The Survey Says...

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23337807/

Read through that article, because it is very telling. While I live in a different country (Yes, Canada is not a state) we are intimately tied to our Southern Cousins.

The general tone of the article is this: religion is not cutting it. There are few converts (across all faith's), and those that are 'wins' are merely cross-pollinated from another denomination. Catholics suffering the worst from this symptom.

Penn State University sociologist Roger Finke, who consulted in the survey planning. "Right now, there is a dropping confidence in organized religion, especially in the traditional religious forms."

Let's unpack that a little bit. Notice how the problem here is not with faith in general, although one could argue that the assault on faith is beginning to take it's toll, but rather the problem is with organized religion.

If you've talked to me at any point in time during the past 8 years, you know I'm no fan of 'organized religion.' I don't think that Jesus mandated it, and I don't think it has any place in Christianity. Don't get me wrong here, I'm not saying the Church should be dissolved, and any source of authority removed. Rather, I'm stating that the four walls of church's should be demolished, and the big front doors torn down.

Instead, we should meet in the streets of our communities, meeting with the people who live there, learning their needs, and then meeting them. We have become an increasing irrelevant faith. We talk about how much good we do, but then what do we actually do?

The majority of the unaffiliated — 12 percent of the overall population — describe their religion as "nothing in particular," and about half of those say faith is at least somewhat important to them. Atheists or agnostics account for 4 percent of the total population.

Notice that. 12 percent say they have no religion, that means a staggering 88% classify themselves as having and actively believing in some faith. Another 6% are saying that faith is at least somewhat important to them. Where are those 6% falling? Who is meeting their needs?

Many Americans have vague denominational ties at best. People who call themselves "just a Protestant," in fact, account for nearly 10 percent of all Protestants.

This is also a very significant trend, and something I have stated time and time again -- denominations are not cool. Yes, we need to identify with something, and we need to have clearly defined beliefs. But why on earth (pun intended) are we dividing ourselves over such trivial things? Would Jesus, Paul, Peter or the countless others really be satisfied with these divisions, or would they condemn us for being legalistic and, dare I say it, pharasitical?

Although evangelical churches strive to win new Christian believers from the "unchurched," the survey found most converts to evangelical churches were raised Protestant.

Note that statement right there. You know what that screams at me? We aren't doing our job. People keep searching for the depth they long for, and they aren't finding it. They go from one nuance to another in hopes that it will revitalize their dying selves, and in reality they are looking in all the wrong places.

We must live our our faith. Not in the talk about it, preaching kind of way. But in the practical saving lives, handing out food, talking with our neighbours kind of ways. These are the things that make the difference. Digging under the skin, asking the hard questions, pushing through the difficulties of a relationship and showing people that they are worth it.

Pushing the Boundaries

Here's a thought. How much time do we actually sit down to think?






Did you just graze over that? Or did you stop to really think how much time you spend just meditating on the day or particular topics. It's alarming how much of our days we fill with white noise, background something or other that will ensure we don't have to think or be concerned with what is really going on.

Take that and apply it to the upcoming generation. The ones who grew up with computers, the internet and every way imaginable to communicate with someone who isn't right in their face. You bored? The internet has your fix. Games, reading, movies, music, anything you could ever want right at your fingertips. But it comes at a cost.

You shut down. You stop really thinking, stop evaluating what is going on in and around you. The question is it worth it? And you stop asking, could it be better?

How many times have you heard that youth have a naeve vigor? That they will dream, without any thought for possible consequences? And how often have you heard it said that people lose that as they get older? I have a single question to ask, why?

Why are we satisfied with letting the hard questions slide, and the big dreams go unrealized? Why do we allow life to weigh us down? When can we push the boundaries a little further than they were before, and dare to dream that our lives could be more than they are today?

Church is a prime example of this, and it is a symptom that I am fighting as I grow older. Never stop dreaming, never stop hoping. I was thinking today, and it occurred to me that Jesus only lived until he was 32. He began his ministry when he was thirty. In the Jewish culture, he was but a young pup, barely ready for the primetime. And you had to know that you would not have wanted to be his rabbi. How could you contain the knowledge and dreams that must have come pouring out of him? More importantly, should you?

Jesus called all the little children unto him, and said that the kingdom of God belongs to ones such as these. We have often taken that to mean their innocense, but I would like to propose a different thought to add to the traditional one. Jesus also meant that they would inheret the kingdom of God because they were entirely uninhibited. They saw Jesus, they wanted to run to Jesus, so they did. Nothing stopped them to say it might not be appropriate, or that he might be busy. A + B = C without any modifiers. Simple.

Dare to dream, because our heavily Father dreamed when He created us, and he has big dreams for each and every one of us. He wants us to imagine all that we could be, and then pursue it without abandon. To imagine the world as He sees it, and then do everything in our power to make it so. And that change, those boundaries that need to be pushed, start with us. With me.

At The Centre of it All

The interesting thing I've always found about human beings is our ability to so aptly lie to ourselves and others around us. We lie about how wealthy we are, about our relationships, about how we're feeling, about whether we like something or not, we lie about who we are. Let's get right down to the nitty gritty... we hate to face who we really are.


I've spent my fair share of time living with other young men in the past few years. Even some older men, and if there is one thing I've learned about men, it's that they love to ignore the messes that they live in. As long as it is not directly effecting them in some detrimental way, then it is not affecting them at all. It mine as well not exist to them. It's functional.


And from my conversations and the observations I've made about the majority of women it is this, that as long as everything is neat, tidy and appears clean, then they are also happy. Their house can be a wreck five minutes before guests walk through the door, but as long as everything is neat and tidy when the doorbell rings they are happy. It's all about appearances, and everything has it's place.

If there is one thing that I have a hard time accepting about my faith it's this: grace. There is nothing I can do (or not do) to earn grace. It is offered freely to me, without conditions or standards. I did not pass a grade so I could be accepted into grace. Rather, it is because of my inadequacies that I am in need of grace. By very nature, I want to earn something, I want to be proud of my accomplishment when it is given to me. Grace, on the other hand is a badge of unaccomplishment. I accept it simply because it is offered to me, and I need it fully.

There is something humbling about that realization. Where I have to stop and ponder, in the midst of a busy world the implications of something offered freely. We work for everything that we earn. But this is not something I worked for, or that I earned. Yet it is more important than any of those carnal things. Where they will fade away to dust, this gift is eternal. And all I have to do is accept it.

To be honest, I'm dumbfounded. I'm confused, disillusioned, frustrated and dazed. I want to do SOMETHING, say SOMETHING that would give me credit for such an awesome gift, but I am left short of the mark. In it's very nature, I am inadequate. And in that moment of disillusionment, I get a glimpse of God. I am not focusing on myself, but on Him. And in that moment, He smiles at me, and simply says, "I know."

No lies. No facade. Just truth.

At the centre of it all, I'm not good enough, and that doesn't mean a thing.

Steady The Course

A dank smell lingered in the musty air. It must have been centuries since the last human thing moved through these halls. The walls on either side were slick with a thin sheen of water, and were spotted with moss like a leopard. Rays of sunshine pried their way in through the broken ceiling, and fjorded through the thick dust. The floor was cobbled with weathered stones that had once provided an adequate walkway, but now only intermittently broke through the mud.

Each step was a chore, lifting a foot out of the gripping mud, while the other was sucked in deeper. Breathing was like standing in a wheat field in the thick of harvest. The armour that he carried weighed heavily upon him, and many had called it old fashioned and outdated. It was less than fashionable, but it was the only real way to protect himself. And even here, when it seemed entirely impractical, it was a necessity.

It only took one small crevass in the wall holding a single trap to end the entire journey. Already he had survived three attempts on his life. One was a metal trap falling from a hidden compartment in the roof after he carelessly stepped on a loose stone. Had it not been for the rust, his sword would have never broken through. He was saved from the second trap by his sturdy breastplate, as sharp spears lunged for his heart as he opened a door. While not penetrating the steel, it pushed him back nearly fifteen feet, and left more than a few bruises on his body. The last was a form of quicksand that lay in waiting for an unsuspecting adventurer, and when it clutched at his ankles, arrows shot from the wall. His shield deflected them at the last moment, and his boots allowed him to slowly climb out of the sand. Unfashionable as the armour may be, no one could deny it's practical uses.

As he tread softly down the muddy path, he began to wonder if this was the right way. He'd seen that tree before, was he travelling in circles? The mud began to seep into his boots, and branches at the trees began to scrape at his face, clawing viciously at him. Thorns and vines clutched at his ankles at legs, seeking to slow or stop him. The light that had once guided him was now failing as night began to dawn and the few rays of light began to lose their luster.

It was going to be a long night.

--

I don't know if you've ever felt that way. I know I have. I know that I do. Over the past few weeks, I have been reciting to myself the many promises that God makes to me. That He will watch over me and protect me. That I will not go hungry or be unable to live, because He cares for me. That He knew me in the womb, and has a plan for my life, not to harm me, but help. Yet I struggle to find peace.

I seek to equip myself with the armour, and yet I find it constantly wanting to fall off. I find forces all around me clawing at me, scraping, scratching and meticulously combing me over for any sign of weakness. And I am weak.

God, I need peace. I need hope. I need to feel your presence. I need to know that there is stability in the storm, and I need to know that you are still in control of the waves and the rain. Because I know that I cannot swim through this one, I will surely drown. I need your help.

So please, meet me here. It's been over a year since I've had any stability in my life, and I'll wait the rest of my life if I have to, as long as I know that you are in control. Meet me here, in this dark, damp hallway. Give me rest, give me sustainence. But above all, give me You.

Scum

Have you ever cleaned a dirty bathtub? I'm not talking about the once a week clean... I'm talking about the once every three months clean. Your once shiny bathtub has accumulated a layer of filth. Soap scum builds up, a scaly monster upon the landscape. Pieces of unidentified dirt have caked themselves onto the surface.

You boldly approach that challenge, with a hopeful heart. But as you begin to scrub, it seems to crawl deep within your skin, burrowing. You feel dirty as you peel layer after layer of dirt off of the tub. High powered chemicals aid you, but even after an hour of hard scrubbing that tub still has caked on dirt. Very few things will actually lift that dirt from the surface, and it seems like it will never, ever come off.

I feel that way often. No matter how much time I spend on my knees, scrubbing my soul and heart out, I just can't get clean. There is always that layer of crud clasping onto me, fusing itself to my very being. I feel weary, worn, and incapable.

The reality of the situation is that I am incapable. I can spend all day scrubbing, but I'm scrubbing with the wrong stuff. I will never be able to remove that crud. I don't have the 'elbow grease' to get it off. I am the one that put it there in the first place. But the news is not all bad, I'm right in at least one thing: I'm on my knees.

Despite all the scum that has caked itself onto me over the years, God doesn't see any of it. His grace, however undeserving I am, covers it all. It renews me, refreshes me, and adds that fresh smell all over again. To Him, each time I repent of my sins, I am brand new.

Amazing what cleaning a bathroom will teach you.

To all those...

Isaiah 9

To all those who find themselves outside on a cold night, unsure of which was is home. Scared, wet and all alone. Rejoice. A warm fire is near.

To all who are weary, tired from the journey, afraid of the fight, wounded from the enemy. Rejoice. Rest and safety is at hand.

To all those who are distraught, unclear of how to proceed, and disillusioned with where the path has brought them. Rejoice. The path has been set, and your footing is sure.

To all the broken hearts, which were once filled with hopes and dreams, now lost to the waves of time. Rejoice. Hope has come again.

To all the young, with the world ahead of you, and very little behind you. Rejoice. For you are blessed in not knowing better.

To the adult, who feels the world passing them by, and can't help but wish for more. Rejoice. For you will have everything you need.

To all the old, with the weight of time upon your shoulders, and the bright eyed days of your youth long since faded. Rejoice. The weight is lifted.

To all the downtrodden, whose legs will not carry them any further, and who suffer from cuts innumerable. Rejoice. For you will find a warm bath, and healing for your wounds.

To the sinner, whose actions reveal true character and whose judgement lies over the close horizon. Rejoice. For you are free.

To the Church, whose potential knows no limit, and whose character seems endlessly tainted by our flesh. Rejoice. For we are cleansed.

To the saint, who strives to leave this world behind, and go home. Rejoice. Home is at hand.

To the entire world, which finds itself in the mire of it's crumbling humanity. Rejoice. For you will be rebuilt.

Rejoice in a Saviour who has redeemed us from exile, and brought us back into home. That we may find rest, healing, and purpose. And upon him a kingdom has risen that cannot be conquered.

Dependance

How often do I want all the benefits without any of the pain? I want everything that my relationship with God should bring, without any of the shaping that comes from a loving Father. I want to be wise, mature, balanced and Godly, but I don't want to have to work for any of it. Wouldn't life be easier if I could just choose what characteristics I want? How foolish would I be.

I am not a wise man. I wouldn't even call myself a Godly man. I desire deeply to be both of those things, but I struggle. I struggle with myself; a constant state of turmoil between my desires and reality. I want to be free from all of this, I want to be wholly dependant on God.

So what does the foolish (or wise?) man do? He prays for God to do just that. Make him fully dependant on God. God is always faithful to answer. Whether you want it or not, the words have been spoken, and the intent expressed.

Each day, I am made to be more dependant on God. Less dependant on myself. And I'm completely resolved to that fate. Each day brings less money, and a little more stress. Each day finds me turning over more, and depending less on my own strength. I have little choice, because I'm running out of options.

Yet I know I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Every part of me wants to leave, to fall back on something easier, something familiar. But there is a still small voice telling me to wait. "Not yet," it says. So I wait, I search, and I turn over every prayer and petition, with faith, to my Father in heaven.

This is a staging point. Every major Biblical (and faith) character had to first learn to depend. Not on their own strength or wit, but only on the Provider. Noah had to build an Ark. Abraham had to leave his home. Moses had to go back to Egypt. The Israelites had to wander the desert. David had to run from Saul's men. The prophets were outcasts. Jesus spent 40 days in the desert. Paul was blind. There are lessons to be learned, and God asks for one thing: all of us.

So You have it. Take it, because I can't do it. I never could. I am dependant on You.

Breathe

This is the air I breathe
This is the air I breathe
Your holy presence living in me

This is my daily bread
This is my daily bread
Your very word spoken to me

And I, I'm desperate for you
And I, I'm I'm lost without you

The very air I breathe. The food that I eat. These are things that describe God, but do they describe God in you? Do they describe God in me? I wonder that sometimes. Is God really the air that I breathe? Do I really feel I need him that much? I say feel not because of an emotion, but because the reality is that I do. Anything else is foolishness.

Swimming, deep underwater. You've taken a giant gulp of breathe and begun to dive down, as deep as you possibly go. It doesn't take long for your ears to start ringing, and your lungs to start hurting. But there is a strange peace under the water, as all the noise from the world is muffled, and it's you and the water. Peace to think, peace to listen. But you can't stay forever. Your body starts to hunger for pure oxygen, and your blood begins to run thin. You kick to propel yourself up, but it's so far away. Panic starts to set in as your mind dims, and your limbs slow. Desperation sweeps over you as the possiblity of not reaching the surface becomes very real. You NEED air.

And in that instant, there is nothing else on your mind. Not the pain in your limbs, or the peacefulness of the water. Not the other people in the pool, or what is going on later in the day. There is one thing on your mind: "I must breathe."

Your head breaks the surface of the water, and you gasp for breathe, taking in every ounce of life that you can draw. You have never appreciated something you always had so much. It permeates your entire body, as energy returns, revitalizing you.

Do you need God that much? Have you ever had that moment where you're not sure you're going to reach the surface? Where the thought of God overwhelms all your other senses as you yearn for His life giving presence?

That's the norm. He is the air we breathe. Without Him, we are dead, in every sense of the world.

What are you waiting for? Your head is above the surface, breathe.

Remember

How much we forget through our lives. It begs the question how different our lives would be if we had perfect memories. Would you remember your first steps? The times you needed to be carried to get anywhere? The first time you tasted sugar? The first time you were on a swing? The first time you got hit? The first friend you made? Your first day of school? The day you first met Jesus?

We forget so much. Some of it is worth forgetting, and some we need to remember. Like that first rush of realizing how inadequate we are in front of God. The complete and total brokenness we experience when we enter His presence. That longing and absolute need for Him in our lives. That time that we forget so quickly as the colour fades from our life.

But not all is lost. Even as we watch the memories glide almost peacefully away from us, we retain some faint residue of those experiences. If nothing more than a thin film of mildew on some remote part of our memories, everyone remembers in some form what those longings were like. And how quickly we are to try to scrub ourselves of it. If we remember it, we are bound to it.

I am. I did. I wish I could say I didn't. But too often I find myself scrubbing furiously, trying to remove any trace so that I can claim ignorance. But I'm not ignorant. I know full well what I have left in my path, and I long to be back there. In that naive chasing after a full God. I want to be a child again. I want to, without abandon chase after a Father who loves me, cares for me, and who I have no reason to doubt. Someone who I feel like I can talk to one on one, without my own sin or my own doubts getting in the way.

I want to stop scrubbing the soap, and start scrubbing the dirt.

My life is inversed. I have forgotten. I want to remember what it means to run playfully through the fields of light once more. I want to leave this dark, damp, musty cellar and burst through the doors into the radiant sunshine once more. But I'm afraid of what I'll look like, what I'll be.

And then I remember. I was never enough. I don't deserve this wonderful gift. But it is offered freely to me. Someone has already taken all of this dirt, and cleansed me from it. Though I have done nothing to deserve it, I am clean. And I come once more, crawling on me knees, towards an almighty God who can strike me down at any moment, black like death, but white like the sun.

In that moment, I look down, expecting to see a pale, frail, naked body covered in soot, only to discover a healthy, clean, robed in white body. I am clean. And in that moment, that fraction of a second, I am clean.

I remember.

Grace

I'll be honest with you, grace has always been a foreign concept to me. Grace is something that does not come naturally to me, and thus fundamentally differs from my core. Not my core beliefs, but of who I am, a schism between two parts of me, if you will.

Yet I have grace striking in recent weeks. While at work, I have plenty of time to listen to music, and I was listening through the entirety of Jennifer Knapp's collection. Have you ever had the music just slow for a moment, as the words jump out at you in a way you've never heard before. You've listened to the song a thousand times, and can repeat every word, but this one time, they smack you upside the head? I had one of those moments.

I've exhausted every possible solution,
I've tried every last game there is to play.
In this search for the Christ like perfection
I'm convinced I've only left my God ashamed
I cry I wonder can He hear my despair.
Afraid to lift my hands afraid he doesn't care.

And if He answers and I fall again
Can I still be His daughter can I still depend on Him.
When I'm down search every mistake, looking for new regrets.
Sometimes I forget, I forget that His grace is sufficient for me.
That it's deeper and wider than I can conceive.

His Grace is sufficient for me.
My convictions seem to fade with desperation,
My hope declines with each and every tear.
My sin an anchor and this grace just an illusion.

The gavels heavy and justice is near.
Up comes the light and finds the stains on my hands.
Up comes my pride, I hide, I know he won't understand.
Cause it's deeper than deep and it's wider then wide.
Why did I ever doubt now I'm dying inside. (chorus).

Wow. That just blew me away. I forget how wide it really is. Scratch that, I forget what grace is somedays. I forget how much I really need it. I forget that I need it at all.

That's a scary place to be in. It's a lot like forgetting to swim in the middle of the ocean. Like forgetting to breathe. Forgetting to eat. I need grace. I need God. Because as much as I like to think I'm autonomous, without the need for anyone or anything's input, I am not enough. I am insufficient to meet the benchmark. And that means the only way I'm passing is grace.

God's grace is sufficient for me. When was the last time you ask yourself whether you're trusting that grace? I have to ask myself daily. And when I answer it, I need to ask for more grace. None of us are perfect, and that is the entire point of it all.

But how often do we forget that? Think we need to be all that. Think we need to meet everyone's expectations? Think that we need to meet God's expectations. Reality check, there ARE no expectations on us. Thus grace. We are given something freely. Something undeserved. Something that we could never, ever accomplish.

That rocks my world.

Here's a Thought

Challenge the day. Never stand still. Always think critically. Push your boundaries. Carpe Diem. How many of us repeat these niceties to ourselves when we get up in the morning? How many of us desire to truly seize the day and make a difference in the lives around us? But when the day is failing, and the night begins to roll over the horizon, have you really accomplished what you set out to do?

Perhaps it was the choices, things left unsaid, things that should have gone unsaid. Maybe you find yourself in a rut working somewhere you don't enjoy, studying something you feel compelled to complete, or with people you really don't like.

Many different things drag us. There are many pits that threaten to drag us down, and keep us in the dirt. But we are called to much more than that. Called to excellence, called to a life that changes those who are around us by simply being. Is that how people describe you?

I have often found myself settling. Going for the things that are easier. Choosing to befriend someone rather than challenge them, despite the latter being the right choice. Staying in the familiar, when God asks me to trek out into the unknown. It is the safe choice. It is the easy choice.

It's no wonder that Jesus chose the analogy of sheep when describing us. Minding our own business. Herded onto the next field. But that is not the only analogy that is used. We are called to be wise as serpents, and harmless as doves (Matthew 10:16), salt and light (Matthew 5:13-16), labourers in a field (1 Corinthians 3:6-9), children of God (Galatians 1:24-26 and 4:1-7), the Body of Christ (Romans 12:3-8 and 1 Corinthians 12:12-27), and the Bride of Christ (Ephesians 5:23-32).

Some of those are analogies of weakness, but a surprising number of them are ones of independence. Not from God, but from the world. They stand apart, they are unabashed. You can't avoid salt or light. You are always related to your parents. A body is inseparable from it's Head. Finally, a bride stands before a crowd, and is to be adored by those in attendance.

So why do we shrink away? There is no real easy answer to the question, but it really boils down to fear. We run away from those things we think will hurt us, or those that will leave us disillusioned. Jesus did describe that the path was narrow and less traveled, and I firmly believe that it is no less true today than when He said it.

Which path are you traveling?

Painting

Have you ever stopped to just reflect on where life has taken you? The ups, and the downs, like a gentle rolling vista at places, and jutting, harsh mountains at others. There's little doubt that each of our lives would make an interesting painting, if only we had the wisdom to portray it.

If I had to paint the last 9 months of my life, it would be a high mountain pass, with thin, seeming impassable trails leading around sharp corners. If you dared look down, there would be the stunning view of forests, rivers and life growing, but you are so far removed from it. You gasp for breath, but not because of how hard you are working, but because of how high you are. Each step is a slow, tedious one as you plan your footholds praying that they don't give way. Without a doubt, falling would lead to a very painful, very awful death. Onward you must go, because going back is not an option. Inch by inch you crawl onwards, clinging to the slick cliff face.

I want to quit. I want it to all end and be back among the safety of the forest, with it's soft underbrush, and the gentle bubbling of water as it cascades down the riverbed. This is a place where animals graze quiety beside you, and the friendlier ones brush up playfully against your leg. It is safe, comforting, and free.

But I am not there any longer, I am high up this awful cliff, with promises of peace and joy unknown on the other side. It seemed like ages ago I set out on this journey, and time just scrapes slowly by. Rocks jab at my shins and thighs, scraping them through my clothes. I clasp tightly to the sparse handholds, and suffer bleeding palms because of it. My muscles ache, my head is throbbing, and my throat is parched. But somehow, I know that I would not be happy down in the forest. It is but a distant memory.

To be honest, I'm not sure how I would capture that in a painting. It would take someone far more talented than me to offer others a glimpse into my mind's eye. There have been times when I have felt a tortured soul. Strangely, however, I have also found peace. Despite Fiji, God has reaffirmed my vision for ministry. Despite Bethel, I have found a new church where I am challenged and grow. Despite Jordan, I will learn to love again, and be loved in return. Despite my job, God has blessed me with another, and one that I enjoy equally. Despite moving, I have a roof over my head and I've made friends.

My hands may be cut, but only so that they are stronger. My eyes may gaze upon the lush forest below, but only so I know how beautiful my new home will be. My muscles ache, but only because they have not been used. My throat is parched, but only so I thirst for the Living Water. My head may throb, but only so I appreciate rest.

Each small trial prepares me for infinitely more in the future. I am blessed.

A Parent's Love

Stop and look at that photo for just a moment. What are some emotions that go through you? What thoughts do you think?

Sadness. Joy. Relief. Love. All of these feelings flooded through me when I first saw that picture. This is a woman who has spent seven months in Iraq, coming home to her daughter. It's powerful, it's moving. It's one of those photo's that can change the world. It conveys real, honest, raw emotion.

We live our lives behind veils and masks, attempting to mislead others to our true thoughts and emotions. We mask our own pain and hurts from those around us. But there are rare moments, just like this one, where they are transmitted uncensored for the entire world to view. It appeals to everything that is real within us, everything that screams out to be let loose.

A parent's love. All caught up in a single photo.

How much more does our Father in heaven love us? What kind of message does that speak to us about how much He wants everyone to come to know Him? Do we feel this same emotion when someone comes to know Christ?

Because you know that God hurts for the lost even more than that woman longed to see her child. He loves us that much.

Live

Sometimes you have to wonder what is really going through the minds of the people around you. Are they serious? Do they think the same way you do? Are they really as free and happy as they like to let on, or is nothing more than a facade?

It is moments like this that I stop to remind myself that I am not alone. No matter how much I feel like it is me against the world, it does not have to be that way. I choose that path, no one makes me take it. It is a lie. When I am in a room of people, feeling entirely alone, that is really my own insecurities stopping me from reaching out to those around me.

Take a risk, take that leap off the cliff face to say hello to someone you don't know. It is irrelevant how good looking they are, what kind of clothes they have on, how many piercings adorn their face, or what style their hair is. What matters is that they are a human being, not so unlike you, and most likely thinking and feeling the same way.

"What does that mean?", you might be wondering. It means that no matter how many times your inner voice tells you that you are unique, that you are the only one who is feeling this way, and that everyone who looks at you is doing so with scorn, it's lying. That is your voice of insecurity shouting into your ear. It knows your fears, your weaknesses, and it will exploit it with vengeance.

Don't buy into it. Dig a little bit deeper, below those layers that have grown over because the path has not been used in years. Slice through your own inhibitions and find the other voices that have been smothered by your comforts and luxuries. The ones that tell you to take a risk, jump off the deep-end and live your life like you've always wanted to. Free, careless, joyful, and accepting of others.

That is a very real possibility. The only thing standing in your way is you. Your fears, your hates. It is time to pay them back. Smother them in turn, and seal those tunnels shut, marking them for demolition. You don't ever have to go back to that dark place.

Come into the light, and begin to live once more. You won't regret it.

Trust? Trust!

I believe in you. I'd give up everything just to find you. I'd leave the ninety-nine to find that one. I would give my life, and my only son so that I could be in a relationship with you.

I don't know if you have noticed, but we have bred a culture of mistrust. The Army of One. A society where each other person is really only out to get you, and no matter how genuine they may seem, it's really just them attempting to extract something from you. Eventually it will come to the surface.

My conversations recently seem to be orbiting around this topic. Every person has their own story, but it always ends in the same statement, "I don't know why, I just can't!" Can't trust, won't trust, afraid of being hurt. Is this really what we were meant to be?

Adam needed a partner. He was alone, and this was not good in the sight of God. The first time in the Bible that God said something was not good. That's pretty significant. Can you imagine if Adam's first thought was, "I wonder when she's going to hurt me?" I bet he would have been heading in the opposite direction from Eve that that moment.

Jesus rebukes he disciples firmly, because they were turning away the little children. The disciples foolishly thought that Jesus didn't have time for these little tykes. Yet he calls the little kids around him, and blesses each of them. Then (are you paying attention?) he turns to the crowd, and says that the kingdom of heaven belongs to little ones like these! That must have been such a shock to those listening... "I have to be a little child?" they may have asked.

But I believe that just one aspect Jesus was touching upon here was their innocence. They wanted to come before Jesus. Have you ever watched little children play? They have their nasty sides at time, but they generally are trusting. They trust authority, they trust each other, and are good natured.

Who was the last person you trusted? Did they hurt you? Are you willing to trust again?

I guarantee you that if you want no one to hurt you again, no one will. You can lock the world outside, and have no contact with them, never let them close enough to hurt. But you'll be lonely.

You can live in community, and risk loving and hurting, or you can live alone. Absolutely alone.

Start today. Trust someone, put yourself out on a limb, and you may just be surprised to make a new friend who is not so different from yourself; afraid to trust.

Tired of my Tears

Ray Charles

Girl, you better go back in your mind
Try and find yourself a brand new life
I love you but you're toying with me
So if you can't change, go on, let me be

Well, I'm sick of your lies (sick of your lies)
Tired of my tears (tired of my tears)
Girl, if you want me, better tell it like it is

Oh, when a boy meets a Girl he likes
He starts to dream
Before he know it, he's caught right in her scheme
I used to believe every word you say
But realize now, that was yesterday

I'm sick of your lies (sick of your lies)
Tired of my tears (tired of my tears)
Girl, if you want me, tell it like it is

When I'm with you, I lose control
That's why I'm offering you my heart and soul
You better take it now 'cause when it's gone
I won't even answer my telephone

Introspection

Have you ever wished you could have peered into Jesus' head and see what all goes on in there? The day to day thoughts, like what he must have thought when he was hungry, and the group's change purse was running a little low. Did Jesus worry about these little things? Would he have gotten to his knees in true worry about whether he was going to eat, or would it have been in complete and total trust, without even a little bit of worry?

I wonder if Jesus ever stopped to do a little navel gazing. We see at the Garden of Gethsemane that there were torn feelings that were ruled by an overarching sense of trust in the Father, but how often did these moments happen? Did he weep before God about the disciples? About the Pharisees? About himself?

I wonder these things.

Undoubtedly, however, it raises an interesting practice that we so often neglect in our own lives. The practice of introspection. Not the piffly five minutes we spend to say our daily prayers and apologize for any sin that we may have committed, but the honest and true inward looking. Much like the day you finally get sick of your bathroom tub and get down on your hands and knees to clean it. No matter how much cleaner you spray on it, you HAVE to get down there and scrub with everything you've got. Put some elbow grease into it! It's hard work. It's abrasive, and it cleans.

When was the last time you've done that? When was the last time I did that? How often did Jesus do that?

I sat down a few days ago and scrubbed. I scrubbed, and I scrubbed, and I revisited those things that were hidden underneath the soap scum. Surprisingly, it was freeing. But perhaps the surprise only reveals to you how little I have done it. Like standing up and gazing upon a shining porcelain bath tub, there was a sense of accomplishment, a deep sigh was released from within me. Like removing contacts from sore eyes after a long day, I was refreshed.

And God met me. God met Jesus in the garden. God will meet you too.

Start there, and see where He'll take you.

Canada and Doctors

Hilarious.

Adventures

There comes a time in all of our lives where we have to take a giant leap off the deep end and see where we land. It's never an easy thing to do, because it requires letting go of all that we hold sacred, and throwing it to the wind. We look deep into the chasms of our own lives, and we question everything that we have avoided, in an effort to clean out the dark, damp corners. And in the end, we are still completely unprepared for what lies ahead of us.

But it's healthy.

Healthy in the sense that we should never cling too tightly to our own castles. Never should we allow ourselves to become 'satisfied' with where we are. Always pushing forward, always growing, always seeking to better ourselves. But we are a complacent people, choosing to rest on our laurels when we should push another mile before the sun sets. So God pushes us off the deep-end with only the phrase, 'trust.'

So trust I will. I will not be the rich man, who cannot follow Jesus, but I will be a fisherman, who drops his nets and goes. God, help me to be a fisherman.

A Crumbling Tower

20In a large house there are articles not only of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay; some are for noble purposes and some for ignoble. 21If a man cleanses himself from the latter, he will be an instrument for noble purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work.

22Flee the evil desires of youth, and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart. 23Don't have anything to do with foolish and stupid arguments, because you know they produce quarrels. 24And the Lord's servant must not quarrel; instead, he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. 25Those who oppose him he must gently instruct, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth, 26and that they will come to their senses and escape from the trap of the devil, who has taken them captive to do his will.

God knows I have done enough thinking in the past month. There are times when it feels like a mountain is infront of me, and when I get to the peak, it collapses around me. While I slide down the steep embankment, God is faithful to remind me that I am not on my own personal mission, but on His.

That's a foundational difference. God has set before me a vision, and a dream; Any opposition acts as a litmus test for the vision I have in my own mind. Is it from me, or is it from God? What is it that the critic is saying? Are they challenging me based off of the desire to see me bettered, or attempting to hinder the dream at any cost? Are their criticisms valid, or are they flowing out of fear, or malice?

Paul knew exactly what he was saying when he wrote to Timothy. Don't let these people pull you down into the mire, that's not what is important. Keep your eyes on the horizon, keep running that race, and rid yourself of all the things that hold you back. Let your heart rest upon the only true, noble goal, God. This training is paramount to the mission on which Timothy is on, because it rids him of everything that will drag him into the mud.

Finally, and consequently, Timothy will learn to deal with these critics in a very Godly manner. Gently, but not weak. To instruct them in what God has to say, to lead them on to the vision God has placed on his heart. No deterrent. No hesitation. No looking back. Build up and support those who are around you, encourage them in the fight, that we may push the battle lines forward together, and realize that this mountain does not need to be climbed, it can be moved.

Youth is never a hindrance to the plans of God. In fact, the enthusiasm they bring to the table is often a boon. But that is a topic for another day.