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It was a new day at Grace Church. A new pastor was coming, and this would be his first weekend. People were excited, and they needed to be. Grace had gone through an ugly split that had left a lot of angry, hurt, and confused people in its wake. A pretty solid plug of people had started Faith Church down the road and had contacted the outgoing pastor from Grace to help them get started. Some people had left for other churches. Some people had quit attending anywhere.
One of the walking wounded was a former associate pastor – Chris Naylor. Chris had received “the right foot of fellowship” from the previous administration. Though he had found other opportunities for Kingdom service, Chris was still a member – at least on paper – at Grace.
That’s why I was a little surprised when I asked Chris and his wife Rachael if they were going to hear the new guy that weekend, and both immediately, categorically said, “No.”
Ooh. Sorry I asked.
“My friends think I’m bitter,” Chris added.
“Are you?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied honesty. “How do you balance the fact that on the one hand I love the church and wish nothing but the best for them, but on the other hand, have absolutely no respect for their system of leadership or the choices they have made?”
“I don’t know.”
Chris was just getting warmed up as Rachael was tearing up. [click to continue…]
Have you ever woken up first thing in the morning and realized you were in a museum?
And you were what was on display?
You may not have recognized the location at first because everything seemed so real. You were traveling through one mental display after another of your past life.
Names.
Faces.
Feelings.
Friends.
Sometimes the scenes are wistful and happy reminders of people and days gone by. Sometimes you’re reliving the glory days. But sometimes it plays out more like a horror movie or a disaster cleanup. It’s ugly – and you’re the reason.
It may be a new day on the outside, but in here you’re trapped in the old ones. [click to continue…]
Way past the appearances and impressions we try to leave,
Behind the masks and attempts to please the critical and excite the vain -
Beyond the insiders’ lingo and bless-to-impress,
There rests a true heart.
Your heart. My heart.
Authentic, insofar as we can know it without being deceived by it.
Wiser, it seems, than we often give it credit for being.
More terrified at times than we would ever let on.
More prayerful than we often realize…
More ruthlessly demanding that we care to admit in polite company.
Gloriously free from what we used to be – yet humbly aware of how far we have to go. [click to continue…]
In your Christian practice, do you find yourself drawn more toward law-based living or more to grace-based living?
Students in a class I teach deal with that discussion question. I always look forward to their answers. Nearly all of these students are pretty seasoned in their faith, so the overwhelmingly most popular answer is grace-based living. After all, that’s the “correct” one, right?
Nobody ever gets misty-eyed in church singing, “Amazing Law, how sweet the sound…
There are, of course, some brave souls who cop to law-based living. Some do it as an aw-shucks-pray-for-me kind of confession. Some try to reframe the question. “I prefer to think of it as obedience,” one student said recently. I like that.
Others crawfish a little more and ask questions like, “Now what do you mean by that?”
See, nobody wants to admit they’re a legalist. [click to continue…]
Alexander's Bridge over Chickamauga Creek
Imagine throwing a little backyard barbecue and inviting 12,000 of your closest friends. And even closer enemies.
It happened nearly 125 years ago, in 1889, at a place called Chickamauga, near Chattanooga, TN. And it took place where these friends and enemies had once gathered 26 years earlier to kill each other.
You don’t hear as much about the Battle of Chickamauga as you do Vicksburg or Gettysburg or Shiloh. But in two days, 66,000 Confederate and 58,000 Union troops staged two days of hell – desperate, often hand-to-hand combat. Somewhere around 18,480 Confederate and 16,240 Union soldiers were killed, wounded or missing when all was said and done.
One side won the battle. The other won the war.
Then as time passed, something remarkable happened. [click to continue…]
I once read that among those who run in marathon races, somewhere around the 18th mile to the 22nd mile of that 26-mile run, the runner hits “The Wall.”
(That’s about as close as I’ll ever get to a marathon, other than the three days I just hiked through the Disney jungle, but I digress…)
The Wall is a place so hard that the runner thinks he or she can’t possibly continue the race. It’s a little uncertain whether The Wall is physical or psychological, but it’s real. And the temptation to drop out of the race is greater at this point than at any time in the race. The runner feels he can’t make it. The lungs burn, the heart pounds, and the runner fights dizziness and nausea. A little voice begins to whisper (or scream), “Why torture yourself?”
You may not run 26-mile marathons, but if you are a follower of Christ, that fact alone means you are in an endurance race. And you can expect at times to encounter “The Wall.”
You will find The Wall when you have tried time after time to pray consistently, and have failed. [click to continue…]
Jason meant well. But his efforts to help the butterfly-to-be only ended in disaster. For days he had watched the cocoon and wondered what it would produce. Finally he noticed a tiny opening in the cocoon’s wall. On the other side, the new life form was struggling furiously – desperately – to be free of its self-designed prison. Feeling compassion for the little creature, the boy found a sharp knife and carefully cut the cocoon’s wall in order to relieve it from its struggle.
The butterfly soon died. Its wings were grossly deformed, and it was unable to fly. What appeared to be a struggle was actually the process by which the animal’s wings are formed. Jason had short-circuited the process, and the results, though unintentional, were tragic.
You and I are very much like the butterfly. We are often wrapped up in our own kinds of cocoons – alone, stifled, limited, longing to be free. Sometimes these are prisons of our own doing – addictions, bondage to sin, broken relationships, stupid decisions. At other times our cocoons are thrust upon us in the form of disappointments, losses of loved ones, extended illnesses, or the abuse of others. Either way, the results are the same. Why do we feel so alone? What in the world is God up to? Where will we ever find relief? When will we be “free to fly” again? How will we make it through another day? [click to continue…]
Had coffee with a sweet friend last week. She was describing the amazing things the Lord has worked in her life over the summer as she has gone through a wonderfully painful, gloriously gut-wrenching season. Each day the Lord has brought new strength, insights, healing, and refreshing as she prepares for a future that is far less certain… but far more peaceful.
Did you get that?
Far less certain, but far more peaceful.
Like many people, she had defined peace and satisfaction in terms of being able to predict what the future held (among other things). Now as she returns to school, she heads off into an unknown destiny, with lots of uncertainties. But she has a phenomenal peace that she is being held right in the center of God’s heart and hand.
Here’s how she expressed it to me. I was so touched, I wanted to share it with you (my paraphrase): [click to continue…]
Years ago Ken Medema told the story of an experience he had at a youth function in Atlanta. He had been invited to play for a youth party after church one night, and he entertained the kids with some of his old 50s love songs. After his part was over, somebody fired up the record player (yes, record player) and started playing some other music, and these church kids started to dance.
Ken remained off to the side; he had been raised in a home that forbade dancing.
Soon, however, what he called “this wallflower of a girl” approached him shyly and asked, “Would you like to dance?”
I should mention at this point that Ken is completely blind. He was horrified at the thought of being laughed out of the room for trying something so completely risky and foreign to him, and he tried to beg off.
But Miss Wallflower wasn’t taking no for an answer. [click to continue…]
Imagine a giant stadium, and you’re in it.
As in, on the field.
You’re engaged in a contest that will test every fiber of your strength, will, endurance, and confidence. Sometimes you’re on defense, and the task is to stand your ground against an opponent that has considerable resources. Sometimes you’re on offense, and the task is to recapture lost ground or gain new ground as you outwit, outmaneuver, or overpower your enemy.
Let’s just go ahead and dispense with the obvious. I like you and everything. But left to your own game plan or abilities, you’re cosmic road kill. Dead meat with all the trimmings.
You. Can’t. Win. This.
Heck, you won’t even make the uniforms look pretty.
Oh, and did I mention… this is no game. This is your life. The visible and the invisible. The temporal and the eternal. The private and the very public. The “spiritual” and the “secular” (as if there is any distinction).
Fortunately, you do have some weapons at your disposal that are mighty through God. And there is a pathway – a strategy that leads to prevailing strength and power. [click to continue…]
It was a new day at Grace Church. A new pastor was coming, and this would be his first weekend. People were excited, and they needed to be. Grace had gone through an ugly split that had left a lot of angry, hurt, and confused people in its wake. A pretty solid plug of people had started Faith Church down the road and had contacted the outgoing pastor from Grace to help them get started. Some people had left for other churches. Some people had quit attending anywhere.
