One Long Saturday

I’ve been reading The Chronicles of Narnia with the boys at bedtime and last night—Spolier Alert— we came to the part where Aslan dies. We’ve been taking one chapter at a time, but this time I had to immediately follow up with the part where Aslan comes back from the dead. I just couldn’t bear to leave them at that point in the story. Plus, I don’t think there would have been much sleeping going on at our house otherwise.

But it wasn’t just that. I knew what was coming. This resolution of tension which was future for my sons was a memory for me.

And I couldn’t wait.

I was positively giddy to start this chapter titled Deeper Magic from Before the Dawn of Time because I knew what it would do. I knew their tears of sadness were about to turn to joy and triumph. And, sleepless nights notwithstanding, I wasn’t about to hold back the best part from them. Just out of curiosity, I wanted to see the looks on their faces at the payoff.

So we pushed on, and as Avery held his covers over his mouth and Evan buried his head in his pillow, I read the sentence where Lucy and Susan turn around to see Aslan standing victoriously resurrected. Evan’s head popped off the pillow with a gasp. Avery’s reaction was—and I quote—”What the?”

After finishing the chapter and tucking them in, I told them that the man who wrote these stories did so to help us to remember how Jesus died for us and came back to life again. We prayed and thanked God for sending His Son to save us, and then it was lights out.

I came away with a newfound appreciation for God’s patience with His children—not only His longsuffering in the midst of our failures, but also in holding back His blessings until just the right moment. After all, He is our Heavenly Father. He knows how to give good gifts to His children. And if my imperfect heart was dizzy with delight at the prospect of unleashing victory and triumph on two unwitting 4-year-olds, how much joy is pent up in the heart of the Ruler of the universe?

On this Holy Saturday, we commemorate those agonizing hours between putting Jesus in the tomb and worshipping at His resurrected feet. We don’t have to tax our imaginations too heavily to empathize with those downcast apostles, because our entire existence is one long Saturday; waiting, longing, aching for the day when we stand face to face with a Galilean rabbi who tasted the bitter cup of death for us and lived to tell the tale.

Sorrow may last in this night, but joy comes with the morning. Your joy. My joy. But not least of all the joy of our Father, whose heart is bursting at the thought of what He has in store for His children.

Brainstorm Sawdust #1

Apropos of absolutely nothing, a few thoughts that have been rattling around in the noggin. Unless there are some major breakthroughs in brain chemistry, this promises to be the first in a semi-regular series. Your mileage may vary, but these principles have been helpful for me in day-to-day decision making. Each could probably be fleshed out into a separate article in more capable hands, but alas…

Here they are, in order of when they fell out of my head:

• You don’t need to manage your time more wisely, you need to manage you more wisely. 
• You already are your own boss, along with everybody else. We all just have different areas where we have deferred responsibility, and power, to someone else.
• Procrastination isn’t the problem, caring is the problem. If you keep putting it off, you really don’t care if it gets done or not. Either let it die, or start giving a crap.
• Unless you’ve been officially diagnosed, you probably aren’t ADHD, OCD, or clinically depressed. You could just be bored and lazy. 
• Once you start making your coffee with filtered water, you find out you’ve been drinking swill like some Philistine this whole time.

There you go. Now go make something awesome. And get yourself a Brita pitcher. I’m serious, that thing will change you.

Hate Speech

For the sake of argument, assume with me that the God of the Bible does exist, and that the pronouncements against homosexuality found therein are valid and binding. If only for this moment, take it as given that such a lifestyle is damaging in the temporal and damning in the eternal.

If I’m your friend, if I love you, and if I really believe these things, how much would I have to hate you to not speak up and tell you so? In such a scenario, minding my own business while you store up wrath and judgement for yourself is the least loving thing I can do.

I’m not suggesting that it’s a simple problem with easy solutions. I don’t want to act as though the sin in your heart is any darker than the ones I strive against.

But let’s not pretend that the apathy you’re asking for is love. Because sometimes, the most hateful thing we can say is nothing at all.

The Explicit Gospel

Recently, I had the chance to attend a book signing event for Matt Chandler’s The Explicit Gospel, which releases today. I haven’t finished it yet, but I’m almost there. Many of the thoughts he puts forth remind me of Michael Horton’s Christless Christianity from a few years back. In both books, the central thesis is that the American church has begun to merely assume the message of the Gospel. That is, we know everybody in our church has heard the basics of who Jesus is and what He accomplished. We don’t need to go over the kiddie stuff anymore. What we need now is the how-to of being a good Christian. We don’t want theology, we just want something to do.

The problem with that mentality is not just that it obscures the Gospel; it’s actually antithetical to our faith. Paul wrote his epistle to the Galatians to jolt them awake from a “Jesus + ________” belief system. As Christians in America, we are especially susceptible to gospels of self-sufficiency and individualism. We don’t think we need a Savior, we just need a few pointers.

But the Gospel is good news, not good advice. In the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we don’t merely find a good example, we find our Creator God entering creation on a rescue mission. He knew what we needed, and it wasn’t 4 easy steps to having your best life now. We need a Deliverer, a Savior from the outside. We need to be told—explicitly and descriptively—the wonders of every facet of this story. And we need to hear this good news at least as often as we sin.

There’s an old hymn that says, “I love to tell the story, for those who know it best/Seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest.” Put me here for another 100 years, and I’ll never outgrow my need to hear what Jesus did for me. Any good that I hope to accomplish in my life will flow from a faith that is birthed through hearing this message again and again.

Opportunity Cost

For every action, there is a bunch of other actions you could have been doing.

It’s what economists call opportunity cost. When you pay $5 for that widget, you’re not only forking over the fivespot, you’re also giving up the possibility—the opportunity—of buying something else with that money. It’s a concept necessitated by scarcity.

The same scarcity exists in regards to our time and attention. We only have so many hours in the day, and of those hours, only a few in which we can actually create something meaningful. So it’s critical that we maintain some form of discipline over those things to which we devote our attention.

For whatever reason, whether it be the flavor-of-the-month band, a new TV show, or just the latest g̶o̶s̶s̶i̶p̶ d̶i̶r̶t̶ news on Facebook, we’re afraid we’re going to miss something. Left unchecked, we’ll even begin to find our self-worth in whether or not we got there first. It’s why everybody hates hipsters, but everybody wants to be one, too.

The cure is simple. You need only to own this truth: you are finite. You are limited. You will never be able to consume every bit of data in existence. You won’t even be able to keep up with what the kingmakers of the day say you should be consuming. It’s liberating to come to grips with that: you will miss something. In fact, you’re gonna miss a lot.

The question, then, is what will I choose to ignore? What’s allowed to wither on the vine while you tend to other things in the garden? Some things will live, and some things will die.

The problem is when we have a list of things we want to thrive, and we never spend any time actually tending to those things. Not on purpose, mind you, but we get comfortable with ignoring them. It takes a conscious effort to flip that. It won’t be easy. You will miss out on some things. But the things that are allowed to thrive as a result will be worth it.

Vindicated

Vindicate me, O God, and defend my cause against an ungodly people, from the deceitful and unjust man deliver me! —Psalm 43:1

I’ve heard it said that creativity is born out of struggle, and that’s the place where this song comes from. The fall and winter of 2010–2011 were some of the hardest times I’ve ever experienced in the way of family tragedies and spiritual struggles. I was reminded all too clearly that, rather than being a crutch for the weak, faith is all out war. It’s a war against spiritual forces of darkness. It’s a war with our own wicked desires. And in a world that’s increasingly less hospitable to our faith, we’re told that we’re deluded fools for holding onto what we believe.

Even still, we believe. We know that the day is coming when that for which we have hoped will become a reality. Through the eyes of faith, we can see the day when Christ returns to silence the scoffers—unstoppable and undeniable. Until that day, the war rages on.

Faith is a fight. This is a battle hymn.

Many are rising up against me

Oh, Lord, how many are my foes

My soul’s salvation is a fantasy they say, and there’s no hope

But this I know

The Lord,  my Shield and my Defender

Will lift my head and lift my eyes

Cause me to see that He will hear and answer me

My many cries from up on high

I will be vindicated

And I will make it through this night

My strong Deliverer is standing tall

And ready for the fight

Though now so devastated

Joy rises with the morning light

My God sees all the wrong, it won’t be long

And He will make it right

Before me goes a mighty Champion

Jehovah Sabaoth, His name

All those opposing Him 

Can only ever hope to be consumed in holy flame

So I’ll not fear the many thousands

Gathered against me round about

They are not equal to the One who stands for me

To strike them down on this battleground

On Writing

I will readily admit that blogging, journaling, and a committment to writing in general are endeavors in which I’ve proven to be woefully inconsistent. In some cases, I haven’t seen the benefit. In others, I’ve succumbed to what Seth Godin calls the lizard brain. Whatever the reason, I’ve left a trail of blogs that fizzled after 2 or 3 posts. So why start again now? A few reasons:

Writing Clarifies

In the past couple of years, as I’ve had more opportunities to preach extemporaneously, I’ve found that I speak more clearly and more confidently on those things which I’ve committed to paper, not just to memory. I’ve formed the habit of writing a word for word manuscript for the message, a manuscript that gets largely ignored when I actually preach. The benefit isn’t in having a script from which to read, but in the rut that this carves out in my mind. As I speak, I naturally gravitate toward the words and phrases that I’ve already captured. As one who often locks up mentally while searching for the mot juste, this is a priceless by-product of the writing process.

Writing Disciplines

I can always use a little more structure. I see a regular writing routine as a way of budgeting my thoughts. Just as a financial budget tells your money where to go, writing helps me consciously take every thought captive.

The written word also possesses something the spoken word never will–an eraser. That difficult conversation you’ve been dreading might go a little better if you jot down exactly what you want to say. Again, not so you have a script to go by, but so that you’ve got a rough draft of your voice. You don’t have to think on your feet as often when you’ve done a lot of thinking at your desk.

Writing Leaves A Mark

Literally and figuratively. Rather than let these thoughts die with my brain one day, I want to leave a legacy for those who come behind me, not the least of whom are my boys sleeping in the next room while I write this. I hope to lead them well, even after I am dead and gone. A writing life is an invaluable tool to that end.

Those are the foremost benefits in view of which I hope to write. I hope to post here at least weekly, sometimes daily, doubtfully more than that, whether it be sermon notes, a new song I’m working on, or a simply a thought that can’t be contained in 140 characters. That’s a reference to Twitter. On the Internet.

And of course, there will be movie quotes. Because I don’t know that I’m able to communicate without them.

“There’s such a fine line between stupid and clever.” — David St. Hubbins

Here’s to walking the fine line.