God Chose Love

I'm about to do something I swore I wouldn't do. I'm going to chime in on the election. I've stayed fairly quiet about it, with the exception of a few comments here and there and the earful my poor spouse has endured over the months. There's a time when prudence demands you hold your tongue, but there's also a time to speak. I think this is it.

Here's the thing, I'm not concerned with who won - or who didn't. I've never cared much for politics. My life is held by God, and what happens on Earth doesn't shake the foundation I have in Him. If all the world crumbled, my future is secure. But despite that assurance, I can't stop crying. Ever since I heard the results, saw the news clips and photos of protesters, walked among my fellow Christians. My heart is broken. Can I take a minute to tell you why?

It's not that my faith is shaken. I have no fear for the next four years, no anxiety. I have faith that God is in control no matter what. So what breaks my heart?

I have some friends who were very against Trump, even one who has marched in a peaceful protest. But for the most part, my circle is deeply Republican - read deeply against Clinton - and I have never felt so isolated, so ostracized, in all my life. Why? Because I understand the opposition. I would never condone violence, and I don't plan to join any protests, but I understand their fear, and if I had any fear about this election myself, I would be more afraid of Trump too.

The purpose of this post is not to try to say one side is right and one is wrong. As with many conflicts, both are right. And both are wrong. And it all depends on your perspective. I'm brokenhearted because I don't see compassion - likely on either side, though I've only really been around those on one side of the debate. I don't see empathy. No one is even trying to understand.

So let me start by saying you aren't misogynistic racists anymore than they are entitled socialist brats. You're a person with a unique set of life experiences, a unique perspective. You've lived through things that have shaped what is most dear to you, and that's okay. That's good. If you're a Christian, I believe God has allowed you to live the exact life you did so you would be passionate about the exact things you are so God can use you to reach the exact people He needs you to reach.God didn't give us all a heart for children. If He did, who would reach for the adults? He didn't call us all to exemplify tough love. Some people need it, but others are crushed by it. So all I really want right now is to make my voice heard, to call out for empathy, even if no one hears me. I believe if we all sat down and took the time to hear each other's stories - really listen to them - we would have a lot more compassion. So, though it might not help, I'm going to lay out my reasons for my feelings about this whole thing.

It's two fold. The first is that God has given me a heart for the underdog, the downtrodden, the poor and mistreated. The very people who are frightened by Trump. Trump values strength, and his words have devalued the weak - though I pray his actions prove different. God has a special place for 'the least of these' in His heart, and that has always been the burden he has laid on mine. That's my heart, and that shapes my opinion. It's not more right than your opinion, it's just where God has chosen to point me.

The second is this: I have a little girl. She is going to turn two in exactly one week. I would give my life to protect her. My mission since the moment I found out she was a girl was to save her, to shelter her from a culture that has forced us to coin the term 'rape culture'. If you aren't a woman, or have somehow been sheltered from the things many of us have heard, seen and personally experienced, than you don't understand why we so vehemently opposed Trump. His words and actions in regards to women have cut me deeply. Every time someone tells me they support Trump, I quietly remind myself they have their reasons while I fight back feelings of hurt. One of my primary passions is to fight against a culture that would tell my daughter she is an object, and that if she shows any skin it's a man's right to force himself on her. You don't see electing Trump as a blow against women, but many of them do. There is a huge amount of wrath and anger I have to fight through when it comes to the mistreatment of women. This is just who God made me, it's the fight He put in me.

Your fight is different, and I would love to hear about it! But in person. I'll likely turn comments off again for this one considering the volatile nature of the subject matter. Knowing the fight that's in you would help me understand why you feel the way you do. And though we don't agree, maybe we can sympathize. I can understand those protesters (the non-violent ones at least) because if I didn't know that my little girl belongs to God, and her life is safe in His hands, I would probably be out there marching with them: marching for her.

Somewhere out there a person is marching in protest because their parents and grandparents had to stand in the back of the bus. That's their perspective. That's their fight. Somewhere there's a woman who has had to relive the horror of rape, and I promise you she doesn't understand why you don't see Trump the way she does. There's an immigrant who came illegally into this country to save his family from a life more horrific than you can imagine, and he's terrified of being sent back to that life. There's a man somewhere with a little girl, just like mine, who is afraid that if things had gone the other way they would have taken away his only way to protect her. He's not racist. He's not even thinking about minorities right now. And they aren't thinking about him. We're all chasing our own fears, telling our own stories. But we're screaming them! We aren't listening to anybody else's. And everyone's story matters!

I've spent the last few days feeling like my story didn't matter, and that's why I'm sharing it now. I want you to know why I can't be excited about the outcome of the election. I need you to understand my fight, and I need to understand yours. So shut up, and listen! Especially my Christian friends. Just shut up and listen! You don't like the violent protests? Neither do I, but they aren't acting out of selfish desires for government handouts. They have their reasons. They have their stories. Their actions may be wrong, but their fight may not be. What if we gave them our ear? What if we reached out in love? What if we listened to their stories? What if we understood their fight? Maybe you can't condone their fight, but if you understand their motives, it could change your perspective. It would change my perspective.

Of all the images I have seen, the one that stuck in my brain, the one I've been unable to shake, was protesters marching with a flag that was torn in two, the two halves blowing wildly in different directions. How symbolic. Our nation is torn in two, and it won't be mended by a president. The only hope of mending it is God's people reaching out with a divine love that can look past our own feelings and differences and say 'Tell me your story!'.

The real truth is that in four years we have to do this all again. Four years will fly by, but the wounds we inflict on each other through all of this could last much, much longer. God chose love. He chose love to the point that Jesus allowed Himself to be beaten and nailed to a cross, and hung on display, because despite our sin and our arrogance and our hatred, He loved us enough to let His blood be shed for us. He knew we had a story. He knew our rage came from a place of brokenness. He didn't march on Rome to inflict His will in a display of power. He walked softly and humbly to His death, because His love was greater than any other force. His love was the only way to save us. His love is still the only way to save us. His love is still the only thing that matters. The more we lock our doors, batten down the hatches and fight for our own rights, the more we miss the point. They matter too. They mattered enough for Him to die on a cross to save them. So please, hear their stories! Find the place of brokenness in their hearts and speak life to it. Love them, as He loved us!

But What About the Romans?

I recently finished reading through Brennan Manning's The Ragamuffin Gospel - an excellent book, by the way, which I would highly recommend. As I read through the last few chapters today, there was one section that stuck out to me, and I wanted to share some thoughts it sparked. As a warning, this post will get political, or more aptly apolitical, so turn back now if that bothers you. Here's the section that caught my eye:

     In first-century Palestine, the people of Judea and Galilee fudged and hedged on the proclamation of the Reign of God. Jesus announced that the old era was done, that a new age had dawned, and the only appropriate response was to be captivated with joy and wonder.
    His listeners did not say, "Yes, Rabbi, we believe You," or "No, Rabbi, we think you are a fool." Rather they said, "What about the sap-suckin' Romans?" or "When are you going to produce an apocalyptic sign?" or "Why aren't You and Your disciples within the Jewish Law?" or "Whose side do you take in the various legal controversies?"
     Jesus replied that the Romans were not the issue, and in the face of that revelation, the Romans and the Torah were secondary. But His audience stubbornly refused to concede that the Torah could possibly be secondary or that the Roman domination of Palestine could be marginal. The Torah and Rome - these were the relevant issues, the gut problems. "What do You have to say about them, Rabbi?"
    Once again Jesus responded that He did not come to discuss the Law nor to challenge the Roman Empire. He had come to herald the Good News that the Really Real is love and to invite men and women to a joyous response to that love.

In the first chapter of Acts, Jesus has risen from the dead. He has walked among His disciples and they have seen first hand the awe-inspiring power of the Almighty God. They have tasted the sweet truth that death has been conquered and this life is not the end. They have glimpsed our great, eternal hope. And as He prepares to ascend into heaven before their eyes, He asks them to wait in Jerusalem for the Holy Spirit to fall on them, for the church to be birthed, for His power to be unleashed upon the Earth. And they ask "Lord, at this time will you drive out Rome and restore Israel?"

They still had no clue what Jesus was actually trying to do. They didn't realize that His kingdom transcended this fragile, finite world. It is greater and more incomprehensible than any government or tyrant. Frankly, He didn't care one bit about Rome in light of the revelation of His love and redemption. His salvation, His kingdom - that's where He wanted their focus. 

If you know anything about the early history of the church, or the history of the first through third centuries in general, you know that Christians were persecuted and martyred under the rule of the Roman Empire. The Jews had a very good reason for believing their Messiah was coming to drive out the Romans. They had legitimate grounds to be concerned. And that's why they couldn't understand Jesus' apparent disregard for those concerns. He seemed entirely unfazed by the coming persecution of the Romans. Maybe because He knew that death was not the end? Maybe because He and He alone understood that the Kingdom of God was the only Kingdom worthy of His time and energy? Maybe because His purpose was greater? The Good News, the Message of the Cross - it transcended any earthly concern.

Today I read an article that claimed if I did not vote for Trump, I would not be held guiltless before God for my part in allowing Hillary to come to power. Really? I am supposed to believe some guilt will be on me for that? I am supposed to believe it even matters who is president? What's four years in the grand scheme of history? The Romans spent almost 300 years persecuting the Christian church, and we are afraid of what will happen in the next four? I will not carry guilt or blame based on my vote - or lack thereof - and neither will you! To be completely honest, I don't think God cares one bit who you vote for, because in light of the revelation of His love and redemption, it's still secondary. The scope of His vision is far beyond our country or our current situation. His purpose and call are the same as they were when Jesus walked this Earth: "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation." 

Here we sit squabbling over who will be our next president, throwing hateful words and declaring "God's candidate", and all the while Jesus says tenderly, "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation." He looks down on us, as we still can't see the full breadth of His plan, as we still cling futilely to the belief that He came to establish an earthly kingdom, and He whispers, "Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick and the prisoner. Set loose the captive and declare the Good News of the Gospel!" We say, "But, Rabbi, who do we vote for? What do we do about homosexuals in churches? How do we defend our Christian values in a secular world?" And He takes a breath, and with out the frustration you and I would have accrued after generations of the same silly questions, He says, "Be still, and know that I am God," and "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation."

Because that is what is relevant. That is what is important. Vote. Or don't. Do what you feel you must, but remember that this is not what matters most. Keep your faith in the One who truly matters.. Keep your eyes always on His kingdom, because earthly kingdoms come and go, they rise and fall, but His kingdom alone is eternal. His kingdom is the only one truly worth our time and energy. So listen for His voice - but don't be surprised if it isn't talking about which candidate you should endorse. It might say something about loving your neighbor, or reaching for the lost. It might say "Feed my sheep," or "Care for the widows and orphans," but I doubt it will say anything about the ruling body of a fallen world save this:

"Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God." Romans 13:1

I'm turning comments of for this post. It's a statement, not an invitation to debate. Thanks for understanding!

For All the Ragamuffins

Yesterday marked the 19th anniversary of the death of contemporary Christian artist Rich Mullins. If you don't know who he was, I highly encourage you to look up his music, and more importantly his life. He was a ragamuffin. The dictionary definition of ragamuffin is a ragged, disreputable person. Rich Mullins believed that we all come to Christ ragged and disreputable. He believed that Christ doesn't require perfection. He loves us just the way we are, right here and right now, and that will never change no matter what.

How true is that? How freeing?

This very thing has been on my heart a lot lately. I've spent so many years of my Christian walk surrounded by perfection, people who said the right things, did the right things. They looked good. They looked a lot better than me. But the people who have touched my life, the people that have truly, deeply led me closer to Christ, they were ragamuffins. The older I get, the more I believe that you can't make a bit of difference in this world without being authentic. I won't lie, I hate that word. Authentic. It gets tossed around by hip, young church leaders wearing skinny jeans and sports jackets. They know all the cool things to do and say. Maybe I'm just jealous because they look better than me too. They know how to be cool, relatable, appealing. Being authentic is cool now, after all.

But the thing is, the gospel isn't hip or cool. But if we're honest, it sure is relatable. It's a book full of broken people making mistakes. It's filled with failure, heartache, loneliness and this painful yearning for freedom and redemption. It's really, truly authentic.

I just finished reading through I Samuel. Every church-goer knows the story of David, this little shepherd boy, youngest of Jesse's sons. He's the forgotten kid, the nobody. He stays all day in the fields with the sheep. He's the lonely one. He's the broken one. And God sends Samuel to this house to anoint a king for Israel. Jesse sends each son out one by one. He starts with the oldest, maybe the cool one who has it all together. He wanders out in his skinny jeans with a big smile. He knows what to say and do. But God tells Samuel no. So Jesse brings out the next son, then the next, then the next. And finally there was David, God's chosen. He wasn't man's chosen. Samuel takes one look at the eldest, Eliab, and is sure that he is the one. He looks right, he sounds right. He was man's chosen.

But God chose something different. God chose a ragamuffin.

The verse that jumped out at me the most in the entire book was I Samuel 22:2. David is being pursued by Saul at this point. He flees to a cave. He knows he has been anointed as God's chosen king, yet here he is running for his life and hiding out in a cave. He needs an army. He needs help. If it's me at this point, I'm praying God sends the finest warriors in the land, those who are strong and wealthy, who can do the most to help me.

22 David left Gath and escaped to the cave of Adullam. When his brothers and his father’s household heard about it, they went down to him there. 2 All those who were in distress or in debt or discontented gathered around him, and he became their commander. About four hundred men were with him.

He sends more ragamuffins. A whole army of ragamuffins and their ragamuffin king.

When I was younger, it used to bug me that of all the people in scripture God called David a man after His own heart. David had a messy life. He committed adultery and then had the woman's husband murdered when she turned up pregnant. He was sinful and imperfect. But God loved him, truly and deeply. God loved David.

It doesn't bug me so much anymore because I've realized my life is messy too, and if He loved David so deeply, He can love me. And maybe, just maybe, the message of the Ragamuffin Gospel is true: That God loves us no matter what. He didn't hold up perfection as 'a man after His own heart' because none of us could have lived up to that. But if He can love this ragamuffin king so deeply and so fiercely, then He can love us just as much.

I don't have to read my Bible and pray and go to church to earn God's love. It's freely given. How much of a difference would it make in our churches if we did those things, not to earn His love, but because of His love? I think if we all truly understood how deeply God feels for us, we would chase after him with reckless abandon, simply because of the way He feels for us.

Have you ever worked harder because you knew someone was proud of you? Have you ever done more for someone because you knew they loved you? What if instead of our walk with God being an obligation because He said we must, because there are rules and we want to go to heaven, what if it was a response? What if we were simply responding to a God who's love for us was immense and infinite? What if we saw Him looking down on us, proud that we are His children? What if we understood that when we sin He isn't angry because we failed, He weeps because we are distancing ourselves from Him, and He wants nothing more than to be near to us? He doesn't want mindless drones who obey because they'll be punished if they don't, He wants broken and imperfect people who just say 'Yes, I'll accept your love, though it's overwhelming and I don't deserve it'.

He wants ragamuffins.

So thank you sincerely to every ragamuffin whom God has brought through my life. You have done more for me in your brokenness then anyone could ever do in their perfection. Thank you for every wound you've let me see, for every tear I've watched you shed, for every stain that blots your past that you didn't hide from me, for every heartache you've openly endured before me, for every sin I've heard you confess, for every skeleton you've pulled out of your closet. You're brave. You're strong. You're fiercely loved by God. You are a man after His own heart. You are a ragamuffin, and I hope I can be like you.

The Child Lives!

40 Now when Jesus returned, a crowd welcomed him, for they were all expecting him. 41 Then a man named Jairus, a synagogue leader, came and fell at Jesus’ feet, pleading with him to come to his house 42 because his only daughter, a girl of about twelve, was dying.As Jesus was on his way, the crowds almost crushed him. 43 And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years,[c]but no one could heal her. 44 She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped.45 “Who touched me?” Jesus asked.When they all denied it, Peter said, “Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you.”46 But Jesus said, “Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me.”
47 Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed.48 Then he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”
49 While Jesus was still speaking, someone came from the house of Jairus, the synagogue leader. “Your daughter is dead,” he said. “Don’t bother the teacher anymore.”50 Hearing this, Jesus said to Jairus, “Don’t be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed.”51 When he arrived at the house of Jairus, he did not let anyone go in with him except Peter, John and James, and the child’s father and mother. 52 Meanwhile, all the people were wailing and mourning for her.“Stop wailing,” Jesus said. “She is not dead but asleep.”
53 They laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. 54 But he took her by the hand and said, “My child, get up!” 55 Her spirit returned, and at once she stood up. Then Jesus told them to give her something to eat.Luke 8:40-55

I went to church this morning, stood in worship, tried to push aside the cares of life. I was trying not to think about the rest of the day, or the rest of the week, or my son starting a developmental preschool program a week from tomorrow. I was trying to worship God. Sometimes that's hard. I always start by forcing myself to focus on God, on how great He is, on how much I love Him. 

How much I love Him.

If you're anything like me, you can usually remind yourself how much you love God, and you can find worship through that, but you don't always remember how much He loves you. Today something extraordinary happened. The worship team began to play, I hardly even remember the specific songs or the words, but they were playing a love song. It wasn't the normal love song, from my heart to God. God was singing a love song to me. Every word cut me straight to the heart. He was taking the time to say 'Hey, I love you too!' 

One line that did stick out to me this morning as the worship team sang was 'You have the last word. It is finished.'

For those of you who don't know, my three year old son doesn't speak. He has said words on occasion, but he will often go a week without saying a single word. It's been a difficult struggle, but throughout it, I've had peace. When they first evaluated him, they said he might be autistic. God told me to rebuke it, and I did. And he is not autistic. All the signs they saw, the red flags, have been gone for months. All that remains is his speech delay. God kept that promise. Next, God told me he will speak. More than that, he will preach! Most recently, God told me he will have an instantaneous healing. He will speak, and it will be miraculous, and no one will be able to say that it was the speech therapy or anything that man did. It will, undeniably, be the hand of God.

"I have the last word. It is finished!" God said to me this morning as I wept in His presence. And I knew at that moment, it is done. Whatever thing I have been battling, praying over my boy every day and every night. It is finished! He hasn't spoke yet, but he will. 

Leaving church, driving home, sitting here writing this post, I feel what I imagine Jairus felt. Think about it for a minute. I don't know how far they had to walk to get to his house, maybe just a few minutes, maybe an hour. But here is this man who has faith. He knows that only Jesus can save his child, so he goes out and pleads, falls at Jesus' feet, it says, and pleads, "Save my child!" And then Jesus stops when the woman touches the hem of his garment, and Jairus waits. He still has faith. And then a servant comes to him and says 'Your daughter died', and Jesus says, 'Don't listen to them. Believe me and she will be healed!' And Jairus waits. 

He still has faith.

So here's this guy, walking home. Someone just told him his child died, but he knows, by faith, his child lives! I think he was walking home with an overwhelming peace, with joy in his heart, because God promised his child would be healed, and that was truth. That was more true than the word of his servant who said she was dead. God's truth was all that mattered. I like to imagine he walked home thinking 'My child lives.' 

And I sit here now saying, 'My child speaks.' God has promised a miracle, and He has told me 'Soon'. I don't know what soon means exactly, and I don't know how it will happen or what it will look like, but in my heart, the when and the how don't matter. My God said 'It is finished. I have the last word!' As of today, I will no longer say my child will speak. I say, by faith, my child speaks! It is finished!

So I'm walking home with Jesus. I don't know how long the walk will be, I don't care what other people tell me along the way, what the teachers or speech therapists say. Most of all, I don't care what the devil says. My child speaks! My heart soars!

I haven't doubted his healing was coming. I've had overwhelming peace, and my heart has been soaring for a few months now. I almost didn't post about my experience today, because God has been speaking these things to me for a while. It was yet another reminder that God is walking home with me to heal my child, and we will be there soon. 

But I decided to share this for two reasons. The first is this: My son will be speaking soon, and when that day comes, I want to share it with the world. I want as many people as possible to know his struggles, so when God moves this mountain, everyone will see what He has done, for His glory! 

The second is this: If God gave you a promise, and others are telling you something different, you aren't alone! They told Jairus his daughter was dead, but he chose to believe Jesus's words, not theirs! Believe the words God has said. Believe the promises He has whispered to your heart. When all the world thinks your crazy for holding on to hope, listen to God! Read your Bible, pray, surround yourself with the body of Christ, the people that will hold up your hope, and reassure you of God's promises. Seek Him! And when His promises are fulfilled, tell the world! Let your story be an example for those still walking home, still waiting to see the promise revealed. 

We have this beautiful story from Luke as an example. If the story just had Jesus tell Jairus his daughter would be healed, and we never saw the outcome, we might wonder if we could trust His promises. But we have countless examples throughout the scripture of God's faithfulness.

54 But he took her by the hand and said, “My child, get up!” 55 Her spirit returned, and at once she stood up.

Jesus promised to heal this girl, and He never fails on a promise. Jesus promised my son speech, and He never fails on a promise. Whatever God promised you, walk home like Jairus, knowing Jesus is at your side, walking with you to fulfill His promise. Walk home saying to yourself, 'The child lives!'

My God is Bigger!!

A little over a week ago we had a Wednesday night prayer meeting at our church. It was amazing. One of those rare, fleeting moments where God is right there. You can feel Him all around, His spirit at work. We were singing a song, 'Jesus your all I need.' And the first time through that refrain, as I sung those words, He whispered softly to me, 'Really?'

Sure! Of course!

No...
If I'm honest,.. No.

I need food. I need shelter. I need to pay my bills and buy diapers for my kids. I need friendship and love. I need security. I need my debt to be gone and my income to match my expenses. I need a college fund for my kids so they don't end up in debt for school like I am. I need a retirement fund.

'No,' He said. 'I am all you need.'

But, I MUST focus on these things! I have to feed my kids and keep them clothed and cared for, and I need to pay my bills!

Here's the thing, if Jesus is truly all we need, then we are trusting Him for all those things. Sure we need to work and take care of our children, but with the understanding that if it isn't enough, it doesn't matter. Jesus is all we truly need! If I can't pay my bills (which happens) and my kids have no diapers (which thankfully hasn't happened yet) and I have no food (that's happened too) God provides! He always has. I have been without food, but never gone hungry. I have been without clothes and always had something to wear. I have had no money for rent and never spent a night without a roof over my head. God is faithful to His word, and His word says this:

Do Not Worry25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[e]?
28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.Matthew 6:25-34

God laid a question on my heart that night and another this evening. So all I want to do is pass those questions on to you and ask that you earnestly take them to heart. The first is this:

'What could we (the church) accomplish if Jesus was really all we need?'

Imagine the power we would walk in if our full attention was His, trusting He would provide the rest, seeking first the Kingdom of God.

And today He is asking me this:

'How big is your God?'

I know people struggling with illness, financial difficulties. I have friends and relatives battling cancer. My neighbor on the left has no kidneys and can't get a transplant. My neighbor on the right just found out her husband has cancer and has been told he has less than a year to live. How big is your God!? I want to scream it from the rooftops. HOW BIG IS MY GOD!? Is he bigger than debt? Is he bigger than illness? Is he bigger than the troubles of this world?

The answer is a resounding 'Yes!' My God is bigger!!

Do This and You Will Live

Here's the thing, I'm not writing this to create conflict. My personality flees from confrontation. I'm the person who will let the person behind me kick my seat and say nothing because it's not worth the conflict and I can suffer the inconvenience. So why God called me of all people to the gifts he did, I can not fathom. He's given me the gifts of wisdom, discernment, knowledge, and prophesy. And I have been sitting on them for years, because all those things, when used, have the potential to create confrontation. And that's the last thing in the world I want.

As a matter of fact, about eight years ago God gave me a prophetic word for someone, and it blew up in my face. They scolded me, saying if God had a word He would give it to someone older and wiser who had been saved for thirty years, not some kid. It shattered my confidence, and I have spent nearly a decade hiding from my gifts as a result. I questioned myself. I questioned God. But I've come to realize that my decision to hide my gifts forced me into disobedience, running like Jonah as far and fast as I could the other way. It's also a disservice to the church. The body of Christ is meant to function with all its parts, and I have been a dead limb, along for the ride. So I'm making a very hard decision today to operate in the gifts God has given me, but eventually, you have to get out of the whale and head to Nineveh or stay in disobedience. I'm older now, and wiser. Most importantly, I'm confident - not in myself, but in my God. I believe he can use me - even small, young me who flees at the slightest anticipation of conflict.

With that said, God has been speaking to me about the state of the church as a whole. This is certainly not a reflection of all churches or everyone in the church, but it has me angry. Mostly, it breaks my heart. And I feel it's something that has to be addressed. There's a very American idea that has seeped into the church about success and wealth. (It's important to keep those things separate, by the way. The American Dream is not the same thing as Biblical success.) I'm sure you have heard the phrase 'God helps those who help themselves.' Well, not only is that not in the scriptures, it's in direct opposition to the scriptures. God helps the helpless, the broken. His heart is for the widow, the orphan, the broken and the needy. Let's look at a few of my favorite scriptures, starting with Isaiah 1:16-17. You can read the whole chapter for context if you want. God is rebuking Judah and Jerusalem for their evil ways, and He gets to the end and tells them to repent and do what is right. But what is right?

16 “Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean;Put away the evil of your doings from before My eyes.Cease to do evil,17 Learn to do good;Seek justice,Rebuke the oppressor;Defend the fatherless,Plead for the widow.

Seek justice. Rebuke the oppressor. Defend the fatherless. Plead for the widow. That's how you learn to do good.

And in Matthew 25:31-46 we see a picture of the end times, God separating out His children from those who are not His children. By what criteria does He divide them? Tithe? How much they read their Bibles? Did they go to church? No. He looks at one thing and one thing only. How did they treat the poor, the sick, the broken and the needy? Did they feed the hungry? Did they clothe the naked? Did they visit the sick and the prisoner? That is the ONLY thing He looks at. That says something about how important our treatment of those people is to God.

And lastly, I urge you to read Luke 10:25-37. You're probably familiar with it. The story of the good Samaritan. Jesus prefaces the parable with this:

25 And behold, a certain lawyer stood up and tested Him, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”
26 He said to him, “What is written in the law? What is your reading of it?”
27 So he answered and said, “ ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind,' and ‘your neighbor as yourself.’”
28 And He said to him, “You have answered rightly; do this and you will live.”
29 But he, wanting to justify himself, said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

He goes on to tell the parable of the Good Samaritan, saying anyone you see with a need is your neighbor. If you are close enough to see and know they have a need, you are obligated to love them and do what you can. This story is not just a nice way to live or something we should strive for. It's Jesus' answer to 'What shall I do to inherit eternal life?' Jesus says, "Do this and you will live." 

So, loving God is half the equation, but only half. The treatment of the beaten man on the road determines whether or not you go to heaven, whether of not you ARE a Christian, not just the kind of Christian you are. In Matthew, whether or not God ushered them into heaven or said 'Depart from me,' was decided ENTIRELY on their treatment of the poor, broken, and needy. Think on that for a while.

If this post bothers you, I make no apologies. Either it doesn't apply to you, and you can take it as encouragement that you are doing things right, or it convicts you, and that's between you and God. Whether it encourages or convicts, take it as a challenge. That's what I'm doing. The next time God puts a need in your path, remember these scriptures. I'm aware there is a gift of mercy, and maybe you don't have it, but I'm not talking about the gift of mercy. I have that, and it's a totally different thing. It's not an excuse to turn a blind eye, saying 'That's not my calling.' I think these scriptures are pretty clear, and I for one don't want to reach the end of my days and hear this:

1 “Then He will also say to those on the left hand, ‘Depart from Me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels: 42 for I was hungry and you gave Me no food; I was thirsty and you gave Me no drink;43 I was a stranger and you did not take Me in, naked and you did not clothe Me, sick and in prison and you did not visit Me.’

Waiting

Here's something different today. An excerpt from a story I hope to some day write when I have the time. Enjoy!

    As I approached the lake, I saw a man, withered with age. He was sitting on a bench, watching the water churn, leaning forward under the weight of his years. Never had I seen such a sad creature in all my travels, and I felt compelled to speak with him. At first I sat, and a heaviness was upon me. I looked out across the water and saw there what his gaze held. A castle, many spired, glorious in all its grandeur. This was the first I had seen of it, and it made my heart soar.

   For a moment.

   But then the heaviness settled in again, and I looked over at a wrinkled face, aged by the sun, and deep, sad eyes. He didn't look at me. Not even for a moment did his gaze leave that beautiful sight. His breaths came slow and heavy, and I felt an expectancy.

   “Where are you going?” I asked, though it seemed an odd question.

   “There,” he said with a slight smile and a nod to the castle. “But how did you know I was going someplace?”

   I shrugged. “You look as though you are waiting to leave.”

   Again he nodded, but his face fell into a grimace.

   “Do you know about the ferry?” he asked.

   “I don't.”

   He raised an old arm, and I saw how it shook with the effort, as if it had not been lifted in many years, and he pointed across the water.

   “At the end it comes to take us to the castle.”

   I understood. It was almost his time. He would go there, to that beautiful palace, to be with our king, the one I sought. Of all the stories I had heard of his love for his people, his benevolence, I too longed to meet him.

   “I will go soon,” he said, a smile creeping over his face.

   “I'm going to meet him too,” I said, my joy overwhelming. I could hear it in my voice, see it in my reflection, the un-containable smile.

   “Oh,” he said softly, patting my arm with his aged hand. “Wait with me?”

   “Until you go?”

   At last he turned his eyes on me, and they were hollow. Something in them was missing. Some fire that had once burned.

   “How long?” I mumbled, fighting fear as I spat the words out, “How long have you waited?”

   “Fifty years,” he said calmly.

   My heart sank.

   “If you stay, the ferry will come for you,” he continued.

   “I-I'm taking the long road,” I stammered, “Around the lake.”

   He shook his head, “It's a hard road. You will suffer much.”

   Suddenly he pushed himself forward, and I could see he was trying to stand. Again, I felt compelled, and I helped him up, pulling with all my strength, and we hobbled to the shore. He dipped his feet in the water, cool and clear, and I could see his strength returning.

   “Do you see it!?” he cried.

   I gazed across the water, and I heard, like a fading memory, the sound of a whistle, but I saw nothing.

   “The ferry comes! It's coming at last!”

   His face erupted into joy, and my heart grew light, I saw him skip off into the water, and then he was gone, vanished into the mist.

   Suddenly the dark of the twilit evening enveloped me, and the heaviness sunk in once more. He was not wrong. My journey was hard, and it would be nice to rest, to wait for this ferry. I fell to my knees on the sand and I wept as the cold water licked at my thighs like icy tongues. I wept until I felt I could breathe no more, and then I saw a light, and I gazed up. There beside me was the Messenger, holding a lantern, peering out over the lake.

   “Why do you weep?” he asked.

   “My road is hard,” I replied. “And my strength is spent.”

   “And you wish to wait?”

   I nodded.

   “If you do, the ferry will come for you.”

   I thought of that man, skipping off into the water, the mirth and lightness of his soul. The Messenger held out a hand to me, and I took it, and standing, I walked to the bench.

   “It will take me to the castle?”

   “Yes,” he said softly, but there was great sadness in his voice.

   “He said he waited fifty years.”

   He nodded.

   Without another word, he let my hand go, and he began to turn.

   “Wait!” I cried. “He told me I would suffer on the long road. Did he avoid the pain by sitting here?”

   “Some.”

   I steeled my resolve, looking back at the lonely bench, the years of emptiness I would endure sitting on it.

   “But he still suffered?” I asked.

   “Much. Life is never without pain.”

   He was leaving now, I could sense it without looking at him. He was heading to the road. I had one last chance, for a single question burned in my mind.

   “What did he miss?” I asked.

   He turned with a gentle smile. I had asked the right question.