He cleanses them.  He is not the powder we brush over our blemishes.  He removes them.  He doesn't just cover them up, He takes them away.  To have Jesus, we must let Him have us too.  All of us.

Jesus wants to fix our light, even if it means waking us up.

Jesus wants to make us beautiful, even if it means bringing out the wrecking ball.

Jesus wants to enter our bones, even if it means tearing back our skin.

Let Him in.

"Love be in my bones, love shake down my walls..."

LMB

Bones, pt. 1

Summer is over and I got to experience one of the greatest adventures of my life so far.  The thing I prepared for and prayed for and got excited for and nervous for and so many other emotions and preparations were made all for this one thing that happened.  And now it is over.

But I refuse to write a post "closing out" what I learned this summer because in a lot of ways, this summer started so many things, not ended them.  A lot of things that I learned this summer I will keep with me for the rest of my life as God builds onto them, refines them, and even further reveals them to me in new and exciting ways.  A lot of the people I met I have just started forming relationships with, so despite the fact that we are in separate places and we "had a good run," the run is not over, my friends.  Oh, no.  The depths of the purposes of this summer are beginning to dig into my life.  A faith that is not persistent over time is not a real faith.  A faith that comes in stages will leave you with a million lessons left on a shelf, screaming to be used in the next "stage" while you are fumbling in the dark, looking for the same help you have shoved in the corner.

The door to a season may close, I guess.  But it never really locks.

"being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6

Closing off Summer 2012 as a summer that was well worth the while but over and done is like slamming shut the cover of a book and moving on to the next edition, completely forgetting what happened in the book before, leaving it and all of its words and truths and lessons and chapters to collect dust and cobwebs.  Now that's just silly.

Yes, we move on.  But we carry with us lessons and truths we have learned.  We follow up with the people we have met.  So, I'm going to do just that.  For the rest of my life.

Now that that's out of the way...

Reality.  Not just any reality, a different type.  One that is past the reality of just going to church or just going to bible study or even praying pretty prayers, the kind you rehearse before it gets to you in the circle because it has to sound just right.  Oh, no.  Beyond that.  This is the reality of our God.  An active, living, powerful God who interferes with our lives and speaks to us on a daily basis.  I don't mean speaks to us on a surface level, I'm talking about words that pierce us deep to our inner core and make us feel.

Feeling God.  What a controversial issue in Christian culture today.  There is a difference between an emotional Christian high and an emotional response to the love evoked by the One who has captivated our hearts.  So often we try to either:  

1. Avoid the emotional experience by living a life of studying the bible every morning with a cup of coffee and a notepad to jot down new facts about God or Jerusalem or the ancient customs of Israelites or the many trials of Paul and the trinity and whatever else that is solid and good and so applicable to our lives and these things connect to us, they make us ponder and wonder and make us so interested.  And then that's it.  That's enough.  We read about it and study it and know it and like it even, but that's all.

2. Feed off of the emotion and completely miss the God of it all.  We stimulate tears with sad music or think we have to cry or fall on the ground or lift our hands or come down to the alter call and pray "the prayer" because we feel so emotional.  And then we leave the dim lit room and love Jesus for a week and then it's all over and we go through this turmoil of why we can't "feel" God.  It's because we felt human-produced emotion, not the spirit-produced presence of God.  We just want to feel something.

Well, look.  I'm not an expert at this.  What I have learned in my life is that there is emotion involved in loving Jesus.  It's love.  We don't worship that emotion or that feeling.  We worship a God who loves us for all of our faults and shortcomings and quirks and that, my friends, produces love in our hearts.  It produces an active, living, excited love in our hearts for Jesus.  One that can be recognized both internally and externally.

One of my favorite lyrics from John Mark McMillan:

"Like fools in love, we're bound to make a scene..."

And yet we don't speak up about Him.  We talk about Him and read about Him and sing about Him, but when the hard truths come up about the reality of who He is and how His power is in us to use and how He can save even the furthest soul and how He can heal every disease and how He is in every part of our lives and deserves every bit of our surrender, we shrivel.  Yes, when we think about that God, that uncomfortable, interfering God--we stop in our tracks.  We have reached the threshold of "just enough" Jesus.  Just enough Jesus to get by.  So we think.

We don't believe He can speak through us so we don't speak.

We don't believe He can write through us so we don't write.

We don't believe He can speak directly to us so we don't listen.

We don't believe He can reveal to us things we do not know, so we don't ask.

We don't believe we can actually feel His presence so we don't even try.

He says believe.

We don't even try to feel His love.

We don't look for His face everyday.

We just know about Him.

We don't know Him.

This is what He says:

I am your reality.  I am real.  I am active and living and I am here to love you and make you feel loved.  Don't forget the reality of who I am.  Don't forget the reality of a life spent with me.  Right in front of your face, living inside of you.  Yes, you live in another realm, you live in a world with an open heaven right above you, with all the power you could ever ask for available to you.  I want you to have it.  I am the well that never will run dry.  I want to talk to you, I want you to hear my voice.  I want you to feel me at your very core, in the marrow of your dry bones--Yes, I want them to come to life.  Don't look past who I am.  Don't look past what I can do.  I'm not just something you sing about or read about or talk about.  I'm right here.  I'm in everything you see.  I'm everywhere you go.  I'm a reality.  I'm real.

We are not just readers, no.  We are characters in this story.  We are not just on the outside looking in.  We are in.  We are here.  We are a part of all this.  This beauty.  This reality.

Live in expectation.  Expect Him.  

Earth's crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries,

And daub their natural faces unaware.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Lee

Surrender yourself and say, I believe that You are here.  I believe that You can speak to me and I don't care what it is I have to say because all I want to hear is what you have to say.  That's how you hear Him.  You say I don't care what I want to do because all I want to do is what you want me to do.  That's how you feel Him.

He consumes you, your thoughts, your desires, your passions, your every move.
You and Him are one.

The bible does not just say "Study and know about."  It says "Taste and see." (Psalm 34:8)

Taste it.  Taste the sweetness.

My prayer is that God would become more to you than just a powder.  He is not just something you brush onto your skin when you want to look pretty or feel pretty.  He isn't washed away by the strongest rush of water or blown away by the heaviest gust of wind and even the biggest tear could not leave a single track on your face.  No, there is no record of defeat where Jesus is.  His presence is a strong presence.  He is embedded deep into your very bones.  He is in the blood in your veins.  He is deep, deep down to the core of your being, of your soul, of the very essence of who you are.  Every day.  Under every circumstance.  He is in you. He is in everything.

This is a reality.

LMB